the prospect made him.
Besides, how else was he going to get a look at that DNA-wired transmitter?
FOUR
When Cadel turned up for his next appointment, he discovered a curious little screen mounted on Dr. Roth's desk. The screen was attached to a very small box of circuitry, which trailed an array of fine wires. Thaddeus directed Cadel to a chair in front of the screen and began to fiddle with connections and adjust frequencies. Cadel watched him with the motionless attention of a leopard waiting to pounce.
After about five minutes, a crackling noise issued from the plastic box. Thaddeus said, "Ah," and rubbed his hands together. The screen in front of Cadel filled with light.
A face appeared, then broke up again. There was a roar of static.
"Damn," muttered Thaddeus.
"Are there relay stations?" Cadel wanted to know. But before Thaddeus could answer, the shredded signal coalesced once again, and Cadel saw his father's face on the screen.
It was quite a shock.
"Good god," croaked a disembodied voice.
"Are you reading us?" Thaddeus demanded. "Dr. Darkkon?"
"I can see him," the fuzzy voice continued. "It's Cadel, isn't it?"
"That's right," said Thaddeus, nudging his client. "Say something, Cadel."
Cadel, however, was struck dumb. Reception wasn't perfect, and the color was poor; his father's face looked blue. It hung on the screen like a big blue balloon, bobbing and weaving with every breath that Dr. Darkkon took. Cadel saw first one eye, then another, each embedded in a nest of heavy creases. Dr. Darkkon had a frog's mouth and liver spots. His expression was hungry, his breathing loud.
"Cadel," he crooned. "Cadel. I can hardly believe it. You really are the image of your mother. Thad, can you believe it? He's the spitting image."
"Mmm," said Thaddeus.
"How are you, Cadel? Thad says you've been having a lot of fun lately." A sly grin. "Playing with trains and so forth."
Cadel swallowed. Then he nodded and licked his lips. He didn't know what to say. (This man was his
father
!)
"Mucking around with computers," Dr. Darkkon added. "You like computers, don't you?"
Cadel cleared his throat. "They ... they won't let me use them," he stammered. "Not the way I want to."
"I know. I'm sorry."
"I don't even have one of my own anymore!"
Dr. Darkkon shook his head and clicked his tongue. "It's a shame," he murmured.
"Can
you
buy me one?" Cadel asked hoarsely, deciding not to beat around the bush. His father owed him a computer, after so many years of missed birthdays. It was the least he could do. "I've heard you have a lot of money."
"Well, I do, but—"
"Can you give me one with DNA wiring?"
"Cadel, it's not as simple as that," Dr. Darkkon said softly. His face lurched about on the screen. "I wish I could give you a computer, but if I did, the Piggotts would wonder where it came from."
"I could hide it. If it was small enough. If it had DNA wiring."
Dr. Darkkon laughed. Thaddeus said, "Too risky. Suppose they did find it? Word would get out. The computer companies would get interested. You'd have the world at your door, Cadel, and you don't want that."
"No, you certainly don't," Dr. Darkkon agreed. "If there's one thing I've learned, Cadel, it's that you must keep a low profile. You should never attract too much attention. Let Thaddeus guide you—he's always been inconspicuous."
"There's an art to it," Thaddeus conceded.
"But I want a computer!" Cadel protested. Tears sprang to his eyes. He had hoped that his father, by suddenly appearing, would be able to solve all his problems. "Why won't you give me one?"
"Because I don't need to," Dr. Darkkon replied. He didn't have a nice voice—not like Thaddeus. Dr. Darkkon's voice was high and scratchy and nasal, made worse by the distortions of the transmitter. "Someone with your brains, my boy, shouldn't have everything served up to him on a plate, even if it were possible. Think. Consider. Work your way through this. There isn't anything you can't get if you're
Besides, how else was he going to get a look at that DNA-wired transmitter?
