Nanobots, Murder, and Other Family Problems
Thursday, March 31

I take a last look at the picture of Mom, now standing in one corner of my desk, then step toward the door of my cell. The panel of wood and steel is all that stands between me and my new school. I’ve never been great with new social situations. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, calming my nerves like Mom taught me. Breathe, calm, breathe. I can do this. I try not to think about how much I miss her, how alone I feel. I turn the doorknob and pull.

The clean, white walls of the dorm corridor are broken every dozen feet with another door like mine. The one right across from me reads “Marc.” I glance at a couple of others and don’t see any last names, or even last initials. I guess the student body here at the Butler Institute must be small enough that they don’t have a lot of repeat first names.

I don’t see anyone else in the hallway. The squeaks of my shoes echo down the corridor. Ahead, I hear the murmur of many voices. I force my feet to carry me forward with all the confidence I can muster. I’m so confident that my hands are shaking and my mind is screaming at me to get back into my cell and hide until someone forcibly pulls me out. I ignore my impulses for self-preservation and continue walking until I turn the corner into the enormous common room. The quiet roar of voices goes suddenly silent. I feel the weight of a hundred pairs of eyes staring at me.

The other students run the whole spectrum from near my age down to elementary school. I feel like I somehow stepped into one of those stupid college recruiting brochures where all the pictures are perfect models of diversity, and everyone is looking at you and smiling. Why are they all smiling at me? And why do they all seem vaguely familiar in a way I can’t quite place?

The smart part of my brain with the social skills in it tells me to smile back, wave, and introduce myself, but the lizard part in charge of self-preservation screams again and tries to push me back to my room. The smart part of me doesn’t stand a chance of taking control, but at least it stops me from running. That wouldn’t do any good now—they know I’m here.

One of them steps toward me, a guy nearly as tall as I am with short blond hair styled in a carefully messy way. He looks like he’s about my age, maybe a little younger, but he’s built like a football player. He swaggers like one too. Must be the captain of the team, or the student body president, or whatever the top of the food chain is in this weird little school. The rest of the kids hang back, their eyes still fixed on me like I’m a new, exotic, and maybe dangerous exhibit at the zoo.

“Noah Kimball?” he asks, his smile showing a mouth full of bright white teeth. I know I’ve never met him before, but I could swear that I’ve seen his face somewhere. He extends a hand. I’m supposed to shake it, but my fight-or-flight instincts are still grappling for control and all I can do is look at it, then look back up at his face. One of the younger kids off to one side whispers something I can’t catch and the guy’s smile fades.

“Noah?” he says again, more like a real question this time. I force myself to give a nod in response. He pastes the smile back on his face, but it looks forced now. “I’m Chad Butler. Welcome to the Butler Institute.”

Chad Butler? As in, the son of the institute’s founder? No wonder this guy has an entitled look to him. Wait. That would make him my father’s son. My brother. No, that can’t be right. I don’t have a brother. I would definitely know if I had a brother. Mom wouldn’t have kept me in the dark about that.

I’m still processing when he seems to decide that he’s given me enough of a chance to shake his hand. He steps closer to give me a too-familiar pat on the shoulder instead. “I heard you’ve had a rough few weeks,” he says quietly. “I’m sure you’ll come around.” He turns away. “Come on everyone, clear out. Let’s give the new guy a little space.”

The words seem right, and they would have been reassuring on their own. The tone even sounds almost understanding, but I catch something in his eyes as he turns away that tells me I’ve put myself on his bad side. The crowd thins out, mostly ignoring me now on Chad’s orders. The bulk of them file out through the big double doors. A few head down the hallways leading to the two wings of the dorms. A handful of the younger ones pile onto a couch and a section of the wall in front of them lights up with a show. A few of the kids, led by a cute girl with jet-black hair who looks maybe a year or so younger than me, defy Chad’s lead and come over to introduce themselves.

“Hey, I’m Louise,” she says, twiddling her fingers nervously in front of her.

I’m definitely supposed to answer her, but I can’t stop thinking about Chad Butler. That guy can’t really be my brother. No way. The girl gives me another smile and turns to go.

Answer her!

I sputter out a hello just in time for her to not hear me say it, since she’s halfway out the door already. Great. I just convinced most of the student body here that I’m fully defective.

I should follow her. I take a single step and get cut off as a skeletally thin guy a few inches taller than me slides past me from behind. I hadn’t even heard his footsteps from the hallway. He completely ignores me as he glides on past and goes outside. Doesn’t even give me a glance. Maybe I’m not the only socially gifted person here.

