My parents had been dead for just five days when Aunt Jennifer moved into the house. I had lived with Mrs. Pierce during those five days, hoping my parents would somehow walk through her door and announce that it was all a big mistake, but knowing it wasn’t. I hardly knew Aunt Jennifer before she moved in, but it was like she already had a plan to erase all memories of my parents. Even during those five days with Mrs. Pierce, whenever I allowed myself to dream that they were still alive, Aunt Jennifer would somehow pop up on a screen to remind me that they were gone and there was no point in dwelling on what couldn’t be changed. While anyone else would have regarded it a cruel way to treat an eight-year-old orphan, to Aunt Jennifer it was the only “proper” way to handle the situation.
On the day I moved back into the only house I had ever known, I felt like I should check the address. My parent’s house was being transformed into Jennifer’s house. Painting robots had already changed the color and a large garbage dumpster was sitting out front. Five hovering lift robots, that would remove anything that Aunt Jennifer told them to remove, were following her around like puppies. The furniture was the first to go, starting with the comfy old couch that Mom would tell me not to bounce on, but would smile and turn her back and let me bounce on anyway. Next was the soft rocking chair that had belonged to my great-grandmother on my mother’s side. It sat in a sunbeam all morning, and no matter how many times the cleaning bots tried to clean it, if you hit it with your hand a wonderful cloud of dust would rise and sparkle in the light.
The video screens and kitchen appliances were allowed to stay, but I watched as the pots, pans and dishes were judged to be too old, and made their way to the dumpster. Aunt Jennifer stood and stared at the homemade incubator. I assumed she had never seen one before, and needed me to explain it to her.
“Can we keep it? It’s called an incubator, and you can do really cool things with it. You can make yogurt and you can even use it to hatch baby chickens.”
Aunt Jennifer cut me off with a raised hand and a disgusted look; then ordered one of the lift bots to take it to the dumpster.
“Yogurt and chickens? If you only knew what your vile mother was actually growing in that thing, maybe you wouldn’t be so sad about her death,” Jennifer said.
It was clear I wasn’t going to win the argument. As the lift bot grabbed the incubator, something that had been stuck to the bottom fell to the floor. Although I’d never seen one before, I’d read descriptions and knew it was some sort of book made out of paper.
Aunt Jennifer beat me to it and flipped through its pages. Whatever it was, her face registered deep disgust, which only increased my interest.
“What is it? Can I see?”
She didn’t bother to answer. She left the room and told the bots to pause, as she made a private call.
When the pictures started to come off the walls, I finally protested. I lost that argument too, but managed to sneak a framed picture of my parents up to my room. Most pictures were displayed in electronic frames that could switch images with a simple upload, but this one was an old-fashioned frame with a real printed picture behind glass. Somehow its permanence was comforting to me.
From my bedroom window, I saw my parent’s clothing going out the door. I wanted to keep crying like I had for the last five days with Mrs. Pierce, but instead, I determined not to give Aunt Jennifer the satisfaction. I watched the lift bots making trips to and from the dumpster while counting off the seconds. In any given five minute period, there were always lulls of one minute when all the bots were inside the house. If I was quick, I knew I could rescue things from the dumpster and hide them in the bushes until I could sneak them back into my room, or even hide them at Mrs. Pierce’s house.
I hid in the bushes while the lift bots carried out the bedroom furniture from the guest room. It was big, old-fashioned, wood furniture, so the bots had to work as a team, giving me a perfect window as the entire group went into the house for the next piece. Climbing into the dumpster took longer than expected, and when I got inside I had no idea which box to rescue. The first two I tried were too heavy for me to throw up and over the side; so I settled on a light, medium-sized box and threw it over without looking at its contents. It didn’t matter what was inside the box. This was more about winning symbolic victories than about obtaining stuff. I made it out just before the lift bots dumped a heavy wooden bureau and matching nightstands in on top of me.
I ran with the box to the back of the house and behind a bush, wondering what treasures might be inside. The entire box was filled with old silk neckties. Nobody had worn ties for decades, but since this is what I had rescued, I thought I’d start wearing them when I became older.
When I went back inside, the purge was about to proceed to the attic, but one of the lift bots informed Jennifer that the dumpster had reached its maximum weight. She decided to leave the attic for another day, and I watched as the dumpster filled with my childhood hovered down the street.
