Chapter 2: Pollux: The Butterfly and the Wasp

Swiftly the wasp flies

The butterfly drifts softly

To the same blossom

The wasp flies at 250 km/ph. The butterfly drifts at 10 km/ph. They start at the same place, and reach the same flower simultaneously. If they each traveled 27 km, how much earlier must the butterfly have started? Round to the nearest minute.

Castor Weaver scrawled the final answer on his paper and slid it toward the examiner with thinly veiled contempt. He looked away as the man examined the test paper. Pollux could feel his twin's irritation, but it was nothing new. Castor had been born angry.

"You got the answers right, but you didn't show the steps you took to arrive at them," the examiner finally said.

"Does it really matter?" A tall, red-haired woman shifted her position impatiently at the end of the table. "He's barely five years old. Not even."

"And you want me to issue him a high school equivalency degree," the examiner said. "If I'm going to do that, he needs to perform on the test the same way a high school student would, Doctor Mellert. "

Pollux gave the examiner his own test, once he had finished. He had carefully marked out the steps to each math problem, after the rebuke to Castor. It had been the most difficult part of the test: while the answers had come easily, he was unsure exactly how he had worked them out, and trying to write it down was like trying to diagram every movement of your tongue when you spoke a sentence, or chart every muscle and how it moved when you took a step.

As the examiner checked the paper, Castor got up from his seat, bored, and pulled one of the books from the tall, metal shelves. The company library was empty except for the four at the table, most of the large room in darkness. Castor returned to his seat and buried his face in an ancient, musty leather-bound book. He pulled a blank sheet of paper toward himself and began copying out a diagram of an intricate mandala.

The examiner put down Pollux's paper. "Perfect," he said with a smile. "Well done."

Pollux smiled back. The pleasure he felt at the man's approval was a small bright spot in a life that had become increasingly dark.

"So, will you issue the certificates?" Doctor Mellert asked.

Reluctantly, the examiner opened a leather folder and began filling out forms. "You do realize," he said as he wrote, "that even if the boys are exempted from school, they are still protected by the national child welfare laws. That includes labor restrictions."

"I assure you that Brightwater Industries—and I personally—take our guardianship very seriously. Considering the incredible accomplishments of the Weaver twins already, the company's best interests clearly lie in giving them unlimited opportunities to continue their education. With their mental abilities and the resources we can provide, there's no limit to the advances they may make in modern technology. By the time they're old enough to shave, they may have already revolutionized technology, or even saved the world. In view of what their inventions have done to avert the potential environmental catastrophes that—excuse me." Mellert got up, pulling out her buzzing cell phone, and walked a short distance away. Pollux could hear half of the conversation. "Can this wait? Already? Good…good…"

"Kid." Pollux looked at the examiner, who was pulling something out of his wallet. It was a business card, and he slid it across the table, speaking softly. "If you ever need to talk to someone, if things go bad around here, feel free to give me a call."

Pollux took the card and slipped it into his shirt pocket. Things had gone bad a long time ago, and he doubted this man could do anything about it, but the card was a shred of hope resting in his pocket.

"There's something about all this that just feels…" The examiner broke off as Doctor Mellert returned to the table, snapping her phone shut briskly.

"That was Baldwin," she said. "The Weavers have signed the papers and custody has been officially transferred. Castor and Pollux Weaver are now legal wards of Brightwater Industries. Baldwin's bringing down the paperwork, if you'd like to see it."

"That won't be necessary." The examiner stood, gathering his papers and test booklets. "The education board will deal with the legalities. Unless there is some unexpected hitch along, the way, the certificates should be processed within the week."

"Well, good day, then."

The examiner bowed slightly and walked to the door. Before he left, he hesitated. "It may not be my place to say so," he burst out, "but this is wrong. How can a corporation adopt a child? Children need a home and a family. They need-"

"Some people say it takes a village to raise a child," Mellert said. "We're much more efficient than a village."

The man looked as if he wanted to say something else, but bit it back. He closed the door behind him with just a little more force than was strictly polite.

The door immediately opened again, and Baldwin came in, looking back over his shoulder.

"Let's have a look," called Doctor Mellert cheerfully. Baldwin put a file on the table in front of her, and she withdrew a handful of legal papers. "Excellent. I was afraid things might drag out for months."