Suddenly the room clears. I’m the only one left besides the little kids now fully absorbed in their cartoons now playing on three different screens around the room. I wonder which of my fellow students that I alienated was supposed to show me around. Maybe that girl, Louise? I should go find her. She had really pretty eyes.

I’m about to go when I hear loud footfalls on the tile behind me. Not wanting to be surprised again, I turn in time to see a huge guy emerge from the hallway leading back to my room. He’s nearly as big as the giant in the suit from yesterday, a whole head taller than me with shoulders that barely fit through the door frame. Dark hair bunches in tight curls around his head and his skin is light brown. He gives me a broad smile.

“Welcome, my brother,” he says, “I’m Evan.”

Then he pulls me into a hug. I’m too stunned to know how to respond before he releases me. I can’t tell if he means brother biologically, metaphorically, or if this place is some kind of cult compound.

“Noah, right?” he asks, his deep voice full of warmth.

I give him a slow nod. I don’t want to risk giving any offense. This guy’s arms are thicker than my legs. I’m pretty sure he could snap me like a twig without breaking a sweat if he felt like it.

“Sorry about your mom, man,” Evan says. Does everyone here know my personal business? He waits a moment for me to answer, but I don’t. I’m not at all sure what to make of this guy. “Come on, let’s get some food into you. You’ll feel better.”

He takes a few steps toward the doors, then looks back at me. With no other real options, I follow him. Part of me worries that he might pick me up and carry me if I don’t. He leads me out into the crisp spring air and along the sidewalk surrounding the large open field, then slows until I catch up and walks beside me.

“So, I’m supposed to show you around. That was the dorms, this is the commons.” He spreads his hand out in the direction of the neatly manicured grass. “Not to be confused with the dorm common room, which we just left.” He laughs and points back and to the left. “Learning Center over there, you’ll see plenty of that place later. The big building with the pillars is the Residence. Up ahead is the cafeteria, past that, the Research Center. That’s where our father does all his high-tech stuff, so don’t worry about that for now unless he invites you there.”

Not “my father,” but “our father.” So, probably not a cult brother thing then. I almost stumble as I try to cope with the idea of having another brother while figuring out my new local geography. The Residence looks like a two-story colonial mansion—complete with a long row of fluted pillars in front. It spans the more-than-football-field length of the commons. The tall concrete wall runs along the opposite side of the field, broken only by the bars of the large metal gate, now closed, where the gorilla dropped me off last night. The desolate scrub of the Nevada desert beyond makes a stark contrast to the lush green grass and trees surrounding the buildings inside the wall. The cafeteria is short and wide, with floor-to-ceiling windows covering the side facing the commons. The Research Center towers behind it, looking more like a fancy office building than anything else.

A tall girl dressed in skin-tight exercise gear poses in a yoga routine on a mat near the center of the field. Her long, golden hair flows like it’s defying gravity as she grips one ankle, then lifts the leg behind her until it stretches over her head. Is the static electricity out here in the desert so intense that it makes her hair do that? Or maybe it’s some breeze I can’t feel from here. As we get closer, I hear music from an instrument I can’t see and don’t recognize.

Then I see her face. She’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever laid eyes on. The floating hair combined with her stunning looks makes her seem like something outside reality, an angel somehow enrolled in this school. She notices me and gives me a smile, or maybe she’s smiling at Evan. It doesn’t matter. Something about it breaks the block that’s been keeping me from opening my mouth.

“Noah,” I finally say to Evan. “Yeah, I’m Noah.”

We’re close enough that the girl hears it and gives me a friendly nod before she goes back to her workout. My heart beats a little faster and I can’t help turning my head as we pass. She’s breathtaking.

“Oh, good.” Evan laughs. “You can talk. I was worried for a little bit there.”

“Yeah. I talk,” I answer. “Sorry. It’s been a lot to take in this morning. Who’s that girl?”

He laughs again. “That’s Andrea. You’ll like her. Everybody does. She’ll probably invite you to do yoga with her. Don’t give in.”

We cut across the lawn to the cafeteria entrance. Evan holds the door for me and the smells of bacon, sausage, and pancakes hit me. I realize I’m starving.

“I tried it once,” he continues. “Afterwards, I couldn’t walk for two days.” I give him a polite chuckle. Not being able to walk seems like a fair trade to get to know a girl who looks like that.

Inside, all the kids from the dorm building plus a bunch more gather around dozens of round tables spread through the large open room. Several look my way, but at least this time they don’t all stare.

“Sorry about earlier,” I tell Evan. “I’m not usually anti-social, I promise. At least not very. I’m not even sure what I’m doing at this school. My mom died, then my father had his lawyers ship me here.” We approach the counter at the back of the room. Behind it, half a dozen attractive twenty-something women bustle around in aprons and hairnets, moving scrambled eggs, sausages, pancakes, and hash browns from sizzling grills to serving containers under a row of heat lamps. Why is everyone here so good-looking?

