Men in rage strike those that wish them best
Artemis was sat in a psychology lecture that he didn't really need to be in; it didn't affect his degree. It wasn't even vaguely close to what he was studying. The amount of times his brain had been plucked apart by various quacks with differing qualifications from countless universities, you'd think he would know the psychology textbooks inside out. For the most part, he did.
Today was a rather interesting study on memory. Interesting to Artemis at least because it was nothing to do with any of the diseases or conditions he'd ever been accused of. No-one had ever handed him a piece of paper with the words, Overactive Memory Symptoms and How to Control It. He would, without intending to brag, say that he had a rather good memory. It was a concoction of drive, curiosity and an incredible memory that made him who he was. His father also had a good memory, but he favoured using it towards a business mindset. He preferred boardrooms to laboratories, unlike his prodigious son. Having never been on the receiving end of a lecture about his memory and feeling defensive, it was a kind break to study psychology without someone leaving a foul taste in his mouth.
The lecturer discussed a well-known study into an individual who had lost all but one element of his memory; much like Dory from the children's film, if he had to retain information past seven seconds, it disappeared. And yet, he could play piano concertos without so much as a pause for thought or a slip of a key. Incredible. Of course, Artemis had heard of this study before – he'd actually spoken to the man himself once. The points the lecturer was bringing up were hardly revolutionary. But still, it was nice to relax and let the words wash over him. He could allow himself to get deep in thought, using he lecturer's points to bounce off, having drawn-out arguments in his head that flipped back and forth before fading back into reality.
The lecturer was a squat lady who had worked at the university for at least thirty years. The lines of her face were soft and kind. She had a steady voice that was easy to follow, and hypnotic as she sounded, Artemis was still able to pay attention. More than that, she was a good person, Artemis believed. It was in the smile on her face and calm environment her mannerisms created. People were so drawn in by her that no-one spared a single glance at Artemis for the duration of the lecture. After her session drew to a close, she waved goodbye to the students and hobbled back to her laptop.
"Mrs Fagan," Artemis said, softly. He'd once called her name after a class and the poor lady had nearly fallen in surprise. He was more careful with his tone this time. "Could I have a few of those handouts, if you don't mind?"
"Absolutely!" She beamed, the mole on her cheek disappearing in her smile. "Though I can't imagine you'll have much use for them, Mr Fowl."
"They're for my younger brother." He explained. "There was a time when Myles loved my handouts. He doesn't even look at them anymore. I thought, perhaps, he'd take a look at someone else's."
"How old is your brother?" Mrs Fagan asked, and she already could tell she didn't want to hear the answer.
"Five, but his brain is far beyond what you might expect of a regular five-year-old."
"You don't say," she shook her head in disbelief. "Genius runs in the family, does it?"
Artemis tried not to look proud. "He'd appreciate your theories on the sensory memory store, if not just to tear them apart." He realised this may come across as rude and quickly added, "though don't worry, he does that to everything I say, too. I cannot reason with the child. He doesn't believe that AI will ever become sentient enough to rule the world; I've warned him enough times."
Mrs Fagan remained quiet. Young Fowl was often a lot to take in, having two of them would be a nightmare. Her head hurt thinking about it. She flicked through her folder and removed a few sheets of paper from it, handing them over. "Let me know what he says. I'd be curious to find out."
"I won't pass that sentiment on," Artemis sighed, like the world was sat on his shoulders. "He's been dying to find someone to write to, recently. He keeps attempting to contact Elon Musk and discuss with him his theory on magnetic transport. No one has responded to his letters yet. I feel that is for the best. The world is not ready for Myles Fowl."
"I can tell that you love your brother a lot," her usual smile warmed her face, and unusually, Artemis found himself smiling back.
"And Beckett, his twin."
"Oh, good lord, there's three of you?"
