The Emoticon Generation (6 page)

“That’s right,” Glynis said. “And if you wrong me, I
will
revenge.”

They stared at her, stunned.

“What?” Glynis said innocently. “That’s how the quote ends, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” Olivia said, then clapped her hands once. “Let’s eat.”

Olivia prepared the food. Glynis and the Professor sat in front of the television, and watched the news. The most interesting item was about a team of scientists in Japan that created an intelligent human-looking robot. The robot had authentic-looking human skin, it had all the organs and ‘bones’ a human had, and theoretically it could move only as a human could. It could maintain its balance and walk an obstacle field, but its movements still seemed clumsy. Definitely not human. And its intelligence was quite astounding. It could answer questions and form sentences. Glynis and Von Strauss were mesmerized.

“In a few years,” Von Strauss said, “we’ll have robots so advanced, we won’t be able to tell them apart from a real person.”

“Not in our lifetime, Professor,” Olivia yelled from the kitchen. “These artificial intelligence and neural-net research people may be able to create intelligent neural nets. But no one has ever been able to artificially create consciousness or sentience or any of that. We’re as far away from that as we’ve always been. Eventually, we’ll probably get it. But not in out lifetime.”

During dinner, Olivia and Von Strauss mainly talked business.

“The problem with psychology today,” Olivia said, “and you’ll forgive me, Professor – but the problem is that it’s not really a science.”

“Now, now, now, that is a baseless attack on our profession.”

“Please, Professor. We’re worse off than doctors were five hundred years ago, when they didn’t know about the cardiovascular system and bacteria, when they gave anemas and drained people of blood to cure them, and didn’t know they should wash their hands.”

“Now, now, now. That’s ridiculous and you know it.”

“What I’m saying,” Olivia insisted, “is that if you really want to be a science, then once you create theories you have to be able to check them. You have to be able to perform an experiment twice under the same conditions. You have to then be able to perform the experiment
again
, changing some little thing here or some little thing there and see if that
changes
the result. Without that, all your theories are conjecture that can’t be taken too seriously. That’s not science, that’s guesswork.”

“But to do what you say you have to bottle the human mind, or put it in a test tube. And you can’t put the human mind in a test tube.”

She put her fork down, looked at him, and said with arrogance, “
I
can.”

Professor Von Strauss then looked at Glynis, and something in his eyes caused chills to run down her spine.

“And,” Olivia added, having missed Von Strauss’ stare, “I’m almost ready to publish.” Oddly enough, that ended that avenue of conversation.

The dinner over, Von Strauss said he had to return to the Institute. Olivia told him she’ll spend some more time with Glynis, and that she’ll join him in a couple of hours. Von Strauss left the house, and almost immediately, Glynis heard the sound of a car being turned on and then leaving. Olivia went to her room, when things clicked in Glynis’ head. The only car in the driveway was her mom’s! And the sound was the same familiar sound. She ran to the window, and removed the curtain. There it was, her mother’s car, parked in its usual place.

“So,” her mother emerged from her room, wearing something less work-related. “I’m all yours for the next hour or two. What do you want to do?”

What Glynis wanted to do was ask about the car. Or about her conversation with Steve. But she was still under the effect of her mother’s reaction yesterday when she enquired on the record of her birth. Somehow, asking questions at this time seemed dangerous. Better to find the answers by herself.

“You know, mom,” she said. “The Professor must be really important to your work, and he probably isn’t here every day. Why don’t you go and be with him. I’ll be fine on my own.”

Olivia hesitated. Clearly, leaving was what she wanted to do. “Ah... Are you sure?”

“Sure. I’ll be fine.”

“Maybe I’ll have Ron check in on you.”

“No, really, mom, there’s no need.”

Olivia looked into Glynis’ eyes, then said, “Okay. Thanks.”

“Sure.”

“And, you know, I’m going to make it up to you. The day after tomorrow, on your birthday, we’ll spend all day together. Wait till you see what I have planned.”

“Can’t wait, Mom.”

Glynis watched through the window as Olivia got into her car and drove away.

