For the Friday Challenge.
The kid, the boy, and the creature
Detective Jack Harper sat silently watching the smoke from his cigarette make lazy trails in the air as the man across from him tried to stop shaking long enough to light his own. Once the nervous man had inhaled a few drags Jack flicked the switch for the tape recorder on the table.
“It's Wednesday September 16 1959, the time is now 3:48 am. Detective Jack Harper taking interview statement of..” Jack briefly paused the recorder again as he looked over at the man with an air of derision. “What did you say your name was again?” he said to the nervous man.
“Tom...Tom Parker, but everybody just calls me 'the kid'.” he said between rapid drags on his smoke.
Jack was about to turn the recorder back on but was interrupted when Officer Pratley stuck his head in the room.
“Hey Jack. You gonna be okay here alone with tough guy here? I was thinking about checking out the crime scene if you don't need me.” he said hoping the older detective would let him go. If the others hadn't been exaggerating about how bad it was he may even have a chance to get a few pics gruesome enough to send to one of those true crime magazines.
Jack waved the younger officer off without a word, hoping to get back to this interview and back home before dawn. He impatiently pressed record as soon as Pratley shut the door.
“As I was saying, this is Detective Jack Harper taking interview statement of Tom Parker. Mister Parker in your own words please describe the incident for the record.?” Jack said as he finally took a good look at the young man.
What he'd taken for at first as an unkempt and careless appearance was dashed once he studied the kid.
Every piece of Tom's clothing was torn in some way, as if by a wild animal. Jack found himself staring at the kid wondering what he'd witnessed when Tom begin to speak.
“I was walking Becky Brown home when I saw the boy. He was standing in the middle of the street like he was trying to get hit. So I made sure Becky was at her door before I ran out to get him. To keep him from getting hit you know?” Tom said as a thought occurred to him.
“Oh God, I don't even know his name. How will his parents ever know what happened to him?” Tom said looking at Jack desperate for an answer, any answer.
Jack stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray and moved to pull another one from the pack as he mulled the question over for himself. He'd been at the crime scene before he'd been ordered come to the station to take the witness statement. And it was something he'd wondered himself. No reason to worry the kid he thought to himself.
“We already have a tentative ID on the boy.” he said hoping to ease Tom's mind. “His parents are going to be notified within the hour.” Jack said as he watched the kid visibly relax.
With that solved, Tom continued his tale.
“The boy stood still as a statue right until I touched him. Then he jumped back all sudden-like and started whispering about this weird creature.” Tom said shivering at the thought. “He kept moving away every time I got close, so to keep him from getting hit, I started herding him toward the sidewalk. Once he was there things got worse, so much worse.” Tom said
“Why did it get worse then son?” Jack asked leaning back in his chair interested in hearing the answer.
“Because that's when he stopped talking about the creature, and when it showed up.” Tom said as he blew a lungful of smoke across the table.
“Did it now? And what did the creature look like, a great big beastie with dripping fangs and talons I suppose?” Jack asked jokingly thinking that he was being put upon and this was all some bizarre prank.
Tom looked back at Jack with a hurt expression on his face, the shock of what he'd seen evident on his face.
“That's the thing, the worst part of it. The boy, he was the creature.” Tom said, letting his hands fall down to his sides. “I watched as he came at me like it wasn't even happening at first. The boy had one of my arms in a vice-like grip and was clawing at my face with the other one.” Tom said recounting what had happened.
“You have to understand it was either him or me.” Tom said visibly shaken by what had come next.
“When I saw the truck coming down the street, I broke his grip and I waited. I waited until the last second and dove in front of the truck praying that he'd follow. And he did.” Tom said letting out a deep breath as he finally relaxed.
Jack tried his level best to not to leap across the table and strangle the kid. Instead focusing on getting Tom to admit what he'd done.
“You're telling me you killed the boy; I mean, defeated the 'creature'?” Jack said calmly as he watched Tom shift uncomfortably in his seat.