…
Artemis had perhaps twenty minutes before he needed to wander over to his next lecture – a lecture that actually formed part of his curriculum and one he absolutely did not want to attend. Unlike the gentle Mrs Fagan, Ms Walker was thoroughly awful to be around. She wanted to be popular with everyone, and though Artemis did not consider that to be a bad trait, the way she behaved to achieve that was … obnoxious. The way she giggled at the comments students would make, even if they were at the expense of others, the tone of voice she would use, the dreadful and undignified snort of her laugh – even Opal Koboi provided better company, assuming she wasn't trying to kill him and everyone he loved. As a lecturer with several degrees, her behaviour was childish and completely unprofessional.
Artemis grasped the handouts in both hands, finding himself content again. He quickly checked the time; 10:30. There was a chance that Myles was on his morning break.
The dialling tone rang for less than a couple of seconds when Myles answered.
"Good morning, Artemis," his younger brother chimed, happily. "What is it you want?"
"How are you doing, little brother?" Artemis smiled into the phone and quickly slipped into a quieter corridor.
"I am well. Today we 'sperimented with cola and eggs."
"We've done that one before, have we not?"
"We have," Artemis could practically hear the eye roll Myles gave him. "But this time, I got to set up my own control conditions."
"Ahh, excellent. Are you going to work out the coefficient?"
"Of course," Myles said, haughtily.
"And how is Beckett?"
"Digging," was Myles' only response. Artemis paused, not sure if he wanted to ask, 'what for'. "Aren't you supposed to be in class, too?"
"I am, but I still have ten minutes for my younger brothers."
"I'm afraid I don't have time to waste, I have three stopwatches I need to monitor."
"Is Professor Primate helping you?"
"He is."
"I've got some handouts from one of the psychology lectures for you."
"How many letters do they have?" His brother's voice was sceptical. He was asking about the post-nominal initials, something of which he had begun to use to judge others. Artemis was starting to think it would become a problem.
"… D. S. Sc." There was a hum that followed this, and Artemis wasn't quite sure what it meant. There was a good chance that neither did Myles. "It's about the Sensory Memory System, Myles. It's interesting."
"I shall give it a read." He stated, almost reluctantly.
"Can I speak to Beckett?"
"Okay. Beckett!" Myles voice became distant. There was a number of shouts that travelled faintly across the phone line, one of which Artemis distinctly recognised as the word, 'simpletoon'.
"Hi, Artemis," Beckett was so close to the speaker that Artemis winced. His heavy breaths suggested he had been running or perhaps engaging in something else of equivalent physical ferocity.
"Good morning, brother. How are you?"
"Busy," he replied. "What want?"
"Just a few seconds of your time, before you go back to … whatever you were doing."
"'kay. Three seconds."
"Beckett, Myles, we're going to play~" A new voice chimed in the background. "Let's go!" Artemis felt his heart warm; his brothers had friends – they weren't like him.
"Two," Beckett pressed, sounding impatient but giving his silly older brother a chance to speak.
"I just wanted to say that I love you," Artemis sighed, unable to hold back his smile now. "Have a good day, Beckett."
"One! Love you! Bye!" Beckett shouted into the receiver, and there was a crackle that suggested he may have kissed the microphone … or licked. You never knew with Beckett.
"Don't hang up, B-," Myles' voice was cut off abruptly. He truly adored those two and was ever grateful that neither of them seemed to be turning out like him. Myles came the closest, but all he ever schemed about was bringing the dinosaurs back to life or creating fart-powered vehicles. Not once had he mentioned gold, money, power, or any of the other things young Artemis had dreamed of. They didn't have a father reciting the family motto each bedtime. They didn't have a mother with significant mental health problems forgetting their names. They could be normal.
"Who were you just chatting to?" Artemis snapped his eyes up and quickly pocketed his phone. Across the corridor, Lizzy grinned at him. She looked intrigued. "I love you," she repeated. "Girlfriend?"
"Brothers," he retorted, reaching to straighten a tie he realised he wasn't wearing. With a huff, he set off down the corridor towards the lecture theatre.
