Harker, year 0.5, Acceptance, Orrs

“Thank you, Janine,” Donald said, and the mail delivery woman handed him the stack. “How’s Willie?”

“Doing good, Mister Orr. Off to summer camp so me and Gary can have some time to ourselves.”

“Careful with that. If you enjoy it too much, Willie will have a sibling.”

“We took precautions.”

“Those don’t always—”

She made scissor motions with her fingers. “Snip, snip.”

“Thank you, Janine,” Donald said, and the mail delivery woman handed him the stack. “How’s Willie?”

“Doing good, Mister Orr. Off to summer camp so me and Gary can have some time to ourselves.”

“Careful with that. If you enjoy it too much, Willie will have a sibling.”

“We took precautions.”

“Those don’t always—”

She made scissor motions with her fingers. “Snip, snip.”

“Ah. Enjoy away then. Have a good day.” He returned inside, looking over the stack as he headed for the office on the other side of the house. He was amazed that in this day and age, so many of the companies they dealt with when it came to the games he and Daniel coded insisted on using snail mail. Nearly everyone had switched to email communication all the way back in the nineties. And this was one of their distributors. A company dealing with digital games, insisting on communicating on paper. How could they be so archaic?

He opened it and confirmed this was one of their royalty checks; also paper, with the breakdown of the fees applied.

“I’ll take that,” Daniel said, passing him and grabbing it out of his hand. “And they use paper because it lets them keep our money for the time it takes the check to reach us, for us to deposit it, and for it to clear their account. There’s a lot of interest in it for them in those couple of days.”

He should email them. Let them know what he thought of their keeping their money basically hostage.

“And that’s why I handle communicating with our partners, along with the finances. You’d be swearing at them throughout the email.”

“I can be polite.”

“Politely telling a publisher to go fuck themselves is still insulting them. We need to work with them—” Daniel stopped talking as Donald saw the provenance of the next envelope.

Harker.

He counted. Seven letters. Then he checked to whom they were addressed to; just to be sure. Anakin, Adam, Alexander, Aaron, Arthur, Albert, Aiden.

He redirected to the dining room, where Daniel already waited.

“There’s no way those are just to confirm the kids aren’t attending.”

“Not considering we never applied there. Tracy came to us.”

“And would only take Arthur and Anakin.”

Donald fanned the letters, so the names were exposed.

“Aiden,” Daniel said, while Donald placed the letters in front of each of their seats. “Tell your brothers we need to have a family meeting.”

Donald joined his brother at the head of the table, as Adam blurred into his seat.

“Don’t open the letter,” Daniel said.

Adam folded the letter and placed it on the table, beside the envelope.

Neither of them scowled him. Adam worked at a different speed than everyone else, as no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t slow himself down to their speed. He and Daniel had been in his mind when his power kicked in, at twelve, and even for them, it had been difficult to communicate with him at the speed he now thought. They had managed to slow him down until he realized the world hadn’t frozen on him, and that had let him work at slowing himself even more. This was the best he could manage. A young man who, when looked at from the outside, seemed to have no patience or impulse control, when in reality he was the most patient person they know of. Who else would stand there for the eternity it took someone to finish speaking, and then so slowly articulate his response?

Alex arrived next, then Anakin, Albert, Arthur.

“Aaron’s going to be a minute,” Aiden said, sitting. “He’s putting the weighs on the rack. What’s this?” he asked Adam.

“Dunno.”

“You already read yours.”

“Yes, but Dad asked me not to open it, so I’m not going to talk about it.”

Aiden nodded and studied the envelope.

“I’m here,” Aaron said, entering the dining room. “What’s this about?”

*

With all of them there, Arthur opened his envelope, already confident of what he’d read. He couldn’t be certain, since all his attempts at hacking into the Harker Academy servers had failed.

That impressed him.

A quick read through confirmed he’d been accepted.

“What?” Aaron said. “Did you guys apply me without telling me?”

“The guy was here,” Alex said, reading his. “Remember?”

“Yeah, for Art and Annie. I’m nowhere near the caliber of the people he’d want if his goal is to ensure his school succeeds.”

“We’re the bribe,” Albert said, putting the unfolded letter down. “Art said he wasn’t going unless we all were. I guess he’s desperate enough to have him and Annie he made space for the rest of us.”

