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Authors: Hayden Scott
Tags: Young Adult
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device into its bay. “And he didn’t even find the internal anterior emergency switch.”
Mr. Magnificent blinked. “You built an emergency switch?”
“Just in case things got serious!” she protested.
Crush laughed nervously. “Well, you built a kill switch too, right?”
Catalyst coughed and Max cringed. “That was on our next round of design improvements.”
That definitely was not something they had done. It’s not like they thought he’d ever actually get through the initialization sequence in the first place to need one!
“We should head home,” Catalyst said. “The police are happy to leave us alone for now, but I wouldn’t count on that for long. You two would be smart to do the same. You heroes might not seem quite as heroic as before.” She eyed the news helicopters overhead pointedly.
Mr. Magnificent nodded and grasped Crush’s shoulder. “We stand by our decision and our convictions. We hope the public will understand our actions.”
Doubtful. Max tugged at his belt nervously. “Hey, Mom, maybe we could give them a ride home. Just this once. Because, you know… traffic. Lots of law enforcement. And we have a helicopter. We shouldn’t take any chances, is all I’m saying.”
His mom looked around. The police holding crowds of bystanders behind tape, the wail of sirens approaching—the nervous glances everyone was shooting at them. All four of them.
“All right,” she said. “Just this once. Into the back with you. Head and hands stay inside the vehicle, and don’t touch any buttons .”
MONDAYS GOT a bad rap sometimes. The death of a weekend, the onset of tedium and monotony. A no-good, very bad day waiting to happen. Napoleon’s squire once cost the French army five hundred men when he let half the army’s horses escape the night before the Russians attacked (on a Monday).
Max’s was going pretty well, though.
He kicked his ankles idly against the side of the building he was perched on, his bag of chips crinkling as he fished through the broken bits. The sun blazed down on him, warming his shoulders beneath the crisp breeze you could never escape at the top of an office building.
“Chip?” He held the bag out to Crush, who grabbed it and upended the remains into his mouth with an obnoxious grin.
“Thanks,” Crush said, spitting crumbs everywhere like a heathen and ignoring Max’s groan.
“Why am I even here?” Max complained. “The company is atrocious.”
Crush leaned over, pressing his shoulder to Max’s. “The view is pretty good, though.”
“I—uh—” Max sputtered, his face heating as Crush started to laugh.
“I meant that ,” he said, gesturing at the street, where twenty stories below them CEO Wayne Sheffield was being taken into federal custody pending an investigation of his company records. Max had read he was facing charges of fraud, conspiracy to commit murder, and treason. If they were lucky, he’d face the UN for biological warfare.
“I mean….” Crush said, leaning in again, “I meant both. But right then—look, look, they knocked his head on the car door!” He laughed again, jostling Max as he pointed.
Max sighed happily, watching the police cruiser take off with Sheffield slumped in the backseat—no doubt weighed down by defeat, regret, and the judgment of an entire metropolis.
“I, um, I feel kind of weird about luring you to the dark side,” Max said after a moment. “Are you doing okay with that?”
Crush shrugged, smiling. “It’s cool.” At Max’s skeptical face, he continued. “It’s like that thing in physics last week. Where light bends if you change the environment it’s in. Refraction. You just… altered my environment, and I moved where it made the most sense to be.”
Max swallowed and ducked his chin. “Well, I’m still sorry you had to drop out of high school,” he said. He watched the last police car pull away, turning off its lights with one final, triumphant blip.
Crush nodded.
Mr. Magnificent blinked. “You built an emergency switch?”
“Just in case things got serious!” she protested.
Crush laughed nervously. “Well, you built a kill switch too, right?”
Catalyst coughed and Max cringed. “That was on our next round of design improvements.”
That definitely was not something they had done. It’s not like they thought he’d ever actually get through the initialization sequence in the first place to need one!
“We should head home,” Catalyst said. “The police are happy to leave us alone for now, but I wouldn’t count on that for long. You two would be smart to do the same. You heroes might not seem quite as heroic as before.” She eyed the news helicopters overhead pointedly.
Mr. Magnificent nodded and grasped Crush’s shoulder. “We stand by our decision and our convictions. We hope the public will understand our actions.”
Doubtful. Max tugged at his belt nervously. “Hey, Mom, maybe we could give them a ride home. Just this once. Because, you know… traffic. Lots of law enforcement. And we have a helicopter. We shouldn’t take any chances, is all I’m saying.”
His mom looked around. The police holding crowds of bystanders behind tape, the wail of sirens approaching—the nervous glances everyone was shooting at them. All four of them.
“All right,” she said. “Just this once. Into the back with you. Head and hands stay inside the vehicle, and don’t touch any buttons .”
MONDAYS GOT a bad rap sometimes. The death of a weekend, the onset of tedium and monotony. A no-good, very bad day waiting to happen. Napoleon’s squire once cost the French army five hundred men when he let half the army’s horses escape the night before the Russians attacked (on a Monday).
Max’s was going pretty well, though.
He kicked his ankles idly against the side of the building he was perched on, his bag of chips crinkling as he fished through the broken bits. The sun blazed down on him, warming his shoulders beneath the crisp breeze you could never escape at the top of an office building.
“Chip?” He held the bag out to Crush, who grabbed it and upended the remains into his mouth with an obnoxious grin.
“Thanks,” Crush said, spitting crumbs everywhere like a heathen and ignoring Max’s groan.
“Why am I even here?” Max complained. “The company is atrocious.”
Crush leaned over, pressing his shoulder to Max’s. “The view is pretty good, though.”
“I—uh—” Max sputtered, his face heating as Crush started to laugh.
“I meant that ,” he said, gesturing at the street, where twenty stories below them CEO Wayne Sheffield was being taken into federal custody pending an investigation of his company records. Max had read he was facing charges of fraud, conspiracy to commit murder, and treason. If they were lucky, he’d face the UN for biological warfare.
“I mean….” Crush said, leaning in again, “I meant both. But right then—look, look, they knocked his head on the car door!” He laughed again, jostling Max as he pointed.
Max sighed happily, watching the police cruiser take off with Sheffield slumped in the backseat—no doubt weighed down by defeat, regret, and the judgment of an entire metropolis.
“I, um, I feel kind of weird about luring you to the dark side,” Max said after a moment. “Are you doing okay with that?”
Crush shrugged, smiling. “It’s cool.” At Max’s skeptical face, he continued. “It’s like that thing in physics last week. Where light bends if you change the environment it’s in. Refraction. You just… altered my environment, and I moved where it made the most sense to be.”
Max swallowed and ducked his chin. “Well, I’m still sorry you had to drop out of high school,” he said. He watched the last police car pull away, turning off its lights with one final, triumphant blip.
Crush nodded.
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