Paolo Bacigalupi - The Doubt Factory

“Security through the wonders of science and technology,” he said.

“Yeah?” Jonah asked, immediately interested in the way he always got interested about something militaristic.

“Motion sensors. New electronic eyes. Also, we’re putting in cameras for the street and yard approaches. Just in case.”

“In case of what?”

George shrugged. “Whatever 2.0 decides he’s up to.”

Alix watched the proceedings, feeling as if her home was being taken over by an army. George seemed to read her mind. “Don’t worry, Alix. After today, they’ll all be gone, and you’ll be able to go back to your regular life.”

“You mean my bodyguard’s going, too?” Jonah asked.

George laughed. “You should look at this as an opportunity to study self-defense.”

“You don’t have him following you around everywhere,” Jonah grumped.

“Gunter knows eight different ways to kill a person with his bare hands in less than five seconds.”

“Yeah?” Jonah perked up and went off in pursuit of Hulk.

George’s eyes were twinkling when he caught Alix watching the exchange. “Please don’t tell your mother I said that.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got enough problems as it is.”

“I hear you’ve been having some adventures lately.”

“I’ve got my own personal stalker. It’s awesome.”

George chuckled, and Alix was glad he was there. Somehow, it made all the disruption feel just a little more… if not normal, then at least acceptable. Alix had always thought of him as family. His official title was chief science liaison for Banks Strategy Partners, which really just meant that he was her father’s best friend and that they’d always been partners. She’d grown up with George around, in and out of their lives, dropping in for dinners. A familiar face at events. Every so often he showed up for the holidays with his ninety-year-old mother in tow, a woman who went from vague and disoriented to whip-funny, depending on her medications.

Now George was urging the workmen to wrap everything up. Jonah wandered into the living room and fired up his Xbox. Pretty soon he had his sword out and was busy swinging away at some kid in Indonesia, his heavily armored avatar moving through a burning lava landscape, mirroring his movements on the Kinect.

Alix got a Diet Coke out of the fridge and went to the backyard and the pool. She thought about swimming but didn’t really like the idea of getting into her bathing suit while all the security people were there. She went back inside and watched Jonah hack through enemies, envious of his ability to just do whatever he wanted without letting anyone else’s watching eyes bother him.

All she wanted was privacy, but when she went up to her bedroom, she just found more people, wiring up windows, attaching strips of security tape to everything. She wandered back downstairs, feeling like a stranger in her own house, feeling observed and self-conscious everywhere she went.

Dad came out of his office and looked surprised to see her.

“What are you doing home?” he asked.

“Hello? I’m done with school.”

“Oh?” He checked his watch. “Of course.” He shook his head. “I lost track of time completely.” Alix thought he looked exhausted, worn by work and stress.

“Dad?”

“Yes, Alix?”

“Can we talk?”

He started to check his watch again but caught himself. He smiled tiredly at Alix. “Of course. Do you want to go into the study?”

Alix eyed the ongoing work. “Could we go out somewhere instead?”

“You want to take your old man on a date?” he joked.

Alix couldn’t help but feel a little better. “I’ll buy you as many espressos as you can drink, if you’ll bust me out of here.”

Dad laughed at that, and for a second it felt like everything was normal again. “You’re on.”

Of course, Lisa and one of the security team named Mendoza tagged along, but they followed in a chase car, and they took a table far enough away to give the illusion that they weren’t with Alix and her dad. They still had a good view of the parking lot and the doors, but at least it gave the effect of leaving Alix and her dad in a bubble of privacy. It wasn’t perfect, but somehow having her father with her made her feel better, and, in a way, it was nice to spend time with him without any other intrusions. He’d even turned off his cell phone.

“They can call Lisa if they need us,” Dad said simply as he shut it down.

Alix was surprised once again at how different it was to have her father’s whole attention. Before she’d finished kindergarten, Alix had already become skilled at discerning when her father’s mind had shifted away from the moment at hand—even if his eyes were still fixed on her, and even if he was still making the appropriate yeses and nos and affirming noises of someone who was listening to what she was saying.

Mom had a story about how one day, when Alix had been about six years old, she’d been talking to Dad, and, of course, Dad hadn’t been paying attention. So Alix had climbed up on his lap, grabbed his chin, and yanked his face. She’d stared into his eyes, an inch away, and said, “Your head isn’t listening to me!” Which Dad found hilarious. It had become a catchphrase for the family.

Today, it was different. Dad’s head was listening to her, and it was nice. It almost made ending up with a security detail worth it.

Alix chose a skinny latte, and Dad picked a double espresso. They went outside and sat on the flagstone patio under the trees. It was a relief to be outside, away from routines and the frenetic activity in the house.

“All right, Alix. What’s on your mind?”

Alix sipped her coffee. She felt hesitant even asking. “Oh, I don’t know.” She hesitated again and mentally kicked herself for it. “Why did 2.0 tell me to ask you about what this was all about?”

Dad frowned. “Ah.” He sipped his espresso, then set the tiny cup down in its saucer. For a moment he paused, staring down at the cup with a furrowed brow, as if he would find enlightenment in its coffee blackness.

“I wish I had a good answer for you,” he started slowly. “I keep wanting this to make some kind of sense, myself.” He looked up, serious. “I wish I could say that we understand who 2.0 is, or what really motivates him, but it’s all guesses.”

“So…” Alix hesitated, then made herself press the issue. “What’s your guess?”

“My guess?” Dad blew out his breath. “Okay, candidly, and without a whole lot to go on, my guess is that 2.0 is an activist of some kind. I’m sure you know that some of the work I do relates to politics, and the ugly truth is that any time you get involved in politics, you’re going to generate strong responses.” He grimaced. “We’re a radicalized culture these days. It really doesn’t matter whether it’s the right or the left; you’re going to end up with someone who’s sure that you’re doing the worst thing in the world. A talk radio host or some blogger decides they hate something that someone you work with does, and that’s it. They whip up the witch hunts. Mob logic.” He shook his head, gazing at Lisa Price and Mendoza. “I’ve seen it happen to some of my clients. You see it with movie stars, too. PETA targets someone. Or Save the Whales. Or the Tea Party. It doesn’t really matter. All that matters is that politics has gotten so ugly that it’s hard to have a reasoned conversation about anything anymore. There’s no room to disagree in a civil way. Someone always has to be cast as the Antichrist.”

“But what’s that got to do with us?”

Dad laughed. It was a surprisingly bitter sound. “To be honest, I didn’t think this had anything to do with us. I really didn’t.” He reached out for Alix, his eyes pleading as he gripped her shoulder. “I am so sorry I didn’t see this coming. I should have seen it. I just…” He shrugged helplessly. “I missed it. I’ve never considered myself to be a public figure, so it never occurred to me that we might be subjected to this kind of… abuse. Some of our clients, sure. But not us.” He took another sip of his espresso and then stared down into the cup, puzzled. It was already empty.