Read Online Asimov's Science Fiction: October/November 2013 by Penny Publications - Free Book Online
Authors: Penny Publications
Tags: Asimov's #453 & #454
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me home?"
"Either home or the station—your choice," he said.
"Oh please," I whined. "Don't take me back to Dad's house, not after I came all the way through the park to get here. I want to go live with Mom!"
The cops snickered.
"All right, Maxine," said the woman. "You don't have a record, so we'll give you a break. Your dad's place is closer than the station, so we'll drop you there and file a warning. But if we catch you again, things will be worse."
Trying to look resigned, I nodded and slumped against the seat. But I felt like singing. Imagine what Clare would say when I told her I fooled the cops into chauffeuring me to Dad's house!
They took the long route around the park instead of going through it. I closed my eyes and listened to them chatter over the voicecom system. Not everyone was so survival-ready as Mom, I guessed, because the cops kept talking about people leaving their houses in search of food. For a second, I wondered if Dad and Becca had left any food in the house. But then the cops pulled into the driveway. My heart raced to see their bungalow, especially the porch, where Becca and I used to sit on the swing and trade secrets.
The woman cop escorted me up the brick steps to the front door. She rang the bell, but nobody came.
"Don't worry, ma'am. I can let myself in with the access codes," I said. "I don't want to wake them up."
"I'll bet you don't," she said through her helmet's speakers. "They won't be happy when they find out you tried to run away."
"Exactly," I said. I tossed my helmet, air mask, and the flashlight on the porch swing, punched the code into the keypad, and took off my right glove to follow with my thumbprint.
The cop grabbed my arm. "Maxine, I'm obligated by law to leave you with a parent or guardian. If no one's here—" she paused, tilting her head to listen to a message on her helmet's com system. "Copy." She held my arm out and examined the three butterflies on the sleeve. "Yeah. We've got her. Nobody's home at the father's place. Tell the lady we'll be there right away."
I tried to bolt, but she gripped my arm and marched me back into the car. As the cops pulled out of the driveway, I scooched my knees onto the seat and stared out the back window, to keep the house in sight as long as possible.
The cops took the same route back: the long way, around the border of the park. I kept shifting from one side of the backseat to the other, especially once I noticed that the petal gunk on my coversuit rubbed off everywhere. Then I had to pee. I tried to get the cops' attention, but they darkened the plastic barrier between the front and back seats. When I shouted into the overheads, the woman cop snapped on the com-line and told me to sit tight.
I fidgeted, wishing the car would get a flat tire or slip on the petal muck and crash into a tree. I stared at my bald reflection in the patrol car window. Maybe Mom wouldn't be so hard on me if I put on my helmet and air mask again: I could pretend that I had them on the whole time. I looked around, but couldn't find them.
"Hey," I said, pounding on the barrier. "Hey! We've got to go back—I left some of my gear on Dad's porch."
But the cops ignored me.
They made a big production of returning me to Mom, blipping their siren and flashing their blue lights as the patrol car approached the house. If they meant to rouse Mom, they were too late. She stood outside, in full gear, waiting beside the door.
Both cops escorted me up the walk. When we got to the door, Mom shook their hands. She always made a big deal about keeping her gear pristine, so I was surprised to see petal muck all over the front of her coversuit. She and the cops talked through their helmet voicecom lines—I could see their lips moving—and then the cops handed me over and stood on either side of the door while Mom ushered me inside.
She claimed she wasn't angry anymore, just concerned. After the home bioalert alarm sounded, she had checked the system pod and
"Either home or the station—your choice," he said.
"Oh please," I whined. "Don't take me back to Dad's house, not after I came all the way through the park to get here. I want to go live with Mom!"
The cops snickered.
"All right, Maxine," said the woman. "You don't have a record, so we'll give you a break. Your dad's place is closer than the station, so we'll drop you there and file a warning. But if we catch you again, things will be worse."
Trying to look resigned, I nodded and slumped against the seat. But I felt like singing. Imagine what Clare would say when I told her I fooled the cops into chauffeuring me to Dad's house!
They took the long route around the park instead of going through it. I closed my eyes and listened to them chatter over the voicecom system. Not everyone was so survival-ready as Mom, I guessed, because the cops kept talking about people leaving their houses in search of food. For a second, I wondered if Dad and Becca had left any food in the house. But then the cops pulled into the driveway. My heart raced to see their bungalow, especially the porch, where Becca and I used to sit on the swing and trade secrets.
The woman cop escorted me up the brick steps to the front door. She rang the bell, but nobody came.
"Don't worry, ma'am. I can let myself in with the access codes," I said. "I don't want to wake them up."
"I'll bet you don't," she said through her helmet's speakers. "They won't be happy when they find out you tried to run away."
"Exactly," I said. I tossed my helmet, air mask, and the flashlight on the porch swing, punched the code into the keypad, and took off my right glove to follow with my thumbprint.
The cop grabbed my arm. "Maxine, I'm obligated by law to leave you with a parent or guardian. If no one's here—" she paused, tilting her head to listen to a message on her helmet's com system. "Copy." She held my arm out and examined the three butterflies on the sleeve. "Yeah. We've got her. Nobody's home at the father's place. Tell the lady we'll be there right away."
I tried to bolt, but she gripped my arm and marched me back into the car. As the cops pulled out of the driveway, I scooched my knees onto the seat and stared out the back window, to keep the house in sight as long as possible.
The cops took the same route back: the long way, around the border of the park. I kept shifting from one side of the backseat to the other, especially once I noticed that the petal gunk on my coversuit rubbed off everywhere. Then I had to pee. I tried to get the cops' attention, but they darkened the plastic barrier between the front and back seats. When I shouted into the overheads, the woman cop snapped on the com-line and told me to sit tight.
I fidgeted, wishing the car would get a flat tire or slip on the petal muck and crash into a tree. I stared at my bald reflection in the patrol car window. Maybe Mom wouldn't be so hard on me if I put on my helmet and air mask again: I could pretend that I had them on the whole time. I looked around, but couldn't find them.
"Hey," I said, pounding on the barrier. "Hey! We've got to go back—I left some of my gear on Dad's porch."
But the cops ignored me.
They made a big production of returning me to Mom, blipping their siren and flashing their blue lights as the patrol car approached the house. If they meant to rouse Mom, they were too late. She stood outside, in full gear, waiting beside the door.
Both cops escorted me up the walk. When we got to the door, Mom shook their hands. She always made a big deal about keeping her gear pristine, so I was surprised to see petal muck all over the front of her coversuit. She and the cops talked through their helmet voicecom lines—I could see their lips moving—and then the cops handed me over and stood on either side of the door while Mom ushered me inside.
She claimed she wasn't angry anymore, just concerned. After the home bioalert alarm sounded, she had checked the system pod and
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