Harker, year 0, Selection Process, The Orrs

Arthur Orr took a circuit board from the components carefully arranged on the anti-static cloth before him on the kitchen table, and placed it within the cellphone case, next to another one. He screwed it in place, then connected it to the other with thin wires.

“Should you be doing this now, Arthur?” his father asked. “We are expecting a guest.”

He shrugged. He had little use for the guest they were expecting. He didn’t care to be the ‘diminutive tech wonder’ the media called him ever since his fourth-grade science fair. Like his being afflicted with dwarfism was a bigger deal than the face recognition drone he’d built out of junk he’d found around the house the night before.

He’d spent the previous three months trying to find an appropriately impressive project without success.

He’d had ideas. Arthur was never without ideas. But he’d figured his class, let alone his school, wasn’t ready for any of them. Especially not the sentient computer that had been his least impressive idea. He didn’t think anyone was, even a decade later, which was why, at eighteen, he had yet to build it. He hadn’t even drawn the plans. His memory was a safer place for something so powerful than any server.

“Leave Art be,” his other father said, stepping into the kitchen and heading to the fridge. “Do you think a bottle of wine would be appropriate?”

“I’m not sure Arthur is ready for wine. Especially not while he’s working.” His seated father chuckled. “Today is not the day to get him tipsy. I’m still not sure if I’m going to end up driving or flying the family van anytime I contemplate taking it out for errands. And that was after two beers on his eighteenth birthday.”

“Two Canadian beers,” his father replied, head in the fridge.

Arthur had no tolerance for alcohol, and no interest in building one. Alcohol muddied his thinking, removed common sense filters. Which was how the old family van now had something resembling hovering capabilities. The other problem was that alcohol impaired his memory. He couldn’t tell his father what he’d done to the van, and they hadn’t been able to extract the memory. Like him, Arthur wasn’t confident about driving it.

A gust of wind left behind a dirty glass, plate and utensils.

“Adam Orr!” his father yelled, his voice echoing from still being in the fridge. “What have I told you about running in the house?” It was a waste of time. Adam could already be on the other side of the city. “And get dressed!” he continued. “We’re expecting a guest.” That part had more to do with knowing Adam only dressed for emergencies than him pausing long enough for his nudity to be noticed.

His brother had an odd sense of what constituted emergencies. He hadn’t earned the nickname of Streaker because of how fast he moved.

“Donny, stop fussing,” his seated father—which made him Daniel—said. Now that a name had been applied to one of the twins, Arthur would be able to keep track of them. Especially because—in something of a first for them—the brothers were not dressed identically. Daniel wore a white silk shirt under a gray suit, while Donald had a light pink one and a light green suit.

“I just want us to make a good impression,” Donald answered, head still in the fridge.

Arthur connected the screen to the boards in the cellphone case, screwed it in place and added the casing. He took batteries from a box and put them in. They, as well as the case, were of his own design.

He turned the phone on, and his fathers’ breath caught in unison. He glared at Daniel; Donald’s head was still in the fridge. Arthur wished they’d stop doing that. The last time one of his inventions had exploded, he’d been nine. And he still claimed that had happened because someone had messed with the chemicals he’d used. Albert claimed innocence, and until Artur got his time-window working, he couldn’t prove he was lying.

It came on, and his fathers released their breath.

He connected it to another box via hardline. It wouldn’t manage wireless until all the drivers were installed, and that could only happen after the operating system was running. All that was also his own creation. While that ran, he returned the unused components to their position in the foam within the open suitcase on the chair next to his. He noted the empty spots and used his phone to have the printers in his room start on those needed to replenish them.

The suitcase was old, impractical, and lacked any kind of shielding. He knew he should replace it. Make something that would fit his exacting standards, but he kept finding reasons not to replace his grandfather’s gift.

The phone dinged as he closed the case, and once he placed it on the floor, he looked at the screen. It finished connecting to the house network—not his design because of city bylaws. The ignorant idiots just wouldn’t let the fact that his first operating network manager had spread over the city go. Not that it had been anything like the catastrophe they called it. He had stopped it, at their demand. If they had let it take over everything, San Francisco would have had the best internet infrastructure in the country. By the time he dismantled it and returned things to the antiquity they were, things had already been sixteen percent more efficient, with network traffic twenty-three percent faster. And he was confident he would have been able to incorporate a nanobot system in it to see to the needed repairs.