“I get you, brother,” Evan declares.”Don’t worry about it. For now, get the waffles, they’re the best thing here. Ooh, and look, they still have bacon. They must have made extra today. Get some before it’s gone.”

Brother again. So weird. I shake it off and take his word on breakfast, getting a waffle and two strips of bacon from one of the servers. He leads me over to a table in the corner where we talk as we eat. Well, mostly he talks, but at least at this point I can respond like a real person.

He wasn’t wrong about breakfast. The waffles are great. While I chew, he explains the daily routine: wake up, breakfast, class with teachers, computer lab, lunch, free time, project time, dinner, study, sleep, then wake up and do it all over again. Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ FɪndNøvel.ɴᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“It’s not all work, though,” he assures me. “During evening study we can turn on the screens in the common room if everyone is current on their schoolwork. And we get day trips on Saturdays if the weather’s good. Oh, and extra project time on Sundays instead of classes. Project time is practically fun time. You can pretty much work on anything you want, as long as Father approves it.”

“So, your father is Tom Butler?” I ask, just to confirm. He turns his head and looks at me sideways, like I asked him if the sky was blue, then laughs.

“Yeah. Tom Butler. The great man with the plan himself. The tamer of the fearsome nanobot horde. The technological savior of mankind. And of course, the founder of the illustrious Butler Institute.” He waves one hand around theatrically, and his smirk tells me that he doesn’t take our father’s reputation seriously.

“So you and me and Chad are…”

“Brothers,” he chuckles. “Yeah, I know it’s hard to believe, what with me being so good-looking and all.”

“All with different mothers, I’m guessing?”

He laughs again and gives my shoulder a pat. It’s nearly the same motion that Chad had used on me earlier, but from Evan it feels friendly and comforting instead of condescending. “You don’t miss anything, do you Noah?”

“I used to be quicker on the uptake, I promise. Give me a couple of days and I might get to where I can tie my shoes without help again.”

He keeps chuckling. I like this big guy. Something about his calm, deep voice and easy laugh helps me to feel almost normal. An electronic bell rings, and a lot of the kids clear out, but Evan doesn’t seem to be in any rush, so I keep eating bacon and waffles and talking to my newfound brother and friend.

“Evan,” a stern voice says from behind me. I turn and see Mrs. Hastings. “When I asked you to show Noah around, I expected more than a tour of our dining facilities.” She glances at her watch. “You are going to be tardy for your class.”

I’m still not sure what her role is at this school, but it seems to be something like a principal. Whatever it is, she’s got enough authority that Evan doesn’t bother arguing with her. He says goodbye and hustles off, leaving his tray on a counter near the door on his way out.

“Come along, Noah,” Mrs. Hastings says, turning to me. Her voice softens. “You’ve got a busy morning ahead of you. We need to see where you stand academically. We have your transcripts, of course, but we will do our own assessment. Our curriculum is quite advanced, and we expect to tailor your coursework to build from your current foundation.”

She walks me back across the grassy field and over to the Learning Center, a huge concrete and steel building nestled at a right angle between the stately Residence and the bulk of the dorm building. I spend the morning in a small room with a table and two chairs answering questions, some in writing, most verbally. The tests cover everything I’ve ever learned and a whole lot more. Quantum physics? Organic chemistry? Neuroscience? I was at the top of my class, but why would anyone expect someone my age to know any of this? I do my best, and eventually Mrs. Hastings releases me for a break.

It occurs to me as I hit the restroom that I might want to underplay some of what I know. If the test is any indicator, Mrs. Hastings isn’t kidding about this place being advanced. And if they’re going to base my coursework on what I know now, having some easier classes might make my life here more manageable for the next few weeks. I return to the small testing room where she starts drilling me on computer science. Perfect. I learned that outside of school, so nothing in my transcripts would show I should know anything about it. I don’t even try to answer half the questions, and I tank the rest deliberately. Mrs. Hastings doesn’t seem to notice. Just nods and moves on.

History and political science come next, and I give a half-decent try on those. She asks some broad open-ended questions and occasionally interrupts me to ask me why I answered something a certain way. Finally, she seems satisfied.

“We’re done,” she declares. She scans through her notes and my test papers. “Not as bad as I feared, given your background in the public school system. Perhaps we can make something of you.”

“Uh, thanks?” I say, not sure if I’ve been praised or insulted.

