Gestation by John Gold (love books to read .txt) 📗

talking with anyone else. Because the fight took place outside the orphanage, Eliza had only been able to get information about it two weeks before, back when she was thinking about what the boy had said. “You created a situation that hurt me, whether you meant to or not.” Even if it wasn’t exactly right, it was deep. Children don’t think the same way adults do, and Anji had expressed what was on his mind the only way he knew how. There was no way she could miss that depth of thought, and that was why she had set to work studying the boy’s mental capacities. She’d set up a separate room in the center, Vaalsie having approved her idea. He had an interest in it, too.

Anji stopped and looked directly at the one-way mirror Eliza was standing behind. His angry scowl was fixed on her, and soon he opened his mouth.

“Miss Donovan, children don’t know how stationary generators for force fields work, though they’re very good at sensing the electromagnetic waves all living creatures give off. The more tense the person is, the stronger the waves.”

He tossed the test away and walked out of the room.

∞ ∞ ∞

All I wanted was to leave the orphanage quietly and peacefully. I didn’t instigate the fight, I didn’t make noise, and I didn’t say anything. Basically, I did everything I could to avoid drawing attention. The other idiots have no desire to work for them, and all they want to do is destroy what’s better than them or beyond their comprehension… That’s when I stopped talking. I was moved to another sector in the orphanage, and things worked out there well enough at the beginning.

But no, those little monsters can never get enough. They slipped me special exams to test my knowledge in different areas, all after I took care to mess up on the modules for the previous academic year to make sure I flew under the radar. I’ve spent the last couple of months looking for ways to get myself transferred to a private orphanage in Arpa. If I passed the tests for my basic education, they might not let me go. There’s a law Vaalsie could use to keep me here as a promising citizen.

It’s specifically because of that that I do my best to hide my mental capacities. I’ve been thinking a lot better since I picked up the other streams of consciousness. Even if I’m working on external data with just two streams, the multiplier is significant. I can use up to four without threatening my health and causing a nosebleed, so I leave the other streams of consciousness to work within my consciousness by calculating plans and goals.

It took me two months to set up that thought process. Currently, I’m superior to your average person intellectually, though I don’t want just anyone to be able to use me for their own purposes. Working with a bunch of streams always damages your health, but this way I can at least control it and mitigate the risks.

Again, I have to force things along. Vaalsie found out from Eliza that I was collecting information on ship-building, and now they’re keeping track of their cash cow—me—to make sure they get their special budget grants.

I’m free until the end of the day, and there aren’t any punishments, so I can get back to work on freeing myself. I have to put my plan into action now if I want it to be ready in a year.

Two months ago, I started putting together information on ways to get out from under Vaalsie and Eliza’s guardianship. I’m going to need a different guardian I can control, turning down anyone who wants information about me and my business. Of course, I could flash Eliza and her limitations the red flag and be done with her, but that would require setting up a private orphanage for promising children. It sounds crazy, but that’s how I can trigger the process for moving kids to an orphanage that’s better for their development and well-being. That practice is widespread throughout the space colonies. Governments, after all, do what they can for their best.

I’m an orphan who holds no value for the colony until I pick up a basic education, and that’s why the transfer protocol for moving me to another orphanage in a different nation should be approved. Currently, I’m ballast the station could buoy itself by cutting ties with. I have to get into other sectors in the station and use an anonymous account to collect information via usual terminals—the same capsules, just for anyone to use. I store all the information I collect in anonymous accounts. I already have an anonymous bank account, but there isn’t any money left in it. Everything went toward covering small purchases via virtual spaces.

For a plan like mine, I’m going to need a lot of money. Property in Arpa is a lot more expensive than in our colony, and I need more than just a simple room for a child. I need a small building, fake administrators, and other kids. I have my plan, though I need to get the process moving. I even found someone in Arpa who can create the orphanage and look for promising kids.

Malcolm Shultz takes care of problems in “my name.” The primary advantage anonymous accounts offer is the ability to choose any avatar for a virtual space. Everyone in virtual reality now thinks I’m a man around forty-five years of age, wearing a sharp suit, with a bald head, and round glasses. My face is intelligent, and the space looks like the office of a successful businessman from Lunar. And there’s the person I need to talk to.

“Hi, Malcolm.”

“Hi, Mr. Bork.”

I’d worked my image around an immigrant from Lunar, David Bork. That’s the mask I use in virtual space, and it opens lots of doors usual citizens can’t get through.

“How are things? Any problems?”

“No, everything’s good, Mr. Bork. We got permission to found an orphanage for