The Descendant

After more conversation and I was done with my tea and the single cookie I allowed myself--the recital was tomorrow, after all--I went upstairs to read the owners manual that Uncle Tony had sent, but found myself too keyed up to concentrate. So it was out over the roof to my spot by the chimney to stargaze and relax so I could get some sleep. I was feeling calmer when I heard the front door open and Grandpa and Aunt Amy came out. During the post-dinner thing in the library, Alan had brought Grandpa's two seater pod around so that he could leave whenever he wanted. "I wish mine had that summon feature that Lys has," he chuckled.

"So who leaned on Tony Stark?" Aunt Amy asked.

"Well, he and Alex are still very close," Grandpa said. "After that nightmare party, I told Dan that he had to try to make amends and told him to get her a pod. I know that she likes purple, so he took that and ran with it. She hates being stuck out in the sticks, reliant on somebody else to go anywhere, so this gives her some independence. She's got good judgment and is really reliable, so this is a reward. Tony was at the party, you met him there, and when I contacted him, he offered right off the bat. I didn't expect that he'd go so over the top or have it done so fast, though," he said musingly.

"It's about time something good happens to her, I think," Aunt Amy said. Grandpa sighed.

"I can't remember the last time I saw her look so happy, which makes me mad at myself. I should have seen it before and done something."

"Well, teenagers are a moody lot to begin with," Aunt Amy said bracingly. "Don't beat yourself up, Marky-Mark. Her parents have to shoulder their responsibility." She paused. "I wonder if Tony'd make another one." Grandpa laughed and I heard the door open.

"I know. Up until an hour ago, I loved my pod." The doors closed and there was a whisper of displaced air as the pod moved down the drive. I peeked over the peak of the roof to see Aunt Amy stroll back into the house, then walked down to the edge and swung myself into my room. I wasn't ready to go to bed yet, though, and took a celebratory bubble bath and started in on the owners manual. It was a lot longer than I'd expected.

The next morning, Miles and Iris showed up after breakfast and I took pleasure in summoning my pod to show it off. They laughed at the Uncle Tony avatar and I explained some of the other facts I'd learned about the pod from my reading so far. "If I go on trips, there's an integrated chiller; I can fill up a reservoir with water and have a cold drink as we go along," I said. "And if I get sick when I'm in the pod, it can take me to the nearest hospital if it's bad enough."

"Wow," said Iris. She was sitting in the seat, touching the luxurious, stylish appointments. "Can I take it for a spin around?" She looked for the start button, but there wasn't one.

"Propulsion engages only when the door is shut," AI Tony informed us. "Which Lys would know if she'd finished the manual last night."

"It's almost a hundred and thirty pages! In dense print! Hasn't Uncle Tony heard of formatting docs for readers?" I protested, but the avatar waved this off.

"She'd also know that I'm a one-person pod," the avatar continued. "Only Lys can operate me. Safety feature. I'm not going anywhere without her."

"Mom's going to be after Uncle Tony to put one of these programs in our pods," Miles said. "What else does it do? I'm sure he built in all sorts of weird things."

"If by weird, you mean unique, fantastic, and useful, of course... Miles," the avatar said. We looked at each other in surprise. "I can match voice prints against a database of known family members. There's a feature that allows Lys to put the perfume of her choice in a little bladder to gently scent the air." On cue, a lovely scent insinuated itself; it was lightly floral, but had a lot of green notes like violets, pretty and mysterious, but not heavy.

"I love that," I said, leaning in and sniffing a bit. "What is it?"

"You can get it at Effinger's, a custom scent place in Midtown," AI Tony informed me. "It's called 'Lys.'"

"Good lord," I said, startled. "This pod is worth the awful party. I could practically live here."

"No bathroom, Lys," the avatar said immediately, and we all laughed. "And the seat can't fold flat, it can only achieve about a hundred forty degrees at its fullest recline."

"Still..." Miles said.

After a little more exploration, the twins left, and I patted my pod and regretfully sent it back to the garage.