“Come along then. You’ll have just enough time to meet with your cohort before lunch.” She leads me down a long hallway to the other end of the building. “This way to the computer lab. This will be the only class you’ll attend as a group with your six classmates. The other subjects will be conducted one-on-one with each of your two teachers, who you will meet tomorrow.”

That sounds weird to me, but I don’t say so. I always did fine in classes of thirty, and rarely got one-on-one attention from anyone but Mom.

Chad stands by the doorway of the lab as we arrive, looking like he wants more from me than he got this morning. This time I actually respond when he puts his hand out. I give him a firm handshake like Mom taught me, but he seems to think it’s some kind of power struggle, twisting his arm so that his hand is on top and gripping like he’s trying to crush my hand. I squeeze back, glad he’s not as strong as he seems to think he is. Mrs. Hastings leaves me in his custody and he brings me into a classroom with rows of computers on long tables along the edges and rolling whiteboards and chairs in the middle. He introduces me around like he owns the place.

Evan waves hello and greets me warmly again from one of the computers. I’m glad to see his friendly face in my class. Next to him is Louise, the pretty Asian girl I nearly managed to say hello to in the dorms. This time I manage to give her a greeting she can hear.

“Welcome again,” she says with a friendly smile. “We’ll talk more, but give me one sec to finish this.” She looks back at what looks like Java code on her screen with a look of fierce concentration.

Andrea, the yoga girl from the field, looks at me, gives me a big grin, and nods. She doesn’t say anything. Maybe she’s shy. Her hair is still doing that weird floating thing. I’m not sure what’s causing it. It‘s not static or wind, not inside like this. Maybe it’s some kind of fancy hair product she uses.

Chad steers me to Marc next, a brown-haired guy with a slight build. In a school full of people that look like they could all be models, his average looks stand out. What he lacks in appearance, he seems intent on making up for in enthusiasm.

“Noah! Brother!” he gushes. “It’s so good you’re here. We are going to have so much fun! It’s so great you’re part of the family now. I mean, you always were, but now you’re here!”

Another brother? The family? Things start clicking inside my skull. I look at Chad again, then Evan, then scan the rest of my class. Chad’s ears are shaped like mine. Exactly like mine. That little crooked line at the edge of Marc’s mouth when he smiles, I have that. Louise has that same slight upturn at the end of her nose that I have. And Andrea…

Oh no.

My mind reels as Chad leads me to Jeff, the tall, gangly guy that slid silently past me in the dorms. He’s sitting off in a corner by himself. In front of him, a metal ball bounces around his keyboard striking keys as text forms on the screen. I shake my head and look again. I wasn’t imagining it. Jeff’s eyes are intently tracking a metal ball as it jumps all over his keyboard, typing stuff out.

“Is he psychic or something?” I whisper.

“No, he just uses his cloud for everything,” Chad replies. He seems irritated by the question. “Jeff, stop showing off and come meet your new brother.”

“His cloud?” I ask. “What cloud?”

“His cloud,” Chad repeats, like it should mean something more the second time. My blank stare seems to baffle him. “His nanobot cluster?” He says it slowly, like he’s not sure I speak his language.

My jaw goes slack. Nanobots are dangerous. Basically illegal. No sane person would let a teenager like Jeff go anywhere near them.

Chad gets a sharp look in his eyes, then laughs at me. “You don’t know what we do here, do you?” he says, his voice dripping with condescension. “The whole purpose of the Butler Institute?”

Tom Butler’s Institute. The Tom Butler who saved the world from the Gray Goo. The mysterious billionaire who’s been using his experimental nanotech to single-handedly halt climate change, cure cancer, stop wars, and clean up after disasters across the globe for the last twenty years.

He’s been having kids. Lots of kids. And he’s been training his kids to do what he does.

I’m one of his kids.

I fall into a chair. Chad is talking but I’m only catching half of it. Something about our father and the institute. I catch phrases like “preserve life,” “end suffering,” and “elevate humanity.” The information is coming faster than I can process it, but I catch that my classmates all had implants installed over the last year to let them control their own nanobot clouds.

I remember reading about Tom Butler’s brain implant. It’s part of his legend. The only one of those implants in existence is the one in Tom Butler’s head. He used it to control the nanobots and work his miracles. He’s never made a copy, never given access to anyone else. At least that’s what I knew was true until right now.

Andrea smiles at me again. My sister Andrea. I carefully keep my eyes from going south of her face. I’m glad the morning has been so busy that I haven’t had a spare minute to dwell on her or Louise. A rainbow ribbon that looks like it’s made of pure light appears from nowhere. It swirls up and around her head, weaving in and out of her floating hair.