“No, I never said I defeated the creature. And if you had been paying attention you'd know that we're all alone in this building. Not another soul around for miles.” Tom said as he leaned forward to take another cigarette from the pack.
“Fine, given that you're a nutjob, what does the fact that we're alone have to do with anything?” Jack asked as he placed one hand on his gun, just in case the kid tried anything.
“Well you see I had so little time getting used to the boy's body that I barely had any time to have fun before I was forced to take this one. And with you, I plan on taking my time.” Tom said as he dropped the cigarette to the ground and advanced on the detective.
Jack had drawn his gun and fired all six shots before the kid even took a step. He stood shaking with a mix of shock and awe as he watched the kid's body crumple to the ground in a lifeless heap.
“Oh God what have I done?!? I need to get someone here.” he said as he flipped off the recorder and sat back down in his chair.
“After all I can't spend too long in this body, it's positively ancient.” said the thing wearing Jack as it reached for another cigarette and calmly waited for the others to return.
Friday, September 17, 2010
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Friday Challenge Entry #8
For the Friday Challenge.
Folk Tales of the Final Frontier #2
"Red Hood courier"
The sudden rush of cold and numbness were her only way of telling when she'd left the “real world” and had entered the unforgiving bastardized version of it known only as “The Forest”.
Red had been working at her family's courier service ever since she was first fitted with a neuro-spike on her sixth birthday. She had taken to the job much more quickly than anyone had expected. Sure, being a data-courier had run in her blood for generations, but no one had jumped from the nothing little missions you were supposed to start out from, to full-fledged paying jobs like she had.
Grandma had been so proud of her, that she gave her all the sensitive jobs she'd normally trusted to much older more experienced couriers, like Red's father or her older brothers. By the time she'd turned thirteen Red had developed such a reputation for herself, the family business was practically the only data-courier left in business. Well, at least if you expected your information to get where it was going without being sifted through and copied a few billion times before it got to it's destination, she thought to herself, as she ran across the wide open planes of the computer construct.
Looking at the receipt attached to the data packet Red saw where she had to take it, and sighed.
DeturaFalls@Badlands.universe.
Boring, she thought as she sped by the denizens of the artificial world. To them all they saw of her was a reddish blur going by, but anyone who had been in The Forest more than a day knew who it was.
As she approached the edge of the open space she considered slowing down, but kept up her pace instead wanting to get this job over with. She hated the easy ones like this, she thought. Inwardly she hoped for an actual challenge for once. And because she wasn't giving her full attention to what she was doing, she missed the signs of an ambush until it was too late.
Strung across her path were micro-fine strands of charged neural inhibitor wiring. Nearly invisible to the naked eye Red would have seen them with all the enhancements Grandma had given her, but she didn't until the sudden jerk of going from top speed to a full stop threatened to practically turn her inside out.
Red struggled with the webbing of thin wiring that even now was quickly sapping her strength.
“F*ck it all to hell, who's responsible for this sh*t!?!” she screamed into the darkness of the wooded area she was now trapped in.
A dashing figure stepped out from behind a tree and smiled a toothsome grin as he approached.
“Why dear Red, what a mouth you have on you.” said the stranger.
Red quickly studied his avatar, as she felt herself losing consciousness, hoping that she could identify him once she was free. He was obviously a weirdo, or one of the furries she'd been warned about.
From the neck down he was a nondescript normal man dressed in a bright blue business suit. But his head was that of an anthropomorphized wolf, complete with a full set of razor sharp fangs.
It was at this point she realized that she was utterly helpless and with only two options; stay with the package and face whatever this guy was planning, or signal her operator back home to yank her out and back to safety. Never one to back down from a fight, Red decided to play the last card she still had.
Using the last of her strength, she bent her left thumb back until she heard the tell-tale crack, and began the mental countdown of how much time she had left.
