Crow - The Awakening (3 page)

Steven sulked, pecking at his scrambled eggs with his fork. "It hasn't hurt Brandon." He just wanted to download some hacking software for his project and it was easier at Brandon's. They had a great connection to the Internet. How else was he going to find his parents? But he couldn't tell his godparents that. They were already too strict on computers as it is. If they knew what Steven was doing they'd probably ground him to his room and chores until he was gray and old. Jonah didn't answer Steven's perfectly logical reasoning. Sighing, Steven finished his plate and put it in the sink after rinsing it off.

"I'll be out by the truck." Steven grabbed a handful of figs and walked out, dejected, dragging his feet a little as he walked to emphasize his displeasure.

Sally looked at Jonah while chewing. Jonah sighed and shook his head. The kid was brilliant and bucking against the limitations pretty hard. He and Sally had all but given up computers ten years ago when they sold their shares in a technical research and development company and moved out to the hills to raise Steven.

"It's going to be harder and harder as he gets older. All of his friends have computers," Sally said, wiping her mouth with her napkin.

"Telling him the truth won't make it any easier." He got up, grabbing the last fig from the tin. "See you at the market?"

Sally nodded and gathered up their dishes as he left.

The trip to the market was fairly quiet while Steven fumed. They had told him about the dangers but he was smarter than they gave him credit for, and he was ten years old. Most certainly not a baby anymore. He sniffed as he stared out the window watching the trees and scattering farm fields and vineyards go by on their short trip to town.

"You ready for school?" Jonah hoped to distract him from his foul mood. Steven really enjoyed school. They homeschooled Steven and he soaked in everything he could learn and was always looking for more. He was already three grades ahead of what he normally would be at his age. Jonah wondered sometimes if he was reading the town library's collection over yet again completely, checking books out and disappearing into the forest to where ever it was that he went to read them.

Steven tried to think of something negative to say, but drew a blank. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Eighth grade already. Can you believe it?" Jonah gushed. He was amazed at how fast the kid was progressing.

Steven grunted, milking his sour mood out for as long as he could. The prospect of new textbooks and yet another level of schooling did excite him, but he tried hard to not show it.

Jonah looked at him then back at the road. "What were the years the Civil War was fought?"

Steven sighed. They often played this game. "1861 to 1865." He fiddled with the fraying weather stripping on the window.

"Hmmm. What was Black Tuesday?" He looked sideways at the pouting boy.

"The Wall Street Crash of 1829," Steven sighed loudly.

"What year was Black Tuesday?" Jonah grinned.

Steven was about to answer then stopped and looked at Jonah. "Really?" Jonah laughed out loud.

Steven grinned and straightened himself in the seat then sobered. "I just don't understand why you are so afraid."

Jonah was quiet for a while then looked at Steven. "There are some really bad things that are going on, Steven. I've seen it. I don't expect you to understand right now. All I ask is that you respect our limitations."

Steven sighed again. "Yes, sir." The forest started thinning and Steven watched the occasional farm house pass by, wondering if his godparents would ever relax about computers. After all, it was his parents that were missing, not theirs, and searching the computer networks was the only way Steven knew to look for information about them.

The market was held on city property near the quaint courthouse every weekend all year round. It was a combination crafts market and farmers market, and was frequented by art and food connoisseurs as well as professionals. The seasons caused the balance between crafts and vegetable product to ebb and flow but it always drew a crowd. Some people came for the ambiance. Others were art collectors who resold what they found to businesses and restaurants in their respective cities. Steven's main customers were chefs looking for distinctive honeys, though he did sell to a fair share of honey to enthusiasts, too. Every region blessed their honey with its own distinctive flavor and his was popular.

