Before the Silent Scream

  Serena paced back and forth in the living room, eyes closed and hands rushing through her hair. Rockwell sat quietly on one end of the room and Pinn sat equally quiet on the other. Pursing her lips, Serena whipped between them, hair flailing.

  “Are you certain no one saw us?”

  “Serena, please,” Rockwell begged, taking off his glasses and rubbing them on his shirt.

  “Our Pinny brought on enough signs to create his own religion, but you just want to believe that we were the only ones to see it! Pinny, what do you think?”

  Pinn slouched in the recliner, sliding down. Serena, lips firm, spun back to her husband, begging with a twitch of her eyes to say something. Rockwell placed his glasses back on and shook his head. He had nothing. Sometimes, she didn’t know how he lived as a brick wall.

  “Pinn, you haven’t said much since we got back. Are you okay?” Serena sat in the chair opposite Pinn.

  Looking up at her, Pinn had a look she hated seeing in him. Eyebrows descended, racing through worst-case scenarios. Brown hair disheveled and risen, like the fire he could produce would style his hair with it and take away his sense of cleanliness. And in his trembling eyes, fear.

  “Pinn?”

  He waved at her dismissively.

  “Son,” Rockwell warned.

  Sighing in frustration, he held up a finger to signal patience, then sprang up and rushed from the room. Serena exchanged a glance with her husband as they heard rummaging in the office drawers. Papers crumbled and shifted around and pens clacked together, until Pinn suddenly ran back, notebook and pens in hand.

  Leaning forward, Serena watched as Pinn threw a pen off a cap and scratched against the top page. Scribbling in annoyance, Pinn tossed the inkless pen aside and went for the next one in his stack. The ink came immediately, and he hunched over the paper as he etched out a message. Holding it up, he displayed it to his parents.

  I’m fine

  Serena turned to Rockwell again, who only had a single raised eyebrow fractionally higher than the other. His sign of deep intrigue.

  “And you’re writing because…” Serena spun her hand over one another.

  Nodding, Pinn wrote another message below the first.

  Talking Power. Not sure how it activates

  Rockwell’s eyebrow descended, the intrigue lost. Idly, he reached for the remote for the TV until Serena shot him a stern glare and he stopped midway. Exhaling quietly, he sat back straighter.

  “We need to get that under control,” Rockwell said, eliciting a grateful nod from Serena.

  To her surprise, Pinn seemed ambivalent at the prospect, staring up in thought. Tapping the notebook with his pen, his other hand ran circles on the carpet.

  “Pinny? Talk to me. Or write. Are you worried about trying to get this one under control?” Serena asked.

  Shaking his head slightly, Pinn leaned over and wrote a new message.

  It could be useful

  Serena’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Right. Just like all your other powers. But only if we get them under control. We don’t want to use this one by accident, right?”

  That’s why I’m writing instead of talking

  “I know that,” Serena said, uncharacteristic irritability edging in her voice, “But what happens when you want to use it and you don’t know how? And what happens when you want to talk, but can’t because of this thing?”

  I’ll figure it out

  Serena closed her eyes, annoyed. Though he said nothing, there was something so blasé about Pinn’s writing that radiated a recklessly arrogant tone. Like a strong swimmer saying they don’t need a life vest in the open ocean.

  “Don’t you at least want to try?”

  Pinn tapped on the same message he just wrote. Rockwell cleared his throat, and the room turned to him as he stood from his chair, towering over Pinn.

  “Use it on me.”

  Blinking, Pinn scoffed and wrote a quick No.

  Warmth filling her heart, Serena appreciated Rockwell’s insertion, but was uncertain of his methods. Still, she remained quiet, giving Pinn’s father the open floor to be a parent.

  “Give me a simple order. Tell me to throw away the pen without ink.”

  Pinn turned to look at it, but Rockwell’s eyes remained firmly on his son. Eyebrows descending, Pinn wrote a quick note.

  What about side effects?

  Rockwell scoffed, unintimidated, but Serena gave a quick shot at the scorched front door. The side effects were definitely worth considering. But Rockwell had a way of ignoring everything that could go wrong when he had his mind set on something. It was what made him brave enough to rush into a collapsing construction site. And careless enough.

  Pinn scribbled another message into the notebook, but Rockwell snatched it away as soon as Pinn held it up.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  “You’re trying to write down that you have things under control, but you’re a teenager, Pinn. Your words mean little compared to your actions,” Rockwell said.

  “Rocky,” Serena chided.

  Rockwell went too far too often.

  “Tell me to give the notebook back. Or get you some food. Or to jump up and down. Give me an order,” Rockwell said forcefully.

  Pinn reached for his notebook, but Rockwell tossed it behind him without looking. Pinn’s eyes went wide in annoyance and frustration.

  “Come on. Anything. Show me you have it,” Rockwell said.

  Pinn set his lips tight, shaking his head.

  “Come on, Pinn. We’re waiting.”

  “Stop!” Pinn suddenly shouted, causing Serena to flinch back.

  No side effects sparked out, and Rockwell didn’t even hesitate at his outburst.

  “No.” Rockwell folded his arms over his chest.

  “Just drop it.”

  “No.”

  Pinn narrowed his eyes, eyebrows lowering as he focused hard.

  “Go grab me more paper,” he demanded forcefully.

  “Get it yourself.”

  Blinking, Pinn leaned back in surprise. Point made, Rockwell sat back down on the couch. His hand inched toward the remote, but he caught himself, even without the additional scrutiny from his wife. Serena looked at Pinn, trying to read his expression of frustration and disappointment.

  “Pinny, you’re blessed, but you’re not special.”

