Nanobots, Murder, and Other Family Problems

The rising sun streams through the rear window of the van. Addis Ababa looms ahead of us. I stretch my arms out, working out the kinks from sleeping in my seat. I open my extra eyes and let them float around. Louise and Andrea’s heads are resting against each other in the row ahead of me, still sleeping. I don’t even need to check Evan and Marc, their snores are distinct enough that I already know they’re still sleeping. Jeff is awake in the passenger seat, his gaze contemplating the city ahead of us. The dark circles under his eyes tell me he didn’t sleep much as Ibrahim drove us through the night.

The skyscrapers of Addis Ababa’s skyline contrast sharply with the small buildings and modest huts we’ve been around all week. It’s strange to see a big, modern city like this when I know that a few miles from here there are people who still don’t have running water. I see my siblings stir as the van slows down in the morning traffic of the city.

We pull up to an American-style cafe for breakfast. I smell bacon. Mmmm, bacon. I haven’t had that for a while. The aroma calls to me as Kofi leads us in. Father and Chad are already seated inside, waiting for us along with the other three guides. One side of the cafe is made of glass, a huge window out onto the waking city. I look out as we wait to order. Ethiopian cuisine is good, but even the best food gets old after a while. I’m up for something different, so I get the waffle combo.

As the feeding frenzy slows, Father addresses us. “We’ll be using the buddy system again today, children. I assume you want the same pairings as in Djibouti?”

Most of us nod. Enough that Father takes it as yes, anyway. Jeff hangs his head in disappointment, clearly less than thrilled to have Marc as his buddy again.

Once breakfast is over, Evan and I hop into one of the trucks with Ibrahim to take a tour of the city. Our first stop is the National Museum. Ibrahim gets us in, then settles in on a bench for a nap while we explore. I can’t blame him, driving through the night must have left him exhausted.

There’s a lot of cool history here. We spend the morning wandering the exhibits, seeing artifacts and fancy robes from ancient kings. Lucy’s skeleton is cool. She was the original local girl here from three million years back.

The upstairs collection is mostly paintings and sculptures. Neither of us are big art enthusiasts, so we just kind of skim through, glancing at pictures but not lingering on anything. We’re about to head back downstairs when we run into the girls. Andrea is clearly enthralled with the exhibitions, Louise decidedly less so.

“Hey, you two want to get lunch in a few?” Evan asks them. I hadn’t realized it was almost time for that. It’s amazing that I can still lose track of the hour with a clock literally stuck in my brain.

“Sorry,” Louise sighs. “I don’t think we’ll be leaving here for a while. Andrea loves this place. You guys go on ahead.”

Evan excuses himself to hit the restroom, which makes Andrea realize that she has to go too. Louise and I are left in one of the otherwise empty galleries. That works for me. I’ve been wanting to catch her alone.

“Hey, I want to try to bring Evan in,” I whisper. “You know, on the big secret.” She doesn’t say anything. Just gives me a serious look. “Are you OK with that?”

“I know you two are besties,” she whispers back. “But this is a big deal. Are you sure he’s going to want in?”

“No, I’m not sure yet, but he’s said some things that make me think he might come on board once he knows everything. I’ll feel him out carefully and only tell him if I’m sure. Will Andrea be OK with it?”

“Evan is Andrea’s next favorite person after me,” she answers. “If you can convince him, she’ll be more than OK. And Evan knows how to keep his mouth shut. But be sure you’re sure. If you tell him and you’re wrong, things won’t end well.”

“I know. Thanks.”

Evan emerges from the men’s room, and we head out. We rouse Ibrahim and he gives us two options for our next stop. Neither of us are interested in the Ethnological Museum, so instead he takes us to Menelik Square near the city center. On the drive there, he tells us what a great place it is to take a walking tour of the monuments. He’s right. The giant lion statue we see right off is impressive. Ibrahim walks quickly, but I lag behind at a more leisurely pace. Soon our guide is a dozen paces ahead of us.

“So what’s going on, man?” Evan asks, without preamble. “Why all the whispering with Louise? And why do I feel like you’ve been trying to ditch me lately?”

I glance around with my half-dozen eyes. From his place ahead of us, I don’t think Ibraham can hear us, and no one else is near enough to overhear. I make a note to myself to learn Louise’s anti-eavesdropping shield, that would be handy right now. But even if any English speakers were close, there’s plenty of background noise, so I guess this is as good a place for this conversation as any.

“I don’t think you’re going to like it.” I answer, keeping my human eyes forward as we walk down the street.

He angles so that he’s walking a little closer to me and lowers his voice.

“I’m a big boy. I can take whatever it is.”

“It’s about Father,” I say as I turn my head to look at Evan. “He’s not the hero everyone thinks he is.”

“You’re just now realizing that? Of course he’s no hero.”

“What makes you say that?” I ask, dodging around a small group of Asian tourists.

“He’s a dirty old man. You know those hundred siblings we have? That’s not artificial insemination, brother. And none of us have the same mother. You’ve seen the nannies, the cafeteria workers, the other staff. That’s the pool he’s pulling from.”