Jonah finished helping Steven set up his little honey booth. It was a modest but sturdy handmade table with a homemade display for his jars of honey and extra jars tucked underneath in their cases. Jonah really liked playing in his little woodshop, milling select trees into lumber for the various projects they had on the farm. And was a big believer in using what they had on hand as much as possible. The result for Steven's display was rustic, but very solid and durable. He mussed Steven's head then moved a few stalls down to his own booth which currently displayed the current harvest of the late summer season. That harvest consisted mostly of squashes, pumpkins, fresh beans, corn and a big display of wild harvested mushrooms. Steven looked at the display and thought about how much he loved helping Jonah with his stacks of wood that he cultivated mushrooms on, as well as scouring the forest around their property looking for wild mushrooms. If he had to choose one thing to eat, it would be mushrooms. Or figs. Steven thought for a second but was unable to decide between the two.

Farther down was Sally's stall. She had just arrived and started setting up her stoneware, pottery, glassware and woodenware that she made in her little shop on the farm. She had discovered working with clay when they first moved out to the hills and had taken to it obsessively. Most of their dishes were made in her shop, even the glasses they drank from. She even had a limited selection of silver jewelry that she had just started experimenting with, too. Sally's wavy blond hair was pinned back and she wore a flowery apron as she got her displays set up and ready for customers.

By comparison, Steven's little booth was less colorful. But he did start experimenting with waxes and soaps with the help of Sally, so it wasn't all just jars of honey. But he loved honey so he wasn't complaining.

"You forgot this, gloomy." Sally plopped the basket with Steven's lunch on the honey table, and adjusted his display. He grumped and adjusted the display back. She grinned as she walked toward her booth. "You're welcome?"

"Thanks." With her infectious effervescence, it was hard to stay mad at her. He peeked under the homespun cloth napkin covering his lunch and saw that she included a small jar of canned peaches and a spoon along with the sandwich he had put together. He tried hard to not look too pleased as he tucked the basket under the table.

As he did so, he saw a pair of black leather shoes peeking under the tablecloth and heard a jar clinking up above. Steven stood up quickly to see a smartly dressed man with a graying, close trimmed goatee, wearing a tweed sport coat and gray slacks. He was holding a jar of his honey up to the sun, examining its clarity.

"Oh, hello, Dr. Dougherty." Steven smiled. Dr. Dougherty was the town psychiatrist, but more importantly to Steven, his beekeeping protégé and friend. He had helped the physician revive his ailing hives earlier this season and was rather proud of the work they accomplished. "How are the bees?"

The doctor looked down at Steven and put the jar down. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he extracted a small jar of dark honey. "Spectacular, Steven. Absolutely spectacular." He grinned, handing the jar to Steven. "My first harvest this year and the honey is sublime. A hint of citrus, of all things." He shook his head. "I have seen it and still find it hard to believe. Your methods are completely unorthodox from everything I had learned before, and yet I have never seen hives become as strong as these."

Steven blushed. "Well, it's not all me. It's just observing the bees and working with what you learn. More than a few other 'beeks' are doing it too." He had picked up quite a bit of information sneaking on the internet, actually. But a lot was still instinctive for him. He was trying to teach Jonah also, but Jonah was still a little skittish around the bees.

"Of course. Thank you nonetheless, young Master Crow," he said, giving a little bow. The psychiatrist looked at his watch. "Ah. I need to visit a few more stalls before my next appointment." He straightened his jacket. "Come by the yard sometime. I could use your opinion on whether or not to combine a couple of late swarms before winter sets in."

"Sure." Steven tucked the small jar of honey into his lunch basket as Dr. Dougherty walked off, noticing that he stopped briefly at another booth a few stalls down. Steven wondered if he could get him to talk to his parents about computers. He was a therapist and may know how to reach them better than he's been able to.

"I see James stopped by." Jonah walked over grinning, startling Steven. "How're his bees?"

"I think he's pretty happy with them." Steven tried hard to be modest. He was very thrilled that his advice was working out so well for the man.

"Yeah, pretty happy." Jonah laughed. "I've seen his little yard and his hives are already five and six deeps tall. Happy is an understatement. Just ten years old and you're already getting consulting gigs. You'll be a hard act to follow soon." Something caught Jonah's eye. "Hey, Brandon. Back in town already?"

Steven looked around Jonah as a tall, lanky young teen pulled up to the booth on his dual sport motorcycle. Steven could tell that Brandon had been modifying the motorcycle again and wondered what changes he had applied to it this time around.