"Oh, I had no idea you had brothers!" She joined his step. He noticed that her vibrant hair now had a streak of silver in amongst the pink. "How many?"
"Two."
"How old?"
"Five."
"That's adorable, I can't believe no one has ever mentioned-," her voice trailed out as she realised that she was insinuating that people spoke about him behind his back. He ignored the comment. "They must be at school now?"
"Yeah, boarding school."
"You don't get to see them that much, then?"
"I make frequent trips there," he said, and then added, "and so does my bodyguard." He treated her with his most conceited look. He believed that if he was as intimidating as possible, she would leave him alone. Her eyes blinked in surprise, but then a glint shone in them.
"Bodyguard!" She cried, gleefully. Artemis wanted to sigh. "You have a bodyguard? Why isn't he here?"
Artemis was thankful that he saw Kat and Connor chatting outside the entrance to the lecture hall, and Lizzy became immediately distracted.
"Hey, you two!" Most of the corridor turned to look at the bright-haired girl jumping up and down on the spot, both arms in the air to wave.
Kat smiled, clearly conscious of the attention their group was now gathering. Connor waved back. Next, Kat's eyes met Artemis' and she held them for a second, as though wondering how to react. He answered this question for her, cutting between the group and heading to his seat without a word.
"Miserable bastard," he caught Lizzy mutter under her breath. It didn't trouble him.
The class began, late as always, and Artemis tried his best to ignore the scowls bouncing in his direction from Lizzy. She sat with Emma, who had later appeared and attempted to make conversation with Artemis, until Lizzy called her away. Connor had chosen to sit in front of them, along with a few of his other friends and Kat sandwiched between them. She too glanced over her shoulder, and Artemis couldn't help but note the frown in her eyes when she caught his gaze, too. His stomach twanged – that was well-deserved. She hasn't really done anything to deserve the scorn I am giving her. I just don't want any more fuss. No more irritations in my life. No more stress. I'll just get through university, out to the other side where I am free again.
The lecture was a double period. The short break was of little relief to Artemis; he'd much rather just get it over with. Most people disappeared, probably to the vending machines and the local Costa. Very few people stayed behind, leaving the hall echoing every footstep and the quiet chatter of small groups. Lizzy had left immediately after a break was called, making sure to shoot daggers in his direction before leaving. Emma silently apologised behind her.
Kat took out her mobile and shuffled out shortly after, leaving her notes open on the table and her bag still shoved under her chair.
Artemis took a moment to check on his home security system, not that he anticipated any threats. If there were any, it would have notified him by now (else, Foaly would have). However, aforementioned centaur liked to leave little hexes behind, just as Artemis would plant a few bugs of his own. Nothing for the moment, he mused, watching the screens play through as normal. He must be busy – unusual. Artemis maintained watch for several minutes, looking for a loop or a trip. But there were none, and he was confident that the activity on the screens were live. He managed to catch the moment that Juliet Butler bounded into the manor, and upstairs Butler's ears pricked like a hound. He stalked to the stairway and relaxed upon seeing his sister, who pummelled him a couple of times in the stomach. Classic Butler greeting.
He continued to watch for a few more minutes. He had emails to answer, but it was nice to watch normality playing across his screen. Eventually his projects called him; he had contacts to make, businesspeople to persuade and companies in China to buy out.
It wasn't like Artemis to react to instincts, unlike Butler, but something caught his attention in the periphery of his vision. He glanced up, curiously. Someone was hovering near Kat's bag. Artemis observed the scene, taking in the body language of an individual that very clearly knew they were doing something wrong. The way they looked around, adjusted the strap of their watch, ran their hands through their hair … what were they doing? Eventually, they committed to the act, and Artemis watched as the individual snapped a few photos of one of the sheets they had pulled from Kat's notebook – it looked like an essay. They didn't spare any extra time to check the photos, quickly replacing the pages in the folds of the book and disappearing.