"The Weavers were perfectly willing to sign," said Baldwin. "We've discharged their medical debts as agreed, and arranged a generous annuity. They told me they've already put a down payment on a new house."

"You saw our parents?" Pollux asked. "Are they all right? How were they? Did you say they were-"

"They're fine," Baldwin snapped. "Don't concern yourself over them, they have been well taken care of."

"I want them to have my share of the profits," Pollux insisted. "Everything coming to me for my share of our work. Send it all to them, okay?"

Baldwin and Mellert exchanged a quick glance, and Baldwin said, "That can be arranged." He shifted his square-rimmed eyeglasses as he turned to Castor. "Shall we do the same for you?"

Castor did not even look up. "It doesn't matter," he said.

Baldwin suddenly noticed what Castor was doing, and his pinched face grew even tighter. He snatched up the paper the boy was drawing on. It was now covered in meticulously rendered pentacles, Aztec suns, and other mystic symbols.

"Stop wasting your time on this superstitious nonsense," Baldwin snapped, wadding the paper into a ball. "You could be furthering your studies, Pollux. There are—"

"It's Castor," Professor Mellert interrupted. "Really, Baldwin, they aren't even identical, you have no excuse. And he may as well enjoy himself while he can. Once the legalities are out of the way we can set out for Sei Station, and there will be plenty of work for him to do there. Both of them." She shuffled the papers back into the file and stood, looking at her watch. "I need to clear our travel plans with Accounting. Do you think there's time before the meeting with the Swedish committee?"

"Carson is in his office," said Baldwin. "I saw him on the way here."

"Right, let's go, then. Don't stay up too late, boys." Doctor Mellert left. Baldwin, with a final unfriendly glare, tossed the wad of paper into the wastebasket and followed her out the door.

The room was silent. Pollux slid off the adult-sized chair and retrieved the paper wad from the wastebasket, handing it to Castor.

"It isn't important," Castor said, but he unrolled the crumpled paper, smoothing it out on the tabletop with the edge of his hand. "People are idiots. You would think by now they would have evolved enough to recognize a circuit board diagram, even if it isn't designed to channel electricity."

"Well, someone drew it in the first place," Pollux pointed out. Castor only snorted.

Their mother had been in and out of the hospital all their lives, with one health problem or another. A sudden attack had returned her to medical care unexpectedly one morning, and their father, unable to find someone to look after them, had taken his four-year-old sons to work with him. He had been catering for a meeting at the Brightwater building, and the boys had had stern orders to keep quiet, keep out of trouble, and keep out of sight of the attending scientists and stockholders.

But Father had been busy refilling the coffee urn when the schematic of the newly redesigned climate regulator was projected. His first hint that something had gone wrong was the wave of laughter when the strange, silent little boy had wandered onto the stage.

The laughter died away and was replaced by dumbfounded silence as Castor pointed out major design flaws in the schematic, suggested improvements, and finally completely redesigned the heat collecting circuit on the whiteboard with an erasable marker.

The story caused a sensation in the press before it was quashed, and both twins were subjected to a battery of physical and mental tests. Brightwater quickly negotiated a contact with Weavers, who were deeply in debt, for exclusive access to the boys and their future work.

And now, it seemed, Castor and Pollux belonged to Brightwater entirely.

"Do you think they'll let us visit Mom and Dad? Before we go to Sei Station?" Pollux asked.

"Why would you want to?" Castor asked. Didn't you hear Baldwin? They sold us."

"No!" Pollux protested. "It's not like that! I'm sure they only did what they had to. What they thought was best for everybody."

"If you say so." Pollux could feel his brother's cynicism. He had always been able to feel Castor's emotions. He did not think Castor could feel his. At any rate, Pollux did not dare to ask. Because if it turned out that Castor did understand his feelings, then it was clear that he simply did not care.

Pollux felt his shirt pocket. The little cardboard rectangle was still there.

"You know he'll have forgotten all about us by tomorrow," said Castor.

"Who?" asked Pollux, jerking his hand away from his pocket. "I don't know what you're talking about."

A tight smile appeared on Castor's face. "Sei Station ought to be interesting, anyway. I bet there are no child labor laws in Antarctica."

"I'm going to bed," said Pollux shortly.

"Or telephones," Castor called as Pollux slammed the library door behind himself.