He wished the city’s new science council would stop stifling his creativity. He missed the days of his grandfather being on it. At least then, there was one person reasonable enough to see that pushing boundaries was a good thing.

He set the finished phone aside and placed a long case before him. This one belonged to Alex, who had asked him to look over his new acquisition. Arthur didn’t see why, when his brother could take the oldest Remington rifle and have it fire true, but all it cost him was time, and he didn’t have any pressing project at the moment.

“No,” Daniel said, his tone stern. “Absolutely not. Arthur, what have we said about working on Alex’s things at the table?”

“Not during meals,” he replied, taking the scope out.

Donald chuckled, closing the fridge door empty-handed. “He’s got you there.”

The biting reply from Daniel was interrupted by the doorbell, which was followed by, “I got it!” Anakin had been in the living room, by the sound of it, probably reading another medical text.

His brother was like Arthur, except for the human body, and in that he didn’t need tools. A laying on of hands and what he decided on was fixed. Arthur didn’t understand why he wasted time reading about medicine.

“Put that away, Art,” Daniel said. “Our guest is here.”

“I can hold a conversation and work, Dad.”

“It’s the polite thing to do. He’s here to see you. The least you can do is focus your attention on him.”

“Oh yes,” Arthur replied sarcastically. “How much fun it’s going to be to be gawked at.” He placed the scope back in the case and latched it shut. “If he asks me to perform tricks, I’m using my teleporter on him.” Then placed the case on the floor.

“Please tell me you aren’t still working on that,” Daniel said, worried.

“I’m not.” Arthur sighed. “I can’t run any tests until I’ve increased the output of the fusion generator by twelve percent. I just have to find an alloy that can withstand the heat needed for that.” Not to say finding a way to shield the components from that heat, but he was confident the magnetic forcefield design he had in mind would work.

A clacking accompanied steps on the hardwood floor. A cane?

The man who entered the kitchen, followed by Anakin, wasn’t as old as his grandfather, but not by much. Mostly brown hair with hints of white. Not enough to be called salt and pepper yet. His pale brown eyes were sharp and attentive. The suit would make Aiden envious. His brother might try to talk it off him, not that it would fit him. Aiden was much more muscular than this lean man.

The man noticed Arthur studying him and smirked, but that wasn’t followed by the usual looking Arthur up and down, taking in his diminutive size. Arthur wasn’t even sure that had registered to the man.

“Mister Harker.” Donald offered his hand. “It’s an honor to meet you. I’m Donald. Please call me Donny. That’s by brother, Danny. And Arthur, who you’ve come to meet.”

The man shook it. “It’s a pleasure, Mister Orr. I’m surprised you know about me.”

“We researched you after you called,” Daniel said while Donald pulled a chair for the older man.

“We like to know who takes an interest in our children,” Donald added.

“Isn’t Anakin joining us?” The old man placed his cane across his lap.

“Right here,” his brother said, sitting across the table from Arthur.

“You didn’t introduce yourself?” Daniel chastised.

Anakin shrugged. “He didn’t introduce himself, didn’t see a point in doing it. Figured he knew who I was.”

“I have to say.” Donald sat while Daniel stood. “I’m a little curious about your interest in them. As far as I know, neither has an interest in archeology.”

“Can we offer you something to drink?” Daniel asked. “Water, juice, tea, coffee, soda?”

“Coffee will be fine. I’m not here as an archeologist. You say you researched me, so I’m surprised this didn’t come up. I’m bankrolling a school. An academy whose goal it is to train the next generation of superheroes.”

Now Arthur paid attention. He hadn’t bothered looking into the man, since he’d expected another annoyance, here to convince him to sell a patent, or maybe come work at his company. Listing all things he’d believed would entice him. It was what every visit before had amounted to. His fathers hadn’t talked about their research, since they knew of Arthur’s established lack of interest, and if the interest in Anakin had been mentioned, he’d missed it. Annie looked even more bored. He had no interest in that kind of stuff.

“I’m still unsure what that has to do with them.” Daniel fixed his gaze on Arthur as he returned to the table with a steaming cup. His fathers were always telling him not to test his invention in the field.

Where else was he going to test them? But he always made sure not to leave evidence behind.

“I’ve had researchers pouring over every student set to enter college who have shown even an inkling of power. Both of them came up as top contenders.” At the raised eyebrows from his fathers, both now sitting next to each other, the man continued. “How many investors have noticed Arthur’s inventions?”

His father’s face darkened.

There was only so much an unlisted number accomplished when the people determined to reach Arthur’s fathers had the money to pay the best people in the country. Even His programs couldn’t stop all of them.