FOUR
When Cadel turned up for his next appointment, he discovered a curious little screen mounted on Dr. Roth's desk. The screen was attached to a very small box of circuitry, which trailed an array of fine wires. Thaddeus directed Cadel to a chair in front of the screen and began to fiddle with connections and adjust frequencies. Cadel watched him with the motionless attention of a leopard waiting to pounce.
After about five minutes, a crackling noise issued from the plastic box. Thaddeus said, "Ah," and rubbed his hands together. The screen in front of Cadel filled with light.
A face appeared, then broke up again. There was a roar of static.
"Damn," muttered Thaddeus.
"Are there relay stations?" Cadel wanted to know. But before Thaddeus could answer, the shredded signal coalesced once again, and Cadel saw his father's face on the screen.
It was quite a shock.
"Good god," croaked a disembodied voice.
"Are you reading us?" Thaddeus demanded. "Dr. Darkkon?"
"I can see him," the fuzzy voice continued. "It's Cadel, isn't it?"
"That's right," said Thaddeus, nudging his client. "Say something, Cadel."
Cadel, however, was struck dumb. Reception wasn't perfect, and the color was poor; his father's face looked blue. It hung on the screen like a big blue balloon, bobbing and weaving with every breath that Dr. Darkkon took. Cadel saw first one eye, then another, each embedded in a nest of heavy creases. Dr. Darkkon had a frog's mouth and liver spots. His expression was hungry, his breathing loud.
"Cadel," he crooned. "Cadel. I can hardly believe it. You really are the image of your mother. Thad, can you believe it? He's the spitting image."
"Mmm," said Thaddeus.
"How are you, Cadel? Thad says you've been having a lot of fun lately." A sly grin. "Playing with trains and so forth."
Cadel swallowed. Then he nodded and licked his lips. He didn't know what to say. (This man was his
father
!)
"Mucking around with computers," Dr. Darkkon added. "You like computers, don't you?"
Cadel cleared his throat. "They ... they won't let me use them," he stammered. "Not the way I want to."
"I know. I'm sorry."
"I don't even have one of my own anymore!"
Dr. Darkkon shook his head and clicked his tongue. "It's a shame," he murmured.
"Can
you
buy me one?" Cadel asked hoarsely, deciding not to beat around the bush. His father owed him a computer, after so many years of missed birthdays. It was the least he could do. "I've heard you have a lot of money."
"Well, I do, but—"
"Can you give me one with DNA wiring?"
"Cadel, it's not as simple as that," Dr. Darkkon said softly. His face lurched about on the screen. "I wish I could give you a computer, but if I did, the Piggotts would wonder where it came from."
"I could hide it. If it was small enough. If it had DNA wiring."
Dr. Darkkon laughed. Thaddeus said, "Too risky. Suppose they did find it? Word would get out. The computer companies would get interested. You'd have the world at your door, Cadel, and you don't want that."
"No, you certainly don't," Dr. Darkkon agreed. "If there's one thing I've learned, Cadel, it's that you must keep a low profile. You should never attract too much attention. Let Thaddeus guide you—he's always been inconspicuous."
"There's an art to it," Thaddeus conceded.
"But I want a computer!" Cadel protested. Tears sprang to his eyes. He had hoped that his father, by suddenly appearing, would be able to solve all his problems. "Why won't you give me one?"
"Because I don't need to," Dr. Darkkon replied. He didn't have a nice voice—not like Thaddeus. Dr. Darkkon's voice was high and scratchy and nasal, made worse by the distortions of the transmitter. "Someone with your brains, my boy, shouldn't have everything served up to him on a plate, even if it were possible. Think. Consider. Work your way through this. There isn't anything you can't get if you're
Similar Books
Wife Living Dangerously
Sara Susannah Katz
Josiah's Treasure
Nancy Herriman
The Blade Itself
Marcus Sakey
Highland Passage
J.L. Jarvis
Calendar Girl
Sommer Marsden
Devious
Cecily von Ziegesar
Silent to the Bone
E.L. Konigsburg
Here There Be Tigers
Kat Simons
Alien Taste
Wen Spencer