by Kat Heckenbach -
Gavin lifted his head, blinking. His eyes ached from straining over the microscope. Dr. Spiner had shown him how to work all the buttons and dials, how to focus and find the tiniest of particles. It had been fun at first, but today’s work was boring and Gavin couldn’t stop his mind from wandering.
“Dr. Spiner?”
The wizard-scientist’s eyes were all that moved. And at that they only peeked out from under his shaggy bangs for a moment.
“I know it’s late, and you’re tired, son. It won’t be much longer though.” His hands shuffled nimbly among the various instruments in front of him.
“I just had a question, sir.”
“Hm?”
“What’s your first name?” Gavin hoped he hadn’t crossed a line by asking. It had only been a few months since he started his apprenticeship with Dr. Spiner, and the scientist had never treated Gavin like the child he was. Other than calling him son—which put a lump in Gavin’s throat each time he thought about it even though he knew it was just a nickname.
Dr. Spiner raised his whole head this time. “It’s Spiner, of course.”
Gavin felt his forehead scrunch. “But…but you’re Doctor Spiner. I thought…”
The scientist shifted on his stool. “What kind of first name is Doctor?” He smiled, but it was a smile that didn’t travel to his eyes.
The smile dropped and he sighed. “My first name is Spiner, Gavin. I abandoned my last name years ago. I suppose it’s still in my records, but no one knows it, not here. I’m just Spiner…or Doctor Spiner. And no one, until you, has asked me about it.”
Gavin’s skin flushed hot. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to…” He reached for the microscope again, but before he could put his eye against the lens Dr. Spiner was standing beside him. Gavin slowly looked up and met his dark eyes.
“I don’t mind, Gavin. I come from a family I’m not very proud of, that’s all.” The scientist lifted his hand and stroked a stray hair from Gavin’s face. “You don’t have a last name either, do you?”
“Just what the other kids call me. “
“And that would be?”
Gavin swallowed, throat burning. “Talker.”
This time the scientist’s smile lit up his whole face. “Seems we both need one then.” He turned, grabbed his stool and pulled it over. When he was seated, he leaned his elbow on the tabletop, work seemingly forgotten. “What shall our new last name be, son?”
Showing posts with label gavin. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gavin. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Friday, August 12, 2011
Missed Lift
by Kat Heckenbach -
The lift doors shut with a quiet hiss as Robynn watched the man—‘droid?—disappear around a corner at the other end of the corridor. She shook her head and jabbed the touch panel again, angry that she’d gotten so distracted and now had to wait on another lift when someone could come by at any moment and throw a fit about her being where she didn’t belong.
Angrier that Denton and Strand had abandoned her…
Angriest because she knew she didn’t dare say a word to them about it. She needed their protection. They were the toughest urchins she knew, besides Ave. But Ave couldn’t be around all the time to stop them—or anyone else—from picking on Robynn. Better to befriend the bullies than be bullied by them. It was a matter of survival.
Tears burned her eyes and she chewed at her lip. It wasn’t her fault she had no home, no parents. So why did she have to be treated like a stray dog?
The metal wall in front of her hummed, and a ping sounded with each change of number above the door. The lift was close. Robynn shifted her weight nervously from one leg to the other. Hurry up, hurry up…
And then movement caught in the corner of her eye. She snapped her head to the side, expecting to see a grown-up, someone ready to scream at her (filthy little urchin!), and threaten to call Level Security. But it was a boy, crossing past the end of the corridor.
She stepped away from the lift doors just as they opened and jogged along the edge of the wall. When she reached the end, she peeked around the corner.
He snuck along, glancing side to side, like he was playing “secret agent.” His clothes were clean, his hair trimmed, and he’d gained a few pounds, but Robynn still recognized him.
Gavin.
What was he doing here? Ave had told Robynn…well, something. It was always something. Excuses for why Gavin never seemed to be around.
Robynn skulked along the adjacent corridor, following as Gavin rounded the next corner. He stopped in front of a door and she ducked behind a support column, pressing her cheek against the cold metal.
The door opened, and Gavin stepped through. A man’s hushed voice said, “You weren’t followed?”
“No, sir.”
“You’re sure? There were some kids poking around earlier.”
“No, sir.”
A grunt, and then the man leaned his head and shoulders out the door, facing away from Robynn. She held her breath as he turned in her direction. It took everything she had not to gasp. It was him—the ‘droid!
The lift doors shut with a quiet hiss as Robynn watched the man—‘droid?—disappear around a corner at the other end of the corridor. She shook her head and jabbed the touch panel again, angry that she’d gotten so distracted and now had to wait on another lift when someone could come by at any moment and throw a fit about her being where she didn’t belong.