“What's that you say, wolfie?” she said hoping to draw him in closer.
Her plan, what little there was of one counted on it.
“I said you have quite a mouth on you for such an itty bitty thing.” he said as he playfully flicked at the curls of hair hanging limply over her face.
“All the better to tell you better f*ck off.” she said watching the wolf's face try and display the human expression of bemusement.
The wolf laughed at her despite himself. As he got closer to take her head in his grip he smiled and bared every tooth he had in a threatening manner.
“And why ever should I do that, little girl?” he asked dismissively as he looked into her eyes for any sign of what she was planning.
“Well, unless you got the latest upgrades to your anti-artifacting software, by my count you have about three seconds to haul ass out of here.” Red said calmly as she watched the realization of her words sink into the wolf's face.
But before he could even turn to make an escape the entire area was lit up in a sudden ball of bright green light, as anything not linked to Red's feed was wiped out in the blink of an eye. Picking herself up from the ground as it quickly re-materialized underneath her, Red took a minute to check her avatar's vitals, and ensure that her recklessness hadn't wiped the package too.
A row of green lights on all fronts, she searched the area briefly for any sign of the wolf, but found nothing, not even a residual avatar tag or anything. Taking this as a sign, Red decided to take the much more traveled and maintained route to her destination.
As she approached the way-station, she debated over whether to tell her grandma about the attempt on the package, but thought better of it. No reason to scare her, she thought as she waited in line behind the other data-couriers. Besides, what were the odds she'd ever even see that freak again, she thought as she scanned the package over the deposit area, watching it disappear into a small cloud of photons.
“Another job completed.” she said happily as she felt the familiar stomach dropping sensation of returning to the real world.
Gingerly lifting the neuro-spike from the collar around her neck, Red realized that she'd managed to dislocate her thumb in the escape attempt. Hard to hide that from grandma, she thought as she watched the sweet older woman approach her carrying a stack of new jobs preloaded onto the dozens of storage drives in her arms.
Letting the next day's work fall to the table, Red's grandmother fussed over her best worker, checking to make sure she was okay, just like she did after each job was completed.
“You're slipping young woman. That last one took you .0000009 of a second to run. Are you getting slow in your old age?” her grandma playfully chided.
Red smiled and stood on unsteady legs as she hugged the older woman, resting her chin on her grandma's shoulder.
“I'm not old until I'm your age. What, is that 34, 35?” Red said laughing as her grandma's face turned beet red with indignation.
“I'll have you know I did this job until I was forced to retire at 22, missy. You know full well things run a little faster these days than they did in my parents time. Why back then you worked until you were 70, and you liked it!” she said continuing her speech as she followed Red out of the workroom and into the living room, telling her all about the dark days of the late 21 century.
Folk Tales of the Final Frontier #2
"Red Hood courier"
The sudden rush of cold and numbness were her only way of telling when she'd left the “real world” and had entered the unforgiving bastardized version of it known only as “The Forest”.
Red had been working at her family's courier service ever since she was first fitted with a neuro-spike on her sixth birthday. She had taken to the job much more quickly than anyone had expected. Sure, being a data-courier had run in her blood for generations, but no one had jumped from the nothing little missions you were supposed to start out from, to full-fledged paying jobs like she had.
Grandma had been so proud of her, that she gave her all the sensitive jobs she'd normally trusted to much older more experienced couriers, like Red's father or her older brothers. By the time she'd turned thirteen Red had developed such a reputation for herself, the family business was practically the only data-courier left in business. Well, at least if you expected your information to get where it was going without being sifted through and copied a few billion times before it got to it's destination, she thought to herself, as she ran across the wide open planes of the computer construct.
Looking at the receipt attached to the data packet Red saw where she had to take it, and sighed.
DeturaFalls@Badlands.universe.
Boring, she thought as she sped by the denizens of the artificial world. To them all they saw of her was a reddish blur going by, but anyone who had been in The Forest more than a day knew who it was.
