on her feet with a snap and crumpled on the spot.
In the moment of complete silence that followed, several things went through the mind of eight-year-old Achilles Desjardins. First was the fact that the goggle-eyed look on Pennyâs face had been really funny just before she hit. Second was confusion and disbelief that the experiment hadnât proceeded as expected; he couldnât for the life of him figure out what had gone wrong. Third came the belated realization that Penny, for all the hilarity of her facial expression, might actually be hurt; maybe he should try and do something about that.
Lastly, he thought of the trouble he was going to be in if his parents found out about this. That thought crushed the others like bugs under a boot.
He rushed over to the crumpled form of his sister on the lawn. â Geez, Penny, are youâare youââ
She wasnât. The umbrellaâs ribs had torn free of the fabric and slashed her across the side of the neck. One of her ankles was twisted at an impossible angle, and had already swollen to twice its normal size. There was blood everywhere.
Penny looked up, lip trembling, bright tears quivering in her eyes. They broke and ran down her cheeks as Achilles stood over her, scared to death.
âPennyââ he whispered.
âIâitâs okay,â she quavered. âI wonât tell anyone. I promise.â Andâbroken and bleeding and teary-eyed, eyes brimming with undiminished adoration for Big Brotherâshe tried to get up, and screamed the instant she moved her leg.
Looking back as an adult, Desjardins knew that that couldnât have been the moment of his first erection. It was, however, the first one that stuck in his mind. He hadnât been able to help himself: she had been so helpless . Broken and bleeding and hurt. He had hurt her. She had meekly walked the plank for him, and after sheâd fallen and snapped like a twig sheâd looked up at him, still worshipful, ready to do whatever it took to keep him happy.
He didnât know why that made him feel this wayâhe didnât even know what this way was, exactlyâbut he liked it.
His willy hard as a bone, he reached out to her. He wasnât sure whyâhe was grateful that she wasnât going to tell, of course, but he didnât think thatâs what this was about. He thoughtâas his hand touched his sisterâs fine brown hairâthat maybe this was about seeing how much he could get away with â¦
Not much, as it turned out. His parents were on him in the next second, shrieking and striking. Achilles raised his hands against his fatherâs blows, cried âI saw it on Mary Poppins !â, but the alibi didnât fly any more than Penny had; Dad kicked the shit out of him and threw him into his room for the rest of the day.
It couldnât have ended any differently, of course. Mom and Dad always found out. It turned out the little bump that both Achilles and Penny had under their collarbones sent out a signal when either of them got hurt. And after the Mary Poppins Incident, not even the implants were enough for Mom and Dad. Achilles couldnât go anywhere, not even the bathroom, without three or four skeeters following him around like nosy floating rice grains.
All in all, that afternoon taught him two things that shaped the rest of his life. One was that he was a wicked, wicked boy who could never ever give in to his impulses no matter how good it made him feel, or he would go straight to hell.
The other was a profound and lifelong appreciation of the impact of ubiquitous surveillance.
CONFIDENCE LIMITS
T HERE are no rifter MDs. The walking wounded donât generally excel in the art of healing.
Of course, thereâs never been any shortage of rifters in need of healing. Especially after the Corpse Revolt. The fish-heads won that war hands down, but they took casualties just the same. Some died. Others
In the moment of complete silence that followed, several things went through the mind of eight-year-old Achilles Desjardins. First was the fact that the goggle-eyed look on Pennyâs face had been really funny just before she hit. Second was confusion and disbelief that the experiment hadnât proceeded as expected; he couldnât for the life of him figure out what had gone wrong. Third came the belated realization that Penny, for all the hilarity of her facial expression, might actually be hurt; maybe he should try and do something about that.
Lastly, he thought of the trouble he was going to be in if his parents found out about this. That thought crushed the others like bugs under a boot.
He rushed over to the crumpled form of his sister on the lawn. â Geez, Penny, are youâare youââ
She wasnât. The umbrellaâs ribs had torn free of the fabric and slashed her across the side of the neck. One of her ankles was twisted at an impossible angle, and had already swollen to twice its normal size. There was blood everywhere.
Penny looked up, lip trembling, bright tears quivering in her eyes. They broke and ran down her cheeks as Achilles stood over her, scared to death.
âPennyââ he whispered.
âIâitâs okay,â she quavered. âI wonât tell anyone. I promise.â Andâbroken and bleeding and teary-eyed, eyes brimming with undiminished adoration for Big Brotherâshe tried to get up, and screamed the instant she moved her leg.
Looking back as an adult, Desjardins knew that that couldnât have been the moment of his first erection. It was, however, the first one that stuck in his mind. He hadnât been able to help himself: she had been so helpless . Broken and bleeding and hurt. He had hurt her. She had meekly walked the plank for him, and after sheâd fallen and snapped like a twig sheâd looked up at him, still worshipful, ready to do whatever it took to keep him happy.
He didnât know why that made him feel this wayâhe didnât even know what this way was, exactlyâbut he liked it.
His willy hard as a bone, he reached out to her. He wasnât sure whyâhe was grateful that she wasnât going to tell, of course, but he didnât think thatâs what this was about. He thoughtâas his hand touched his sisterâs fine brown hairâthat maybe this was about seeing how much he could get away with â¦
Not much, as it turned out. His parents were on him in the next second, shrieking and striking. Achilles raised his hands against his fatherâs blows, cried âI saw it on Mary Poppins !â, but the alibi didnât fly any more than Penny had; Dad kicked the shit out of him and threw him into his room for the rest of the day.
It couldnât have ended any differently, of course. Mom and Dad always found out. It turned out the little bump that both Achilles and Penny had under their collarbones sent out a signal when either of them got hurt. And after the Mary Poppins Incident, not even the implants were enough for Mom and Dad. Achilles couldnât go anywhere, not even the bathroom, without three or four skeeters following him around like nosy floating rice grains.
All in all, that afternoon taught him two things that shaped the rest of his life. One was that he was a wicked, wicked boy who could never ever give in to his impulses no matter how good it made him feel, or he would go straight to hell.
The other was a profound and lifelong appreciation of the impact of ubiquitous surveillance.
CONFIDENCE LIMITS
T HERE are no rifter MDs. The walking wounded donât generally excel in the art of healing.
Of course, thereâs never been any shortage of rifters in need of healing. Especially after the Corpse Revolt. The fish-heads won that war hands down, but they took casualties just the same. Some died. Others
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