Louise winks at me then puts up an index finger. A point of green light appears, then stretches and elongates. It worms its way around her finger then disappears into her palm. Marc, not to be outdone, puts both of his hands up. A pair of shining orbs materialize out of thin air. He waves his hands and they start flying around in front of him. I’m not sure if I’m more floored by the impossible magic they are doing, or the fact that they’re all my half-siblings.

“Hey, Marc,” Louise says, “I thought you hadn’t solved the math for those yet.”

Marc ignores her as he grins and waves his hands more, his eyes fixed on his flying creations. The balls accelerate, moving in crazy patterns so fast that I can barely keep track of them. One comes dangerously near my head and I duck out of the way just in time to feel it breeze through my hair.

“Watch it!” Chad barks at Marc. “They are not toys!”

Marc takes his eyes from the balls for a second to glance at Chad. The two ball-bearings take one last spin around the room then head straight toward Chad’s face. They look like they’ll put a pair of holes right through him, as fast as they’re going, but instead they puff into dark dust as they hit his skin. The dust fades to nothing as Chad stumbles backwards and falls to the floor. His face contorts with fury.

“I told you to watch it!”

He gets to his feet and balls up his fists, advancing on his smaller brother. Marc sees the look on his face and braces himself for a blow. I jump up and step forward to put myself between them, but I don’t think I’m going to get there in time.

A deep laugh comes from my right, and I turn to see Evan’s face filled with mirth. Chad stops and glares at him. Louise is clearly trying hard not to laugh too, but she’s not doing very well at it. Andrea chortles with an awesome snorting sound at the end, which makes Louise just give up and laugh out loud. Even Jeff, still off in the corner by himself, starts chuckling. I find myself laughing too. Laughing for the first time since Mom’s accident.

Chad’s face goes bright red and he gives every one of us a death glare as he slumps into a chair. It takes a minute or two, but we eventually stop laughing at him.

“Are you all done?” he demands, as if he were somehow the mature one in this situation. When no one says anything, he gets back up. “Good. Let’s forget all this. Come on, Noah. You need your lab account set up. I’m taking you to the admins.”

He storms out of the room and I glance over at Evan to see if I should really follow him. The big guy nods and I hurry out the door to catch up. At the far end of the long tiled hallway, he turns into a small office.

“Hey, Janet,” he says, his confident swagger back and his face hiding the humiliation he just endured. “The new guy is here. You got his account ready?”

A dark-skinned woman with long hair in tight braids who looks like she couldn’t be much out of college turns from the screen at her desk. Like most of the other staff I’ve seen working here, she’s very attractive. Does Tom Butler only hire models to work here?

“Morning, Chad. Yes, I’ve got him all set.” She looks past him to me and smiles. “And you must be Noah.”

“Yeah. Noah Kimball,” I reply.

“Well, this is a little different for me,” she says, beckoning me over to a second rolling chair next to her desk. “Usually I have to explain the rules to six-year-olds when they get their computer accounts. I guess I don’t need to break out the sock puppets in your case.”

I push past Chad and take the seat. “You’ve never had transfer students before?” I ask, a little surprised. She gives me a funny look for a second.

“You’re the first,” she says. “Everyone else was born right here on campus, or so they tell me.”

I’d figured out my class, but I’m somehow still surprised to hear it’s the whole school. “Oh. I wasn’t sure how unique my situation was.”

“First time I’ve heard of any of Tom’s kids being raised outside,” she says. “Anyway, you have much of a background with computers from your time out in the real world?”

“I used them for school. You know, writing papers and stuff,” I tell her. I definitely don’t mention that I used to spend evenings and weekends helping my mom find backdoors into the systems of whatever corporation she thought was the worst that week, wreaking havoc on their servers in whatever ways we felt appropriate. I guess I’m technically sort of a criminal, but since it was always hacktivism for a good cause, it couldn’t have been too wrong. At least that’s what Mom always said. Anyway, I suspect that I know my way around computer networks better than Janet does.

“I can use Windows, I guess,” I continue with the lie I started with Mrs. Hastings. I don’t mention Linux or SynTechOS or the whole suite of scripting languages and hacking tools that Mom had been teaching me since I was old enough to type. “And I’ve played some games.” That should make my story more believable.

She nods and smiles, not looking at all suspicious. “Good,” she says. “Rules are simple. No contact with anyone outside the campus that makes your identity known. No tampering with the workstations. Don’t do any shopping, that’s all supposed to go through the campus purchasing system. We take care of filtering the internet access, so other than those rules, you don’t need to worry about what content is allowed. If you can get to it, it’s approved.” I take that as a personal challenge to make sure I can access every chat group, forum, web site, and bulletin board on the internet. “Your user name will be ‘noah’ in all lowercase letters. Hopefully that’s easy for you to remember. Here, go ahead and set your password.”

