I was fifty percent about running away. The other half of me was about to crawl back through the window and snuggle up in bed. I was cold and didn't know what to do. I walked around to the back of Random's shed and stood there for a bit. The big house loomed in front of me, about thirty yards across the gravel driveway. Over to my right the school sat black and hulking. The driveway led around the house to the left and I didn't know where it got to. I'd never been all the way to the front. I figured that now was my chance to see what I could see. Mother wasn't there to grab me by the throat and drag me out.
There was mud and grass along the side of the driveway so I walked on that to make as little noise as possible. I didn't know what time it was but up above I saw a couple of very faint stars trying to poke their way through the clouds. If there was a moon up there it was not doing a very good job of showing itself. I took small steps, hesitating between each one, so it was a long time until I made it all the way to the road. That is where I stopped.
The road was narrow but smooth as far as I could tell, and it was straight in both directions right and left. There were no other houses anywhere. Across the road it looked like there was a low wooden fence, and an empty field behind that. The field looked like it stretched on forever but I was pretty sure I could hear the ocean waves crashing on the beach. I knew the beach was there because Midgerette talked about it eighty eight percent of the time. The beach and the sand and the ocean and the waves and the fish and the pelicans and the snowy plovers and the godwits and the shags and the dolphins and the whales and the seals and the fisherman she helped and hung around with sometimes. I wanted to meet the fisherman. Midgerette said he was as wide as he was tall, wore dark clothes that matched his skin so closely you couldn't tell where one began or the other one ended, except for his huge and bushy beard. He taught her all the bad words she knew, bad words she was happy to share with the world at large at all times. She said she had "eaten his lunch" on many occasions. I wanted to see the ocean. I wanted to cross the road and walk across the field. I was ninety two percent about to do just that when the old guy grabbed me by the hair.
"So that's what you're up to," he grumbled. Or at least I think that's what he said because his voice was lower than thunder and he roared into my ear.
"Ow," I said, "let go. You're hurting me."
To my great surprise, he did let go, but I didn't run. I was one hundred percent frozen. I didn't even turn around but he stepped out onto the road and stood right in front of me, blocking my way. He wasn't as wide as the fisherman maybe, but he looked like a mountain to me.
"Where do you think you're going, boy?" he said.
"I'm a young lady," I replied as gracefully as I could. He laughed in my face, spittle flying all over me.
"A young lady!" he bellowed. "A young lady! Well, how do you like that. How do you like that?" He put his hands on the side of my head and squeezed, then pushed my head from left to right, and from right to left, about a half a dozen times.
"Stop that!" I pleaded.
"A young lady!" he repeated. "Now tell me, boy. Wherever did you get the idea that you are a female?"
"But," I started to say, and then stopped. I was about to say something really, really dumb and tried as hard as I could to not say it, but it came out anyway.
"But I like to draw," I said.
"You like to draw," he replied, and let go of my skull. He took a step back into the road. He looked me up and down.
"You don't even know what you are, do you?" he asked, more quietly now.
"Mother calls me Candles," I said, "but it's not my real name."
"What is your real name?" he asked.
"I'm not telling you," I answered, thinking about what Snowball said.
"Then what's your number?" he asked.
"Twelve seventeen bee," I promptly replied. I didn't even know I knew that. I'd never heard that number before (although strictly speaking it is not a numeric value because it contains an alphabetical character; therefore it cannot be applied to any strictly mathematical equation with out a prior transformation).
"And your batch?"
"Compliance Awareness," I said, completely baffling myself.
"Training wheels," he said, licking his lips. "You know you're not supposed to be out here," he added. "Not without your mother."
"I was restless," I explained. I didn't know why I was explaining myself to this scary old man. I could see his ugly scar more clearly now that I was getting used to seeing in the dark. He had wrinkles all around it too, which made it even worse. Plus his big ugly nose and his short spiky hair and his fat double chin and he smelled really awful.
"I'm going now," I said, but still I didn't move a muscle. The old guy stared at me for a long silent minute. He rubbed his chin. I was forty percent that he was making up his mind about something, and ninety percent that I didn't want to know the choices he was considering, so I turned and ran back towards the sheds as fast as I could.
It seemed like no time at all until I was back and climbing through the hole where the window had been. I must have thrown myself up and into it because I landed on the floor in a heap and hurt my shoulder. I was grimacing and nearly cried out but I took a deep breath instead and got to my knees and shook my head and pressed my lips shut to stay quiet. Then I noticed I was not alone. Someone was sitting on my bed, sitting with their back very straight and their eyes gleaming into mine.
YOU ARE READING
How My Brain Ended Up Inside This Box
Science Fiction"When I was born I was so small I was mistaken for a french fry. I was never an ordinary child. My best friend was a seagull. I was also illegal. Artificially intelligent people like me had been banned ever since that thing with the Twelve Elevens...
