Without meeting my eyes, he explains, “It’s a program at school that tests how well we can manage our abilities.

“I took top marks in the control competition.

“Tell her your good news,” March prompts him. What if March stops loving him because of me? He’s never had anybody who belonged to him before he went straight into crèche-rearing because of his unusual gift, and he was five turns old before March found him. I don’t blame the kid for feeling insecure. He’s shy with me, still, worried that I’ll prove more important to his uncle, whom he calls Dad. We sit down to eat, and Sasha has to be coaxed to speak. Different time streams, different ’verses. I keep forgetting how long it seems like it’s been, and how long it’s actually been. I wonder if they’re already in wide commercial production off world. The servo-bot is already setting the food out this rectangular model with food-prep capacity inside reminds me of the ones on Ithiss-Tor. ” March leads the way to a table out on the balcony. Time to forget that idea and resign yourself to what’s possible. But what worked for me wouldn’t suffice for Sasha. Even dealing with an AI for lessons didn’t deter my determination to join the academy, as soon as I realized I met the criteria to be a jumper. I didn’t mind I loved ships, and I loved the freedom. When I was thirteen, my parents took to traveling, mostly because the gallery wasn’t doing well, and I suspect my mother was getting involved in shady matters, even then, maybe even for the reason she claimed-that my father had no head for business, and they were drowning in debt.įrom that point on, my attendance at school was sporadic at best. He’s not an average kid who can be raised in the haphazard way I was. I recall what he said before, and nothing’s changed Sasha needs to attend school. I’m not going to convince him to come with me. A tiny hope I didn’t realize I’d been nurturing shrivels up and puffs away in my next breath. He left me twice, and I never tried to stop him from doing what he thought was right. But if he were the portraits on my walls, he would be the one going away.

Aftermath ann aguirre