Gen Four- Chapter Three

In order to make up for the crummy Monday, on Tuesday Mr. Mint said we could have classes outside. It meant more effort for him as he had to trudge everything with us and rely more on traditional media like paper and pencils than the computers and stuff we typically used. We both worked with increased vigor though. The serious lack of windows meant being cooped up inside all day most days had us suffering from a lack of vitamin d among the other benefits of being connected to nature. It was why I spent a lot of my time outside when at home.

     "That was a terrible story," I complained, closing my book firmly.
     "Was it actually poorly written, or is it terrible because it has an unfortunate ending?" Mr. Mint probed studiously.
     "Both. I don't like it because it makes me feel sad. It's also badly written because the situation is deliberately set up to make the girl's death inevitable. No real organization would allow such shoddy engineering where a small amount of additional weight would require the pilot to jettison the girl out the airlock. They'd save more money and resources that they're trying to conserve if they use more of those resources to allow a margin of error. Then the flights wouldn't be so risky and catastrophic if something small goes wrong."
     "A fair point," Mr. Mint acknowledged. "Because you had good reasoning, I'll save this reading of 'A Good Man is Hard to Find' for another day."
     "What, is it another depressing story?"
     "Mayhaps," Mr. Mint smirked.
     "Why are you giving me all these harder-to-read dark tales anyway?"
     "Despite your dislike of most literature, you read at an exceptionally high level. These are standard stories for study, and I thought it'd be best to get them out of the way so I don't have to continually throw them at you."
     "I'd rather you actually throw the book at me if it meant I didn't have to read them," I mumbled.

Mr. Mint just laughed.

He then had me write down my thoughts and rationalizations about the previous tale while doing the more traditional analyzation about what kind of story it was, a cautionary tale, and note any symbolism found. I reluctantly went through it all just fine.

     "I don't have much good to say, obviously, but it does raise a good point about obeying instructions," I caved somewhat. My mind thought back to the little lecture dad gave me. "Even if the girl didn't know about the law, she saw the warning sign and understood there'd be consequences. She should have thought outside herself to realize there might be more to the warning and that more knowledgeable minds had put it there for a reason."
     "Not every rule or law created has been just or needed, but it is true. We as a species do very well for the most part in being sensible in why we don't permit certain actions."
     "Mr. Mint?"
     "Yes?"
     "If that's the case, why does the government hate The Company so much? What we do is against the rules, but everyone here is working to do so much good."
     "That's...a complicated answer to give," Mr. Mint hesitated.

There was that word again. Complicated.

     "Is it because The Company won't let them capitalize on our work? That the people in charge don't want us to do what we do because they can't reap the rewards for themselves?"
     "I'm sure that's true to some extent, but that's not the whole reason why."

Pressing my back into my chair as I went deep in thought, I certainly believed it was a strong part of the reason why The Company had to hide itself. Dad had told me a lot about how the citizens were good for the most part, but that the government held much corruption. Lawmakers suppressed what didn't benefit them, judges prosecuted people like grandpa and dad unfairly, and the police did whatever they liked with the rest of their organizations backing up their misdeeds.

Speaking of dad, he surprisingly showed up. He still had another hour of work, and I still had another hour of class. There he stood in his normal clothes though.

     "Pardon me for interrupting your lesson," dad said.
     "It's fine. We were just finishing up Literature to go on to the next. Is there something we can do for you?" Mr. Mint wondered.
     "I had a favor I want to ask you, Holiday."
     "What is it?"
     "In the most specific words I can use to describe the situation, I've got some special work that another and I will be leaving to do at the house as that is where the appropriate equipment is. I can't say how long it will take, so I was hoping you'd be willing to watch Meg for an extra half hour after classes end and then drive her home so we have some leeway time with the work."
     "I'm not allowed to go near your house though," Mr. Mint reminded him.
     "I got you permission for this one afternoon."
     "It's a long drive home for me already, Timber."
     "I understand. I can get you compensation for your normal salary rate though if that might convince you."
     Mr. Mint tilted his head to the side in thought. "Just half an hour, and just this one time."
     "This one time is all we need. Promise."
     "I will bring Nutmeg home in an hour and a half then."
     "Perfect. Thank you."

