Chapter 13: An Unexpected Variable in the equation

I just realized something...I leave a lot of Authors Notes about nothing in particular. So I will make them shorter as I have received some harsh reviews from the voice inside my head. Wrote this at, like, twelve thirty...six in the morning so... that's it I really don't have anything else to say. Okay...enjoy.

The DOD was really starting to become a pain in his ass. There was only so much he could do in such a short period of time, even with an entire industry at his command. The DOD had asked him to invent a new type of weapon. What kind of weapon, he asked. Their reply? Um, I think we want it to be red, they said. Uuuugh, I seriously don't want to live on this planet anymore, He groaned internally, squeezing the bridge of his nose. He was seriously thinking that the ENTIRE GOVERNMENT was suffering from a case of testicular elephantitis. Demanding weapons left and right, who did they think they were? Oh yeah. The government. He went back to welding the tiny microchip into place for the Aurora when a few seconds later he was interrupted by the sharp tweeting of the telephone. He tapped the small ear piece and took the call personally, praying to nobody in particular that it wasn't the DOD again. "Hello you've reached, Doctor Professor Membrane, whom is calling?"

"Doctor Membrane?"

"Oh. Doctor Tonja." He remarked slightly surprised that Doctor Tonja was actually calling him. A thought occurred to him and his heart leapt into his chest. He tightened his grip on his weldermagastroficofibbuler, "What's wrong?"

"Membrane, you know I can't give you an actual answer. That's a breach in patient privilege." Tonja sounded exhausted. He knew the feeling and empathized with her silently over the line. His mind raced with a thousand awful situations his son might have to go through to make him well; hypnotherapy, institutionalization, being questioned over and over again, padded cells, experiments, nurse clowns-oh god no! "Tonja for his sake at least give me a hint."

"...Well this is going to be a shocker for you but" Tonja went on suddenly upbeat, "you're the father of a perfectly mentally stable son whose only faults are having a globoid head by happenstance and being confused." Professor Membrane felt his heart suddenly bob up from the depths of his worry into a mist of confusion. He stood up from the steel table, clicked a button turning the weldermagastroficofibbuler off, and gave the disembodied voice his full attention. He reviewed what he'd just heard and asked, "How can that be possible?"

He could practically see Tonja biting her lip, "...You really don't know, do you?"

"Know what?"

Tonja gave a soft sigh and explained slowly, "You may not notice this, what with you being away from him so much, but your son, Dib is smart. He is extremely well rounded and mature for his age-like a little walking adult in the way he views the world. He's able to empathize, see an issue from a multiple view points and understand that some things are more important than himself, things that most adults aren't able to comprehend. However, Dib is lacking... support."

"Tonja please. I'm tired and have as a result of my working 72 hours straight I have reduced my actual ability to think by ninety percent and am doing physical work." He stared furiously at a blank spot on the white tiled wall. Nearby, he was vaguely aware of the interns, assistants, and technicians slowing down on their work to watch. He ignored them, letting some of todays frustration leak out into his voice, "Just tell me what the heck is going on."

"He's confused!" Tonja gushed out, "He doesn't know how to feel or deal with these thoughts or know if he's supposed to be feeling this way. Because he is this mature, he has little to no common ground that other children have so he's isolated from his peers. The worst part is that since he knows he's different and doesn't understand why he has to be different. He needs someone to show him that the way he's feeling is okay and that he's not alone. The short story, Membrane?! He needs a fucking parent or someone to care about him."

Membrane threw his hands up in the air, "You can't expect me to put my son before the world, Tonja."

"And I'm not asking you too!" Tonja retorted. They both took a deep breath, giving each other time to cool off. He walked around the desk, sat down with his back to the silent audience behind him. He squeezed the inside of the bridge of his nose, trying to relieve his headache without success. Though it pained him to admit it he knew he wasn't able to be with his son WITHOUT giving control to the idiots who kept blowing his lab up. It would also be selfish of him to put his family before the rest of the planet. He could compromise, though every compromise he had ever made to balance family and work sucked. His mouth went along with the trail of thought, deciding to do the talking for him, "I could set up a floating monitor in the house so that I could skype to them while I was at work. Those recorded reminders have got to be out of date by now. Or work longer hours, I mean I'm already working more than 142 hours a week. I really don't know if I can work any more. Or maybe..." He droned off realizing how ridiculous both options would be. For a few moments there was silence.

"Maybe you could try calling a certain woman who, for the past ten or eleven years has been wondering what her kids have been up to or jeez how about what they look like?" Tonja snapped. Her venom was lost upon him as he was still trying to figure out how to respond to that. Devi...was alive and wanted to be with him-no his kids? He asked, "If that's true then why haven't I been contacted by her? I heard about the plane crash and I assumed that she'd been...ya know." Dead. Tonja huffed, annoyed, "Uh, no! Jeez is that why you never called her? You thought just cause a plane crashed into her apartment that'd kill her? "

"I suppose not, death's probably too afraid of her to take her.."

"Damn right it is. Soo?"

"So what?"

"You'll do it?"

"...I'll...think about it. Is she really better?"

"Yes you overly exalted fool, do you think I would recommend calling her if she was still sick. But you should call her like now. She's probably on her way to the studio and, trust me, she does NOT like to be disturbed when she gets in the zone. So we still cool?"

"Yeah, alright latergottagoBYE!" he finished quickly, eager to hang up. He was ecstatic and scared and nervous at the same time. Would she be angry at him or relieved that she would see their kids or...their kids. How would he tell them? How do you explain something this...strange. Not even strange it was... he didn't even know what to call this situation. He heard a cough, turned around and saw fifteen sets of eyes staring blankly back at him, their eyes hidden behind pairs of reflective goggles (that he supplied them). He spun around and made sure to get eye contact with everyone before reminding the entire room, "It isn't wise to eavesdrop on the person who signs your paycheck!"

Immediately, people were running to get papers and pencils, crashing into each other in their rush to look busy. He smiled, even though he knew no one was able to actually see it. He walked over to the phone nearby the wall and started dialing. After a few rings a female picked up and answered, "Wet Jimmy's Gourmet Assmeats! Do this be pick or delivery?"

"Uh, Devi?"

"Atticus?!"

Look, you know what to do by now. You're not stupid. Review. Favorite. Tell your friends you think this story is awesome sauce... lie and say that it's awesome sauce or I'll make you a) eat candy covered in super glue or b) hang you upside down in my basement closet then make your ears bleed by playing two speakers on full blast next to your ears.