She clicks some keys and gets a password prompt up on her screen. I put my body between Chad and the keyboard as Janet politely looks away while I type in MyN3wL!f3, hit enter, then type it again. I smell a trace of her perfume as I pull back from the keyboard, and can’t help noticing again how pretty she is. If I can’t dream of my fellow students, at least the staff can keep my mind occupied.

“All set then,” she says. “If you forget it and need a password reset, or have any issues with the computers or the network, just come see me or Roxanne. One of us should be in this office anytime you need us.”

“Thanks,” I tell her.

“Thanks, Janet,” Chad echoes with his stupid movie-star smile back on his face, like she just did him a personal favor. He steps out and leads me back toward the computer lab.

“Are all the staff here hot young women?” I ask him quietly once we’re far enough away from Janet’s office.

“Talking like that is a good way to get them fired and yourself into trouble,” he says without looking at me, his voice harsh. “Don’t even look at them like that. They’re not for you.” I shake my head. I had written off my cult compound theory about this place, but now I’m less sure.

Back in the lab, my other newfound siblings are clattering away at their keyboards, but that dies down as I clear the doorway. Marc gets up out of his chair and runs my way, nearly crashing into me as he stops himself too slowly.

“Noah, hey Noah!” he exclaims, getting his balance back. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Not until I make sure he can log in,” Chad says, putting a hand on Marc’s chest and pushing him back. From the tension in his arm I can tell he wants to shove him over.

I give Marc a helpless shrug and let Chad walk me to one of the workstations. The computer boots up and splashes the standard disclaimer that all computers have: No artificial intelligence was used in the design or production of this information system. I make sure my new credentials work, then Chad very slowly explains to me how to access the programming tools I’ll need to complete the lab assignments.

As Chad walks away, a notification pops up telling me that I have my first task ready to start. I click it and get an email with my first bit of work, due tomorrow. They don’t waste any time here. It looks like something from a really basic intro to computer science class, so I guess they’re serious about tailoring my schoolwork to my level. I can knock it out in a couple of minutes, but I’m more interested in the siblings that are looking my way again now that Chad is sulking at one of the workstations across the room.

Marc rolls his chair back my way. “So, Noah. I’ve always wondered, in real school there are lots of kids and just one teacher, right? Like in the shows?”

I nod slowly. Is their only exposure to the outside world through television?

“So, if someone doesn’t understand something, how does the teacher know to go back and explain it again?”

“Usually they just keep going,” I tell him. “But if you ask, they’ll sometimes help you out. Depends on the teacher, I guess.”

I turn away and somehow Louise is already there, perched on the table on the other side of my keyboard. “So,” she asks, “did Father visit you very often? He never talked about you to any of us, at least not until last week when he told us you were coming.”

I shake my head. “I’ve still never met the man. Where is he, anyway?”

Andrea, who came up behind Marc while I was looking at Louise, does a dance with her fingers and a little globe appears in the air in front of her. Oceans and continents form in blue and green, then Canada starts glowing red and pulsing.

“Yeah,” Evan says, rolling his chair over and glancing at the image floating in the air as if it was something he saw every day. “There was some medical emergency he had to help with in Ottawa. Should be back tomorrow, I think, or maybe the day after.”

“It was their Prime Minister.” Jeff’s voice comes from off in the corner. He’s still looking at his screen. “The official story is that acute symptoms suddenly manifested from an inoperable brain tumor he has had for some time, though his opponents have claimed that the diagnosis was a ploy for political gain.” I just nod. I guess my father is too busy saving the world today, so I’ll meet him tomorrow then, maybe.

The electronic ding-dong sounds again, and my sibs log out of their computers. I follow their lead, and go with Evan, Marc, and the girls back to the cafeteria for lunch. Sitting at a round table with them, I finally get my brain together enough to ask some questions.

“So, you all got some kind of implant?” I ask. “And you can do the kind of stuff that Tom Butler is famous for? Like cure cancer and build stuff out of nothing and all that?”

“We can’t tell you much, but I think I can answer that,” Louise says. “Yes, and sort of. Father calls what we have the training wheels version. I don’t think any of us will be performing surgery any time soon.”

“And building stuff takes forever,” Evan chimes in.

Andrea just smiles and nods. Does she ever talk? I want to ask, but it feels rude.

“And it’s not out of nothing, it’s out of whatever is handy,” Marc adds.