Dad left him with an appreciative smile and me with a hug and kiss. I watched with an amused smile when he bounded away in a flash. What a dork.

     "I guess whatever the work is dad thinks it's great. He's so excited."
     "I do wonder what project they have him on." Mr. Mint rest his cheek in his palm. "It's unusual for testing or work to be done outside the offices, but they do seem to let your dad be the exception quite often. He really is someone the bosses trust."
     "He's a good person and hard worker," I praised proudly before jokingly smirking at my teacher. "But you..."
     "What about me?" Mr. Mint raised a a quizzical eyebrow.
     "I see that you don't want to bother with me past what you must endure. A bribe is required to earn your effort," I exclaimed dramatically.

     Mr. Mint laughed.

     "Don't worry. I will thank you for your great sacrifice by only putting my feet on your dashboard for the first five minutes of the drive."
     "You know, with this kind of attitude, I think extending Literature for the next hour is my best option," Mr. Mint teased.
     "I'll be good." I straightened up immediately.

We finished with Health. Mr. Mint and I then did our best to teach DV1 some funny phrases. Its programming caught most of our intended deception, but we did get it to latch onto 'Hark, a noise' whenever it heard something abnormal. That was more than good enough for me. Mr. Mint then talked like crazy in the car on the drive home. I pointed out how ecstatic he was to be given permission to be one of the few allowed to see our house. He avidly denied this as the cause but proceeded to pout and complain when he pulled us up to see a normal abode. My teacher clearly expected some fantastical bunker or fortress.

Dad gave no indication to what his special project was when I met him inside. No one else wandered around, and I couldn't find anything out of the ordinary left on the counters or tables. Obviously, I didn't bother asking questions. The week flew by from there. Dad left to pick up grandpa before I knew it where this time I followed orders and obeyed all the rules. However, I couldn't be stopped from rushing out the door and into a big embrace upon hearing the car doors slam shut. Grandpa once again stood firm to hold his own against the impact.

     "I missed you!" I snuggled my face into his shirt.
     "I missed you too."
     "Did your job go well?"
     "Very well," grandpa beamed. "So did the souvenir shopping."
     "What did I get? What did I get?"
     "I might have gone overboard, so I can't list off everything. How does at least a big box of candy, a bunch of koalamb merchandise, and the brand new box-set of Merge Monsters episodes sound though?"

My response was jumping around squealing and cheering in delight. Dad jokingly threatened he'd take it all away if I didn't give his eardrums a break.

Managing to quiet down, it require both grandpa and I to carry the two boxes containing my treats. He'd seriously brought Christmas home more than half a year ahead of time.My shelves could hardly hold the additional koalamb plushies, figurines, coin banks, and so on. The candy I carefully separated into several pieces for each day so I didn't down them this afternoon. Grandpa had also gotten me new clothes, new shoes, more diving toys, a snorkel, numerous CDs, and a little home spa kit. He and I watched five episodes from the Merge Monsters box-set before dad finally kicked us off the main television. We finished the rest over the next several weeks. Like the candy, I didn't want to fly through it too quickly. I'd seen the episodes before, but the box-set came with new content. The current show was between seasons. I'd really have nothing new to watch if I didn't pace myself.

Nothing of note happened during those weeks or the week afterwards. It was the same old, same old until one night. I couldn't say what was different about my room when I went to sleep other than there was a strange cold draft. The sudden breeze got me up a few times checking for the source, but it never came from the same place or lasted more than a brief second. Cuddling under my blankets at least made it ignorable. Peaceful unconsciousness found me...until I started dreaming.

Or was it even dreaming?

I laid there as if I was awake, yet I couldn't open my eyes. My brain felt fuzzy with a dim and distant awareness of the room around me. The cold erupted with full force as noise began to take shape. Frustratingly, none of what I heard came in clear. My chest shriveled when the first deafening bang came. A woman screamed, a baby cried. A man talked, and the woman pleaded with him. She got angry. Then the second bang came. The baby cried harder.