Almost immediately, she went to her bed and collapsed in it. She had never felt so alone. Too many things her mother had told her were wrong or baseless. She had an uncle, and the uncle had at least one son and one daughter – Barbara – which Glynis had never known. Olivia was maybe living somewhere else. Her birth certificate was gone. Maybe her disease is just an excuse to keep Glynis from going into the world. And Steve Caspi (her mother’s ex-husband, yet another fact she didn’t know) refuses to talk to her. And who was this Jonathan Hatch whom Steve confirmed
was
her father? And that Professor Von Whatever, as crazy as he seemed, somehow only strengthened the feeling that her mother was not telling her everything.

There was no one to talk to, no one to confide in, no one to ask.

Determination rose within her. Fine. No more kid gloves. They’re keeping stuff from me, I’ll sniff it out, detail by detail. I’ll piece my life together. And I’ll work from all directions at once.

She sat by the computer and turned it on. It was time to play dirty.

It was time she stalked her mother.

She produced an overview of a map of the city, and asked for a display of all PubliCams in or around the McCourt Research Institute. There were none inside. And there weren’t any within half a kilometer. It was, after all, a security area. But by viewing each and every one of the remote Cams, she discovered that one PubliCam could actually see the entrance in the corner of the screen from 1200 meters away. It was enough.

She copied an image of her mother out of the online family album, and asked the computer to search for all images looking like the image within the last 72 hours. Glynis then searched for a PubliCam across the street from where her mother had ‘moved’ to five years ago, and, growing impatient, she gave the computer orders to alert her as soon as the first image was found.

This would take a few moments at best. She hesitated before recalling the ISpy that followed Steve. His betrayal still hurt. But this wasn’t about betrayal. This wasn’t about friendship or fatherhood or anything like that. This was about who she was and why everyone was lying. This was about everyone knowing the truth at her expense.

She recalled ISpy and watched in cold blood. Cab to the airport, a forty-minute ride. The Cams then lost him. One OnCam spotted him in the airport, hugging a thin, shortyish, thirty-year-old-looking woman. This must be the pregnant woman known as ‘honey’. Next, he was spotted ten minutes away from his home, in a cab with Honey. Innocuous conversation about her trip to Hawaii. How sweet.

She fast-forwarded as the two seemed to talk and talk, as they unloaded the cab, as they entered the house and unpacked. Glynis wound it down to normal speed, as Honey was caressing his hair.

“Glynis,” Steve was saying, “thinks that Oli— [...] mother.” Glynis froze the frame, her eyes wide in surprise. They were talking about her!

She rewinded one minute into the past, and played it at normal speed.

“Will you stop fussing,” Honey was saying. “I’m fine.”

“[...] Sure?” Too early. Then she had caught the conversation a few seconds before it started.

Sure enough, twenty seconds later, Honey was saying, “[...] understand [...] bothering you.”

“[...] complicated. [... whatever he was saying, she had a concerned look on her face. ...]—phone call I got today. [...] herself Glynis [...] —teen-year old. But actually— Forget it, that’s too complicated. [...] —r one thing, she thinks Olivia – that’s my ex —” (In the corner of the screen, the image of the PubliCam monitoring the Institute’s entrance began to flash – its task was done. It would wait for later.)

“The [...] -ologist,” Honey said.

Steve’s back was to the window, but he nodded.”[... he moved his hand to the side. ...] Glynis thinks that Oli— [...] mother.” Glynis frowned. It was much easier when he stood still and talked to the phone.

“And [...] isn’t her mother?” Honey put her hand on Steve’s shoulder.

Steve sunk into his chair. “Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no. Not even close. She’s— [his hand covered his mouth for a few seconds] —st of her kind. She’s kind’a like the chicken who lays the first egg.”

“[...] mean?”

Glynis froze the frame and stared at the screen numb. Maybe because the shock was too big, but also maybe because inside she was so certain that Olivia was her mother. The similarities between them were so many – she couldn’t possibly be adopted. And yet... Steve should know what he was talking about. And what did that mean, ‘the chicken who lays the first egg’? What did that
mean
?

Olivia not her mother?! It couldn’t be.

She unfroze the frame.

“[...] Can’t tell you,” Steve rose. “Research [...] Classif— [...] I’ll work it ou— [...]”

“[...] —leep on it, okay?” She kissed him, and he kissed back.

“Yeah. [...] —t you.”