I catch Jeff out of the corner of my eye as he sits down by himself at a table in the corner. His motions as he sits are somehow wrong. Unnaturally rigid. He’s definitely an odd one, even for this crowd. I turn back to my more sociable sibs and finish eating while they pepper me with more questions about life on the outside. I never thought my standard upbringing in the suburbs of Denver would be so fascinating, but apparently it is to them.

After lunch, they take me to the rec room in the basement of the Learning Center. It’s a huge space dotted with concrete pillars. One side is filled with things Grammy would have thought were super fun for kids. Ping-pong and foosball tables mixed in with pods of couches and small tables surrounded by chairs. Shelves along one side have arts and crafts supplies along with every board and card game I’ve ever heard of and a whole lot I haven’t. The other side of the place is a gym with treadmills, stationary bikes, and free weights.

Chad is already there when we arrive, pumping dumbbells with a tall guy whose mom must have been from southern Asia. He doesn’t say anything to us as we come in, and none of my new sibling friends say anything to him. That suits me fine. Andrea grabs a sketch pad and some colored pencils and settles herself onto one of the couches to draw. Evan drags me over to one of the foosball tables, where Marc and Louise also grab handles. I’m terrible at the game, since I think I’ve played it maybe twice in my life before, but Evan and Louise coach me in some of the finer points of tabletop soccer. I even score a point near the end.

Marc chatters almost non-stop while we play, which doesn’t seem to bother the others but grates on me. It’s like the guy has no filter, just says whatever pops into his head. Maybe Evan and Louise are used to it, having lived with him literally their whole lives. I can kind of see why Chad doesn’t like him much. Louise is fun, but intensely competitive. I definitely like her, but she’s probably best in small doses. Evan is just great to have around.

The omnipresent electronic ding-dong sounds again, and my group disperses to work on their various projects. Evan invites me to come along and help him with his, since I haven’t started one of my own yet. It’s something about a better way to extract fresh water from seawater, which doesn’t sound all that interesting, but I don’t have anything better to do. We’re on our way back to the computer lab to work on it when Mrs. Hastings finds me again.

“Noah,” she greets me, “would you like to give your grandparents a call? I notified them last night of your arrival, but I thought you would like to let them know yourself that you’re settling in.”

As much fun as extra chemistry and engineering work with Evan sounds, Grammy and Gramps must be worried sick. I say goodbye to my huge brother and follow Mrs. Hastings. She leads me out and toward the mansion next door. “In case Even failed to tell you, this is the Residence. Mr. Butler and most of the staff members that live on premises have their quarters here, along with our youngest students. The infirmary, salon, spa, and other services are located on the eastern side of the first floor.”

She sweeps open the large wooden doors and escorts me through a huge open foyer where a dozen toddlers play together under the watchful eyes of some young-looking women, beautiful as usual. Their mothers? No, I don’t think so. They don’t have that mom vibe or bear any family resemblance with the child they’re each tending. Mrs. Hastings doesn’t slow, and I have to hurry to catch up to her as she heads down one of the hallways.

The carpet and wood-paneled walls with paintings every few yards between ornate light fixtures are a stark contrast to the spartan decor in the Learning Center and the dorms. Near the end of the wide hallway a plush armchair sits next to a small wooden half-circle table that holds a phone, one of the old-school ones with a wire to the wall and another to the handset. I remember we used to have one of these back home before Mom and I both got our mobiles. I miss having my phone, and I’m starting to suspect I’m not getting it back before I leave here.

“You know their number, I hope?” Mrs. Hastings says. I nod. “Good. My office is just at the end of the hall here. Please come see me when you are done.”

She leaves me to it, and I pick up the handset and dial. I settle into the armchair as the beeps tell me that the phone in Denver is ringing. After a couple of those, I hear a click and Grammy’s voice.

“Hello?”

“Hey Grammy, it’s me.”

“Noah!” she exclaims. “Are you OK? Did they hurt you?”

“No, I’m fine.” What did she think they were going to do to me? “They’re treating me well. How are you two doing?”

“I’m surviving. Let me get your grandfather on here,” she says.

“Sure.”

“Frank!” I hear her call. “Frank! Get in here, it’s Noah!”

“Is he OK?” I hear his voice faintly. “If they hurt him when they took him I swear I’ll—”

“He says he’s fine,” her voice says. “Noah, I’m putting you on speaker.”

“Hey Gramps.” I say. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m furious. I’m getting a lawyer and we’re getting you back right now. That man has no right to—”

“Just let it go,” I interrupt him. “By the time you get it to court, I’ll be eighteen. More importantly, why didn’t you tell me I had brothers and sisters here? Did you know?”

The other end of the line goes quiet.