Desperation and sheer willpower forced me free of the fuzz and immobilization. My eyes opened wide expecting whatever I was hearing at the end of my bed to manifest before me, yet my room looked no different than before. Sweat stuck hair to the back of my neck while my hands shook as if winter claimed my room. When the cold rush danced over my skin again, I flew upstairs. Dad's room barred me with a locked door. Weird. He rarely locked it, so it made me think he had things from his projects that couldn't be seen. My timid feet shuffled me to grandpa's bedroom instead. His door swung open with a light touch.

I froze for a moment, my hands clenched tightly on the fabric of my nightdress. This was ridiculous. I'd had a bad dream, and a bad dream was all it was. Ten-years-old was far too old to be running to an adult in fright over something I knew wasn't real. Why then couldn't I convince myself to return downstairs? Why did my stomach quiver and lurch at the thought of being down there? Frowning and groaning inwardly, I reluctantly tip-toed to grandpa's side. Much more difficult was working up the courage to wake him. Honestly, I stood there for nearly three minutes before I mustered the strength to gentle shake him.

     "Mmm," he murmured sluggishly, slowly shifting and blinking himself awake. His voice was deep and groggy. "Oh, Nutmeg. What's the matter?"
     "I was...um...is it, is it okay if I...stay with you the rest of the night?" My voice grew softer and softer the more I spoke.
     Grandpa just smiled and pulled back the covers on the other side of the bed. "You're always welcome here. Come in."

The embarrassment continued until I jumped into place, threw those covers over me, and let grandpa turn and snuggle me close. It'd been silly of me to hesitate on doing this. There'd never been any judgment from him.

     "Have a bad dream or something?" he wondered, tucking some hair behind my ear.
     "Or something. It was obviously a dream, but it felt way more real than any dream I've had before."
     "Do you want to talk about it?"
     "It's not overly complicated. It wasn't even that crazy of a nightmare as far as nightmares go. I heard a bang, maybe like a gunshot, a man and woman talking, a baby crying, and another gunshot. It seemed like it was happening at the foot of my bed, but I couldn't move my body, open my eyes, or clearly hear anything that was being said."

Grandpa went quiet for an unusually long amount of time. An alertness snapped his expression fully awake now while he stared at me like the time I accidentally walked in on him and dad discussing a project they'd collaborated on that I wasn't supposed to know about.

     "What?" I asked.
     "Oh, it's just..." He thought for a moment more. "I had a dream like that once. It was similar to a situation I'd seen in a movie."
     "I haven't watched any movies that had gunshots and crying babies though, nor will you or dad let me."
     "The mind does crazy things. Remember that dream I told you about where I was climbing a mountain only for the mountain to turn into an avalanche of boiled chocolate?"
     "At least it was a tasty death," I giggled.

Grandpa told me of another fun dream he'd had recently, one where each door he opened at work revealed either a treasure trove of candy or junk food, before I described one where I could fly up or down depending on the pitch of my voice. Back and forth we shared our tales until my eyes closed and refused to open. Off I drifted with grandpa's arm reaching across to cuddle me closer.

I mostly forgot about the bad dream when I woke up. Talking and laughing with grandpa swept away the icky feeling that'd taken hold in my chest and returning to my room to bathe and change caused no problems. I even met dad for breakfast having no need to tell him anything to get his comfort too. All in all, the week returned back to my life's normalcy. This time, however, it wouldn't take long before changes struck once more. They began that Sunday where grandpa was at the office doing some extra work.

I sat on the desk reading and getting some of that needed sunlight I lacked during the school week. The book captured my full attention making me not notice dad coming way my until he slid open the glass door leading to the backyard.

     "Hey, Meg," he called for my attention.
     "Hmm?" I glanced up briefly.
     "Pfft, what a lackluster reaction," dad laughed. "Especially when I have a present for you."
     "Present?" Now my head snapped up.
     "There we go. One moment."

Dad briefly slipped inside to walk out with a strange little creature merrily following.

     "Is that a dog?" I remarked.

I set down my book and stood up with a gaze unblinking. I'd seen dogs in comics and on television but not once in real life. I saw it as a fairy-tale creature leaping from the pages.