Angrier that Denton and Strand had abandoned her…
Angriest because she knew she didn’t dare say a word to them about it. She needed their protection. They were the toughest urchins she knew, besides Ave. But Ave couldn’t be around all the time to stop them—or anyone else—from picking on Robynn. Better to befriend the bullies than be bullied by them. It was a matter of survival.
Tears burned her eyes and she chewed at her lip. It wasn’t her fault she had no home, no parents. So why did she have to be treated like a stray dog?
The metal wall in front of her hummed, and a ping sounded with each change of number above the door. The lift was close. Robynn shifted her weight nervously from one leg to the other. Hurry up, hurry up…
And then movement caught in the corner of her eye. She snapped her head to the side, expecting to see a grown-up, someone ready to scream at her (filthy little urchin!), and threaten to call Level Security. But it was a boy, crossing past the end of the corridor.
She stepped away from the lift doors just as they opened and jogged along the edge of the wall. When she reached the end, she peeked around the corner.
He snuck along, glancing side to side, like he was playing “secret agent.” His clothes were clean, his hair trimmed, and he’d gained a few pounds, but Robynn still recognized him.
Gavin.
What was he doing here? Ave had told Robynn…well, something. It was always something. Excuses for why Gavin never seemed to be around.
Robynn skulked along the adjacent corridor, following as Gavin rounded the next corner. He stopped in front of a door and she ducked behind a support column, pressing her cheek against the cold metal.
The door opened, and Gavin stepped through. A man’s hushed voice said, “You weren’t followed?”
“No, sir.”
“You’re sure? There were some kids poking around earlier.”
“No, sir.”
A grunt, and then the man leaned his head and shoulders out the door, facing away from Robynn. She held her breath as he turned in her direction. It took everything she had not to gasp. It was him—the ‘droid!
Monday, May 30, 2011
Words
by Kat Heckenbach -
Gavin stood next to the wizard—gotta stop thinking that…he says he don’t mind, but if I slip up and say it out there he could get busted—who wiped his hand on his already smudged lab coat. Thick, black bangs hung in his eyes as he peered into a bubbling test tube. And he keeps tellin’ me I need a haircut.
The table in front of them was covered with odd-looking equipment that whispered with ticks and whirs. Shiny steel and tarnished brass competed for dominance between modern technology and—what’s that word Ave told me once…oh, yeah—Victorian.
“Dr. Spiner, tell me again why you use this old stuff? It looks archaic.”
The man peeked out from behind his bangs and gave the strange smile he always did when Gavin used words for older people.
“Newer isn’t always better, son. Especially when you’re studying things of such antiquity.” The wiz—scientist winked and looked back at the table, then reached for a spindly metal contraption without further explanation.
Antiquity was the kind of word no one but Ave would use when speaking to him, at least not without patting him on the head and giving him a dumbed-down definition. But Dr. Spiner had trusted him to understand. Gavin bit his lip to stop the grin that wanted to push his cheeks out with pride.
And then, as he climbed onto a stool for a better view, he realized Dr. Spiner had used another word no one had ever spoken to him before. A word that made his eyes burn pleasantly with tears.
Son.
Gavin stood next to the wizard—gotta stop thinking that…he says he don’t mind, but if I slip up and say it out there he could get busted—who wiped his hand on his already smudged lab coat. Thick, black bangs hung in his eyes as he peered into a bubbling test tube. And he keeps tellin’ me I need a haircut.
The table in front of them was covered with odd-looking equipment that whispered with ticks and whirs. Shiny steel and tarnished brass competed for dominance between modern technology and—what’s that word Ave told me once…oh, yeah—Victorian.
“Dr. Spiner, tell me again why you use this old stuff? It looks archaic.”
The man peeked out from behind his bangs and gave the strange smile he always did when Gavin used words for older people.
“Newer isn’t always better, son. Especially when you’re studying things of such antiquity.” The wiz—scientist winked and looked back at the table, then reached for a spindly metal contraption without further explanation.
Antiquity was the kind of word no one but Ave would use when speaking to him, at least not without patting him on the head and giving him a dumbed-down definition. But Dr. Spiner had trusted him to understand. Gavin bit his lip to stop the grin that wanted to push his cheeks out with pride.
And then, as he climbed onto a stool for a better view, he realized Dr. Spiner had used another word no one had ever spoken to him before. A word that made his eyes burn pleasantly with tears.
Son.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Midnight Song
by Kat Heckenbach -
“Sir, they’re singing.”
Spiner looked up from his lab table and found the boy staring through the tiny porthole into the pitch black of space. Surely he’d heard wrong…
“Singing, Gavin? What are you talking about?”
Gavin tilted his head to the side, but didn’t answer.
