Wired (12 page)

Oliver squinted, lost in concentration once more. He hadn't found any data on the Rodkes in all of his research, either. But he should have.
Sloppy
, he thought. “The Rodkes. Interesting.”

“What? You think there's something there? That Gaia has these new friends? That these people came to New York? I mean, they couldn't have moved to New York just to get close to Gaia, could they?”

Oliver leveled Jake with a steely glare. “When will you learn, boy, that things are always more complicated than they appear to be?”

“But Liz? I mean, she's just this random trendoid who thinks she's the intelligent person's answer to Paris Hilton. But she's just a kid. Harmless. Wearing leather is probably as subversive as she gets.”

“Well, Jake, I'm sorry if you can't see a threat in this situation, but thankfully, your input is not the final say in the matter. The fact is that Gaia is in danger—
grave
danger—and if the Rodkes are a new influence in her life, then the Rodkes themselves are subject to our suspicion. You should watch them.”

“Do I get toys?” Jake asked eagerly. Alarmingly, he seemed far more interested in costly electronics than in the serious information that Oliver was imparting.

“None necessary,” Oliver replied with finality.
“Your cell phone will be sufficient for your purposes for the time being.”

Jake nodded agreeably, but there was an “aw, shucks” quality to his response. It was obvious enough that he was eager to go the full -on, tricked-out 007 route, Oliver leaned forward in his seat as though divulging a great secret.

“Trust me, Jake. Right now, keeping tabs on the Rodkes is the most important task at hand.”

Jake shrugged. “Yeah, sure. I'll stop by the apartment. Find some reason. Check it all out and report back.”

“Now that,” Oliver said, seeming finally at least somewhat satisfied, “would be a fine plan.”

Those
who know me understand my limitations.

I have no tolerance for incompetence. In my line of work, one is only as strong as one's weakest moment, one's team as strong as one's weakest link. I have no time for simple-minded mistakes, and I am not interested in breaking in neophytes.

I have no tolerance for arrogance—other than my own, of course, well warranted as it is. I've yet to meet the master who cows me, and until I do, it must be understood and acknowledged that
I
am the master, that my rules, my quirks, and even my own limitations must be respected.

Jake may well be competent, but his sheer hubris may be his undoing. Unless he proves himself a worthy ally in the very near future, he is of no use to me. This reconnaissance job at the Rodkes' shall be his final test. Basic, to be sure, and boring, but the boy needs to learn his place. Right now
he is at the bottom of the pecking order. He must work his way up. We all did, at one time or another, and the sacrifices that we made were significant.

Foolish Jake—he is wholly unaware of the extent of my knowledge. While the Rodkes themselves may still be an unknown quantity, Jake doesn't realize that I've done more digging. My research on the fearless gene, my relative success in manipulating it, has piqued the interest of some key players. My top hackers have uncovered files, leaving me no room for doubt. Those who have learned of my work are attempting to appropriate it for their own purposes. Someone intends to replicate my niece's DNA. And before long, I will know my adversary's name, Rodke or other.

As I've always known, fearlessness is the ultimate anti-anxietal. But whereas I wanted to harness the power of the gene suppression to create the prototype for a fierce, unstoppable killing
machine, the drug companies now wish to cash in on our Prozac nation's desire to numb every last emotion. Fearlessness would be the new Xanax, the new yoga. A new chance for people to disconnect completely, to relax themselves to the point of automation.

I won't have it.

Clearly those behind the new drug research are the same fiends who are after my niece. I won't let them come near her.

I have the files but not the sources. But it is only a matter of time…. And I have plenty of time. Gaia, after all, is my priority.

I'd like to protect her, to be sure, but the truth is that Gaia is mine. She is born of my own DNA if not my own flesh and blood, and I alone shall hold the secrets to her biochemical composition.

I alone shall explore these secrets, manipulate these secrets….

Benefit from these secrets.

From:
[email protected]

To:
[email protected]

Re:
What's up with you?

