Jackie was referring to the eBay listing and wasn’t prepared to confront the reality of her father’s illness so directly. A lump formed in her throat, climbed up the wall of her esophagus, and tried to push itself all the way out of her mouth. She made a short, clipped noise of anguish.
Deirdre, realizing that Jared had misunderstood his daughter’s question, jumped in and steered the conversation in a different direction. “Your father and I talked about the eBay listing. He knows how upset we all are. But it doesn’t matter now. eBay took the listing down. Apparently we’re not the only ones who think selling a human life is a bad idea.” Deirdre’s tone and glare at Jared left no room for misinterpretation; she was pissed off. Jackie was upset, too, but couldn’t be mad at her father knowing what she now knew. She wanted to ask her father so many questions—Did the cancer hurt? Was he scared? How could he do this to her?—but it was all too raw, too new. She decided to change the subject.
“Where’s Meg? Shouldn’t she be part of this conversation, too?”
“We talked to her earlier this morning,” her mother said.
“And?”
“Your sister, whatever faults she may have, is a strong girl.” Her mother paused and looked at Jackie a long moment before continuing. “We’re going to need you to be strong, too, Jax.”
Jackie nodded but pushed the thought away. Everything about the world was off-kilter. Jackie felt like she was on a spinning ride at the amusement park and wanted to get off. “Is she still here?”
“Meg? No, I took her to school.”
“Can I go, too?”
Deirdre and Jared looked at each other, and then looked at Jackie like she was a stranger.
“You want to go to school?” Jared asked.
“Kind of.” Jackie put her head down, letting her bangs fall over her eyes.
Neither one of her parents answered right away. Jackie knew why they were surprised. Other than the day of the Kevin Memmott affair, no one in the Stone family could remember a single day in the entire history of their lives when Jackie actually wanted to go to school.
“Of course, honey,” she said. “Your dad will drive you.”
“Yeah, sure,” Jared said, then shook his head like he was remembering something important. “Oh, wait. I have a meeting downtown. At least, I think I do.”
“Okay, get dressed, Jax. I’ll take you. And, Jare,” Deirdre said, standing up, “don’t do anything stupid.”
Jackie wasn’t sure what her mother meant, but she was glad to see her father smile and nod in agreement.
***
After Glio was done giving Baby Jackie a sponge bath, he stumbled onto something truly remarkable. There was a part of Jared’s cerebral cortex that had never been consciously tapped. In fact, no human had ever consciously tapped this part of his or her cerebral cortex. It was part of that apocryphal 90 percent of the brain that a person never uses. Only it wasn’t apocryphal, at least not to a high-grade glioblastoma multiforme.
As he dived deeper and deeper into the cortex, Glio swam through shimmering curtains of neurons flashing with bursts of fuchsia, indigo, and aquamarine, the light show a borealis of the mind. Eddies and jets of intelligence carried him through funnel-shaped clouds of thought ending in a Class V rapid, where Glio dropped without warning into a synaptic sea, entering the warm, enveloping waters with a pronounced splash.
He paddled through unchartered lakes and canals, devouring schools of thought that defied category or explanation, existing like the dark matter of the universe, heavier and with more gravity than could ever be seen, heard, smelled, tasted, touched, or realized. It was π to the 4,790,523rd digit, the complete understanding of the human genome, and the one true meaning of love. These were the thoughts, ideas, and truths that formed the background hum of humanity, the music all people heard without knowing it. It was the fuel of desire, ambition, and curiosity. And, cell by cell, Jared Stone was losing it all.
These neurons were a power boost to Glio, propelling him forward with greater speed and resolve.
With each bite Glio took of this previously inaccessible corner of the brain, Jared’s eyes lost an iota of sparkle. It was as if he were the personification of a story where someone was removing all the adjectives, conjunctions, and adverbs, so the only things left were nouns and verbs.
Glio swam on. Or rather Glio swam.
***
Hazel Huck was talking to a newspaper reporter when she got the news about the auction.
“I’m looking now,” the reporter was saying, “but I don’t see the listing anymore.”
The reporter wouldn’t reveal the source that had confirmed Hazel’s real-world identity, but Hazel figured it had to be a War Craft admin. They would be the only ones to know.
Once she had been outed, Hazel saw no reason not to cooperate. Perhaps by going public, she thought, the fund-raising effort could be defibrillated back to life.
Hazel knew this would mean the end of her online anonymity, and her guild friends would know she was just an awkward high school kid from the heart of Dixie. But some things, she thought, trump self-interest.
“Can you tell me the auction number so I can search again?” the reporter asked.