I was on the carousel when they found me. For three bodyguards with the ever-constrictive tracking device, I’d say the 15 minutes of freedom I stole were quite satisfying. Only I wish they’d let me finish my ride.
Back at the Quarters, where my dad lives, I got the typical thirty-minute lecture on personal safety in a foreign environment. I recited most of it with him: “Immediate evacuation is a possibility at any time;” “Loss of enjoyment is preferable to loss of life;” “Meager temporary consequences obscure overwhelming permanent misfortunes.” I think this means he could lose his job if I cause too much trouble.
My dad has a pretty sweet job. I hate it because it’s the reason mum’s gone, but it also bought us the Quarters: 50,000 square feet of tastefully decorated luxury. I’d rather have mum, but dad’s happy. He works as a foreign affairs chief for the UN. I think this means he tells the people who work for him to talk countries out of blowing up other countries.
Me, I’m Darrell, and most times I’d rather be in the flat where I was born, running around with my mates. Aiden and Luca and I were just kids when I moved and mum stayed. I haven’t heard from any of them since. So I run off like today and ride carousels. Visit asylums. Spy on the UN meetings.
Someday I’m going to do something great. I’m just not sure what yet. But I don’t want to end up like my mum or dad. My role model is Charles Babbage. Oh, that’s right – I invent things. I forgot to mention it because everybody else already knows. They find it quite annoying.
Today I made a duplicate of the ever-constrictive tracker. I hacked the original (it’s an ankle bracelet – kidnappers are less likely to check legs than arms for these things) and wired the bodyguards to the duplicate. I threw it in a cotton candy machine at the carnival. I’m sure it went haywire. Bodyguards don’t panic. They go superman. My head is still ringing from that tackle.
As the bodyguards escort me to my room, I plan my next escape. Maybe I could bust the alarm system. But I’d still need a glass cutter to get out my window.
(I will publish Part Two of this story tomorrow, Tuesday.)