Hey, G.—

I hope you don't mind that I got your e-mail address from Liz, and maybe it's none of my business, but you seemed kinda upset before and I wanted to check in and see if everything was okay. If I'm totally out of line, just ignore this e-mail, and the next time we see each other, we can awkwardly pretend it never happened.

We missed you at ABC Carpet. I bet you've got cool taste in ottomans.

—S.

frivolous, teenage fun—the kind she was in dire need of

SKYLER WAS STANDING ON THE BALCONY just off the penthouse dining room, appreciating the spectacular skyline that never failed to entertain. At this hour the lights from individual apartment buildings glittered incessantly, and in the background Skyler could make out the Empire State Building. He didn't usually know what the colors meant on a given night unless, as on Christmas or St. Patrick's Day, they were particularly obvious, but the aura was hypnotic nonetheless. He liked to lose himself, gazing out the window, when he had something on his mind.

Lately he had a lot of things on his mind.

He heard the screen door slip open, breaking him from his reverie, and turned to see his father appear behind him.

“I'm glad you're home,” Dr. Rodke said.

“Well, Liz and I got done shopping early. Anyway, you asked me here,” he pointed out by way of response. “What's up?” For Dr. Rodke to invite Skyler home—and company dinners were the obvious exception—something had to be up.

Dr. Rodke gestured to Skyler, inviting him back inside off the balcony to sit down on the large sectional couch. He leaned in conspiratorially, dropping his voice. Liz, Chris, and Mrs. Rodke were all home, and
the two had to be discreet. “The sample that was gathered was insufficient,” his father said simply.

Skyler's brow furrowed inquisitively. ‘“Insufficient'? Meaning what? We didn't have enough of it? There was something wrong with it? Someone tampered with it accidentally? Or on
purpose?”
His pulse quickened at the thought that someone was out to sabotage their project.

His father waved his hand in quick dismissal. “I don't actually think there was any foul play involved. It's hard to say what exactly was wrong, given that it was a sizable sample. But we'll need another, and sooner rather than later. We need to perfect the compound before too much time has passed. Now that the drug has leaked onto the street in primitive form, the police are involved. They're starting to ask questions.” He cleared his throat. “They were talking to Liz.”

“Liz doesn't know anything,” Skyler interjected. His sister's naÏvetÉ was one thing they could count on, thankfully.

“True enough. But for how long?” his father replied. “We can't run the risk of exposure, especially not after we've come so far.”

Skyler nodded. His eyes landed on a family portrait perched on a side shelf. The three children and their parents beamed out happily. The perfect family. Skyler couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so carefree. He was glad that Liz was unencumbered by
the family business. He hoped she would stay that way. “I can handle it” he assured his father solemnly.

“I know you can, son,” Dr. Rodke agreed, placing a firm hand on Skyler's back. “I've no doubt. That's why I asked you to take care of it.

“Tonight”

GAIA DEPRESSED THE DOORBELL OF the Rodkes' apartment and stepped back, running her fingers through her hair nervously. Now that she was standing here, just before their door, dropping in unexpectedly on her friend, this normal-girl business seemed shakier. Some people didn't like surprises, and Gaia didn't know Liz well enough to know her stance on the subject. Her self-esteem, never a strong point even when she'd been fearless, had definitely left the building a long time ago. No forwarding address. She tugged at her shirt nervously.

The door swung open, but instead of Liz, Gaia was
greeted with the sight of the slightly less feminine Chris Rodke. She smiled uneasily at him. From the little that she knew of Chris, Gaia thought he was funny and down-to-earth. The bulk of his opinion of her—assuming, of course, that he had even bothered to form one—had probably been solidified the day they'd sat together on the steps across from the school building. And since she'd been a mass of confusion that day, he probably wasn't all that impressed by her. Speaking of misplaced self-esteem…

But Chris only smiled warmly at her. “Gaia. You seem, uh…” He paused, considering his next words carefully, and Gaia was reminded that she probably looked like a street urchin. After all, she hadn't cleaned up from her little gutter coma. The blood crusted under her fingernails was a particularly classy touch, she knew.

