Chapter 3: Dearest Daughter

Ottoline Smith sat in the guest room turned laboratory, longish chestnut brown hair bound in a ponytail, using a ratchet to attach segments of stainless steel together. Flipping down a welder's mask, she lit a torch and welded the many joints together, making sure the devices were flexible—and extendable enough. They were almost done, sporting large three-clawed pincers, each with smaller five-clawed pincers inside for more delicate work. One also included a razor sharp 16-inch blade; another was sort of like a Swiss army knife—it had a pair of pliers, two screwdrivers (one flat and one of those funny pointy ones), a small pair of scissors, a lock pick, tweezers, a small saw, and an external computer USB drive to download information directly off computers or the internet, all which could be popped out and popped back in on mental command. They each had full audio and visual capabilities in their bright purple pincer lights, and the arms themselves were trimmed in metallic purple. They could each lift five tons and crawl her along at a hundred feet per second. And of course, she was now installing the artificial spine, which had the artificial intelligence program built into it.

Ottoline was very pleased with herself. With all these gadgets she put on, she'd vastly improved on the designs of her father and grandfather. Then her thoughts turned.

Damn, she thought. I didn't buy enough scrap metal for the harness. Then an idea came to her. Perhaps if I bought one of those waistband things from the sporting goods store, and attach it to the spine, it would allow for greater comfort, more freedom of movement, and reduce the weight. And it could be adjusted as I grew! Ottoline Mary Smith, you're a genius! Of course. Look at your dad and grandpa.

"Aaah!" Ottoline yelped. Her fraternal twin sister Parker was dangling upside down from a web right in front of her.

"Betcha you can't do that, Ottoline!" Parker bragged.

"Why would I want to?" Ottoline snapped. "Go away, I'm working."

"Whatcha working on?" Parker asked.

"Wouldn't you like to know, bug?"

Parker stuck her tongue out at her sister. "You're just jealous that I've got Mom's powers and you didn't."

Ottoline was still screwing on the artificial spine. "I fail to see how being able to crawl on ceilings and squirt bodily fluids out your wrists could be useful."

"Yeah well my namesake grandpa was—" Parker began to swing back and forth from the web line, still upside down. "—the best superhero ever. What are you working on?"

Ottoline continued to tinker with the project. "It's for the science fair."

"No shoot, Sherlock. What is it?"

"Well you're going to have to wait until the science fair to see, aren't you?" Ottoline craned her head out the window. "Wait, is that Daniel Radcliffe out there?"

Parker turned to look. Before she knew it, she was shoved out the door, which was slammed behind her.

"Why do I fall for that every time?" Parker wondered.

"Finally, I can work in peace," said Ottoline. "Whoa…I'm forgetting something! The inhibitor chip!"

Ottoline opened and turned on her laptop. She began to write an email. If her father found out she was writing to her namesake grandfather, she'd be grounded for the rest of her natural life. Her paternal grandfather was officially persona non grata around the Smith house.

Ottoline looked up. Parker was again dangling in front of her face.

"Hey who you writing to?" Parker lowered the web until she had a full view of the two email addresses. Parker read them out loud. "Oh man, if Dad finds out you're writing to him again, you're gonna be so grounded…"

"No you won't," grinned Ottoline. "I'll just tell Dad and Mom that you've been seeing Reggie Mantle after they told you not to. I've even got footage of you making out on my digital camera. And then let's see which Dad thinks is worse, you making out with that creep or me writing my grandfather. At least Dad knows him."

Parker knew her sister was right. She stomped out into the hall.

Austin opened the door. A UPS deliveryman was holding a package. "Sign here, please," he said. The deliveryman peered at the name on the box. "Ottoline and Parker Marie Smith, care of Dr. Austin Octavius Smith."

Austin winced. God, how he hated his middle name. He peered at the box, wrapped in brown paper. The address was unfamiliar; the handwriting, however, was too familiar. His father had been mailing his daughters presents since they were three; usually some designer clothing and girly stuff for Parker and some scientific gadget for Ottoline. And if the stuff wasn't stolen, Austin would eat his coat.

Austin brusquely thrust the package back. "Return it to the sender, please."

It was then that May showed up in the doorway. "For God's sakes, Austin, just because you won't have a functioning relationship with your father doesn't mean that you'll deny your daughters a relationship with their grandfather. Grow up." She turned to the deliveryman. "I'm his wife. I'll sign."

"You're right, May," he said. "You always are."

Ottoline's present from her namesake grandfather was very small, but just what she wanted. The new inhibitor chip was no bigger than her father's thumbnail, but infinitely complex. She slid it into the top of the spine, at the base of her neck.

Austin knocked on the door of the lab room, which Parker Marie often sarcastically called "The Mad Scientist's Secret Lab." One of his tentacles was holding a sandwich. He knew what Parker was making for the science fair, but Ottoline had never actually told him what the project was. Then he walked in, and nearly choked.

"Ottoline…are you building a set of tentacles!"