Nanobots, Murder, and Other Family Problems

“So what’s going on, man?” Evan asks, without preamble. “Why all the whispering with Louise? And why do I feel like you’ve been trying to ditch me lately?”

I glance around with my half-dozen eyes. From his place ahead of us, I don’t think Ibraham can hear us, and no one else is near enough to overhear. I make a note to myself to learn Louise’s anti-eavesdropping shield, that would be handy right now. But even if any English speakers were close, there’s plenty of background noise, so I guess this is as good a place for this conversation as any.

“I don’t think you’re going to like it.” I answer, keeping my human eyes forward as we walk down the street.

He angles so that he’s walking a little closer to me and lowers his voice.

“I’m a big boy. I can take whatever it is.”

“It’s about Father,” I say as I turn my head to look at Evan. “He’s not the hero everyone thinks he is.”

“You’re just now realizing that? Of course he’s no hero.”

“What makes you say that?” I ask, dodging around a small group of Asian tourists.

“He’s a dirty old man. You know those hundred siblings we have? That’s not artificial insemination, brother. And none of us have the same mother. You’ve seen the nannies, the cafeteria workers, the other staff. That’s the pool he’s pulling from.”

His mouth twists in disgust. I don’t think any of the staff he’s talking about are past their mid-twenties. Father is in his late sixties. That’s old enough to be their grandfather.

“Are you kidding?”

Before he can answer, I remember. I’ve seen his calendar. All those Potential Mother appointments. If Evan’s right, then those weren’t selection interviews like I thought. How much Viagra does that old pervert go through every week? My stomach twists.

“No, man. I wouldn’t joke about this.” Evan’s face is as serious as his tone. “I thought you knew. What were you guys all talking about without me then? I thought you all had finally figured it out.”

“No!” I protest. “How would we even know that?”

“Well, I figured you knew from your mom or something. I was kind of hurt that you didn’t talk to me about it first.”

Ibrahim stops ahead of us and lets us catch up so he can point out a statue that I don’t care about. Evan and I pretend to look for a minute while he goes ahead and gets some distance from us again.

“No!” I declare once we’re clear. “Mom barely told me who my father was. She never said a word about what he was doing off in his desert compound.”

“So then, if it wasn’t the dirty old man thing, then I guess you guys were talking about when Andrea’s implant went wrong, and she almost died and still can’t talk to this day?” This chapter was copied from novelceo(.)com without permission.

“No, not that either. Andrea almost died?”

“Yeah, a few weeks after she got her implant. But that sort of thing is bound to happen when you put a barely-tested piece of experimental hardware inside someone’s skull. So, if it wasn’t that, then I guess it also wasn’t that you all finally realized that he’s been using us as guinea pigs for his illegal and unethical medical experiments?” He says it so casually. Not like he doesn’t care, but like he’s already fully processed the pain of it. “I mean, performing unnecessary brain surgery on your own kids? What kind of monster does that? He could have killed us all with those things. And even though he hasn’t killed any of us yet, you know the implants are messing with us. Marc was not this weird before he got his. And don’t even start on Jeff.”

“No,” I reply, shaking my head. “It wasn’t that either.”

Another group of tourists splits us up for a moment. I start to realize how long the litany of Father’s sins is. I’ve obviously been way too focused on him killing Mom.

“None of that?” Evan asks as we merge back up. “For real?”

I shake my head.

“Then what the hell else do you have on the old man?”

Ibrahim is waiting for us at a crosswalk that leads to a roundabout with a small park in the middle. He gestures at a huge statue of a man on a horse at the center of it.

“Behold, Emperor Menelik II,” he says.

“Thanks, Ibrahim,” I tell him. “Mind if we look closer?”

“Of course,” he says, leaning against the pillar by the gate. Evan and I walk up the path into the park on our own. There are a few other tourists here, I wait a long few minutes until they clear out.

“Well, you know those soldiers we ran into in Somalia?” I finally get to ask.

“Yeah.”

“He killed them all,” I say quietly.

“Well duh, I figured that out,” he says, irritation in his voice.

“And you didn’t say anything?”