And it was always to talk to his fathers. To convince them how advantageous it would be to them to sell their son’s inventions. As if they thought he was simply another commodity within his fathers’ investment portfolios to be divested for the right amount.

“Anakin might be one of the strongest healers in the country, based on his documented healing. Although I’m curious why he hasn’t been officially tested.”

“Who cares how ‘good’ I am.” Annie air quoted the word and Arthur snorted. Anakin certainly cared. “I help when I can, but I am not putting myself in front of a bunch of scientists and letting them pick and prod me. Art does enough of that for all of them.”

“Do you have the results?” the man asked Arthur, and he found he liked him slightly more. No offense that Arthur had prodded Anakin, just the pragmatism to know those results could be of interest.

“Don’t,” Anakin warned. “Look, Mister—”

“Tracy, Tracy Harker.”

“Look, Tracy. I’m going to be a doctor. Failing that, a mortician, or a coroner. What I have, is no interest in being a superhero.”

“And why only the two of them?” Donald asked, cutting off the man’s reply.

“Excuse me?” Tracy’s attention snapped back to his fathers.

“If you had people look into our sons,” Daniel said.

“Shouldn’t you know they all have powers?” Donald continued

“It’s something of family thing.”

“With the odd exception here and there.”

Arthur and Anakin share an eye-roll.

“Like us.”

“We don’t have powers,” Daniel said.

“Except reading each other’s minds,” Donald continued.

“But that’s just a twin thing.”

“Right?”

They grinned in perfect unison in that creepy way they enjoyed. Arthur had trouble not commenting. He didn’t get why his fathers kept their power secret. Well, he got that using them tended to make non-family members uncomfortable. But still, that only warranted a ‘don’t ask to have it used on you unless…’ warning. Not never talking about it.

Tracy grinned back. “How many people does this trick send running for the hills?”

His fathers shared a disappointed look. “One less that we expected,” Donald replied.

“I’ve worked tombs in the Middle-East, Donald. Been dragged into court for stealing artifacts. Had to fight with museums and governments to ensure they were returned to their rightful owners. Not to say of having more sites than I can remember attacked in the night by locals who either felt we were desecrating holy ground rather than conducting historical research or bandits who thought we were after riches and they should avail themselves of them. Then there are the odd curses. It will take more than the ‘one mind, two body’ act to scare me off.”

“That still doesn’t answer why just Arthur and Anakin,” Daniel said.

Arthur studied Tracy. If his researchers had looked into him and Annie, as he claimed, they couldn’t have missed his brother’s exploits. None of them sought the limelight, but the use of their powers had been noticed.

“What can they do?” Tracy glanced at Arthur, and the mask of confidence cracked slightly.

“Aiden,” Donal said in a conversational tone, “please gather your brothers and join us in the kitchen. We have a guest who is interested in meeting all of you.” He smiled at Tracy. “They won’t be long.”

“Super hearing?” the man asked. “Or is this something you can do?”

“It’s all Aiden,” Daniel answered.

The ruckus his brothers had to be causing as they got ready didn’t reach the kitchen. The house’s insulation was top-notch, even though he’d had nothing to do with it. But the seismograph he’d installed in his watch registered the footsteps.

Something blurred into view—just long enough for Arthur to make out a naked body and hear the “Fuck”—and vanished before Tracy turned to look in that direction.

“Adam,” Anakin said. “As usual, he jumped the gun and didn’t hear all the instructions.”

“Hi.” Adam now wore running shorts and an inside-out t-shirt. He noticed and put it on correctly at normal speed, giving everyone time to see his toned chest. It was for their guest’s benefits, since everyone else had seen it, and more. Tracy glanced at his brother, but didn’t take in the body.

Straight. Arthur knew firsthand that age didn’t diminish interest.

“Adam has super speed,” Donal said.

“And super short attention span,” Anakin added. “Ow!” He rubbed the back of his head and glared at Adam, seated next to Arthur. His brother responded with an utterly innocent smile.

The others arrived and took their seats at the table.

“Aiden can shatter objects with his voice,” Donald said, “as well as hear through foot-thick sound insulation.”

“I can also copy voices,” Aiden said, in a perfect match to Tracy’s voice.

“Alexander never missed the mark,” Daniel said, and that sent a snicker around the table to Alex’s exasperation and Tracy’s confusion.

“Give me any firearm, and if the shot can be made, I’ll make it.”