I put in study time for my finals that afternoon, had a light early dinner, and it was time to go to the recital. I took my pod early, enjoying the aerial ride and even the ride through city traffic. I could see the expressions of interest on the face of pedestrians when they saw my pod and smiled. The nameplate for Stark Automotive was ornate and a second design element, but the pod didn't really need it to announce its specialness to the world. I got to the theater early enough to snag one of the stations backstage with the best lit mirror to help me get ready. A whisper of the pretty perfume clung to me, and I felt on top of the world. We were supposed to stay backstage when not performing, but those of us with siblings in other classes could watch those performances if we stayed absolutely silent, so I got to see Deri's performance from the wings, then it was back to the dressing room for two other classes, then it was my turn. I really felt the music and moved through the choreography with the perfect mix of languor, grace, and technique. After the applause and curtsies, the curtain dropped and we went back to the dressing room to put our street clothes on. I took off the beautiful tutu reluctantly, but brightened up as I found my family waiting for us. There were hugs and compliments dispensed freely, and my teacher came over to congratulate me too, telling my parents that she was very pleased with my progression and that my performance had been one of the very best of the evening.

"Great job, Lys," Uncle Tony said briskly. "How are you liking your pod?"

"It's the best thing ever, Uncle Tony," I said earnestly. "I keep finding all those clever things you put in there. It's amazing." Aunt Ann smiled at me.

"Well, I wouldn't say it was the best thing I've ever done, I've done some pretty terrific things," he said modestly, and laughter bubbled up in my throat. Aunt Ann smiled indulgently at her husband, then rooted in her purse before handing me a cool twist of green and violet glass. It turned out to be the perfume that was in my pod, and I thanked her enthusiastically.

"It's something that's exclusively for your purchase, Lys," she said cheerfully. "They'll keep the formula until you die, then it will be destroyed, and you'll have to show them ID in order to buy more." She patted my shoulder affectionately. "I told them I wanted a beautiful perfume for a lovely and talented young woman, described you a bit, and this is what they came up with. I think it suits you."

Wow. What a day.

I was floating when I got home. I put my stuff away, the perfume taking pride of place on my dresser, then joined the family gathering in the library to celebrate. I took the opportunity to sidle up to Alfred, who was surveying the gathering benignly. After some chatter, I got to the point. "I've taken responsibility for maintaining my room," I told him. "I'll be going to college in a few years and don't want to be the spoiled rich girl who can't take care of herself." He nodded. "I wondered If I could come by one day this summer and get your take on housekeeping. Alan does a great job, but there's always more than one way to do things." Alfred's eyes twinkled at me.

"Of course, Miss Lys. Very forward thinking on your part. When you have your summer schedule, we will set aside some time." I thanked him and moved on. Alan really did do a good job, but I liked Grandma Alex and Grandpa Damian's house better. Alfred must use different cleaning products because it smelled better. Just a warm, happy sort of background smell.

I spent Sunday studying hard, and on Monday, all the teachers had last-minute review sessions. The school was doing things a little differently this semester, having finals for four days, spreading them out sightly more to ease the stress on the students. You'd have one or two finals a day, and since we had seven periods, you had one morning or afternoon to use as a makeup day if you were sick, or to study, or whatever. You had to show up to school, though. I was one of the unlucky ones and had two finals on Friday; my half day was Thursday. We had an hour for lunch each day, though, a real luxury. And Mom asked if I'd like to come down to the museum Friday; she'd have lunch for us in her office. I accepted eagerly. The museum wasn't that far from the school.

Finals were hard, but I felt that I was doing ok. On Thursday, we had our end of class party at the dance studio, which was pretty much refreshments and mingling among all the classes. Ms Kerry made a speech where she congratulated everybody on our progress this class. She spoke privately to several students, including Miles. And me.

I was glad to make it to Friday, with the promise of the special lunch between geography and algebra. It actually took less time to walk than to take the pod because parking was non-existent around the museum and it would take my pod too long to find me. I bounded up the stairs; Mom had left notice with the security guard that I as expected and they waved me in and let me into the staff area. Mom wasn't in her office; I was taken back to the workroom she shared with a few other curators. She was examining two swords. "Just a moment, dear, just let me finish these..." she murmured distractedly.

A moment stretched into thirty minutes, and I had to leave. There wasn't any food to be had back there, so I grabbed a hot dog from a street cart and wolfed it down on the way back to school. I had to work hard to tamp down my anger and focus on algebra, and I didn't have much time to do it in; I made it back to campus with only a few minutes to spare.

We all had to hang in class, even if we finished early, until the teacher called time and collected the tests from the few who didn't finish before. We were released and had to clean out our lockers. I took my time, sorting through the inevitable layer of debris that accumulates over a year, before finally going out and calling my pod. I was glad to be done with school this year. Good riddance. On the way home, I stopped at Barnraising, Grandma Alex's mom's coffee house, the best in the city, for a latte and a pastry. I couldn't stay as long as I wanted, though, Miles and his parents were coming up to the house for dinner. Mom and Dad had been out on a date the night before, and Deri had eaten with Van and her family, so it was the first time I'd seen most of my family for awhile. I didn't say much until Deri asked me how lunch had been.