As she approached the edge of the open space she considered slowing down, but kept up her pace instead wanting to get this job over with. She hated the easy ones like this, she thought. Inwardly she hoped for an actual challenge for once. And because she wasn't giving her full attention to what she was doing, she missed the signs of an ambush until it was too late.
Strung across her path were micro-fine strands of charged neural inhibitor wiring. Nearly invisible to the naked eye Red would have seen them with all the enhancements Grandma had given her, but she didn't until the sudden jerk of going from top speed to a full stop threatened to practically turn her inside out.
Red struggled with the webbing of thin wiring that even now was quickly sapping her strength.
“F*ck it all to hell, who's responsible for this sh*t!?!” she screamed into the darkness of the wooded area she was now trapped in.
A dashing figure stepped out from behind a tree and smiled a toothsome grin as he approached.
“Why dear Red, what a mouth you have on you.” said the stranger.
Red quickly studied his avatar, as she felt herself losing consciousness, hoping that she could identify him once she was free. He was obviously a weirdo, or one of the furries she'd been warned about.
From the neck down he was a nondescript normal man dressed in a bright blue business suit. But his head was that of an anthropomorphized wolf, complete with a full set of razor sharp fangs.
It was at this point she realized that she was utterly helpless and with only two options; stay with the package and face whatever this guy was planning, or signal her operator back home to yank her out and back to safety. Never one to back down from a fight, Red decided to play the last card she still had.
Using the last of her strength, she bent her left thumb back until she heard the tell-tale crack, and began the mental countdown of how much time she had left.
“What's that you say, wolfie?” she said hoping to draw him in closer.
Her plan, what little there was of one counted on it.
“I said you have quite a mouth on you for such an itty bitty thing.” he said as he playfully flicked at the curls of hair hanging limply over her face.
“All the better to tell you better f*ck off.” she said watching the wolf's face try and display the human expression of bemusement.
The wolf laughed at her despite himself. As he got closer to take her head in his grip he smiled and bared every tooth he had in a threatening manner.
“And why ever should I do that, little girl?” he asked dismissively as he looked into her eyes for any sign of what she was planning.
“Well, unless you got the latest upgrades to your anti-artifacting software, by my count you have about three seconds to haul ass out of here.” Red said calmly as she watched the realization of her words sink into the wolf's face.
But before he could even turn to make an escape the entire area was lit up in a sudden ball of bright green light, as anything not linked to Red's feed was wiped out in the blink of an eye. Picking herself up from the ground as it quickly re-materialized underneath her, Red took a minute to check her avatar's vitals, and ensure that her recklessness hadn't wiped the package too.
A row of green lights on all fronts, she searched the area briefly for any sign of the wolf, but found nothing, not even a residual avatar tag or anything. Taking this as a sign, Red decided to take the much more traveled and maintained route to her destination.
As she approached the way-station, she debated over whether to tell her grandma about the attempt on the package, but thought better of it. No reason to scare her, she thought as she waited in line behind the other data-couriers. Besides, what were the odds she'd ever even see that freak again, she thought as she scanned the package over the deposit area, watching it disappear into a small cloud of photons.
“Another job completed.” she said happily as she felt the familiar stomach dropping sensation of returning to the real world.
Gingerly lifting the neuro-spike from the collar around her neck, Red realized that she'd managed to dislocate her thumb in the escape attempt. Hard to hide that from grandma, she thought as she watched the sweet older woman approach her carrying a stack of new jobs preloaded onto the dozens of storage drives in her arms.
Letting the next day's work fall to the table, Red's grandmother fussed over her best worker, checking to make sure she was okay, just like she did after each job was completed.
“You're slipping young woman. That last one took you .0000009 of a second to run. Are you getting slow in your old age?” her grandma playfully chided.
Red smiled and stood on unsteady legs as she hugged the older woman, resting her chin on her grandma's shoulder.