Spiner propped his chin on steepled hands and stared at the young apprentice. The boy’s freshly cut hair held the slightest curl at the back of his neck. His shirt still hung like a sack on his wiry frame despite weeks of eating four full meals a day. Fortunately he devoured knowledge as easily as he did food and had proven very quickly that Spiner made the right decision by taking him in.
Gavin sighed and turned around. “It’s stopped now.”
Spiner shook his head. “What—?”
“The sea angels,” Gavin said. “The ones Ave told me about, down on the planet. I felt it the other day, but didn’t know where it was coming from. But just now, I realized, it’s them. Not singing with sounds…” He bit his lip, and searched Spiner’s face with his gaze. Finally, his eyes brightened. “They sing emotions. They were singing…joy.”
“Sir, they’re singing.”
Spiner looked up from his lab table and found the boy staring through the tiny porthole into the pitch black of space. Surely he’d heard wrong…
“Singing, Gavin? What are you talking about?”
Gavin tilted his head to the side, but didn’t answer.
Spiner propped his chin on steepled hands and stared at the young apprentice. The boy’s freshly cut hair held the slightest curl at the back of his neck. His shirt still hung like a sack on his wiry frame despite weeks of eating four full meals a day. Fortunately he devoured knowledge as easily as he did food and had proven very quickly that Spiner made the right decision by taking him in.
Gavin sighed and turned around. “It’s stopped now.”
Spiner shook his head. “What—?”
“The sea angels,” Gavin said. “The ones Ave told me about, down on the planet. I felt it the other day, but didn’t know where it was coming from. But just now, I realized, it’s them. Not singing with sounds…” He bit his lip, and searched Spiner’s face with his gaze. Finally, his eyes brightened. “They sing emotions. They were singing…joy.”
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Apprentice
by Kat Heckenbach -
The sight of the boy huddled in the corner stopped Spiner in his tracks. If he were caught following up on the illegal experiment…
He slipped behind a support column. He couldn’t chance anyone seeing him, not even a homeless child. But pity tugged at his heart as he watched the tattered urchin pull scabbed knees to a skeletal chest. Tears streaked through grime on the boy’s cheeks. Spiner leaned his forehead against the cool metal beam.
“You can come out, sir. It’s okay.” The boy’s voice squeaked mouse-like. He couldn’t have been more than seven years old.
Spiner stepped out into the corridor and walked softly toward the boy. He knelt down as the boy wiped away tears with the back of his hand. “Are you hungry?”
The boy nodded but didn’t meet Spiner’s gaze. “I won’t tell anyone you’re here, even if you don’t feed me,” he said.
“I appreciate that.” Spiner reached out and brushed a string of blond hair away from the boy’s eyes. “You know what I am?”
“A wizard, sir.” He lifted his head, eyes wide. “I’m sorry, I know you don’t like being called that, but I mean no disrespect.”
Was he only seven then? Such a big word for a little boy.
“No worries, kid. I’ve no apologies for my beliefs.”
“I believe, too,” the boy said. “I-I want to learn.”
Spiner studied the boy’s face. Intelligent eyes. The eyes of a survivor. He whispered, “You’d like to be an apprentice?”
The boy’s “yes” was barely audible.
Spiner leaned in. “Let’s go. Food first, and then some lessons.”
One corner of the boy’s mouth tugged up into a half-smile as hope sparked in his eyes.
The sight of the boy huddled in the corner stopped Spiner in his tracks. If he were caught following up on the illegal experiment…
He slipped behind a support column. He couldn’t chance anyone seeing him, not even a homeless child. But pity tugged at his heart as he watched the tattered urchin pull scabbed knees to a skeletal chest. Tears streaked through grime on the boy’s cheeks. Spiner leaned his forehead against the cool metal beam.
“You can come out, sir. It’s okay.” The boy’s voice squeaked mouse-like. He couldn’t have been more than seven years old.
Spiner stepped out into the corridor and walked softly toward the boy. He knelt down as the boy wiped away tears with the back of his hand. “Are you hungry?”
The boy nodded but didn’t meet Spiner’s gaze. “I won’t tell anyone you’re here, even if you don’t feed me,” he said.
“I appreciate that.” Spiner reached out and brushed a string of blond hair away from the boy’s eyes. “You know what I am?”
“A wizard, sir.” He lifted his head, eyes wide. “I’m sorry, I know you don’t like being called that, but I mean no disrespect.”
Was he only seven then? Such a big word for a little boy.
“No worries, kid. I’ve no apologies for my beliefs.”
“I believe, too,” the boy said. “I-I want to learn.”
Spiner studied the boy’s face. Intelligent eyes. The eyes of a survivor. He whispered, “You’d like to be an apprentice?”
The boy’s “yes” was barely audible.
Spiner leaned in. “Let’s go. Food first, and then some lessons.”
One corner of the boy’s mouth tugged up into a half-smile as hope sparked in his eyes.
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