"Yes, sir, Mr. Crow. Mom and Dad dropped me off last night." Brandon turned the motorcycle off and removed his helmet, shaking his auburn hair.

"Another wine tasting?" Jonah asked.

"Yeah. Hopefully next year they'll be able to host their own wine tasting." Brandon said. His parents were recreational viticulturists with high aspirations of introducing yet another classy vintage into their little circle of wine producers.

"Well, you tell them the cuttings they gave me are growing great!" Jonah said, smiling widely. Brandon nodded as Jonah noticed another customer coming up to his booth.

"'Sup, Steven?" Brandon balanced on his motorcycle, grinning. Jonah gave Steven a knowing look, then rushed back to his booth to help the customer. "Coming over? I got a bunch of new games to play," Brandon whispered conspiratorially when Jonah was out of earshot.

Steven glanced at his godfather who was sacking up some squash for a customer. "Can't. The usual." He rolled his eyes. "I really wish your parents wouldn't disappear as soon as you get in town."

Brandon smirked. "Well, I guess they're happy to get away from me for a while."

"I need you to download something for me, though." Steven dug in his pocket and pulled out a piece of sketch paper he had scribbled instructions on, glancing over at Jonah to be sure he wasn't eavesdropping. "Just follow this. Same as always."

"If the site is available." Brandon frowned as he looked at the file name.

"Huh?" Steven looked at Brandon, confused.

"The jailbreak site you gave me is down. Slashdotted hard, man," Brandon said, waving the paper.

"Really?" Steven looked over at Jonah to make sure their conversation still wasn't being eavesdropped on.

"Yep. Went to Slashdot and they had a post about an article on that server. Now nothing works," Brandon sighed. "My phone upgraded and the old jailbreak doesn't work anymore."

"Give it a couple of days or so," Steven said. "It usually clears out after that."

"A couple of boring days gaming on my own," Brandon said, looking over at Jonah and shaking his head.

"Sorry. Not until your parents get back." Steven sighed as he played absentmindedly with his honey display.

"Man, you're missing some killer action." Brandon stuffed the paper in his pocket and
fiddled with
his helmet. "Really sucks. No one else can keep up like you can."

"Maybe next week, if your parents don't run off," Steven said. Brandon's parents were often busy doing stuff around the house and their little vineyard so it was easy to sneak in some game playing time. "See you at the same place?"

Brandon nodded as he put his helmet back on. They bumped fists and he started the bike and zoomed off, swerving to avoid a poodle. Steven cracked a smile as the owner of the poodle shouted something at Brandon and picked the scared dog up.

Steven sighed, and got back to tending his booth. A few times he actually had a line. He loved seeing his regulars come up and rave about his honey. They brought back their empty jars and the canvas bags his godmother had sewn together for his business so Steven could reuse them, and walked away with fresh jars of honey. As he was pulling more jars from the case to fill the display back up, someone plopped a small box on the table, still taped up from shipping. His eyes got big, and he grabbed it and opened it.

"My JTAG tool and memory! Sweet!" The JTAG tool was used to write data to certain chips. Steven looked back over to his godparents who remained busy, then up at the person who brought the box. He was a short, stocky, graying man with metal rim glasses on his nose and a big smile. "Thanks, Dmitri. How much do I owe you?"

The town's computer serviceman and librarian thought for a moment, then raised an eyebrow. "Five pounds."

"What? That's crazy! I could get away with three pounds easy." Steven looked appalled, pushing the box away from him.

"That JTAG tool was really hard to get for the chip you want to program. And there's wireless specs in there too that you don't get just anywhere." He smirked, pushing the box back.

Steven looked in the box and saw the booklet and flash drive tucked away in there. "Well, I might be able to part with four pounds. But I'm really pushing it."

"Deal!" The Russian beamed. They always haggled like this and it was a game they both enjoyed. While most of his customers needed a virus cleaned or a repair, Steven really pushed the limits of his resources for the computer project he was working on. Grinning, Steven bagged up four bottles of his honey in a sewn canvas sack and pushed it toward him. "Don't forget to bring the bottles and bag back when you're done."