“I'm not old until I'm your age. What, is that 34, 35?” Red said laughing as her grandma's face turned beet red with indignation.
“I'll have you know I did this job until I was forced to retire at 22, missy. You know full well things run a little faster these days than they did in my parents time. Why back then you worked until you were 70, and you liked it!” she said continuing her speech as she followed Red out of the workroom and into the living room, telling her all about the dark days of the late 21 century.
Friday Challenge Entry #7
For the Friday Challenge.
Folk Tales of the Final Frontier entry #1
"A modern P.I.N.O.C.C.I.O."
Stage 1
George sat at the terminal his finger wavering over the final key, the one that would execute the program. After this there would be no turning back, he'd be bringing a new life into this world, one he'd ultimately be responsible for.
Making his decision about a millisecond before pressing down on the actual button, George sat back and watched as the machinery in his lab did the rest. A long metal arm reached from the ceiling and pulled the lifeless husk laying on the table towards the middle of the room. Once properly aligned at a pre-set point another machine above the husk a sudden rush of energy appeared and shot into it.
As he waited, watching for any sign of life George readied the next portion of the animation process. Pulling the AI network from its housing he ran any final conductivity tests, and systems diagnostics before “suiting up” to enter the sealed lab.
Gently cradling the AI housing George approached the still formless husk, watching as it began to take shape.
He carefully set the AI on the metal table, and checked the small computer display monitoring the project's progress. Waiting for a certain point in the process George offered a small prayer, “Lord let this be the one.” he uttered under his breath.
George counted down the seconds until the husk would be ready to place the AI into it.
Nine tries, and nine failures, he knew that this would be the last attempt he'd be allowed. That was why he made sure this time he made it count. He put something special into this AI's neural network.
Looking down at the husk as he inserted the AI George made a promise,
“This time Peter, you'll come back to me.”
Stage 2
“Prototype. Inorganic-Nanotech. Organic-Compound. Combination. Iteration. One.” George said to the assembled scientists, reporters and corporate officers gathered around him in the impromptu conference.
“Around here at Metadata Labs we jokingly referred to this project as “Pinoccio”. I say referred, because up until a few days ago, we naturally assumed the project was like all the rest. A failure. That is, until it...I mean until he asked if he could choose his own name.” George said to the hushed whispers of amazement of the crowd.
“So without further hesitation, allow me to introduce you to Peter, the worlds first artificially grown human replicant.” George said turning to the back of the stage.
“Peter? Could you come out here please?” he asked in a fatherly manner to whoever was hiding in wait behind the curtain.
After a few seconds of silence from the crowd, the blue muslin cloth was parted by a child-like hand followed by what looked like to all accounts, a boy of about ten years of age.
The crowd watched in stunned silence as the boy walked across the stage right to the side of the doctor, clutching at the man's leg fearfully as he stared at the large assemblage of people there to see him.
“Now Peter, you know you have no reason to be afraid, we talked about this, remember?” George said as he bent down to speak to the child, either unaware his mic was still on, or not caring about being heard.
The boy smiled at the doctor, and in a historic moment said his first words in public. “Yes father.”
With that the crowd erupted in questions, each jockeying to be answered first. This sudden rush of emotion and noise frightened the boy who again clung to the leg of the doctor, until George playfully tousled his hair and asked for silence.
“Now before I answer any questions, I'd like to have the other project members to come up here and get their due as well.” George said motioning for the two people who worked with him side by said from the beginning.
An older balding man limped towards the stage with the aid of a cane, and the help of a beautiful young woman in a lab coat beside him.
“Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce two of the finest minds in the fields of neurolinguistics and cybernetic development, Doctors James Cricket,and Azura Faye.” George said as the two arrived at the stage to help field any questions the crowd would have.
