Chapter 15: So Sapien
Deirdre’s Story
It’s obvious that if someone is after our children, they are probably after the other children of the next generation as well. Andrew is quite prolific. Before he is through he may well have another place in the Book of World Records.
We want to notify the parents of these children. Andrew was reluctant to use email or telephones, since our calls and mail may be monitored. That’s when we learned of another of our children’s talents.
I was with Elle, reading her a story. It’s an odd thing that even though our children can speak six languages and write computer programs, and freeze felons in their tracks, they remain children.
We have every expectation that they may not reach adulthood until their twenties. It is our theory –Donnie’s and mine, not Andrew’s. We expect an extended childhood for this new species of man that needs to learn so much.
Elle is the quiet one. When she does speak, it’s usually to point out something that Emmy has done wrong. I worry about the things that she doesn’t point out.
Elle wanted to talk about the awful break-in that we endured recently. Although she is quiet and shy, her IQ is extraordinary.
Elle asked, “Momma Dee Dee, what about our other sisters?”
I was a bit surprised. “What do you mean, your other sisters?”
She said, “Aren’t they in trouble too? The bad man came to take one of us away. Maybe he’ll want to take one of our other sisters away, too.”
I didn’t even know they were aware of any other sisters. Perhaps they had overheard something we said, or perhaps they had just read our minds. Andrew keeps reminding me that they know everything.
“Sweetie, we’re thinking of ways to tell their parents to take care of them, warn them of the danger. We’re afraid to use the phone or email because they might be tapped.” There is no reason to hide things from these girls. We’re convinced that they need all the information they can get. If they ask something, we tell them the truth as we know it. Goodness, I see I am thinking inside of an
h Sapiens
box. If they ask us something they will hear our version of the truth whether we verbalize it or not.
Elle said, “If you want, I can tell them.”
I felt a little dizzy, and a little nauseated. What was she saying? “Elle, what do you mean, you can tell them?”
“Oh, we can talk to each other if we want to. You know, Momma, in our heads, the same way we talk to each other here.”
It occurred to me why Elle was so quiet. In her mind she might be as talkative as Andrew. Maybe she prefers not to verbalize unless it is necessary. What does that mean for the future of mankind? No more radio talk shows. No more Rush Limbaugh. This might be a major improvement.
“Can you talk to all of your sisters and brothers? All of the children of your father?”
She looked as bemused as it is possible for a five-year old to look. “I don’t know, Momma. I can talk to lots of them. I’ve never counted. Do you want me to count? Lots of them are babies, you know. They can’t even talk.”
One couldn’t dispute that logic. I told her to talk to each one she could. They were to alert their parents about the possible danger. I emailed her a spreadsheet with the name of each of Andrew’s children and told her to check off each that she talked to. That should narrow down the list of who we had to contact directly.
How does she contact a particular one? Do they have
t
Mail addresses? Can she filter her thoughts by addressee? This is too confusing for a simple
h. Sapien.
Andrew’s Story
Somebody in the government is interested in us – interested enough to break the law to learn about us. This government loves secrecy about its operations, so I figured the first thing to do was to shed some light on things.
This guy Williams was due to have his hearing. At least the police thought he was Williams. The eGirls let me know that his real name was Morris. We planned to be at the hearing to insure that the truth came out.
We took the liberty of talking to some people we knew in the local news establishment, telling them that this hearing for the attempted kidnapper might be pretty interesting. It was a big time crime for this area anyway so it didn’t take much encouragement to convince some radio and television people to show up, along with the newspaper guys.
Since I’m friends with the judge, and the police, and everyone else in the local power establishment, I was able to bring Emmy into the courtroom with the excuse that she might be a witness. The real reason was I needed her to wring the truth out of our perpetrator. That poor fool won’t know what hit him.
I had clued Jake Randolph, the prosecutor, in advance that Williams might not be who he claimed to be. I told him that I was pretty sure his ID was falsified. We were tennis buddies. He comes over to our place and lets me beat the crap out of him several times a month. He knew I must have some idea about what was going down.
So when Williams took the stand, Jake’s first question was, “Please state your full name.”
Williams responded, “Ralph William Morris.” Then he looked shocked and said “No. Joseph Williams.”
The prosecutor looked surprised. “Didn’t you tell the police your name is Joseph Williams? It is Joseph Williams, isn’t it?”
The ugly S.O.B. replied “Uh, yeah, Joe Williams. Uh, no, Ralph Morris.” He looked very uncomfortable.