"Yes, I'll hold." Though his voice held no impatience, Logan fidgeted. He turned up the volume on the cordless and put it in his lap so he could wheel himself to the bedroom.
There was no ease to his restlessness there. His bags lay, packed, on his bed. Nothing extraneous; nothing sentimental. Just clothes for himself and anything he thought might fit Max, his toothbrush and bathroom kit, the razor he used under duress, and an extra pair of glasses. Light glared unkindly from the few framed photos he had, still sitting on his dresser. He turned and wheeled himself out of the bedroom again, desperate to do something.
The computer room was no haven. His computer screen stared bleakly back, a black screen with stark white letters: "Really Delete All Files?" The Y was already typed, but Logan didn't have the nerve to press return at the slowly blinking cursor. A pile of magnetic tape disks lay beside the computer, complete back-ups of the system, and Logan was trying to convince himself to put them on the demagnetizer. It was an admission that he was giving up Eyes Only, his project, his crusade, and he didn't want to think about that almost as much as he didn't want to think about Max at Manticore.
Rather than face it now, he wheeled himself back out of the room and went to the bay window. The sun was streaming in with inappropriate glee, and the sky was spotted with cheerful white clouds. Logan let his hands lie limply in his lap. It was easy to remember the easy laughter that had filled the room when Gen and Max had shared memories, it was easy to remember Max's face, golden in candle light across a chessboard. Too easy. Gen had insisted that he get a few hours of sleep, but it had been restless sleep, punctuated with hazy, frightened dreams and long moments of trying to silence an overactive brain. Now, he felt tired, drained, and achingly unhappy, and he couldn't get Max out of his mind.
"Hello, Logan?" The phone in his lap suddenly came alive, and Logan nearly dropped it in his haste to pick it up and adjust the volume.
"Colin? I have a favor to ask."
"As long as it isn't an ugly cousin who needs a date. I remember the last time you wanted a favor from me. I owe you for keeping those terrorists from blowing up the plant, but I have my limits." Colin had a hearty laugh that warmed Logan even through the phone receiver.
He forced an answering laugh. "No, this one should be a lot less painful. I need to have power cut to the Boeing base at five PM."
There was a moment of silence at the other end. "I suppose I shouldn't ask about this one, right?"
Logan smiled wryly to himself. "I think that's probably a good idea."
Colin's voice was hesitant. "You know, I don't really have a direct hand in most of the plant work anymore. I'm pretty much more of a paper shuffler now."
Logan swallowed hard. "This is really important to me."
"Is it for Eyes Only?"
Logan considered claiming that it was, but felt he'd had enough of deception for the time being. "No, this is personal."
Colin's laugh rang out. "Well, that makes all the difference. Don't think I'm not interested in saving the world, but I'd rather save the butt of my college roommate any day. Even if he did have a flaky major. I'll see about wandering over and accidentally unplugging that area before I take off for the day. How long do you need to do whatever it is?"
Logan closed his eyes and sent a wordless thank-you to anyone who might be listening. "Five hours."
There was a sound remarkably like coffee being spit out at the other end of the line. "You don't ask for small favors, do you Logan. If their generators don't work, the kindly General is probably going to rip me a new exit hole. He might anyway!"
"Don't for a moment think that I don't know what I'm asking for."
There was a suffering sigh on the receiver, and Colin reluctantly agreed to do what he could. Logan smiled grimly, thanked him, and promised to get together for lunch the following week before he remembered that he wasn't going to be in Seattle after tonight. He swallowed his instinct to rescind the arrangement, exchanged pleasantries with a fair measure of discomfort, and hung up.
He wheeled himself into the computer room to return the phone to its cradle and found himself faced once more with the blinking computer screen.
He was still figuratively hitting himself in the head for blabbing to Gen about Eyes Only. It had turned out in his favor, but the admission had been a mistake. He wasn't the stuff of anonymous martyrs, he decided. He wanted the glow of approval, the admiration. He wanted respect that wasn't aimed at his vast amounts of money or good looks. He wanted to do something, not just be something, and it was a thorn in his side that his family, and most of the world, thought he was a spoiled, lazy loner, playing at being a journalist in the manner that rich people play at doing anything.
Logan took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He wondered if Max ever saw through his altruistic 'save-small-children' attitude and saw that craving for approval. Not that he didn't care about his projects. Every case he broadcast, every criminal he exposed, was accompanied by a tremendous sweeping feeling that he was doing the right thing, that he was on the side of the angels and helping this beleaguered city that he loved. But there was a wonderful rush when the nightly news showed clips from his broadcasts, or discussed the repercussion of one of his exposes. Logan wondered if it was similar to that self-satisfied thrill that Max described from defeating a larger opponent in hand-to-hand.
Max... Logan winced. What were they doing to her? Had Gen been right about them keeping her in Seattle? He had no way of knowing if any of her plans, which he only knew in a general sense, were going well, or if any of her assumptions had been correct.
Would he even leave Seattle without her? What was the use? Logan felt, despondently, that he would rather stay and let Lydecker try to torture information about the other x5s out of him than leave without Max. A chilling image came to mind of meeting Max in the future, a cold, re-indoctrinated Max. A Gen-like Max, who could lie and manipulate and wouldn't ever let herself care about anyone. It had been hard enough to see the Max below the mask up to this point.
With a sigh and a shudder, Logan decisively hit the return button and put the tape back-ups on the demagnetizer across the room. He couldn't quite bring himself to turn the power on. If Gen failed to bring Max back, Eyes Only would be the only thing he had left in the world worth getting up in the morning for.