Dad knelt down and motioned the dog onward.

     "Go to Nutmeg. Go."

After a second of sniffing and finally readjusting its attention, it happily bounded up the deck's stairs towards me. I rushed to scoop it into my arms before I could control myself into acting more rationally. The dog didn't mind though and licked my face until my cheek was thoroughly slathered. From there I cuddled it carefully. The dog was at least 50 perfect fluff, and I worried too hard of a squeeze might hurt it.

     "Her name is Tektite," dad revealed, walking up to the deck's fence.
     "Tektite?"
     "Tektite is a glass-substance that is created when a meteorite hits the world's surface and causes the material around it to heat and re-cool as debris scattered by the impact. It's generally dark in color."
      "Interesting. I think I'll call her Tek or Teki as nicknames though. Those are cuter." I let Tektite lick me more before putting forth the necessary question. "Is she just part of a project or─"
     "She now belongs to you. Holiday told me a bit ago that you'd asked to have his daughter come visit and that you were feeling lonely. We can't have his daughter here, but I don't believe a dog will go spilling any secrets," dad smiled. "Tektite was helping at a different Company office, but she was too energetic for the tests they needed her to run. She's incredibly well-trained though."
     "Can I take her down to the river?" I requested.
     "I was going to suggest you do as that will help you bond, so yes. You're free to stay there as long as you like."
     "Yes! Thanks, dad!"

I bent over the railing to give him a kiss.

One quick change later, and Tektite and I were on our way to the river. She followed without command and, despite her tiny legs, kept right with me on our vigorous jog over The Bump, through the trees now fully thick with summer leaves, and to the part of the river I liked to play at. I laughed when I stopped running only for her to barrel onwards. Tektite leapt into the water like a squirrel leaping between trees to paddle back around, looking like a drenched rat save for her face where the fuzz poofed as a lion's mane.

     "You silly thing," I giggled as she returned to my side, proud.

Tektite drenched me when she shook, prompting me to ignore my other ideas for play and head into the water alongside her.

Tektite was a right little fish. She swam to the other side of the shore three times and otherwise bobbed around for so long I began to worry she might abruptly collapse from exhaustion. To lure her out of the water, I found a nice, hardy stick. Tektite's attention snapped to it similar to how I did to the word 'koalamb.' She almost knocked me over when I moved to avoid her as she moved to avoid me at her mad charge at my legs.

     "Geez, you do have a lot of energy, don't you? Did you not just spend the last twenty minutes swimming like crazy?" I laughed.

Tektite jumped around and then sat not caring for my words but maintaining fierce watch on the stick.

     "Alright, here."

With a huge smile, I launched the stick as far as I could toss. Tektite morphed into a black blur, sprinting with the gait of a fleeing bunny. I honestly wondered if the stick even landed she had it in her mouth and was on hr way to return it before I could tilt my head to see where it hit. Anyway, back Tektite came and there I threw it again. This process repeated until my dog's energetic running puffed her hair out again.

Then I had the stupid idea of closing my eyes, spinning, and throwing the stick whatever direction I stopped at. Of course the stick eventually landed in the water where there was no preventing Tektite from getting drenched again. She then discovered that was her favorite option for our playing. She got to both chase the stick and swim. I didn't mind, but five minutes later a hot pain flashed through my foot on one occasion where I put my foot back for balance for what should have been a massive lob. I'd only just gone ahead and stepped on a sharp rock. No blood was drawn, but I couldn't put my foot down without a tingly, burning ache scrunching my toes. Tektite thankfully followed with one simple call and wave.

     "Let me dry you off before we go inside. We keep some spare hand-towels in the side compartment of the grill," I explained when we reached the house. "Tektite, stay."

She dutifully remained rooted to the spot even as I made my way to the deck.

However, the two of us wouldn't make it inside. I reached the grill without issue, grabbed two towels just in case, and turned around. This position gave me view into dad's room, which normally wasn't anything of note. Movement caught my eye this time though. I raised my hand to wave to catch dad's attention...until I understood I was seeing something I really shouldn't be seeing.