"I got a hot dog on the way back," I said briefly. She stopped chewing, looking confused, and Grandma Alex turned toward me. "Mom forgot," I said quietly. "I had to hustle to get back to school."

"What?" Deri asked, drawing everybody's attention.

"I don't understand this," Grandma Alex said briskly. Aunt Amy looked between me and Mom and sighed.

"I went to the museum after my geography test," I said, poking my fork at a honey and balsamic glazed carrot. "Mom was examining a couple swords, asked me to wait. But eventually I had to get back to school. It's a fifteen minute walk to the museum each way." I skewered the carrot and ate unenthusiastically.

"Diana," Dad said in exasperation.

"I'm sorry, Lys," Mom said, contrition in her voice, but also a thread of irritation. "You should have said something."

"Why?" I asked bitterly. "You asked me to wait. That it would only be a moment. You didn't have any food in your office anyway. Why do I have to keep reminding you that I'm still in the room?"

"I'm sorry," she repeated, the irritation getting traction. "I have to decide whether to authenticate those swords. They were found in an odd burial mound, and there are rumors that they date from the Trojan War. We have to decide whether to purchase them or not. We don't have much time to determine if they're real."

"You should have cancelled, Diana," Grandpa Damian said. There was rare censure in his voice and his face was stern. "Lys shouldn't have to go on a fruitless errand during finals. Or be overlooked by her mother like that."

"One of the swords looks like junk," I said frigidly, cutting into another, larger carrot chunk fiercely. "The other one might be legit." That cut off whatever anybody else was going to say.

"What?" Mom asked.

"One of the swords has been exposed to the god-touch."

"What?" It could have been a Greek chorus.

"I see the power of the gods, Jesus," I said irritably. "Doesn't anybody remember that I can't actually see my own damn mother? It's like a residue, a taint, that exposure to some sort of divinity. If somebody who has been god-touched strongly enough has something that they keep with them enough for long enough, there's a shadow of that power that transfers to the object. So at least one person with god-touch kept the one sword with them for a long time. And then there's that blade." I shuddered.

"What, Lys?" Miles asked into the silence.

I pushed my plate away, suddenly uninterested in food. "It must have stabbed something.... really uncanny. It's gross."

"What do you mean?" Dad asked.

"It's like color coding. So people like Mom, those touched by the Greek gods, have a golden glow to them. The Roman pantheon is less intense, probably because their gods are more or less copies of the Greek gods. Grandma Alex is kind of greenish. Those from the Abrahamic traditions are kind of white. There's a priest in that little Catholic church between the high school and Wayne who's probably a saint. The imam for the mosque on the way home. There are a few rabbis I've seen on the streets. Anybody who has a direct relationship of some kind with a god has the faintest possible glow to them, they're essentially colorless, but those ones are special. I don't know what all the other pantheons are like, though. There are flashes of different colors here and there. More than you might think. That sword that Grandpa Damian won off his grandfather crawls with the weird. That kopesh that Grandma Alex picked up in Egypt is another kettle of fish too. But that sword in the museum is like nothing I've ever seen or want to again. It must have stuck something really nasty."

That all set off a lively chatter. "Lys, honey, could you come to the museum with me this weekend?" Mom asked. I looked at her incredulously. "It's just that the pharaoh is making his first visit to the White House and the UN. He's going to stop at the museum and wants to see our collection. It would be really helpful if we knew--"

"No." I was adamant.

"Lysippe, it would only to identify--"

"What part of no don't you get?" I said loudly. "You're perfectly happy to ignore me until there's something you want. I should have known this past week or two was too good to last. I can't even remember the last time you called me 'honey.' It's always just Lys or Lysippe, depending on how irritating you find me. Maybe a 'dear' if you're feeling particularly generous."

"She has a point, Diana," Grandma Alex said, her tone clipped. "I'm a little ashamed of you." Wow. That was new. She doesn't have any authority over Mom, she's Dad's however-many-great grandma.

"So, Lys, what did Miss Kerry want to talk to you about?" Miles said, seeing to change the subject. "She's set up an audition at American Ballet Company for me. I saw her take you into her office. It must have been really something." He smiled at me.

I burst into tears.