Disconnected, Part 8

“You know, there is a school bus.” Jennifer said as she looked in the rearview mirror at the packed back seat of her car. It was a full load that morning; Brae sat up front like she always did, Payton behind her, Lily behind Jennifer, and Storm squeezed in between them.

“But you are already going to the same place we are anyways.” Brae said. Her closed eyes and nodding head telegraphed her poor sleep the night before.

Jennifer looked in the mirror at Lilly; she noticed instantly the disguised bruise. Lilly had done quite a good job of masking her black eye, but the damage was too intense to cover totally. She sighed and pulled out of the driveway.

The girls remained silent for the drive. Their collective lack of motivation be it from lack of sleep or the awkwardness of the principal driving them to school prevented any real conversation from starting. When they finally arrived at school, Brae barely waited for the car to come to a complete stop before getting out. She started walking across the parking lot away from the school.

“Braelyn, the school is that way.” Jennifer yelled and pointed at the main entrance to the building. Brae waved her off and continued walking. Her destination was soon apparent – the coffee shop just off school grounds. “That girl will be the death of me.” Jennifer muttered.

Lilly and Payton exited the vehicle, and walked into the school. “Thank you for the ride, Principal Winter.” Lilly said.

“Payton, I want the… I want Storm to stay in the office. You don’t need her all day.” Jennifer said.

Payton sighed and rolled her eyes some. “Ok, Principal Winter.” She said and held the door open for Jennifer. “Stay with Bailey’s mom.” Payton instructed Storm. “I have the thing.” She preemptively rebutted Storm’s objection.

Storm nodded and mouthed, but did not say aloud, the words ‘Yes Master.’ Lilly and Payton wandered off towards their first period classes; they had time to meander as a ride with the principal came at the cost of arriving an hour before classes began.

Storm stood in stark stillness in Jennifer’s office. Her eyes glowed a neutral yellow-orange instead of simply reflecting that color. Jennifer looked up from her paperwork at the synthetic. “What does it mean when your eyes glow?” She asked with a quirked brow and the back end of a stylus against her lips.

“Glowing eyes indicate that I am acting on my own intuitive.” Storm said in her monotone. Her stoic front broke with a sigh. “I am making decisions based on what I sense around me, and what I know Payton would want.” She said in the more casual voice she used around Payton. “I have full control over them, so it’s not a perfect indicator.”

“They are unsettling.” Jennifer commented.

“I know. Your heartrate went up five-percent when I turned them on.” She smirked.

“How can you…” Jenifer started.

“I can see from the eff-eye-ar through to the ee-ew-vee portions of the electromagnetic spectrum.” Storm said. She rolled her eyes at Jennifer’s blank stare. “I can see in infrared; I can see when your heart beats faster by how hot your skin gets.”

“Turn your glowing eyes off.” Jennifer shook her head and attempted to return to the administrivia of her job.

“Only if Payton tells me to.” Storm said. She walked over to a wall and sat on the floor. She pulled up the side of her shirt and connected her charging cable to a power outlet.

“Young lady, this is not a request.” Jennifer raised her voice as though she was admonishing one of her students.

“Are you attempting to intimidate me?” Storm asked with a smirk. “I am not a young lady, nor am I under your control.”

“But Payton is under my control” Jennifer sniped back at the synthetic.

Storm’s eyes transitioned from a dim yellow to bright red; bright enough to outshine the morning sunlight coming through the window, and cast everything in a blood red hue. “Threatening Payton is not a means of attempting to gain control over me.” Storm closed her eyes and took a deep breath; when they reopened, they only reflected the room’s light but remained crimson.

Jennifer threw the stylus at her desk in frustration; it bounced off the desk and impacted the wall near Storm’s head. Storm did not react to it. “Fine. Fine.” Jennifer said, regaining her composure. “You’re staying with me today, Payton told you to, so I can keep an eye on you.”

Jennifer’s intercom chimed. “For the love of…” Jennifer muttered. She pressed the button on the desk phone. “Yes, Cynthia, what is it?” She spoke in as pleasant of a voice as she could muster.

“A fight is breaking out in room four-thirteen.” Cynthia said with her old gruff voice.

Jennifer rubbed her eyes with her thumb and forefinger. “Thank you, I will be right there.” She turned off the intercom. “Stay here.” She said to Storm.

“Nope.” Storm said, already having disconnected from the charging cable. “I stay with you all day, until Payton tells me otherwise.” Jennifer dug her nails into her palm and left the office. Storm followed close behind; her little legs moved at an unnatural gait to keep pace with the woman.

The scene at room four-thirteen was more of a riot than simple fisticuffs; a ring of students prevented the teacher and teacher’s aid from breaking up the brawl. The press of bodies was such that Jennifer couldn’t even see the belligerents to chastise them into stopping.

Storm stood and waited by the door. She leaned against the door jam, disinterested in the action to the point of boredom. Jennifer, unable to gain control of the situation by yelling at the kids, looked at Storm.

Storm rolled her eyes and moved into the fray. She squeezed between the onlookers, and managed to get to the center of the scrum. There she found a large athletic boy with his knee pressed to the chest of a smaller boy. The larger of the two pummeled his downed opponent, who was beyond defending himself. Storm caught a punch mid-swing, and clamped her hand down on the larger boy’s fist until he cried out in pain. The fight was over before five additional adults arrived to help.

“EVERYONE IN THE HALL, NOW!” Jennifer yelled at the now stunned silent crowd. The teens meandered quietly passed the principal. The additional teachers corralled and dealt with the non-combatants. The smaller boy face swelled from the blows. Storm held fast to the larger boy’s fist.

“Let him go.” Jennifer instructed. Storm shrugged, and with a little push, released the boy. She walked back to the door jam. Bored annoyance returned to her face.

Jennifer escorted the boys to the office, and administered the appropriate discipline to both of them. It took most of the morning for Jennifer to complete all of her work related to the fight, and Storm watched her the entire time, silently observing.

Jennifer looked up from her work. “If that had been Payton?” She asked.

“Which?” Storm tilted her head at the ambiguous question.

“Either.” Jennifer leaned back in her chair.

“If Payton had been beating someone up, I would have removed her from the situation without causing her any discomfort.” Storm said. “If she had been the one getting beaten, I would have thrown him into the wall with enough force to shatter his ribcage and possibly his skull, depending on the strength of the wall.”

“That’s what I thought.” Jennifer calmly said. “I have no problem with you stopping Payton from getting hurt. But you can’t hurt other people in the process.”

“Define hurt, in context. So far I have only caused one person discomfort and another pain; neither Mr. Simms nor the boy sustained injury from my actions.” Storm responded.

“Put yourself in my position.” Jennifer changed tactics. “My job, besides making sure these kids get an education, is to ensure their physical and emotional safety. If you were in my position, and had…” She stopped to think about how to describe Storm tactfully.

“A military grade synthetic.” Storm bluntly added.

“Yes. If you were principal, and a military synthetic showed up with one of your students as a body guard, what would you do?” Jennifer asked.

“I would do nothing. I would understand that a military grade synthetic operates under a set of directives and that trying to separate that synthetic from their objective would be futile. I would also know that no civilian would ever have a personal synthetic that acted with extreme prejudice.” Storm said. “I am a proxy for Payton. I cannot and will not take any action that Payton would regret.”

“I don’t trust you.” Jennifer said.

“I don’t need your trust. If Payton is in danger, I will stop at nothing to protect her. If she is not, I will take no action unless instructed. That is all I can ever do.” Storm said with a shrug.