Doctor Cricket carefully and gratefully sat in the chair that had been brought up to the stage specifically for him, before thanking his young research fellow for her assistance in getting him there. He motioned for George to come closer so he could whisper something in his ear before any questions were asked.
“Doctor Cricket just wanted to remind me, that for any members of the press here today, he is in fact Dr. James E. Cricket, not to be confused with his grandson the pediatrician James B. Cricket.” George said with a chuckle that was followed up by similar responses among the crowd.
For the next hour they each answered the multitude of questions posed by the press, and the others in attendance. Once the crowd's curiosity had been satisfied, they had happily followed Mr. Mangiafuoco the director of Metadata labs on a guided tour of the facilities where this “wonder of the modern age” had been born.
George stayed behind with Peter and his partners for a short moment of peace before a much more public unveiling of their scientific breakthrough later.
Doctor Faye waited until it was just the four of them in the large conference room before pulling George to her and angrily saying what had been on her mind since the project's inception.
“Damn it George, it's bad enough you crafted this thing to look like our dead son, but did you have to name it after him too?!” she said with genuine hurt in her eyes and a quiver in her voice.
“I think that's why I went back to my maiden name when you came to Mangiafuoco with this disgusting idea. The thought of being known as Dr. George Petto's ex-wife after this is bad enough.” she said not bothering to hide the disdain in her voice.
Not waiting for him to answer she turned and walked away, her stride broken only by a few choked sobs as she made her way to the exit.
George turned to see Doctor Cricket playing some game with Peter on a portable device, seemingly unaware of what had just happened. He smiled at the boy, and walked over to the two.
“Peter, would you mind giving Dr. Cricket and I a moment alone?” he said to the boy.
Peter simply nodded and took off running to the stage-end into a flying leap to the ground below. He laughed as he landed and kept on running, at first in circles, and then randomly as if chasing something only he could see.
“Now that he's gone I'd like to thank you for what you really said at the meeting.” George said to his elder friend and mentor.
“I meant it George, I'll never tell anyone what you did. We're the only two people who know that Peter's AI is based on your son. I'll take it to my grave.” Dr. Cricket said solemnly as he watched both the boy run around the room, and the once grieving father see what could have been.
“Thank you James.” replied George, happy now that in some fashion at least, he'd get to see Peter grow up.
Folk Tales of the Final Frontier entry #1
"A modern P.I.N.O.C.C.I.O."
Stage 1
George sat at the terminal his finger wavering over the final key, the one that would execute the program. After this there would be no turning back, he'd be bringing a new life into this world, one he'd ultimately be responsible for.
Making his decision about a millisecond before pressing down on the actual button, George sat back and watched as the machinery in his lab did the rest. A long metal arm reached from the ceiling and pulled the lifeless husk laying on the table towards the middle of the room. Once properly aligned at a pre-set point another machine above the husk a sudden rush of energy appeared and shot into it.
As he waited, watching for any sign of life George readied the next portion of the animation process. Pulling the AI network from its housing he ran any final conductivity tests, and systems diagnostics before “suiting up” to enter the sealed lab.
Gently cradling the AI housing George approached the still formless husk, watching as it began to take shape.
He carefully set the AI on the metal table, and checked the small computer display monitoring the project's progress. Waiting for a certain point in the process George offered a small prayer, “Lord let this be the one.” he uttered under his breath.
George counted down the seconds until the husk would be ready to place the AI into it.
Nine tries, and nine failures, he knew that this would be the last attempt he'd be allowed. That was why he made sure this time he made it count. He put something special into this AI's neural network.
Looking down at the husk as he inserted the AI George made a promise,
“This time Peter, you'll come back to me.”
Stage 2
“Prototype. Inorganic-Nanotech. Organic-Compound. Combination. Iteration. One.” George said to the assembled scientists, reporters and corporate officers gathered around him in the impromptu conference.