“Albert brings images to life,” Donald said.

Albert took a deck of cards from his pocket and tapped it on the table. The knight depicted on the top galloped off it, across the table and vanished into a flurry of colors.

“I’m tough and strong,” Aaron said with a shrug. “Decent fighter too.”

Tracy Harker took Arthur’s family in. “I’m sure you are all capable people,” he finally said, and Arthur knew that whatever this was, it wouldn’t happen. “But we can only accept three hundred students at the moment. That means we need to be careful with who we pick. I’m sorry, but for this year, Arthur and Anakin are the only ones we’re interested in.”

“Then I’m not going,” Anakin said.

“I’m not either.” Arthur’s refusal had reluctance to it, and Tracy stared at him. He could see all the advantages being in such an environment would bring him. Actual advantages, not empty promises, for him to believe some corporation cared about him. But…. “This is my family. I’m not stupid enough to think we’re always going to be together, but I’m not breaking us up any sooner than I have to. I’m sorry.”

The man looked at his fathers. “Donald, Daniel. Do you understand the kind of opportunity this is for your sons?”

“Only two of them,” Donald said.

“And they made their decisions,” Daniel finished.

Tracy looked like the only thing keeping him from exploding was willpower. If one—two—person telling him no was enough to engender that kind of anger, maybe it was best if they didn’t go.

“Can I be totally frank with you?” Tracy asked his fathers through gritted teeth.

“I think everyone here would appreciate that,” Daniel answered.

“I’m not here because I want to,” he snapped. “I’m here because I’m trying to save this country’s parahumans. Do you have any idea what Jacksonville did?”

“We listen to the news,” Donald answered in a clipped tone. “And yes. Even all the way on the west coast we heard about that disaster.”

“How about the government’s reaction to that?” Tracy challenged.

His fathers rolled their eyes. “Of course we heard,” Daniel said. “But that law failed to pass. The protests convinced them to—”

“Bullshit,” Tracy spat. “The only thing the protests did was re-enforce their decision to register everyone with even the ability to mentally lift a grain of sand. The academy is what got them to shelf the fucking bill. The promise I can produce heroes with a fucking code of conduct, instead of egos. But if it doesn’t happen exactly the way we promised them it would, that bill will become a law, and you can bet your asses they won’t hesitate to attempt to shackle every parahuman in the country. Do you get why I have to be careful about who I pick? I can’t just grab every wannabe off the sidewalk. No offense meant.”

Aiden smirked. “I’m sure.”

Adam’s fingers were a blur against the table. Tapping so fast the sound was in the ultrasonic. He’d checked out of the meeting a while back.

Tracy caught his breath. “I have to be strategic. Once we’re demonstrated this work, we can open it up to those who want to join. But right now—”

“Then we’ll apply once that happens,” Arthur said.

“Can I go?” Adam asked, then the chair tipped back as he vanished. His form blurred to right it, and he was gone again.

“You will,” Alex said, “but I’m not waiting the years that’s going to take. The military’s begging me to enlist, and I have the San Francisco SWAT hounding my set because I don’t scream powers, so they think they can get me in. Look, I hope it works, because if the government starts rounding up parahumans, it’s going to get really messy, really quickly. And I don’t see anyone coming out as winners. But I’m going to live my life first.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything else from a kid like you. No offense meant, but you, Arthur. You are smart enough to understand how important this is. This is more important than—”

“Nothing’s more important than my family. Like Alex, I hope your school works. If the government tries to come for us, I’m not going to be on their side. But if helping you means abandoning my family, you need to find yourself another genius.”

“Really? You’re going to leave the future of every parahuman in the country to some stranger because you prefer hiding out in your parents’ basement?”

“You’re not helping your case, Tracy.” He stood. “Dads, I’m going to be in my workshop.” He locked eyes with the man. “Which is in my bedroom, on the second floor, for your information.” He took both cases. “Alex. I’ll have your rifle looked over in a couple of hours.”

“Arthur,” Tracy called. “Please, this is more—”

“This meeting is over,” one of his father said as he started up the stairs.

It sucked that the man was such an asshole when he was being frank. Up to that point, Arthur had liked him. At least he’d gleaned something important from this. He needed to plan for Tracy’s failure. If the government was as set on their registration law as Tracy had implied, they weren’t going to let him succeed.

He needed to contact some of the magnates who were after him, and sell them the rights to his less worthy patents. Preparing things so his family was safe in the coming disaster was going to be expensive.