  Pinn gave her a quizzical look, and Serena leaned forward with more sincerity.

  “Don’t think yourself better than needing to ask for help. God knows your father is allergic to it, but you’re better than that.” She could hear Rockwell give a subdued grunt from his seat. “Your powers are incredible, but if you take a misstep, then you could lose yourself.”

  “What…” Pinn stopped himself abruptly, raising a hand over his mouth. Serena appreciated that he was looking out for her and nodded for him to continue. “What do you mean, lose myself?”

  “I don’t know, Pinny, but it can’t be good. These incredible feats are a means to humble you, not make you think yourself better than others.”

  “But I am…”

  “If you say what I think you’re going to say…” Serena warned.

  Pinny closed his mouth, frowning.

  “You have different abilities. Incredible ones. Awe-inspiring. But you’re still Pinny. And none of your powers are as incredible as what you choose to do with them. What do you want to do with them?”

  Pinn looked down, thinking. “I don’t want to hurt anyone. Especially not accidentally.”

  “Great. That’s a good first step, we can…”

  A loud knock came at the door, like a mallet hitting the fragile frame. Startled, the family exchanged glances. Another series of bashes banged at the door. Silently, Rockwell stood and stomped to the front door, Pinn and Serena close behind. Face stern, Rockwell cracked the door open.

  “What do you…”

  Rockwell stopped and grunted in astonishment. Serena tried desperately to crane her neck high enough to see the visitor, and Pinn stood back to allow her more room.

  “Would you like to donate to The Cause?”

  The voice was unmistakably a robot’s.

  Serena tore Rockwell away from her line of sight and stared. A misshapen robot of skeletal makeup and a smooth, rounded saucer head stared back. The limbs were a mix of reused parts like legs of school chairs and metal pipes, some scratched and a few showing signs of rust. The top of the flat head spun slowly and hitched back every second, like a broken record desperate to operate. A gear spun in the bot’s neck, visible through the holes in its form, and its “face” had a single red dot like that of a TV remote, scanning between the family.

  “Would you like to donate to The Cause?” it repeated, sounding like an automated cash register.

  Serena pushed past Rockwell confrontationally. “What are you thinking smacking against our door like that? You could have broken it!”

  The head spun slightly more aggressively. “Incompatible response type. Would you like to donate to The Cause?”

  “No,” Rockwell said, throwing the door shut.

  It caught on the silver foot of the robot that it had shoved into the door frame. The family stared as the door slid back open.

  “Please reconsider donating to The Cause. Many of your…” The bot paused as it parsed through information, quiet noise running in fast forward in its head like a tape in fast-forward. A sudden clunk and the bot continued to speak. “Neighbors have decided to donate to the cause. Would you like to match…” Another pause. “Delsin! Who donated five dollars to The Cause?”

  Serena squinted, turning to Rockwell, then back to the robot with disdain. “We don’t have any neighbors named Delsin!”

  “Incompatible response. Would you like to donate to The Cause?”

  “No.” Rockwell attempted to push the bot out the doorway, but was rebuffed, the bot like a wall. Frowning, Rockwell turned to Pinn. Serena nodded to her son, ushering him forward to the bot.

  There was an eager energy in his step, and Serena realized he wouldn’t have to hold back against a robot.

  “Would you like to donate to The Cause?”

  “What’s The Cause, exactly?”

  “The Cause, in all its glory, contributes to the betterment of people.”

  “In what way?”

  “Incompatible response. Would—”

  “Get off our porch,” Pinn said, standing defiantly in the robot’s oblong face, looking directly in the red eye.

  “Incompatible…”

  “Leave. Now.”

  The rusted head spun and stuttered, registering the response. The gear in its neck hitched back a few turns, clicking forward slowly. Its eye grew slightly brighter and Pinn frowned deeply.

  “Careful, son,” Rockwell said suddenly.

  “I can handle this,” Pinn said confidently.

  “Please reconsider donating…”

  Pinn’s head exploded into a quick burst of his Lightcrown, followed by him flexing his bicep and smashing into the torso of the robot. Pieces blasted out in a pile on the porch, the entire machine immediately taken down into dozens of parts. Turning off the flaming crown as quickly as it appeared, Pinn looked over his hand and dusted himself up and down, searching for side effects. Turning back to his parents, he looked for approval.

  Grinning widely, Serena held two thumbs up and Rockwell grunted, his face impassive as ever. Through the slight alterations in his breathing, Serena could tell Rockwell was somewhat disappointed, but she couldn’t imagine why. Questions to ask him later.

  “Let’s clean this mess up, quick,” Rockwell said.

  The gear in the bot’s broken neck spun to life, relaying a scratchy message from a much more human sounding voice.

  “A video record of property destruction at this address has been collected into our database. That was my property, and I will have its worth compensated. Expect litigation soon.” The gear coughed, giving out a thin plume of smoke, and died.

  “What?” Pinn asked, his bravado spilling out of him.

  “I told you to be careful,” Rockwell grumbled. Serena suddenly understood his disappointment, but felt it was partly his fault if he saw something like this coming.

  “But what does that even mean?”

  “It means the donation to ‘the cause’ was a farce,” Rockwell said. “He wants to have an excuse to gather money by means of suing people that destroy his annoying tech. It’s a ploy. He wants us to panic and pay in a settlement so we won’t get dragged into a legal battle. It won’t work. Not on me.”

  “Hang on…” Serena blinked, looking over the broken machine. She reran the situation in her head, from Rockwell answering the door to Pinn emitting fire from his head before destroying the bot in a single blow. “Did that thing say it collected… video evidence?”