Lynch shook his head. “No. These are more profound mysteries than he is ready for. And as his father, I don’t want to frighten him. He’s already lived every day with the threat of kidnapping, being my son.” Lynch looked into her eyes. “If you decide to take this position, my one stipulation is that you not tell him why your presence is so very necessary.”
Lynch waved. The walls fell away. Joel stood surrounded by his family, talking with Síofra. He was totally unaware of how his older siblings—his much older siblings—were staring at him. But Hwa knew that look. It was so plain she felt a little embarrassed for them for being so obvious, and embarrassed for the kid for not picking up on it. They were jealous. They were jealous that this skinny little brat with no discernible skills was being picked first for a job they’d been training for since they were born. Jealous that Daddy loved Joel best. Jealous that he loved fucking—or maybe just inseminating—Joel’s mother, so much so that he wouldn’t shut up about it. Jealous that Joel would get all of the money and power and almost none of the hassle of putting up with the media maelstrom and bottomless fountain of bullshit that was Zachariah Lynch. Just plain jealous. And it was eating them up, inside. Hwa didn’t need special lenses or filters or access to one layer of reality or another to put that together. It was plain to see with the naked eye.
Lynch could worry all he wanted about killer robots or reptoids or tentacle monsters from outside of time and space. It was probably easier for the old man than facing the truth. The people who really wanted Joel out of the picture were already in the room with him.
“I have big plans for this town, Miss Go,” Lynch whispered. “And I’d like my son to be a part of them. Now, do we have a deal?”
Hwa looked at Joel. He was so alone out there. Just this kid listening to all the adults. Wondering what all the fuss was. He gave her a very shy, hopeful smile.
“You.” She pitched her voice at Joel, loud enough so his siblings shut up. “Come here.”
Joel crossed the room to meet her. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“You really want me for this job?”
Joel smiled. He nodded emphatically. “Yes.”
“It’ll be hard,” Hwa said. “Can you handle that?”
Again he nodded.
“I won’t go easy on you just because of your family name. I don’t give a shit about that. You want me to train you, then you follow my rules. You do what I say, when I say it, and how I say it. You don’t whine, and you don’t complain, but you do tell me if you’re hurt or you’re sick. Okay?”
“I don’t get sick,” Joel said. “And I’ve never really been hurt.”
Hwa grinned. “We’ll fix that.” She glanced at Joel’s father. “We have a deal.”
“Good. Please give Daniel your contact information, and so on. We’ll need your Social Insurance Number. Joel, come with me.”
And with that, the mirrors enclosed him once more. He was gone. The others in the room seemed to take that as their cue to leave. They drifted out of the room without saying good-bye, and took Joel with them. She saw him cast a glance at her over his shoulder as the mirrors closed behind him. Soon only Síofra was left.
“So,” he said. “What did you see in the crystal ball?”
4
Bruises
Hwa didn’t tell him what she’d seen in the crystal ball. Nor did she tell anyone. She was tempted to tell Mistress Séverine, when she handed in her notice, but her union rep seemed not to care about why she was leaving. “Of course you must take this job,” she had said. “It’s tailor-made for you.”
“I’ll be back to school,” Hwa said. “And there’s health benefits. Better than the provincial plan.”
Séverine had taken Hwa by the shoulders. “We will miss you. But opportunities are thin on the ground, in this place. You must take them as you find them.”
And so they cashed out her pension, and Hwa put down first and last on a shitbox studio in Tower One. Eileen told her she should apply for something better, but even looking at places in Two or Three made her feel like a fake. It wasn’t like she had a lot of stuff, anyway. And she had no plans to entertain. School started the following week, and with it came a raft of shiny new toys Hwa was supposed to wear all the time. She wasn’t sure which she hated more: the specs, the bug in her ear, or the stupid tartan uniform.
“Doesn’t it get distracting, like? Hearing me breathing?” Hwa asked.
“Only at first,” her new boss said.
Her feet pounded the pavement. She ducked under the trees that made up the Fitzgerald Causeway Arboretum. Without the rain pattering on the hood of her jacket, she could hear the edges of Síofra’s voice a little better. The implant made sure she got most of the bass tones and vowels as a rumble that trickled down her spine. Some consonants and sibilants, though, tended to fizzle out.