The two of them entered the bedroom, where Glynis couldn’t see them. That was all ISpy had. She looked at the watch by the corner. That last exchange was ten minutes ago. She switched to the PubliCam. Their apartment was dark except for a small light in the bedroom. They were reading. Or talking. About her. Or about Hawaii. Or about their baby.

Working completely by rote, aware yet unaware of what she was doing, she left ISpy working, and pressed the flashing icon at the bottom of the screen. The screen was immediately filled with an image from the PubliCam outside the address her mother’s supposedly living at. The frame was from this morning. Olivia was leaving the apartment, wearing her work-clothes, suit and all, and a briefcase in hand. She then entered her car and drove away.

“That bitch,” Glynis whispered, her mind still in neutral. “She
does
live somewhere else!”

The icon belonging to the PubliCam outside the Institute flashed again. Glynis couldn’t care less. She sent it away. She stared at the apartment for a while, her teeth clenched, wondering how nasty her response should be. A minute later, she had Olivia’s phone number.

Before calling Olivia’s number a few actions had to be taken. The phones always provided the number of the caller at the bottom of the screen. If a call is unanswered or if the callers do not leave a message, the caller’s phone number is still recorded. If Olivia sees Glynis’ number when she returns ‘home’, she’d be sure to recognize it. Glynis didn’t want that. Not yet. She would route the phone call through five different stations – the number that would appear would not be traced back to her.

Not only do I know math and literature and history, mother, she thought; I also got an ‘A’ in hacking. She entered the secured site in which she kept her hacking programs, most of which she had programmed herself. Her mother had kept secrets from her, and she had kept secrets from her mother.

She executed ReCall, and dialed her mother’s number.

Olivia’s face appeared. “Hello,” it said. “This is the residence of Dr. Olivia Hatch—” Glynis’ stomach turned “—I’m not home right now. Please leave a message.” As soon as her image was gone, ReCall immediately took over Olivia’s answering service. Glynis could now treat it as if it were her own. She scanned the messages. There were three pending (which Olivia hadn’t heard yet), two saved, and one in the trash bin, which had not yet been deleted (the trash bin deletes a message 24 hours after it is sent to the bin).

She watched the one in the trash bin first.

Professor Von Variety appeared on the screen. “Hello, Doctor Hatch,” he said in his thick accent. “This is to update you. I’ve just confirmed my flight. I’ll be taking flight number—” Glynis fast-forwarded. “—nd. I’m very excited to see your research. Even if only half of what you’ve hinted at is true. I’ll see you in less than fourteen hours.”

Boring. Glynis chose one of the pending ones. Ron’s face appeared, “Olivia! Olivia! If you’re there, please answer. There’s been an emergency with Glynis! Call me asap!”

Glynis blinked. Then she looked at the time-stamp. It was from six hours ago. She hadn’t seen Ron in two days. What the hell was he talking about? She looked around, half paranoid. But there
was
no emergency in the past six hours or twenty-four hours, for that matter. But that only drove home a point she hadn’t considered. Ron and Elizabeth were both in on whatever this is. They, too, have been lying to her all her life. No more allies. She was alone.

The other two pending messages were sales messages. Junk. Glynis turned to the saved messages.

An unknown man appeared on the screen. He was fiftyish, rumpled, tired, and a couple of children were playing behind him. “Hi, sis,” he said. So this is Glynis’ Uncle Thomas! “I just wanted to inform you that Pat arrived safely, everything’s fine, and we’re going to have fun while you’re busy with that bigshot.” He looked aside. “What? Oh, okay.” He turned to the screen again. “Pat wants to say something.” He moved aside, and the camera panned down to see the face of a cute six-year-old.

“Hi, mom,” she waved, as Glynis’ eyes nearly popped out of her head. “I miss you. Call me when you get home.”

“Bye, Olive Oil,” Thomas said, and touched the disconnect button.

Glynis couldn’t breathe. Spots appeared in front of her eyes.

After a couple of minutes, she calmed down enough to realize that she couldn’t remember anything else about the message besides the words “Hi, mom”. She replayed the message.

Pat. Her sister’s name was Pat.

She rewinded the message and froze a picture of Pat. She
was
cute, and she looked almost like Glynis did when
she
was that age. The nose and the chin were slightly different, though. There was no doubt about it. Pat was her sister.