Only it’s genes and environment that shape humans, Ava reminded herself. And if Lida Mae is telling the truth, her environment has always been very different from Nick and Eryn’s. . . .
Thanks to Ava’s enhanced hearing and vision, she had probably noticed Lida Mae striding through the woods a full five minutes before Nick and Eryn saw her—or before Lida Mae herself knew she was being watched. The girl took such big steps, carefree and loose-limbed, not like anything Ava had seen before. Lida Mae could do that even in the long dress she was wearing today over some leg-encasing undergarment—long johns? Bloomers? Ava didn’t usually associate those kinds of clothes with freedom.
Maybe it’s because she’s a human who’s actually been raised by humans, Ava thought. All the humans I’ve ever met before were raised by robots. It’s got to rub off a little.
Lida Mae’s eyes darted toward Ava’s, as if the other girl wanted to be her friend just as much as she wanted to be Nick’s and Eryn’s. Under the guise of tilting her head back so Mom could gather hair for the ponytail, Ava gave Lida Mae a quick nod and hoped the girl got the message: Oh yeah, I’d love to be talking with you right now too. It’s just my annoying mom keeping me here. . . .
But once Mom finished, how would Ava justify not going over there to talk? Ava felt perfectly calm just listening; she wasn’t sure she could hold on to that calm if she had to interact. And it would take Mom just an instant to wrap a rubber band around Ava’s ponytail.
Oh, yeah . . .
“Mom, could you braid my hair instead?”
Out of the corner of her eye, Ava saw Mom turn her head and gaze briefly toward Lida Mae.
“Oh yes, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. . . . Very smart. Good plan,” Mom said, letting go of Ava’s hair and reaching for a comb to part it into sections for braiding.
Ava had to turn sideways, which made it impossible to keep watching the other kids. But she kept listening, on and off. She also tuned in to the whispers behind her, where Nick and Eryn’s parents, Denise and Donald, were conferring by the lean-to.
“Since that girl turned up again . . . do you think she secretly followed us back to the campsite last night?” Donald asked. “Do you think she lives close?”
“I don’t know!” Denise said, her whisper tense and agonized. “I feel like I’m completely in the dark here—there’s no security footage we can access, no information scan we can run. . . . I’ve never felt so clueless in my life. How do humans survive, feeling so ignorant all the time?”
“Denise, the sun did actually come up this morning,” Donald said gently. “We’re not literally in the dark.”
Ava couldn’t see behind her, of course, but she had the feeling Denise rolled her eyes at Donald.
“Michael will be back soon,” Denise said. “Michael will have loads of information from the all-call. Then we’ll know how to proceed.”
She sounded so . . . reverent. She sounded like Ava’s dad’s coming back was the only hope she had.
“So in the meantime, are we just going to let Eryn and Nick do all the hard work of talking to that strange girl?” Donald asked. “A girl who . . . might be a threat?”
Is that what all the grown-ups think? Ava wondered. My parents too?
“Right now I trust Nick and Eryn to deal with her more than I trust myself,” Denise said grimly. “I couldn’t . . . I don’t . . . Do you suppose this is how Jackson feels right before he falls apart?”
“Maybe you just have a wire loose, like Jackson did last night,” Donald said. “We’ll have Michael take a look at all our circuitry once he’s back.”
“What if I need to function properly before that?” Denise demanded. “What if our children’s lives depend on me being able to make the right decision in an emergency situation this morning? What if everything we’ve ever worked for—”
She broke off so abruptly, Ava had to know what had happened. Ava jerked her head around, even though it meant messing up Mom’s braiding.
“Ava!” Mom complained, grasping for dropped strands of Ava’s red hair.
Ava ignored her and peered toward the other adults. Oh. Nick and Eryn were leading Lida Mae toward their parents, as if they planned to introduce her.
“Mom,” Ava said softly. “I think we need to go help Donald and Denise. So they don’t mess this up.”