His mouth twists in disgust. I don’t think any of the staff he’s talking about are past their mid-twenties. Father is in his late sixties. That’s old enough to be their grandfather.

“Are you kidding?”

Before he can answer, I remember. I’ve seen his calendar. All those Potential Mother appointments. If Evan’s right, then those weren’t selection interviews like I thought. How much Viagra does that old pervert go through every week? My stomach twists.

“No, man. I wouldn’t joke about this.” Evan’s face is as serious as his tone. “I thought you knew. What were you guys all talking about without me then? I thought you all had finally figured it out.”

“No!” I protest. “How would we even know that?”

“Well, I figured you knew from your mom or something. I was kind of hurt that you didn’t talk to me about it first.”

Ibrahim stops ahead of us and lets us catch up so he can point out a statue that I don’t care about. Evan and I pretend to look for a minute while he goes ahead and gets some distance from us again.

“No!” I declare once we’re clear. “Mom barely told me who my father was. She never said a word about what he was doing off in his desert compound.”

“So then, if it wasn’t the dirty old man thing, then I guess you guys were talking about when Andrea’s implant went wrong, and she almost died and still can’t talk to this day?”

“No, not that either. Andrea almost died?”

“Yeah, a few weeks after she got her implant. But that sort of thing is bound to happen when you put a barely-tested piece of experimental hardware inside someone’s skull. So, if it wasn’t that, then I guess it also wasn’t that you all finally realized that he’s been using us as guinea pigs for his illegal and unethical medical experiments?” He says it so casually. Not like he doesn’t care, but like he’s already fully processed the pain of it. “I mean, performing unnecessary brain surgery on your own kids? What kind of monster does that? He could have killed us all with those things. And even though he hasn’t killed any of us yet, you know the implants are messing with us. Marc was not this weird before he got his. And don’t even start on Jeff.”

“No,” I reply, shaking my head. “It wasn’t that either.”

Another group of tourists splits us up for a moment. I start to realize how long the litany of Father’s sins is. I’ve obviously been way too focused on him killing Mom.

“None of that?” Evan asks as we merge back up. “For real?”

I shake my head.

“Then what the hell else do you have on the old man?”

Ibrahim is waiting for us at a crosswalk that leads to a roundabout with a small park in the middle. He gestures at a huge statue of a man on a horse at the center of it.

“Behold, Emperor Menelik II,” he says.

“Thanks, Ibrahim,” I tell him. “Mind if we look closer?”

“Of course,” he says, leaning against the pillar by the gate. Evan and I walk up the path into the park on our own. There are a few other tourists here, I wait a long few minutes until they clear out.

“Well, you know those soldiers we ran into in Somalia?” I finally get to ask.

“Yeah.”

“He killed them all,” I say quietly.

“Well duh, I figured that out,” he says, irritation in his voice.

“And you didn’t say anything?”

“No. I mean, I wanted to, but you guys were too busy sneaking off to some secret club without me.” Anger blooms in his eyes as he glares at me. “When was I supposed to talk about it?”

“Yeah, that’s fair,” I acknowledge, hanging my head. “Sorry.”

Dammit. I’ve been a bad brother and a bad friend. We stand in the shadow of Emperor Menelik II for a long time in silence. Half a dozen batches of tourists come and go, finally leaving us alone again with the statue.

“Really sorry,” I say. “I should have talked to you first.”

“It’s fine,” he grunts. “I’m sure you had your reasons for leaving me out.”

“I really didn’t want to,” I protest. “I got sworn to secrecy about it, and I just got the OK today to tell you.”

“So you really did have a secret club,” he laughs bitterly.

“Yeah, sort of. So, how did you know about the soldiers.”

“Same way I know everything I know. I paid attention. I knew he slagged their trucks, and if they’d taken off on foot, we would have still seen their dust when we got out of the shields, even if they were running as fast as they could. So I felt out for a good way in both directions down the road and my bots couldn’t find anything. I figured that they shot at him and he took them out.”

“Well, they shot at him because he was taking them out. I think. They were getting eaten alive by his nanobots.”

“And how do you know that?” he asks. “Now that your secret club has given you permission to tell me.”

I lay out the whole story of Andrea’s peephole and the way the girls had sworn me in. Evan’s face finally starts to soften.

“Well, that explains you and the girls,” he says. “But what’s up with Jeff? How did he get into your club before me?”

“Oh, it gets better,” I tell him as we start slowly walking toward the park gate. “Jeff got suspicious about Father’s megacloud in Djibouti, says the math doesn’t add up for how many bots Father can control. So he thinks the evil machine brain that tried to eat the world is back. Jeff figures that Father’s either locked in a battle of wills with the AI or helping it take over the world.”

“So it’s either his prisoner or his pet? Or maybe the other way around?”

“Yeah, those are pretty much Jeff’s theories. I’m not sure how much I buy it, but I haven’t looked at the math he did that he thinks proves it yet. I guess he could be right. Anyway, according to Jeff, we should know by next week which one it is, depending on whether Father makes an emergency update when we get home.”

“Well that’s fun,” Evan laughs.

I’m glad he’s taking the potential end of the world in stride. His usual good humor is returning. Ibrahim is asleep on his feet when we reach the gate, leaning against a fence post. Evan and I walk past him onto the sidewalk.