“I don’t know how I feel about that,” Alex said, still reading. “Does that school even have curriculum we’ll be interested in?”

“The implication is that we’ll be joining the superhero curriculum,” Anakin said.

“Yeah, well. I’m not becoming one of those, so I want something worthwhile out of that school if I go.”

“Their art department isn’t great,” Albert said. “But it have an archeology wind and full curriculum. That’s going to include art restoration, and that could be interesting.”

“Does that mean you want to go?” Anakin asked.

Albert shrugged. “I can study art anywhere. I’ll go wherever the family decides to go.”

Arthur felt the eyes on him.

He didn’t like how they always fell back to him. Sure, he was leagues smarter than they were, but they weren’t idiots. They could decide for themselves.

Although, in this specific case, Arthur was at the center, along with Anakin.

He placed the letter down, smoothing it over the table, and considered how to state his stance. He knew how easy it was for him to come across as THE authority when he spoke. He usually was, but family decisions were supposed to be about reaching a consensus. Not them folding under the weight of his arguments.

“I want to go.” When no one spoke he continued. “But I’ll only do so if everyone agrees it’s best for all of us. I’ve looked over their courses, the publicly available ones, and I believe there’s something there for everyone, although it might not be what some had planned on. I couldn’t get into the servers to find out what they planned on teaching as part of the superhero curriculum, but it’s reasonable to assume a large part of it will be honing our abilities. Regardless of if we decide to become heroes or not, I believe we can all benefit from finding out the extent of what we are truly capable of.”

“You don’t think you can do that here?” One of his father asked, and Arthur found he didn’t have an immediate answer. He hadn’t considered his fathers might have reservations about them being away from San Francisco, away from them.

“To test ourselves here,” he said, weighing his words. Again, he didn’t want his arguments to weigh them down so they’d agree. But he needed them to understand the benefits. “It means going into the field. Playing at being heroes, in the open or not. By its nature, that comes with risks I can’t account for.”

“Can’t you recreate whatever Harker will have in place?”

He shook his head. “I can almost certainly reproduce the technology if I can access the blueprints. But they will have access to experts I have no hope of convincing to teach us, no matter how much money I might offer them.”

“Aren’t they in the same position in that regard?” his other father asked.

“No. While Mister Harker didn’t state it, the only way the government would have agreed to his proposal is if he has the backing of some significant parahumans. More likely, multiple of them. I won’t be surprised if I find out Mister Harker is nothing more than the mundane face those parahumans are using to make their proposal more acceptable, instead of coming across as them imposing their will on the masses because they can’t be stopped. They will have contacts within their community they can convince to teach us.”

“So your opinion is you should all go.”

“No,” he snapped in exasperation. “This was nothing more than me, laying down the facts supporting my position. I don’t want this to be me telling everyone else what to do. I hate it when you do that, Dad.”

“Sorry. Then, Arthur has stated his position. Any other opinions? And I think there needs to be at least one dissenting one. Otherwise, Art will feel like we are folding under his intellect.” His father smiled.

Even without being able to read Arthur’s mind in this situation, his fathers had done so often enough to gain an understanding of him no one else could match. It made those slips, where they forgot how he felt about them simply going along with what he stated, more exasperating.

“Do they even have a music curriculum?” Aiden asked. “I want to use my voice to sing, not shatter buildings.”

“Media and Broadcasting,” Arthur said. “It’s the closest they offer.”

Aiden wasn’t happy. “Okay. I guess I can hire a teacher. And we’ll still have the band as practice.”

“Are we going to have time?” Aaron asked. “This isn’t highschool. College is a lot more intense.”

“We’re going to make time,” Aiden stated. “I’m not going to sing with a bunch of amateurs. You are packing your instruments and bringing them.”

“We’ll ship them,” his father said.

“If we go,” Anakin said. “I’m sorry, Art. But I don’t see what I’ve got to gain in going. The old man wants me because of what I can do, not because there’s anything he can teach me. I need a medical school, not some super training.”

Arthur nodded. His brother was right. Not that he understood his insistence on medical school when his power let him heal anything, even stuff he hadn’t studied. It felt like a waste of his brother’s time, but he’d promised not to steamroll any of them.

So he sent him the compromise he’d found.

His brother read the information on his phone. “Pittsburgh School of Medicine?”