Ava liked it that Mom didn’t say, What makes you think we wouldn’t mess things up even worse? Or But you haven’t been functioning properly. I’ll go. You stay here. Instead she muttered, “Got it,” and quickly wrapped a rubber band around Ava’s hair, even though that left one pigtail braided all the way down to the tip, the other only halfway down.
Sometimes Mom could be kind of amazing at figuring out Ava.
Ava and Mom stood up and walked to the lean-to, reaching it just as the other three kids sidled up to Nick and Eryn’s parents.
Denise looked pale. Donald ran a hand through his curly dark hair, making it look like he’d just barely survived a harrowing experience in a wind tunnel.
You can do this, Ava told herself. You have to. Because the adults are losing it. And Nick and Eryn don’t know what they’re doing.
She stuck out her hand to Lida Mae.
“Hi,” Ava said brightly. “It’s great to see you again. I’m Ava, if you don’t remember from being introduced in the cave last night. It was so dark and a little bit scary in there . . . I’m not sure any of us remembered our manners exactly. Of course, you’re probably used to that cave, but this is all new to us.”
Ava didn’t like to think about how Dad had programmed her—she didn’t like to think about being “programmed” at all. But her chatterbox skills did come in handy sometimes.
Lida Mae pumped Ava’s hand up and down, the most vigorous, enthusiastic hand shaking Ava had ever received.
“If you’uns stay around long, don’t worry—I’ll have you running up and down these hills and in and out of that cave like you were born to it,” Lida Mae said.
“But . . . there are signs on the outside of the cave,” Denise said weakly. “About how it’s not safe to go in. Because of rockslides and sinkholes. We were there last night only because Eryn and Nick disobeyed. I . . . I don’t want my kids to go back there. I forbid it.”
Ava remembered that one of the signs in the cave—the one on the door to the secret room—didn’t actually say that it was a dangerous area. It just said that no robots were allowed to enter the room. The adults had been able to defy their programming and enter only because they were motivated by a higher cause: the fear that their children were in danger.
Ava and Jackson had been able to enter because Dad had programmed them not to think of themselves as robots.
Has Lida Mae seen that sign? Ava wondered. Does she even know how to read? So does she know that robots exist? Has she been into the room and read the papers that Nick swiped, the ones that say . . .
This was not the time to think about those papers. Not if she wanted to avoid toppling over every bit as dramatically as Jackson had last night.
Fortunately, Nick and Eryn were taking over the conversation.
“Mom, don’t be all crazy protective like that!” Nick protested.
“Yeah!” Eryn agreed. “Lida Mae’s, like, an experienced cave guide! I’m sure she knows what she’s doing. She wouldn’t take us anywhere that’s not safe.”
Lida Mae shrugged in a way that seemed both modest and knowledgeable, all at once.
“I’ve been roaming around that cave since before I could walk, and I’ve never been in the slightest bit of danger,” she said. “Because my family taught me what to watch for. Before rocks start falling or a sinkhole opens, there are always signs—I don’t mean the kind with words you can read, but the way the rock creaks, or the way the bats fly away. . . . You just have to pay attention. And I know how to. Your children would always be safe with me.”
“The kind with words you can read,” Ava thought. That wasn’t quite an answer to h
er questions, but at least Lida Mae was aware of written words and reading.
“Oh, now I’m forgetting my manners, too!” Lida Mae said, with a friendly giggle. She reached out to shake hands with each of the adults. “I’m Lida Mae Spencer. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“And this is my mom, Brenda Lightner, and my stepmom, Denise Stone Lightner, and Nick and Eryn’s dad, Donald Stone,” Ava said, pointing to each of them in turn, because they all seemed a little numb and sluggish. They did manage to shake hands.
“Well,” Eryn said, “I guess it’s kind of like we’re neighbors now. We can take turns visiting back and forth. Next time you come by, we’ll have a fire going, and we can offer you cocoa or something better than . . .” She looked down at a rocklike object clutched in her hand. Or, no, it was just the remains of her breakfast. “Better than a frozen granola bar.”
Was that an opening for Ava to say, Do you live close enough that it’d be easy for your parents to come by and visit too? Or Can you give us directions so we know how to get to your house, when it’s our turn to stop by?