There was no ease to his restlessness there. His bags lay, packed, on his bed. Nothing extraneous; nothing sentimental. Just clothes for himself and anything he thought might fit Max, his toothbrush and bathroom kit, the razor he used under duress, and an extra pair of glasses. Light glared unkindly from the few framed photos he had, still sitting on his dresser. He turned and wheeled himself out of the bedroom again, desperate to do something.
The computer room was no haven. His computer screen stared bleakly back, a black screen with stark white letters: "Really Delete All Files?" The Y was already typed, but Logan didn't have the nerve to press return at the slowly blinking cursor. A pile of magnetic tape disks lay beside the computer, complete back-ups of the system, and Logan was trying to convince himself to put them on the demagnetizer. It was an admission that he was giving up Eyes Only, his project, his crusade, and he didn't want to think about that almost as much as he didn't want to think about Max at Manticore.
Rather than face it now, he wheeled himself back out of the room and went to the bay window. The sun was streaming in with inappropriate glee, and the sky was spotted with cheerful white clouds. Logan let his hands lie limply in his lap. It was easy to remember the easy laughter that had filled the room when Gen and Max had shared memories, it was easy to remember Max's face, golden in candle light across a chessboard. Too easy. Gen had insisted that he get a few hours of sleep, but it had been restless sleep, punctuated with hazy, frightened dreams and long moments of trying to silence an overactive brain. Now, he felt tired, drained, and achingly unhappy, and he couldn't get Max out of his mind.
"Hello, Logan?" The phone in his lap suddenly came alive, and Logan nearly dropped it in his haste to pick it up and adjust the volume.
"Colin? I have a favor to ask."
"As long as it isn't an ugly cousin who needs a date. I remember the last time you wanted a favor from me. I owe you for keeping those terrorists from blowing up the plant, but I have my limits." Colin had a hearty laugh that warmed Logan even through the phone receiver.
He forced an answering laugh. "No, this one should be a lot less painful. I need to have power cut to the Boeing base at five PM."
There was a moment of silence at the other end. "I suppose I shouldn't ask about this one, right?"
Logan smiled wryly to himself. "I think that's probably a good idea."
Colin's voice was hesitant. "You know, I don't really have a direct hand in most of the plant work anymore. I'm pretty much more of a paper shuffler now."
Logan swallowed hard. "This is really important to me."
"Is it for Eyes Only?"
Logan considered claiming that it was, but felt he'd had enough of deception for the time being. "No, this is personal."
Colin's laugh rang out. "Well, that makes all the difference. Don't think I'm not interested in saving the world, but I'd rather save the butt of my college roommate any day. Even if he did have a flaky major. I'll see about wandering over and accidentally unplugging that area before I take off for the day. How long do you need to do whatever it is?"
Logan closed his eyes and sent a wordless thank-you to anyone who might be listening. "Five hours."
There was a sound remarkably like coffee being spit out at the other end of the line. "You don't ask for small favors, do you Logan. If their generators don't work, the kindly General is probably going to rip me a new exit hole. He might anyway!"
"Don't for a moment think that I don't know what I'm asking for."
There was a suffering sigh on the receiver, and Colin reluctantly agreed to do what he could. Logan smiled grimly, thanked him, and promised to get together for lunch the following week before he remembered that he wasn't going to be in Seattle after tonight. He swallowed his instinct to rescind the arrangement, exchanged pleasantries with a fair measure of discomfort, and hung up.
He wheeled himself into the computer room to return the phone to its cradle and found himself faced once more with the blinking computer screen.
He was still figuratively hitting himself in the head for blabbing to Gen about Eyes Only. It had turned out in his favor, but the admission had been a mistake. He wasn't the stuff of anonymous martyrs, he decided. He wanted the glow of approval, the admiration. He wanted respect that wasn't aimed at his vast amounts of money or good looks. He wanted to do something, not just be something, and it was a thorn in his side that his family, and most of the world, thought he was a spoiled, lazy loner, playing at being a journalist in the manner that rich people play at doing anything.
Logan took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He wondered if Max ever saw through his altruistic 'save-small-children' attitude and saw that craving for approval. Not that he didn't care about his projects. Every case he broadcast, every criminal he exposed, was accompanied by a tremendous sweeping feeling that he was doing the right thing, that he was on the side of the angels and helping this beleaguered city that he loved. But there was a wonderful rush when the nightly news showed clips from his broadcasts, or discussed the repercussion of one of his exposes. Logan wondered if it was similar to that self-satisfied thrill that Max described from defeating a larger opponent in hand-to-hand.
Max... Logan winced. What were they doing to her? Had Gen been right about them keeping her in Seattle? He had no way of knowing if any of her plans, which he only knew in a general sense, were going well, or if any of her assumptions had been correct.
Would he even leave Seattle without her? What was the use? Logan felt, despondently, that he would rather stay and let Lydecker try to torture information about the other x5s out of him than leave without Max. A chilling image came to mind of meeting Max in the future, a cold, re-indoctrinated Max. A Gen-like Max, who could lie and manipulate and wouldn't ever let herself care about anyone. It had been hard enough to see the Max below the mask up to this point.
With a sigh and a shudder, Logan decisively hit the return button and put the tape back-ups on the demagnetizer across the room. He couldn't quite bring himself to turn the power on. If Gen failed to bring Max back, Eyes Only would be the only thing he had left in the world worth getting up in the morning for.