within the machine and he absently played with the circuitry, channeling energy one way and then the next, testing its limits and formulating new paths, new possibilities. The console was a monitoring device and Dan felt the remote cameras and sensors which lay out beyond the cabin, all focused on maintaining the secrecy of this hidden place.
“You are gods,” the man repeated louder, having walked up to meet Halo on the stairs. He took the boy’s hand, unclenched the fist and held it within his own. “You see this?” he asked, gently shaking the combined hands. “This is promise to you, Sohail Pirzada.”
Dan took a second look at them. His grandfather was below the boy, almost in a supplicating pose. A part of him wanted to be where Halo stood, to be the center of his grandfather’s attention.
“A promise,” the man repeated. “You will be god.”
Later that night, after they pitched their tents in the open quadrangle between the cabin and what was supposed to be a boat or trailer shed, the four campers sat around a campfire. Dan’s grandfather was in the basement, supposedly re-establishing its glory days, whatever that meant.
Halo brightened up during the day, filled with the confidence that one day he would be able to crush all those who had ever opposed him. He flashed his charismatic smile at the girls and told them about his family, about their escape from persecution, their arrival in Australia followed by their meteoric rise to fortune. He was a self-described golden child and they all believed him.
Especially Bree.
“But what about your gifts?” Bree asked him. “What can you do?”
He leaned in close to her, tucking a strand of black hair behind her ear. She kept his gaze but made no other effort to play his game. Dan felt his heart sink.
“I’m golden,” he said. “And I can read your mind.”
She looked away then, smiling a little self-consciously.
“You’re a liar,” she said.
“I can talk to machines,” Dan said, desperate to change the topic, desperate to fill the awkward gap that opened up between him and Bree. “Sometimes.”
“Sometimes?” Halo mocked.
Dan nodded.
“And what do machines have to say?” Halo asked.
“Leave him,” Bree said. She leaned back on her arms and cocked her head up towards the stars. “That’s a great gift,” she said. Dan closed his eyes and smiled, letting the words hang in the air.
“Yeah, well, let’s see how great it is tomorrow in training,” Halo said.
“Yeah,” Dan said, hopeful.
Chapter 7
Dan
Melbourne, Present Day
“T his has to be illegal, doesn’t it?” Dan asked as he leaned against the railing and looked down to the street. There was a breeze behind him and it was picking up, blowing his hair forward across his face. “I mean, are you actually serious about me spying on your boyfriend?”
Alsana Owens stood next to him on top of the seven storey car park, but she didn’t hold on to the railing. Instead, her hands were stuffed deep into the pockets of her black duffel coat. Her hair was held down by a beret and her face was severe with piercing green, deadly eyes.
It was close to midnight. All of the normal people of the city were either partying or sleeping. The satchel at his feet contained a bunch of clothes and stuff he’d grabbed from the apartment. It felt pathetic against his leg. He looked at Alsana, at her gaunt profile in the moonlight, and then back across the street. Neither of them was normal, he figured. Probably hadn’t been normal for a very long time.
Alsana was his handler, a government appointed official with a tenuous link to the Uberhuman Affairs Office. After being arrested as a twelve year old supervillain and bundled through the courts and juvenile justice system, Dan had been nominated to be up-cycled. It was a program for underage ubers who managed to get on the wrong side of the law, usually for petty crimes. But in Dan’s case, things were a little more complicated. Dan
Learning to Kill: Stories