Ava’s head swam. She couldn’t say either of those things—they were too close to Nick’s question from the night before, the one that had made Lida Mae flee. But was there something else Ava could say that would chip off a little bit of information at time? Not enough to scare Lida Mae, but enough to give Ava and her family what they wanted?
Before Ava could speak, her mother suddenly murmured, “Neighbors? I know a poem about neighbors. It’s by Robert Frost. It’s about walls and fences, and how—”
“Mom!” Ava protested, giving her mother a stunned stare. Why would she bring up that poem? Jackson and Ava had puzzled over “Mending Wall” in their language-arts class only last week. It had a couple of lines about how you needed good fences between neighbors, and Mom had admitted that it didn’t make any sense to her, either. Because it sounded like Robert Frost didn’t want people to be friends.
What if Lida Mae thinks Mom’s trying to get her to leave? Ava wondered.
Mom’s head reeled back and forth, and she swayed dizzily.
Oh no, Ava thought. Is Mom having the same problems Denise was talking about?
What if Mom had been saying “Deep breaths” and “Stay calm” to herself, not to Ava, when they were sitting back on the log?
Now everyone was staring at Ava, because she had protested so dramatically.
That’s fine, Ava told herself. I need to cover for Mom. I can handle it.
“Sorry,” Ava said, forcing out a fake-sheepish giggle. “Bad language-arts flashback there. Too much poetry analysis.” She faked a shudder, too. “But maybe you have more fun than we do at school, Lida Mae?”
Oh, good for me! Ava thought. That’s a way to find out if she’s learned to read!
But Lida Mae just shrugged and said, “Oh, maybe. Some days, I’m sure.”
There was an awkward pause. Ava noticed that Donald had started sweating.
It’s, like, forty degrees out here! Ava thought. Lida Mae’s going to think he’s sick, or . . .
“Anyway, about that hike we were planning,” Nick said, and fortunately, everyone turned in his direction. “Lida Mae offered to go with Eryn and me, and she really knows what she’s doing, so Mom, Dad, we won’t need you following us around like we’re babies. . . .”
Had he also noticed the sweat on his father’s forehead? Or would he be trying to get away from the grown-ups no matter what?
Because of the instructions on the papers? Ava let herself think. Or because . . .
Ava saw the three grown-ups wince, one after the other. And Ava could tell: The adults were going to let Nick and Eryn go off with Lida Mae. The adults didn’t think they had any choice.
And what should I do? Ava thought. Stay here, and maybe get a chance to tell Mom and Denise and Donald about the papers Jackson and I saw Nick tuck under his shirt last night? Or go on the hike and find out more from Lida Mae?
Was that the choice? Or was it Which group do I belong in? The group of robots or the group of kids?
Donald wiped his forehead. Denise blinked and winced and blinked and winced. Mom kept opening and shutting her mouth without saying anything, like a dumbstruck guppy.
Lida Mae absolutely could not stay at the campsite when the adults were having so many problems. Especially if they got any worse. Ava had to take control.
“And I’ll go too, to keep Nick and Eryn out of trouble,” she said. “Thanks, Mom! Thanks, Denise! Thanks, Donald!”
She leaned in and kissed the cheek of each adult in turn. With her mouth next to her mother’s ear, she whispered, “Sit down and breathe. You’ll be fine. Tell the others.”
Then she grabbed Lida Mae’s arm and spun her away from the grown-ups.
“Where should we go first?” she asked.
EIGHT
Jackson
Dad took off running once the van came into view, partially hidden by a clump of trees.
“Dad, wait for me!” Jackson complained, struggling to keep up.
But Dad didn’t stop. He didn’t stop even once he reached the van.
“No connectivity,” he muttered as he ran. “No connectivity, no connectivity . . . Aaaahhh! Connection!”
Dad stopped in a ditch between the last of the trees and the berm of the highway they’d driven on the day before. He tilted his head back and slowly rotated his body, his eyes half-closed, his arms raised like someone worshipping the sun.
