Chapters (33)
- Cover
- Dedication
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgments
- Excerpt from Weird Kid
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- About the Author
- Books by Greg van Eekhout
- Back Ad
- About the Publisher
“That may be difficult. We are the physical size and appearance of children, and there are times when it is nonstandard for children to be without adult supervision. It is now noon, a time when most children are at school.”
ADA blinks for a moment. “There are many books here. Books are flammable. If we are challenged I can pull off one of my fingers to expose raw wires and generate a spark, which, combined with a book, will start a fire. The fire will serve as a diversion should we need to make an escape.”
“Good,” I tell ADA, though I hope we will not have to burn the library down.
An adult enters the library with twenty children in tow. The children carry backpacks and are all dressed alike, in gray pants or skirts and blue shirts, some with blue sweaters as well. They talk and laugh until the adult says, “Library rules,” and soon the children are quiet and whispering.
ADA tenses. “Is this some kind of military unit?”
“I don’t think so.”
“But they are wearing uniforms.”
“I believe they are school uniforms. See, the ones with sweaters have patches that say ‘Grassville Elementary School.’ This is a school class, and they have come to the library to do . . . school things.”
“School things?”
“Yes. School is one way in which humans increase their cognitive development.”
The teacher gives them instructions. They are to find books on topics related to the way mountains and canyons are formed. The children—students—begin to wander among the shelves. I have a very strong desire to join them and learn about mountain and canyon formation. I want to do school things.
“We are not dressed like them,” ADA says, “but perhaps the presence of other children will make us less noticeable.”
A sweater-wearing girl stares at us while she pulls a book off a shelf.
“Maybe,” I say.
At the computer station I begin my search by typing “uniMIND facilities.”
“That says 7,852,000 results,” ADA says.
I blink at ADA. “I did not know you have learned how to read.”
“I didn’t learn. I was programmed with reading ability.”
“Oh. I had to learn.”
“That’s because you’re built for learning. I am built to be offensive. How are you going to find the information you seek out of so many search results?”
The answer seems obvious to me, but perhaps ADA does not think the same way I do. “I’m going to read them.”
“All of them?”
“If necessary.”
“We will be here for years.”
“I read quickly.”
“You can’t read that quickly.”
I turn to the screen. “Witness me.”