“Your mother didn’t want you to know about that,” Grammy finally says. “Or anything about your father’s crazy compound. And after the way he treated her, I don’t blame her. I don’t know what he’s been telling you there, but your father is not a good man.”

“She just wanted to keep you safe,” Gramps adds, “and let you grow up normal. She didn’t want you growing up to be like him. And she definitely didn’t want you wrapped up in your father’s plans to remake the world. She was going to tell you everything when you turned eighteen. That’s when we would have told you too.”

I sigh. They were just doing what Mom wanted. I wish she’d told me.

“So how was the trip there?” Grammy asks.

“Not too bad,” I tell her. “That giant lawyer took my phone away, so I’m using the land line here. I’m not sure how often I’ll get to make calls.”

“I’m sorry, champ,” Gramps says. “We’ll get you a new one when you get out.”

“Thanks, Gramps. It got better today, though. The school here doesn’t seem terrible, even if it’s a little weird. My dorm room is fine. The food has nothing on your cooking, but it’s not too bad. And I really like some of my siblings.”

“Well that’s good to hear,” Grammy says. “We’re praying for you.”

“Thanks,” I tell her. Mom didn’t share her parents’ faith, so I never picked it up either. I don’t understand how they can believe in a God that would let Mom die like that, but their convictions don’t seem to have been shaken by the events of the last few weeks.

“So tell us everything,” Grammy insists. “I want to know all about your new home and your new friends.”

“It’s not his home, Helen,” Gramps snaps.

“Hush, Frank. Tell us everything, Noah.”

So I do. The next thing I know, the bell is ringing again with its electronic ding-dong.

“Hey, I think it’s dinner time here. I should probably go.”

“Don’t forget to write in your journal,” Grammy says.

“I will,” I tell her. “I promise.”

“We love you, Noah,” Gramps adds. “Remember who you are.”

As if I could forget. I say goodbye one more time and set the handset in its cradle. I get up and go through the open door at the end of the hall. Mrs. Hastings looks up from her neatly organized desk as I come in.

“Everything satisfactory with your grandparents, I hope?”

“Yes, thanks.”

“I imagine you’re anxious to meet your father,” she says. I give her an emphatic nod, which she answers with a sympathetic shake of her head. “Unfortunately, I just received word that he won’t be back today. I expect him either tomorrow evening or early on Saturday.”

She gets up and fetches a flat, rectangular shape from the shelf and hands it to me. “In the meantime, this is your tablet. It’s loaded with all your textbooks and everything else you’ll need for your coursework.” I take a look at the device. The thing is higher than high-end: a flat touch-screen computer no larger than a hardcover book. I’d heard rumors that SynTech was working on these, but I’ve never seen one before. Another perk of being in the Butler family, I guess.

“Your calendar is already loaded with your schedule,” she continues. “And you’ll get a meeting with your father as soon as he arrives. There’s also a system to requisition clothing or other necessities. I saw you didn’t bring much with you. Feel free to order whatever you feel you need. We don’t generally limit expenses unless they become exorbitant, so try to keep it under a few thousand dollars a month.”

My head reels with the amount. I don’t think I’ve spent more than a couple thousand on all the clothes I’ve ever worn in my life. I thank her and make a detour to drop the tablet off in my dorm room before following the streams of my siblings across the grassy commons to dinner. I get more friendly waves and greetings than I can count, and this time I can even respond in kind.

In the cafeteria, Evan waves me over to his table once I get my tray with steak, mashed potatoes, and broccoli. Louise and Andrea are already there with him. Marc is one table over, talking nonstop to a group of kids that look like they’re a couple of years younger. Jeff is off by himself in a corner again, his back to the room. I don’t see Chad anywhere, but I don’t care enough about him to ask where he is.

The food is good enough, and so is the company even though Andrea still doesn’t talk at all. It doesn’t feel like she’s silent though, since her face, in addition to being beautiful, is incredibly expressive. She pops little images in the air with her dancing fingers when she wants to say something. After dinner, Evan puts on a movie on one of the big screens in the common room of the dorms. Louise and Andrea take the couch next to ours. All three of them do homework on their tablets while we watch, which makes me suspect I’ll be doing that too tomorrow night.

The minimal sleep that I got last night must be taking its toll on me. I’m exhausted by the time the credits roll. I beg off while my siblings are still doing homework and find my way back to the right hallway to go back to my room. I take one more look at the picture of Mom on the desk before settling into bed. I miss her a lot, but I’ve always wanted a brother or sister, and now I have dozens, and some that I even like.

I’m dying to meet my father. I’ve been curious about him for as long as I can remember, and now that I’m here, I’m even more curious. Maybe this place won’t be so bad.

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