“I fell,” she explained quickly. It wasn't exactly a lie. “I tripped like a total klutz right off the curb and wiped out. I haven't had a chance to go home and change. I guess I look like something that just crawled out of the sewer, huh?”

“Well,” Chris hedged, obviously relieved to be off the hook in terms of assessing her looks for himself, “I don't know if I'd go that far. But if it came down to you and the curb, I'd say the curb definitely won.” He stepped back to allow her entrance.

“Yeah, I'm thinking of filing charges,” she joked,
marveling as the words slid off her tongue that she had even managed to string them together in the first place. Witty banter was really not her thing.

Chris frowned. “Was Liz expecting you?”

“Oh, no. I actually tripped just around the corner and figured as long as I was in the neighborhood…” Gaia trailed off, feeling a fresh attack of insecurity. Of
course
Liz wasn't home. Liz had way better things to do than sit around hoping that Gaia the Lonely Street Fighter might stop by. She was out doing something interesting, fun, involved…. Liz was cool, and not in the typical, knows-what-kind-of-boots-to-wear sense of the word (though she
did
, of course, know what kind of boots to wear. Which made her all the cooler). Liz was definitely out at a play reading, or a knitting class, or an art gallery. Gaia, on the other hand, was completely not cool… and the fact that she thought Liz might have been just hanging around was only further evidence of the fact.

“Yeah, she actually went out with our mom. Something about a shoe-based reward, you know, for the furniture run. But I guess they should be back soon. Do you want to wait for her here? I was just watching TV.”

Gaia toyed with the zipper on her sweatshirt. She
did
kind of want to hang out for a while, but she
didn't want to impose on Chris since he was so clearly just being polite.

“Honestly. It's no big,” he pressed, as if reading her mind. “That is, if you swear not to tell anyone that we watched
Entertainment Tonight.”

Gaia giggled almost involuntarily. Bad television with Chris actually sounded like a lot of fun. Frivolous, teenage fun-the kind she was indireneed of. “You are not!”

He shrugged. “I'm a sucker for reality TV. What can I say?”

“Hey, Chris, who was at the—?” Gaia heard a familiar voice enter the living room from the adjoining kitchen and looked up to see Skyler. She flushed, her second involuntary gesture in as many minutes. “Oh, Gaia,” he exclaimed, a wide smile breaking across his face. The smile turned to a look of concern as he took in her various cuts and scrapes. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Girl meets curb,” Chris cut in, waving him away. “Shhh. The show's back on.”

“Forget the show,” Skyler insisted. “Gaia, you're really banged up.”

“I'm fine, I swear,” she protested. She didn't want him to think of her as some sort of victim. For that matter, she didn't want
anyone
to think of her as some sort of victim—but Skyler's opinion of her was suddenly the one that seemed most significant. And therefore most in need of protecting.

He crossed over to her and took her hand. Gaia's face lit up in flames—or at least it felt that way—and she rose.

“Come on,” he said. “At the very least, let me get you a Band-Aid.”

“Tell me what happens,” she called to Chris over her shoulder as Skyler dragged her into the bathroom.

He didn't exactly have to drag very hard, though.

“Now again, explain to me very slowly why the bad sidewalk did this to you?” Skyler asked, seating her on the covered toilet seat and taking a wet washcloth to those wounds requiring immediate attention. “I mean, you look like you went three rounds with a concrete mixer.”

Skyler's gentle touch and rapt attention made Gaia self-conscious. “Uh, yeah. Sort of. I mean, it was a big spill,” she mumbled. “Really embarrassing. I'm glad there weren't any people around.”

“Forget the embarrassment, Gaia,” Chris said. “You look really hurt. Were you just going to pretend you were okay?”

She looked down. He reached his hand out under her chin and drew her head back up again so that she had no choice but to meet his gaze. “Gaia. You just came over here to say hi to Liz and were hoping no one would even notice that you've been sliced and diced? Why?”