The sun looked pretty wimpy this cold winter day—far off and pale and overshadowed by the thick gray clouds. Jackson knew it wasn’t actually the sun Dad was so excited about.
“You found it?” Jackson asked. “The first spot where there’s a link available?”
“Shh,” Dad said. “I’m starting a scan.”
His expression stayed blissful. Dad was tall and thin and bald—he looked like the kind of guy who made practical decisions and wore sensible shoes. He was that type of guy. Most of the time.
Jackson didn’t think he’d ever seen his dad appear so ecstatic.
Jackson waited a moment.
“Have you found anything on the network about Lida Mae and her family?” Jackson asked, inching closer to Dad. “Or . . . anything else you wanted to know?”
Even though Jackson didn’t have a connective link installed in his own brain, would he be able to sense the spot where the dead zone of the nature preserve ended and all that flow of glorious information began?
Not yet . . . not yet . . . not yet . . .
Jackson found himself standing right beside Dad in the ditch. It felt no different to him from standing in the woods.
Dad’s eyelids fluttered as he slowly revolved—then they sprang open when he saw Jackson so close by.
“Jackson, no,” Dad said, as if Jackson were a poorly trained puppy. “You stay in the woods as long as possible, just in case.”
He grabbed Jackson’s arm and yanked him back to the safety of the trees. Then Dad hurried back to his glorious ditch. He turned his back on Jackson.
Jackson knew Dad was only trying to protect him. After all, if Jackson broke down in the ditch, there was a chance, however small, that Dad’s own view of him could be accessed by any other robot, anywhere in the world. As Jackson understood it, that was how brutally efficient the robot network could be. That was why Dad had so much confidence that if there was any information out there about people living near Mammoth Cave, his all-call would find it.
But Jackson couldn’t help feeling a little hurt by Dad’s shoving him away.
Someday maybe Dad and I will be able to do all-call searches for information together, Jackson thought. Someday I’ll probably be better at them than he is. . . .
Dad inched a little closer to the road, a little farther from Jackson.
“Please,” Dad murmured. “Oh, please . . .”
Maybe Jackson wasn’t supposed to hear that. Maybe Dad thought he’d spoken softly enough that no one heard him.
And then suddenly Dad’s shoulders slumped. His arms drooped; his head fell forward—he looked like he barely had enough energy to keep standing.
“Dad?” Jackson asked.
Dad turned, his eyes practically closed. He stumbled back into the woods, grabbing at random branches to keep from falling.
“There’s nothing,” Dad said. “Nothing about Mammoth Cave, nothing about people living in this area . . . How could there be no information at all?”
“Um . . . because someone’s hiding it?” Jackson asked.
He waited for his father to say, Oh, don’t be ridiculous. But Dad just raised one eyebrow and said nothing.
After a long moment Dad said, “What are we going to do now?” and it was awful how he sounded like he really didn’t know.
“Aren’t we going to the nearest town to get parts so you can fix my wires?” Jackson asked.
Could Dad actually have forgotten?
“Oh, right,” Dad said. He shook himself and pulled away from the tree he’d been holding on to. “I guess so.”
Jackson turned toward the van. The passenger-side door barely opened, since it was wedged so tightly against the nearest tree. But Jackson managed to squeeze in. He shut the door and pulled on his seat belt.
Dad was still standing back by the tree, staring at Jackson.
Jackson rolled down the window.
“What are you waiting for?”
“No,” Dad said in a choked voice. “That won’t work.”
“What are you talking about?” Jackson asked.
“We have to hide you better than that,” Dad said. “We can’t risk any mistakes. You can’t sit there. We’ll have to hide you in the back. Under a blanket, where no one will see.”
“Are you crazy?” Jackson asked. “I didn’t hide under a blanket yesterday, coming from Ohio. We were in this van for six hours, and I was in full sight of at least one window the entire time. Ava and I both were. What’s changed since yesterday?”
Dad let his eyes close, and it seemed to take great effort to open them again.
“Everything,” he murmured.