I got lucky in that I didn't see as much as I could have. The windows were narrow and already half-covered with curtains. There dad laid though, unclothed, doing that adult thing with someone else. I couldn't see much of her aside from her foot, but I could tell she was indeed female. Worse than the rush of heat flooding my cheeks was that even by just the foot I knew who dad was with.

Hurriedly creeping off the deck and quietly motioning for Tektite to follow again, I now got why dad told me to spend as much time as I wanted at the river.

The towels dropped out of my hand at some point. My muscles didn't want to move much less maintain constant grip on something that felt useless. I didn't even feel the pain in my foot anymore. Tektite and I wandered slowly back to the river. She ran off to gather the stick, but I gave in to my body's protests and dropped myself to sitting. The sticky burn of tears blurred my vision as I drew close to myself.

     "How can he sleep with Ms. Cranberry? She's always so horrible to me, even when he's around. Does he not care that she treats me like dirt on her shoe?" I mumbled into my chest.

Tektite trotted over with a wiggling butt, stick in mouth. She dropped it instantly upon getting closer and stuck her nose in my face to sniff before licking at my tears.

     "Are you comforting me, or do you just like the salty taste?" I laughed weakly. Tektite rest her head on my shoulder with a concerned expression, so the answer was the former. "I really don't understand, Teki. Does he love her? Does he want to be with her? What about me? Would he really allow a relationship when she berates and insults me with every chance she sees? That doesn't seem like dad at all, but they're clearly at an incredibly close level already."

I buried my head harder against my knees and stopped holding back the waterfall.

     "What if he wants to marry her?" I whispered shakily in horror.

My chest sagged with betrayal. Dad was seriously sleeping with someone who constantly verbally abused me. Not only that, but he was spreading out his care to others when it felt like my world was getting smaller. He and grandpa were all I really had. Mr. Mint was the closest thing I had to a friend, but he couldn't be there like they could. As I scratched under Tektite's jaw, I wondered if it was wrong of me to think dad had simply gotten her as a distraction so he could have time with Ms. Cranberry and not because he was truly concerned about my loneliness.

In the end, I shook my head and rebuked myself. It's true I didn't understand what dad was doing with Ms. Cranberry, but how could I doubt him to that extent? Dad did care. He would never be so callous. Tektite and I stayed at the river for another hour to play things safe. I made the walk home as long as possible, and I pretended I didn't see dad, freshly showered in his robe reading with the door open in his bedroom, so Tektite and I could flee to my bedroom. I washed us both in the shower to get rid of the river smell and check for any bugs that might have gotten on her. I'm sure she'd had medications to prevent that, but I wanted to be sure. I took a long nap after that to avoid having to talk to dad. Grandpa returned home, and it was him I mostly talked to during dinner.

If either of them noticed I avoided dad, they said nothing. The next morning my shoulders dropped and my feet shuffled as soon as they'd gone their separate ways. However, I didn't noticed Mr. Mint coming out of the office door.

     "What's wrong, Nutmeg?" he asked.
     "Oh," I hesitated. "Um, it's not something I can really talk about it."
     "Are you sure?"
     "Yeah."
     "Well, if there's anything I can do let me know."
     "Can we not start with Literature today?"
     "We can do that," Mr. Mint chuckled. "And to let you know, my supervisor wants to have a meeting with me later this afternoon. Your father messaged me saying he has something he wants you to be around for during that time."
     "Okay," I shrugged.

Getting back into my typical routine calmed my stress. I could just focus on my work and joke around with my teacher. Mr. Mint went a lot easier on me today while being more amusing with his examples. How glad I was to have someone like him instructing me. If I had a cold teacher or Ms. Cranberry teaching...

     "We're going to be starting a new project today," Mr. Mint spoke when Literature finally came around. "It's going to involve the research techniques and persuasive arguments we've been learning about."
     "Okay. What do I have to do?"
     "I want you to find a topic or issue that is unresolved. You'll research both sides, pick a stance, and write a persuasive paper on why that side should be chosen to resolve the matter. The paper can be as short or as long as you need in order to properly explain your position."
     "And it can be any issue without conclusion that has a stance that can be taken?"
     "Correct."
     "Hmm..."