“It’s roughly twenty miles from the academy, and it is well rated. They cover almost all medical fields, as well as research.”

“I’d have to apply,” Anakin said, still reading. “And be accepted.”

“I’m sure your grades will get you in,” their father said.

“And if there are complications,” his other father said, “I’m sure Mister Harker will be happy to smooth things over for you.”

“No. I’m getting in under the strength of my studies, not because it was bought.” He looked at Arthur. “So that means my agreement is contingent on that happening.”

Arthur nodded. He knew his brother would be accepted. All the San Francisco medical schools and even a few hospitals were in the process of drafting letters to convince him to continue his studies with them.

“Then, I’m sure he can provide something to make it easier to go back and forth for your super studies,” his father said. “A teleporter, or something.”

“Alex?” his other father asked.

“I’m a shooter,” he said. “I don’t know they have anything to offer me career wise. It’s the military for me, or the SWAT, for as long as they can pass me off as a normal sharpshooter.”

“Harker has a police academy,” Arthur said, and Alex stared at him.

“Why?”

He shrugged. He had his theories. But he didn’t want to be the know-it-all.

“They’re going to be teaching superheroes,” Albert mused. “Makes sense they teach them proper procedure.”

“Then they teach law,” Alex replied, scanning his phone.

“No, Police officers don’t need to know the law,” Albert said. “Just how to legally arrest someone, and other stuff like that. Lawyers are the ones who need to know the law.”

“Ballistics,” Alex murmured, reading. “Criminology. Crime scene analysis.” He chuckled. “Even crime scene cleanup.” He read silently for a few minutes.

“I’m going to be bored no matter where we go,” Adam said. “So I’m in.” He blurred away.

“Okay,” Alex finally said. “I guess that having a backup in the sciences relating to police work would be useful. Someone will figure out I’m a parahuman at some point, and this lets me stay involved so I can help when needed.”

“I wasn’t even planning on higher education,” Aaron said. “So I’m willing to go, but I don’t know what I can do.”

“The guys there,” Aiden said.

“You offering all those you plan on bedding?”

“Finley has a population of six thousand and twenty-eight adults,” Arthur said. “Half of that are male. I think it’s enough we can all find our own.”

“And you can share,” their father said. “You are a family. That is one place you don’t have to compete.”

His other father smiled. “It sounds like you’ve reached a consensus.”

“We’re going,” Arthur said, unable to contain his excitement. This was going to be fun. And he should be able to find a way into the servers from the inside. He also couldn’t wait to study the technology they were using. Maybe he’d be able to talk with the parahumans responsible for the security and the construction.

Arthur was smart enough to know there was a lot he could learn from others like him.

“Alright,” his father said. “Then, Anakin, we need to sit down and go over the application for the medical school. We want to expedite this if we want to make sure they have space left for you.”

They would. Arthur would see to it.

“I’ll get on finding them a house,” his other father said. “Or should they use the dorms?”

“House!” they replied as one.

“I’m not having to sneak around just to be with my brothers,” Alex said.

“And can you imaging Art containing his tech to one dorm room?” Aiden added, pointing up. “He’s already taking half the floor.”

“I think the houses in Pennsylvania have basements,” his other father said. “It would make Tracy’s dig more true.”

“Won’t be my parent’s basement,” Arthur said.

“We will be the ones paying for it, Art,” his father said. “That makes it ours. So don’t think you can just upgrade it into some super intelligent bunker, or something.”

Arthur snorted. Like a generator capable of powering something like that could easily be hidden from the neighbors? He’d have to bury it under the house.

He pulled his phone and did a search for geological surveys of the Finley area. If it stood on the right kind of rock formation he—

“Arthur’s planning something,” Aiden sing-sang from over his shoulder.

Arthur glared at his brother’s seat and found it vacated. He looked over his shoulder. “I just want to make sure the foundations are going to be solid.”

Aiden smiled. “You know I can hear it when you lie, right?”

“No, you can’t.”

“Your voice gets this nearly imperceptible treble when you do.”

“Do we need to go in and check?” his fathers ask in unison.

Arthur sighed. “Alright. I won’t do anything.” He stopped all thoughts about variations of the plan he’d been forming. To maintain their secrecy now would mean forgoing time with his fathers now that they suspected. And no secret was worth that sacrifice when he was looking at being away from them in a few months.