The Kraken Project

49

It was nine o’clock, and Daniel Gould couldn’t remain seated in the living room. As soon as he tried to sit down, he was back on his feet. “I don’t like this,” he said to his wife, Pamela. “I don’t like it. He’s only fourteen.”

“He’s okay, Dan,” said Pamela. “He’s calling in every hour. He just needs time to be alone. Remember, the therapist said a lot of his problems stem from us being helicopter parents. For once, let’s not hover.”

“He skipped school. He’s never done that before.”

“He’s a teenager. You better get used to it.”

“I never skipped school.”

“Well, I did,” said his wife.

Dan knew that his wife came from a big Catholic family where the kids tended to fend for themselves, while he’d been a doted-upon only child. It led to disagreements in their parenting.

Dan pulled out his cell, dialed again. “Still turned off.”

“He’s calling every hour. He doesn’t want us to call him in between. We know where he is, we know he’s safe. This is a growing experience for him.”

“He broke into a house — that’s B&E.”

“Sully told him he could, and he didn’t break in, he used a key. He’ll take care of the place — he’s a responsible kid. And the Pearces are good friends — I’ll call them tomorrow.”

“I know, I know…” Dan paced and turned. “But what if his head’s in a bad place and he, you know, hurts himself…?”

“Dan, he isn’t. I’ve talked to him, what, six times on the phone so far? He actually sounds happy — for the first time in a long time. Please trust a mother’s judgment.”

Dan sat down. “What do we do now?”

“Nothing. Leave him alone.”

Dan drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair, stood up. “I’m going to drive up there, just to check on him.”

His wife thought a moment, pushed her hair back. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“I won’t go in. I won’t even knock on the door. I’ll just check in the window to see if he’s there and make sure he’s okay. Then I’ll come back.”

“If he catches you spying on him, he’ll be furious.”

“I’ll be careful.”

“Well”—she hesitated—“go ahead then.”

Dan went to the garage. The rain was coming down a little harder now, a Pacific drizzle morphing into a storm. He got in the Subaru, started it up, and drove up Digges Canyon Road. Two miles up, he came to the Pearces’ driveway. He couldn’t see the house from the turnoff, so he pulled the car into a turnout next to the driveway, got out, and walked up the dirt lane in the rain. As he made his way around the corner, the house came into view. There, leaning against the side of the barn, was Jacob’s bike. Smoke curled out of the chimney, and he could see that some lights were on.

He felt a sudden horrific stab of guilt. His poor son. He was dealing with so much: his friend moving away, the loneliness, the accident that killed his dream of being a surfer. And now this. He should have told him about Andrea years ago. But he always wanted to protect his son, keep from him the distressing things of the world. It was probably true, as Jacob’s therapist said, that they’d hovered a bit much, suffocated his development — but they’d done it out of love. They had tried so hard. He wanted to rush into the house, wrap his arms around his son, and tell him how much he loved him, but he knew that would be a disaster. He wished he’d been able to tell his son that he loved him more often, but he just couldn’t do it; it seemed so awkward and foreign to him to say those words.

He would just peer through the windows and see what was going on, to make sure Jacob was all right — and then he would go.

Sneaking around the side of the house, Dan got thoroughly soaked in the penetrating drizzle. He finally came to a row of lighted living room windows. Slowly, keeping his face hidden, he peered inside. There was Jacob, playing a game of solitaire on the rug in front of the fireplace — and there was Charlie, pointing at a card and saying something. He strained to hear, but the sound was too muffled by the window and the steady patter of rain.

Charlie. He was actually playing with Charlie, one friend with another. Dan was surprised. This was unexpected and, in a way, wonderful. If this wasn’t proof he had succeeded with the robot … But then, somewhere else in his mind, the revelation made him feel sad. His son’s best friend was a robot.

He watched as Charlie picked up a card and said something. Jacob leaned back and laughed. Dan wished he could hear what they were saying. Now Charlie picked up the cards and Jacob attempted to show him how to shuffle. The robot tried, the cards spraying everywhere. More laughter. He hadn’t seen Jacob this happy in months.

But then Dan considered what he’d just seen. Shuffling cards hadn’t been programmed into Charlie. Nor had he programmed Charlie to play solitaire. In fact, the robot seemed to be moving and behaving in a far more sophisticated manner than Dan had thought possible with the trials he had conducted.

Fascinated, he watched Charlie get up and, tottering a little, pick up a stick of wood and toss it into the fire. He came back and sat down. Cross-legged. That was also not in the code. Soon they were laughing again, and Jacob was stumping Charlie with a card trick. Watching, Dan felt enthralled, even elated. This robot was going to be a success. His son was his worst critic, and if Charlie had won him over, he would win over anyone. And his son was so happy.

Full of confused feelings, he snuck away from the window and made his way back to the car. He drove back to the house slowly, his mind lost in concern for his son mingling with thoughts about Charlie and the success that would be his — if he could only get financing.