Not too bad for an assignment. This more active kind of work proved far more interesting than reading a book and discussing its points or symbolism. Mr. Mint once more set to erasing the board as I brought up the internet on the holo-comp to search for ideas. Then I had one come to my head without prompting.

     "Mr. Mint?"
     "Yes?"
     "Would it be alright if...if I picked the case about my dad and grandpa?" I put the question out there knowing Mr. Mint would likely deny it since I had a subjective stand. However, I didn't expect how uneasy or nervous he would shift. "Just, you know, finding the points that show how they were framed and that they didn't kill some of mom's family. That they're innocent. Maybe it might help in some way to one day get the government to believe them."
     "I...I'm going to need you to pick something else. That isn't appropriate for this project."
     "...Alright," I accepted slowly.

The rest of that hour passed with Mr. Mint going through some of his papers letting me just research, otherwise ignoring the strange atmosphere in the room. I didn't come across much that I cared about, but I figured I'd end up choosing the topic on whether or not it was right to clone animals and people. Mr. Mint accepted it if it was what I choose to study before letting me leave early as there wasn't much time left before lunch. I assumed I'd find dad in the research room at the end of the hall when I found the door left open, but my stomach coiled and my skin tightened upon seeing Ms. Cranberry's red. Honestly, I was beginning to hate the color a little because of her.

Still, an abrupt determination welling up quietly padded my feet into the room. Ms. Cranberry stood tucked away in the corner washing her hands, not noticing me yet. The water must have covered up any sound I did make as I got close before her shoulders twitched in recognition of another presence.

     "Ms. Cranberry?" I spoke politely.

She quickly glanced my way, but said nothing.

     "Ms. Cranberry?" I repeated louder. "I'd like to talk to you for a moment."

A haughty expression appeared on her face. She put more soap on her hands even though she'd been about to turn off the water, and then proceeded to spend a ridiculously long amount of time slowly washing her hands and drying them off. She might have expected me to wander off in irritation, but I took long, deep breaths to stay level-headed. Her sarcastic, kind smile at me when I finally claimed her attention certainly boiled my blood to a tempting anger though.

     "That's great that you have something you'd like to do, but it doesn't mean I have to give it to you. There's plenty of other things I would like right now. Talking to you isn't one of them," she said with a tone like poisonous honey.
     "I just want to ask a question," I tried one last time.
     "Only because I'm slightly curious, fine. You'd better make it worth my time."
     "Why are you such a bitch to me?"

Dad and grandpa did not let me swear. I'd only ever mumbled a few to myself quietly in my room late at night simply to see how it felt to say them. Guilt had hit me after such pitiful mumbling. I'd done better here, but it was clear I was indeed nothing more than a child failing at being more confident than I was. Mr. Cranberry laughed though.

     "Okay, that's amusingly pathetic enough for me to humor you. The answer is simple enough. What I hate most of all is incompetence, a lack of intelligence. You, brat, are brainless beyond all belief. It infuriates me how absolutely stupid you are, so much so that it pisses me off just being in your presence."

That boiling blood of mine surged harder within my veins.

     "I'm not stupid!" I challenged. "I'm reading at a high school level even for the class I hate the most!"
     "Oh, Holiday is teaching you your book smarts properly. That's not what I meant," Ms. Cranberry smiled wider to deepen my scowl.
     "What do you mean then?"
     "That is it right there, you mindless puppet. You're completely blind to reality. The fact that you can't fathom your true idiocy and obliviousness is the issue."
     "You're...you're saying nonsense just to mess with me," I growled.
     Ms. Cranberry sighed and rubbed her temples. "Seriously, that comment alone proved my point. That's all I can handle from you for right now. I hope you might ponder my words to give me some relief from all this, but I must admit your chances are slim."

She strode past me towards the door. I barely restrained my fist from slamming into her back.

     "You really are a bitch!"

This time the curse came out exactly as I wished. Ms. Cranberry didn't turn back, however, and walked out of sight with her head held high.