“Just let him sleep a bit?” I ask.

“Yeah, he deserves it.”

A young man who looks like a local bumps into me as he walks past. He says something I don’t understand, but the tone is apologetic and he continues on his way.

“What was that? It’s not even crowded,” Evan remarks.

Something tickles my memory, and I quickly check my logs for the briefing on this city. Then I check my pockets. My wallet is gone. The young man’s casual pace is picking up as he moves down the wide sidewalk away from us. Pickpocketing tourists is a significant local industry here.

“That guy just robbed me!”

BEATDOWN

All my bots rush into a tight softball-sized sphere as I close my fist. I aim with my eyes at the back of the young man’s head as he starts to dash away. I throw a punch in the air, and the ball rushes forward as fast as it can, building up speed until it collides with the back of his head. He collapses to the ground as I feel the muted thump of the impact. The limiters on the cloud don’t let it go fast enough that I would be able to kill anyone this way, but with the full mass of my cloud committed in a tight sphere like that, and a nice long runway to pick up momentum, it wouldn’t have tickled when it hit.

I open my fist, and the sphere smokes away to invisibility. A couple of bystanders glance at him, but I don’t think they saw what hit him. Even if they did, they continue on, minding their own business. Evan and I jog down the sidewalk and check on the thief. He’s out cold. I reach down to check his pulse, and it’s still strong. Good. I wouldn’t have wanted to do more than concuss him a little. I check his pockets and find my wallet and a couple of others. American driver’s licenses in both of those. I guess this guy had a preference in targets.

“Maybe we can drop these by the embassy or something,” I say, looking around for anyone else he might have robbed but not seeing anyone that looks like the pictures on the licenses. “Or maybe mail them to their addresses when we get home. I don’t know how we’d find the owners here.”

“Sounds good,” Evan says. “That was pretty cool, brother. A little dramatic, but cool.”

“Thanks.”

My shout must have woken Ibrahim from his standing nap, because he’s heading this way. He sees us looming over the unconscious thief, the wallets still in my hands.

“Ah,” he says. “I see our friend here found the wrong pocket to pick.”

We nod.

“He will be more careful next time. Come along. The Mausoleum of Menelik II is up ahead. You will like it.”

He leads on ahead again. We follow and let him get a little distance from us again.

“So the dirty old man thing. How do you know Father’s not just using a lab? Artificial insemination or whatever,” I ask him.

“I told you, I pay attention. It’s not rocket science. I’m still not sure how the others haven’t seen it. I think Chad knows, but I’m pretty sure he thinks it’s a great idea, mostly because he figures he’ll get to do it too one day. Anyway, we all grew up in the Residence before they built the dorms. You keep your ears open, people talk where you can hear. There were always a few women in the final stages of pregnancy around, and they were less than careful with what they said. They give birth there in the medical wing, you know, and then they leave.”

“I didn’t know that, but I don’t spend a lot of time in the Residence.”

“Anyway, I was five or six when I asked my nanny about it. Have I told you about Nanny Jenny?”

I shake my head.

“She was my morning nanny. We all had a morning nanny and a night nanny, they’d switch in the afternoons. Anyway, once I knew enough to ask her, she told me about it. Well, she told me as much as I could understand at that age. I think that’s the reason she ended up leaving. Not that she got pregnant, or fired, or anything, but she hated what was happening.”

We look both ways and cross a small street to where Ibrahim is waiting on the other side. He nods as we catch up and points out the names of a few more statues. We let him get ahead again.

“He wasn’t just banging the staff,” Evan continues. “He’d have other girls come in too. But sometimes a nanny would get pregnant, then as soon as she started showing, she would disappear for a while and come back ready to pop out a kid. It happened to Marc’s nanny when he was four. His new one was nice, but he was never quite the same afterwards. His old nanny came back to give birth, didn’t even talk to him while she was there, then she left again forever. Really messed him up.”

I nod. How did I not know about any of this until now?

“It was the same with a bunch of the staff. I guess it paid really well. They all had to sign contracts about it before they could even work there. Nanny Jenny said something about how she wouldn’t do it even if she would be set for life. She didn’t tell me explicitly that’s why she was leaving, but I’m pretty sure now that she was choosing between leaving and servicing the old pervert.”

“Sounds like you miss her.”

“Yeah. I mean, I know she wasn’t my mom,” he laughs, I think mostly to cover the sadness. “She was as lily white as you are. But she was great, and she was as close to a mother as I ever had.”

“I get that. I miss my mom too. Oh, and the last big reveal from the secret club: she didn’t die by accident. He killed her.”

“Wait!” he says, mocking a look of shock. “Are you saying that our womanizing mass murderer with an evil robot brain buddy might have had something to do with his son’s mother’s untimely death? Don’t go too crazy on me now, brother.”

We both laugh now, because we don’t want to cry.

“Yeah. You put it like that, and it just sounds insane. I’ll try to keep my theories a little more grounded.”

He throws an arm around me as we walk down the street. We get some weird looks from the locals, but I don’t care. I miss Mom, but at least I have a brother that loves me as much as she did.