Morning sunlight sliced through the living room blinds, casting warm stripes across the carpet.
Carrie had burst into Ava's room at dawn, dragging her out of bed. Now, Ava stood in the hallway, wearing a stiff denim skirt with lace trim and two tight pigtails.
Carrie patted Ava's cheek, looking incredibly proud of her work, before heading downstairs to cook bacon.
Ava let out a heavy sigh. She walked into the living room. Cody sat cross-legged on the sofa, staring at a scrambled Rubik's cube. His dark eyes were intensely focused.
Ava sat down next to him, trying to build a normal sibling bond.
"Those are really hard," Ava said casually. "I never figured out how to solve one."
Cody didn't look up. His long fingers suddenly blurred. A sharp, rapid-fire series of plastic clicks filled the air.
Click-clack-snap.
Less than three seconds later, Cody slammed the perfectly solved cube onto the glass coffee table.
He turned his head slowly. "Spatial logic reconstruction. Time elapsed: two point eight seconds." He stared dead into Ava's eyes. "Your cognitive processing speed is severely defective."
Ava choked on her own breath. Her mouth formed a hard line. This kid was a complete nightmare.
She stood up, deciding not to argue with a ten-year-old psychopath, and walked down the hall toward Jerimiah's study. She needed to see the one normal person in this house.
The study door was cracked open. The rapid clatter of a mechanical keyboard drifted out.
Ava pushed the door open quietly, wanting to surprise him.
She poked her head in. Jerimiah sat in a leather chair, his back to the door. In front of him were three massive, curved monitors.
Waterfalls of green code cascaded down the left screen. The center screen displayed a high-resolution, live satellite tracking map.
Jerimiah held a thick, heavy hardcover book in his left hand.
Ava took a step closer and read the title aloud. "Advanced Server Farm Thermal Cloaking and Anti-Surveillance?"
Jerimiah's entire body flinched. It was a violent, full-body jolt.
He slammed the book shut. His right hand shot under the desk, his fingers instinctively hitting a hidden mechanical switch mounted beneath the wood, preparing to purge the system.
He realized the voice belonged to Ava. He froze.
In a fraction of a second, Jerimiah forced his facial muscles to relax into his usual, dull expression. He spun his chair around.
At the exact same moment, his left foot stomped down on a red pedal hidden under the desk.
The screens flickered. The satellite maps and code vanished, instantly replaced by bright, colorful stock market graphs and a massive game of Solitaire.
Ava blinked, pointing at the heavy book in his lap. "What are you reading that for?"
Jerimiah cleared his throat. He pushed his thick glasses up his nose. Sweat prickled at his hairline.
"Well, kiddo," Jerimiah stammered, his brain working in overdrive. "Servers get really hot. If I don't hide the heat signature, the EPA drones will spot it. The fines for energy waste are huge."
Ava's eyes widened in understanding. Of course. He was a struggling IT guy trying to save money on his electric bill by dodging government regulations. It made perfect sense.
"That's really smart, Dad," Ava said, looking at him with genuine admiration.
Jerimiah stared at her bright, trusting eyes. A cold drop of sweat rolled down his spine. He let out a shaky breath, thanking God for his reflexes.