“Around here at Metadata Labs we jokingly referred to this project as “Pinoccio”. I say referred, because up until a few days ago, we naturally assumed the project was like all the rest. A failure. That is, until it...I mean until he asked if he could choose his own name.” George said to the hushed whispers of amazement of the crowd.
“So without further hesitation, allow me to introduce you to Peter, the worlds first artificially grown human replicant.” George said turning to the back of the stage.
“Peter? Could you come out here please?” he asked in a fatherly manner to whoever was hiding in wait behind the curtain.
After a few seconds of silence from the crowd, the blue muslin cloth was parted by a child-like hand followed by what looked like to all accounts, a boy of about ten years of age.
The crowd watched in stunned silence as the boy walked across the stage right to the side of the doctor, clutching at the man's leg fearfully as he stared at the large assemblage of people there to see him.
“Now Peter, you know you have no reason to be afraid, we talked about this, remember?” George said as he bent down to speak to the child, either unaware his mic was still on, or not caring about being heard.
The boy smiled at the doctor, and in a historic moment said his first words in public. “Yes father.”
With that the crowd erupted in questions, each jockeying to be answered first. This sudden rush of emotion and noise frightened the boy who again clung to the leg of the doctor, until George playfully tousled his hair and asked for silence.
“Now before I answer any questions, I'd like to have the other project members to come up here and get their due as well.” George said motioning for the two people who worked with him side by said from the beginning.
An older balding man limped towards the stage with the aid of a cane, and the help of a beautiful young woman in a lab coat beside him.
“Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce two of the finest minds in the fields of neurolinguistics and cybernetic development, Doctors James Cricket,and Azura Faye.” George said as the two arrived at the stage to help field any questions the crowd would have.
Doctor Cricket carefully and gratefully sat in the chair that had been brought up to the stage specifically for him, before thanking his young research fellow for her assistance in getting him there. He motioned for George to come closer so he could whisper something in his ear before any questions were asked.
“Doctor Cricket just wanted to remind me, that for any members of the press here today, he is in fact Dr. James E. Cricket, not to be confused with his grandson the pediatrician James B. Cricket.” George said with a chuckle that was followed up by similar responses among the crowd.
For the next hour they each answered the multitude of questions posed by the press, and the others in attendance. Once the crowd's curiosity had been satisfied, they had happily followed Mr. Mangiafuoco the director of Metadata labs on a guided tour of the facilities where this “wonder of the modern age” had been born.
George stayed behind with Peter and his partners for a short moment of peace before a much more public unveiling of their scientific breakthrough later.
Doctor Faye waited until it was just the four of them in the large conference room before pulling George to her and angrily saying what had been on her mind since the project's inception.
“Damn it George, it's bad enough you crafted this thing to look like our dead son, but did you have to name it after him too?!” she said with genuine hurt in her eyes and a quiver in her voice.
“I think that's why I went back to my maiden name when you came to Mangiafuoco with this disgusting idea. The thought of being known as Dr. George Petto's ex-wife after this is bad enough.” she said not bothering to hide the disdain in her voice.
Not waiting for him to answer she turned and walked away, her stride broken only by a few choked sobs as she made her way to the exit.
George turned to see Doctor Cricket playing some game with Peter on a portable device, seemingly unaware of what had just happened. He smiled at the boy, and walked over to the two.
“Peter, would you mind giving Dr. Cricket and I a moment alone?” he said to the boy.
Peter simply nodded and took off running to the stage-end into a flying leap to the ground below. He laughed as he landed and kept on running, at first in circles, and then randomly as if chasing something only he could see.
“Now that he's gone I'd like to thank you for what you really said at the meeting.” George said to his elder friend and mentor.
“I meant it George, I'll never tell anyone what you did. We're the only two people who know that Peter's AI is based on your son. I'll take it to my grave.” Dr. Cricket said solemnly as he watched both the boy run around the room, and the once grieving father see what could have been.
“Thank you James.” replied George, happy now that in some fashion at least, he'd get to see Peter grow up.
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