“Do you share your father’s beliefs about the Singularity?”
Joel blinked, the way he did when he heard something he couldn’t quite comprehend. “Pardon me?”
“Your father has gone on record stating that he believes super-advanced artificial intelligence will eventually take over our planet. Is that why he trusted the reactor to the Krebs machines? Because he believes that only so-called strong AI can do the job?”
Joel’s mouth opened. Nothing came out. Hwa cleared her throat. Instantly, Joel stood up straight. “My father…” His voice cracked. Hwa couldn’t keep the wince off her face. “My father almost died of neo-polio,” Joel said, finally. “He was born on an anti-science commune in Northern California, and it was the site of a major outbreak. Until he got his augments, he was in constant pain. He had to relearn how to walk, how to type, all of those things. But even so, he’s always told me that he felt luckier than the other kids. Because he didn’t get measles, and that’s the reason he’s still alive today.”
Joel licked his lips. “My father’s beliefs about the future aren’t the reason I’m here. I’m here so that I can talk to my peers about our future. And I don’t think that’s what you’re interested in. So I think I’m done talking to you. All of you.”
A cacophony of questions and a sparkling array of flies rose up as he descended the podium. Hwa got between them and him as he went through the doors. “Nice work,” she said, as the doors closed behind them.
“I think I’m going to throw up.” Joel bolted for the fire stairs. He charged up the first flight so fast Hwa almost had to chase him. “I want to go to my room.”
“Hey, slow down!” Hwa put a hand on his shoulder and he whirled on her, eyes dilated, sweat dotting his hairline. “Calm down,” she said. “It’s just adrenaline. It’s not real.”
“I think I need a new implant,” Joel said. “I’m not supposed to get stage fright. I’m not supposed to get frightened at all.”
Hwa snorted. “You did not look frightened up there. You looked great. You did great.” She grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him a little. “That feeling that you’re feeling? That’s not fear. That’s exhilaration. You’re excited, because you totally nailed it back there, and that’s okay. Okay?”
One corner of his mouth curled up. “Okay.”
Then he threw his arms around her. For a minute, Hwa didn’t know where to put her arms. When she did, she felt both firm new muscle stretching across his back and shoulders, and sprig of pride blooming up in her. The boy was already stronger. It was time to level up his training.
“Is this weird?” Joel asked.
“Only a little,” Hwa said. “People don’t really hug me.”
“I can’t hug my dad.” Joel backed away. A pink blush blossomed in his cheeks. “Sorry.”
“No, it’s cool. We should, uh … feel the love. Or something.”
Joel’s head tilted. “Just so you know, I don’t want to have sex with you.”
“That’s okay. People don’t. Generally. Want to have sex with me.”
Joel smiled. “It’s too bad Daniel isn’t here. We should buy him a present. Let’s go to the gift shop.”
*
Finally they were allowed to leave the state dinner, and Hwa could go back to her room check up on any news about Layne’s death. To her surprise, the NAPS had rushed Layne’s toxicology report. Maybe Rivaudais had pulled some strings—he wanted to clear that food safety inspection, after all. Prove that it wasn’t his liquor that had killed an innocent member of USWC 314’s tech support. That it was an allergy, or an accident, something he could fire somebody over and be done with it. And that’s exactly what the report ruled: Layne’s throat had closed suddenly due probably to an anaphylactic reaction, and she’d asphyxiated. There was no explanation for the foam in her mouth.
Hwa flopped back on the bed. The images followed her gaze, strobing across the ceiling. Calliope. The Aviation. Layne. Layne on the floor of the Aviation, pink oozing out of her mouth and onto her hair, her eyes wide.
“Go Jung-hwa.”
Layne was talking. Her eyes didn’t move, but her mouth did. She spoke through the bloody foam, but it sounded like she had no trouble. Like she was just chewing on some gum, or some candy. Like the bubbles in her mouth were sweet.
“You should get your eyes checked, Hwa.”
“I just had them checked,” Hwa told her. “Dr. Mantis checked them.”
“Check them again.”
“I’m fine. My eyes are fine. My brain is fine.”
“You’re not fine. You’re really fucked up.”
“Yeah. Well. I’m not dead. That’s something.”
“You have a blind spot. A big one.”