in my head. Your brain waves or whatever.”
“You said not everyone put them out there.”
“Well, most people do, and you did at first. But sometime this afternoon, it’s like you stopped somehow.”
Matt was silent a minute. “How about now?”
Suddenly, James could feel Matt there, pushing his thoughts out toward him. “Yeah, now I can.” James looked at him questioningly.
Matt seemed pleased with himself. “I was trying not to let you pick up on them, earlier.”
“Why?” James had no reason or right, but he felt a little bit hurt.
“I just figured it must be annoying for you, always picking up brain waves. Thought you might like some quiet.” He shrugged.
James blinked hard a couple of times. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I do like it. Thank you.”
Matt shrugged and turned the conversation back to the business of getting James the hell out of Idaho.
They worked out the plans for “what if” and Matt finished his beer, crumpled the pouch, and said good night. James sat there for another hour, lost in thought. Mostly about “what if.”
K ANDY M ELORE was a sharp, small-featured, angry little woman. And a homophobe. She made a point of telling James—frequently—how she tried not to let her personal views affect her treatment of her clients.
The woman was a grade-A prime bitch. He could feel her intent to needle him. Quickly followed by irritation when he appeared not to notice.
Mostly, James made no response to her unless he had to. It was a trick he had perfected back in childhood, when simply breathing around his father was guaranteed to irritate him. In school, he’d been quiet, but not shy. He just didn’t speak unless he needed to. He’d learned at a young age that things were better that way.
In adulthood, James started talking more, sharing things that weren’t strictly necessary. Once he had the implant and he could feel people’s bewilderment and confusion over his silence, he became much more open.
But silence was always a useful tool, and an innate skill for James.
“Well, James.” Ms. Melore gave him a toothy, insincere smile. “We’re almost done here. Thank you so much for being patient with me.” She paused, waiting for a response. James blinked. “There’s just one more little matter. It appears your chip is giving us some trouble.”
James’s heart sped up, just a little. He cocked his head at Melore. She let her frustration at his reaction color her tone. “We’re going to have to schedule you for recoding.”
Why the hell couldn’t they just recode while he was here?
“Tomorrow morning at 0800, you’ll need to report to the POW facility in downtown, and they’ll prep you for the procedure. It should only take a few minutes.”
Clearly not just a recoding as James understood it. A suspicion of what was really going on began to form. He needed more info. “Malfunction?”
Her eyes widened in surprise; it was his first multisyllabic word since “Hello.” James looked her in the eye, waiting for the answer.
Melore gave a little cough. “Yes. Apparently a manufacturing defect. You’ll be receiving a new chip.”
James almost flinched. Getting the chip embedded in his femur sucked. When the nano packet broke apart and spread through the marrow it hurt like a sonofabitch. “One that was ignored for a month?”
She gave him her toothy smile. “I’m afraid that’s information I can’t share with you, James.” Her pleasure at his responsiveness almost kept him from speaking again, but he needed to know.
Hoping that what he’d done last night was real, he said, “I want to know,” and gave Melore a mental push, trying to force the answer out of her mouth. He could feel it hovering right there, and if he pushed it just like that ….
“It stopped working.” She snapped her mouth shut, flushing. Then the blood drained from her face. “How did you do that?” she hissed. Her face twisted into a pinched-mouth witch’s
“You said not everyone put them out there.”
“Well, most people do, and you did at first. But sometime this afternoon, it’s like you stopped somehow.”
Matt was silent a minute. “How about now?”
Suddenly, James could feel Matt there, pushing his thoughts out toward him. “Yeah, now I can.” James looked at him questioningly.
Matt seemed pleased with himself. “I was trying not to let you pick up on them, earlier.”
“Why?” James had no reason or right, but he felt a little bit hurt.
“I just figured it must be annoying for you, always picking up brain waves. Thought you might like some quiet.” He shrugged.
James blinked hard a couple of times. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I do like it. Thank you.”
Matt shrugged and turned the conversation back to the business of getting James the hell out of Idaho.
They worked out the plans for “what if” and Matt finished his beer, crumpled the pouch, and said good night. James sat there for another hour, lost in thought. Mostly about “what if.”
K ANDY M ELORE was a sharp, small-featured, angry little woman. And a homophobe. She made a point of telling James—frequently—how she tried not to let her personal views affect her treatment of her clients.
The woman was a grade-A prime bitch. He could feel her intent to needle him. Quickly followed by irritation when he appeared not to notice.
Mostly, James made no response to her unless he had to. It was a trick he had perfected back in childhood, when simply breathing around his father was guaranteed to irritate him. In school, he’d been quiet, but not shy. He just didn’t speak unless he needed to. He’d learned at a young age that things were better that way.
In adulthood, James started talking more, sharing things that weren’t strictly necessary. Once he had the implant and he could feel people’s bewilderment and confusion over his silence, he became much more open.
But silence was always a useful tool, and an innate skill for James.
“Well, James.” Ms. Melore gave him a toothy, insincere smile. “We’re almost done here. Thank you so much for being patient with me.” She paused, waiting for a response. James blinked. “There’s just one more little matter. It appears your chip is giving us some trouble.”
James’s heart sped up, just a little. He cocked his head at Melore. She let her frustration at his reaction color her tone. “We’re going to have to schedule you for recoding.”
Why the hell couldn’t they just recode while he was here?
“Tomorrow morning at 0800, you’ll need to report to the POW facility in downtown, and they’ll prep you for the procedure. It should only take a few minutes.”
Clearly not just a recoding as James understood it. A suspicion of what was really going on began to form. He needed more info. “Malfunction?”
Her eyes widened in surprise; it was his first multisyllabic word since “Hello.” James looked her in the eye, waiting for the answer.
Melore gave a little cough. “Yes. Apparently a manufacturing defect. You’ll be receiving a new chip.”
James almost flinched. Getting the chip embedded in his femur sucked. When the nano packet broke apart and spread through the marrow it hurt like a sonofabitch. “One that was ignored for a month?”
She gave him her toothy smile. “I’m afraid that’s information I can’t share with you, James.” Her pleasure at his responsiveness almost kept him from speaking again, but he needed to know.
Hoping that what he’d done last night was real, he said, “I want to know,” and gave Melore a mental push, trying to force the answer out of her mouth. He could feel it hovering right there, and if he pushed it just like that ….
“It stopped working.” She snapped her mouth shut, flushing. Then the blood drained from her face. “How did you do that?” she hissed. Her face twisted into a pinched-mouth witch’s
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