"Most fathers are proud of their sons when they get into MIT," Chase says. His stance is proud, arms crossed, shoulders back, but his eyes show his hurt.
"You can't go to college, Chase," Davenport says. He turns back to the circuit board he's been working with.
"Why not? None of us have glitched in almost a year. We've been on dozens of successful missions. We can't stay here forever."
Davenport doesn't want to do this. He doesn't want to have this conversation. Chase is standing in front of him, not budging. As usual not taking no for answer.
"You not only can, you have to." Davenport keeps his gaze steady, stares straight into Chase's eyes. He wants to look away, telling Chase that he isn't free, can't be free is one of the hardest things he's ever done. He owes the boy- the young man his full attention, whether he wants to do this now or not.
"We turn eighteen in four days," Chase says. His stance is still proud, but his voice is quieter. "You can't stop us from leaving."
"I don't want to," Davenport says. "But I can."
Chase looks surprised for only a moment. "What about all your promises about us being able to see the world?"
"You will see the world. On your missions."
"So let me get this straight," Chase is louder, now. "You want us to work for you, go on your missions, not get paid and we can't leave when we want to?"
Davenport doesn't want to answer the question. "Yeah."
"They have a word for that, you know," Chase is visibly shaking, "they call it slavery." Chase storms away after he says it, heads towards the elevator, but Davenport has already turned it off.
"I know," Davenport says quietly.
Chase turns back towards him when the elevator won't open. "Why did you even let us go to school?"
"I wanted you to have a chance to live as normal teenagers. I wanted..." Davenport doesn't know how to finish that sentence. I wanted to give you the illusion of freedom, even for just a few years. Even only in his head, it sounds awful. It is awful.
"Just let us go," Chase says. His eyes are wet, though no tears have fallen.
"It's not that simple. What if you have glitches we don't know about? What if someone figures out your secret? You don't have birth certificates, or social security numbers. Technically, you don't exist."
Chase clenches his fists, turns away a moment. He turns back. "If you make me stay here, you are no better than your brother."
I know, Davenport wants to say. "How will you pay for college?" he asks instead.
"I'd sort of hoped my billionaire," Chase pauses, spits the next word like its acid in his mouth, "father, would have helped me out with that. But just in case, on the off chance that you wouldn't, I applied for and won a full ride scholarship."
"With your bionics," Davenport says, more accusatorily than he means to.
"Maybe my bionics gave me an advantage, but I did the work," Chase doesn't quite yell. "I can get around the paperwork- we always have before. And I can deal with my own glitches." Chase is yelling by the end of the sentences. He stops and breathes, the silence stretches for minutes that feel like forever. "You have to let us go," he whispers, finally.
Davenport fingers the neural transmitter he's picked up during their conversation. He's set the dial for 4 years. "I'm so sorry," he says as it flashes in front of Chase's eyes.
"Mr. Davenport," Chase asks, looking disoriented. "I must have lost track of what you were saying. Why are you crying?"