The lift bots now switched to the movement of Aunt Jennifer’s things into the house. I watched the parade of her furniture and decorations enter. Everything was modern and cold, just like Aunt Jennifer. There would be no furniture to bounce on, and no cloud of dust in the sunbeam. The only exception to the modern decor was Aunt Jennifer’s desk. It was very old and made of heavy, dark wood. She called my attention to it when she was done fussing about getting it into precisely the proper spot.
“Cephas, I want this desk to be your inspiration. This desk represents an important piece of history. Over one hundred years ago, sitting at this very desk, one of the greatest atheists in history wrote the book: And Man Becomes God. Isn’t that exciting?”
“I guess so.”
“I’ve read your school reports. According to your teachers, you are an extraordinary eight-year-old. I’ve convinced them to place you in an accelerated program, so you’ll finish high school by the time you’re ten and college by the time you’re thirteen.”
Her smile tells me this isn’t just a suggestion.
“School is easy,” I said. “They don’t expect much.”
“The school may not expect much, but I do,” she replied with a warning tone. “Cultists are starting to communicate in other languages, so first you’re going to learn ancient Greek, Latin, and Hebrew. The reports say you’re gifted in languages; so it should be easy for you. It’s like you were delivered to me specifically for the task of being a cult hunter. Oh, the irony of it all.”
I said nothing.
“I intend to make you into something special, Cephas. Someday you’ll sit at this desk and do great things for our cause. To do that, I’m going to teach you the art of influencing people to get what you want.”
You mean manipulating people.
“It’s not so hard,” she said. “People love to talk and argue, and it’s usually a simple matter to trap them inside a box of their own words. They never seem to notice that you’ve built a trapdoor in the bottom of their box, until just before you pull the pin - and laugh as they fall.”
You mean I’m going to learn to destroy people.
*****
After her speech about the desk, I retreated to my room rather than face my new reality. She was still fussing with the decorating and I wanted to get away from the smell. As the house filled with Aunt Jennifer’s things, I noticed the air filling with the smell of Aunt Jennifer’s perfume. I wasn’t quite sure how to describe it. It was like a floral scent, combined with wood chips, combined with the scent of a lovelorn muskrat.
Like Aunt Jennifer herself, in time the smell would permeate everything I owned. As I sat looking at the picture of my parents, my room was the only place in the house left untouched by Aunt Jennifer. When I heard her climbing the stairs, I sighed and hid the picture under my pillow because I knew even my room would not remain untouched for long.
“What in the world is all this junk?” Aunt Jennifer asked as she entered my room without knocking.
Looking back, my parents had encouraged me to make my room a monument to my own childhood curiosity. One wall was covered with projections of drawings that I had done myself. Most were fractals that contained patterns within patterns so complex that most people could stare at them all day and not uncover them all. Another wall was covered with projections of all the sites that I wanted to see when I grew up and traveled the world. The largest were of the Great Sphinx in Egypt and the Great Wall of China.
The third wall contained a large table covered with various puzzles that I had solved. Aunt Jennifer headed straight for this area - it was obvious that something had caught her eye.
“Cephas, what are these?” Aunt Jennifer asked, staring with fascination at two giant orb-like puzzles, each about the size of a beach ball.
“The one on the left is called ‘The Nearly Impossible Puzzle.’ It’s a dodecahedron made out of about ten thousand unique pieces. The one on the right is called ‘The Impossible Puzzle.’ It’s a sphere made of only about nine thousand unique pieces, but I guess it was a little harder,” I replied.
“Did you solve these puzzles all by yourself?” she asked, with wonder in her voice.
“Only nineteen people in the world have solved ‘The Nearly Impossible Puzzle’ and only eight have solved ‘The Impossible Puzzle.’ I’m just one of three to have solved both. I’m the youngest by over ten years and the other two admitted they used computers; so I guess you could say I’m the only one in the world to have solved them.”
I wasn’t even bragging as I said it. I just felt like I was listing facts out of an encyclopedia.
“They’re quite remarkable. They’ll make wonderful conversation pieces when I have guests in the living room.”
She picked one up without asking and headed for the door.
“Bring the other one,” she ordered; so I picked it up and followed her down the stairs and into my new world.