Rood | Page 7

contact that'll sponsor a full nym for me. I can start posting some of my questions without being marked as a noob."
"Huh" said Tonx. A group of asian schoolgirls in uniforms from a corporate-sponsored school swirled by, giggles and yells and the rapid pattern of their talk rising then dimming in the empty air of the shop. Suddenly Tonx stood up and flashed a paycard over the reader embedded in the table. "It's on me," he said.
They walked out of the shop through battered translucent plastic slats hanging from the doorway, out into the twilight. The sky was a rich, dark blue in the gaps between buildings, and a couple of lone clouds overhead took up the yellowed color from the city lights below.
Tonx stepped down onto the street and waved a hand. "Come on, I got to get back to the shop."
Fed zipped up his jacket and followed, his eyebrows pulling together as he watched the heels of Tonx's black converse knock-offs rise and fall in front of him. After a moment he jogged forward and caught up, dodging past a pair of old ladies carrying some dead leafy thing to walk next to his brother.
"Why'd you leave?" he asked again. "Why'd you leave MIT?"
Tonx unsealed a flap on the hem of his hoody and stroked the controls for a moment. Fiber optic threads started glowing around the inside of his hood, illuminating his face in a dim red light. He pushed back an errant lock of dark hair and leaned towards Fed as they walked. "Why'd I leave MIT?
"I left because great people aren't great because to their education, or the school they went to or the toys their parents or companies or curriculum buys them. I left because people become great by doing what they love to do."
He leaned away from Fed, the red light fading as the heating elements in his hoody ramped up to full capacity.
"I love biotech, man, not school."
Fed snorted, loudly. "That's fucking stupid," he said. "You couldn't get better access to biotech than at MIT."
Tonx stopped and placed his hand on an aluminum push panel set into a door on the side of a building. The soft hum of machinery cut through the street noise and the door clicked, then shuddered.
"Okay" he said. He looked thoughtful for a moment. "How's this then: I left because I didn't need to be there anymore to do what I wanted. To achieve what I wanted to achieve."
He looked away from Fed, off down the street, his face hidden in the shadow of his hoody.
"My goals changed," he said.
He pushed into the crumbling hallway beyond, yellowed fluorescents flickering to life through metal gratings overhead.
"You coming?" he asked.

Chapter #4
Fed followed Tonx inside the hallway. The walls were a cheap poly-plyboard coated with a peeling latex. The composite they had used had fat chunks of plastic that didn't hold the paint well, leaving sagging, discolored pockets over its surface. The lights overhead flickered as they went, the growling hum of old transformers shuttling electrons through grime-coated wires.
"Listen, Fed" said Tonx, "I got practice tonight. You're welcome to stay, and you're welcome not to, but I don't want Mom riding down here on her broomstick either way."
"Don't worry about it" mumbled Fed. There was a blackness growing in his belly, an anger spreading over the tofu and fried vegetables and up through his throat. Tonx had been gone for two years, and in those two years Fed had spent almost every waking moment goggled in, sweating blood over prefabbed lessons and newsgroup HOWTOs. He'd lived and breathed code, and Tonx had been out... here.
"Fed." Tonx had stopped at a doorway set into the end of the hall. "I'm sorry."
"I always meant to come back and explain things to you, but whenever I talked to Mom she made it sound like you didn't want to see me. I don't know what changed, or why you decided to show up, but... I'm glad you're here."
Tonx had his hood pushed back, tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. He looked at his dirty shoes, at Fed. "Listen, why don't you come in and after practice we'll talk some more?"
"What practice?" asked Fed.
"Aikido" said Tonx with a sudden smile. "It's an old martial art based on joint locks. With all the free muscle you can buy out there these days it's one of the few arts left that'll still take somebody down. It doesn't rely on strength." Tonx stuck his arm out in front of him. "Here. Grab my wrist."
"You're doing kung-fu now?" asked Fed, raising an eyebrow.
"No, dude. 'Eye-key-dough.' I told you, it's an old martial art. It's sweet shit, for real. Relies on knowledge of physiology and timing instead of raw strength. It's for people with brains. Come on, try