"Interesting," he commented aloud. There was no more he could do, however, so he returned to his work.
He watched carefully when Kat returned. She didn't appear to notice anything had changed, rummaging in her bag for a highlighter and continuing with her work. He maintained his watch for a further minute as the rest of the class began to filter back in. She was working diligently. He could make out numbers on the page as she worked through some maths on a back page, then flicked back to the front to carry on making notes.
The lecture went ahead without incident.
He found he couldn't ignore what had happened. He studied it, running the scene through his head, playing back each part – what about it was irritating him? And it was 'irritating' him, so he began to self-analyse. Why is this concerning me? It could be because this was reflective of how others treated him sometimes, like a cheat book. Perhaps it was because it was unfair: Kat clearly worked hard, and he was willing to bet the person who had stolen her work wouldn't be up late tonight reading through textbooks or writing essays. Yet, Artemis knew, he wouldn't usually be concerned over something so menial. Was it then, guilt? He had treated Kat pretty poorly, ignoring her kindness simply because the rest of their group were not people he wanted to be around.
Or was it, curiosity?
He wanted to know what would happen next. Was this a one-off? Or did Kat repeatedly have her work copied? He tapped his pencil on the desk to return his attention to the lecture. There was no use concerning himself so much with it. He'd see what transpired.
"Just a reminder," the lecturer concluded, "that the essay is due Friday. If there's no questions, you're free to go."
Artemis closed his laptop, satisfied that he had managed to clear his inbox whilst still keeping an ear out for poignant moments in the class. Nothing the lecturer said was of particular value, but she did like to drop extra work every now and again and more than once, Artemis hadn't been listening and so he'd missed a deadline. Once, he had written the essay in front of the lecturer in thirty minutes, references and all, after she had questioned him on his lack of assignment. He met the deadline and was able to deliver to her one of his trademark smirks to top it off.
"I'd just like to say," Artemis looked up to see Lizzy stood in front of him, her hands firmly on her hips, "that your attitude stinks. And I don't appreciate the way you talk to me."
"Oh," Artemis replied, calmly. "I apologise."
She rolled her eyes with exaggerated movement, huffing. "I hate people who are insincere. You're disingenuous, Mr Fowl. I can't stand people like you."
"I dislike people who are unable to take a hint," he retorted. "I don't want to be friends with you – I don't care for you. I am particularly unconcerned with whether or not you believe me to be a 'nice guy', or even 'sincere'. Why? Because you only want to speak with me because I have more gold in my bank account than you will ever even witness pass by on the shopping channels."
Lizzy's cheeks puffed. She spluttered indignantly, clenching tiny fists at her waist. Her eyes roared with anger. Emma was soon by her side, resting one hand on her shoulder.
"I don't give a shit who you are, or how much money you have," she yelled, and Artemis noted – once again – that he was the centre of attention.
"Is that so?" He collected his things and stood, now towering over her with a cold expression in his eyes. "Then stop trying so hard to talk with me."
"You fucker-," Lizzy grunted, Emma grasping her arm tightly.
"Let's go, Liz," Emma hissed, pulling her away. "Everyone is looking." Reluctantly, Lizzy let Emma drag her away. She maintained eye contact for as long as she could, steam practically venting from her body. Artemis decided it best to appear busy while the class dissipated. He slid his phone from his pocket and tapped away.
"Are you coming, Kat?" Connor's voice called. Artemis looked up and caught Kat watching him. Her expression was hard to read. The slight guilt from his previous treatment towards her stopped him from looking away. He waited to see what face she would pull. She didn't flinch. When Connor called again, she nodded slightly to Artemis, and then left.
What the hell does that mean? Artemis thought, somehow irritated by the gesture. I need more women like Holly and Juliet in my life – women that punch you if they don't like what you've said. How am I meant to understand that?
AN: thank you for your feedback so far! I'm thrilled to have such positive responses