Chapter 1:

Liz eased the door closed behind her. She clicked the lock into place, took off her shoes, and tiptoed toward the stairs. At this hour, Dad would be in his workshop, but Liz wasn’t going to take any chances. She placed a gentle foot onto the first step and waited to see if its groan would give her away. Mercifully, the old house obeyed her unspoken command to remain silent. She gripped one hand around the railing and began her ascent. She just needed to make it into her room, and she’d be in the clear. Dad wouldn’t see –

“Liz!?”

Dad’s voice stopped Liz in her tracks. She peered over the railing, down the hallway, and toward the kitchen. Dad was still dressed for work, wearing a lab coat, a buttoned shirt, and a tie so loose, Liz wondered why he bothered wearing it. He held a half-eaten sandwich up to his lips before dropping it to the floor. How could she have forgotten? She had the worst luck imaginable.

“Liz!” Dad shouted again, sprinting down the corridor. Liz considered running up the stairs, but she knew the futility in attempting an escape. Her shoulders sagged, and she hopped off the steps.

Liz held up a hand to slow her father’s approach. “Dad, it’s not as bad as it –”

Liz winced and sucked in air as Dad’s palms touched the sides of her face. A quick burst of pain arced across her cheek while Dad inspected her right eye. “What happened?” Dad asked, moving Liz’s head back and forth. “Are you okay? Lord, your eye is practically closed shut.”

“I’m fine.” Liz pressed a palm against Dad’s chest, hoping against reason that would keep him at bay. “I fell on my way off the bus. It’s nothing.”

Dad scoffed. “Nothing?” He took a step back, planting hands on hips. “You expect me to believe you fell off the bus and landed on your eye?” He leaned closer. “And that your fall created a perfectly fist-shaped mark?”

“Dad, I…”

Dad steeled his jaw and pointed behind him. “Kitchen! Now!”

***

“Thanks,” Dad said into his phone. He hung up and placed the phone on the kitchen table. He threw his lab coat over the back of one chair and tossed his tie onto the seat of another. “How’s the eye?”

“Better.” Liz removed the bag of frozen peas. The world worked its way back into view on her right side.

“Good.” Dad walked over and examined Liz’s face again. “The swelling is going down.” The oven beeped and drew Dad’s attention away from her. “Stay seated, young lady. If I am to believe you, your balance is off today. I don’t want you tripping and cracking a rib.” He rolled up his sleeves and jogged over to the oven as a savory aroma filled the kitchen. Liz grimaced while he had his back turned to her. If she was quiet, he’d give up, and she could go upstairs to her room. Her plan might have worked if her stomach hadn’t betrayed her with an audible roar.

“It sounds like someone can’t resist my cooking!” Dad chuckled as he set a plate in front of Liz. She took one whiff of the bubbling pizza, and her mouth watered in an instant.

Liz huffed and turned her nose up at the plate. “Reheating the pizza I ordered last night is not cooking.”

“I don’t know.” Dad took the seat next to hers. “Seems good to me!” He picked up his slice and chomped into it. Immediately, he spat out a molten glob of cheese and waved a hand over his protruding tongue. “So hot!” Drops of grease spilled onto his wrinkled dress pants. He gasped and helplessly dabbed the stained fabric with a napkin.

Liz resisted the urge to laugh. “Aren’t you a doctor?” she mused. “Not too smart for a doctor though, are you?”

“My degree is in astrophysics.” Dad took a long sip of water. “Not pizza-ology.”

“That’s not a thing.”

“How would you know? Are you a doctor?” Dad grinned before remembering he was supposed to be angry. His curling lips reversed course. “Don’t try to change the subject.”

“Change from what?” Liz asked, raising her brows. She lifted her slice of pizza and made a show of blowing air onto it before taking a bite.

Dad’s frown deepened. He pointed toward his phone. “That was Jane’s mom. Since I know getting the truth from you is like trying to pass light through a blackhole.” Liz narrowed her eyes. She hated that she understood his terrible analogy. He crossed his arms. “A fight Liz? Really?”

“I didn’t start it!” Liz wanted to walk away from the table, but her empty stomach wouldn’t allow it. She took another bite.

“That’s not what Jane told her mom.”

“Jane is an ungrateful idiot!”

Dad recoiled and nearly fell from his chair. “Jane is your best friend. You shouldn’t–”

“Was my best friend,” Liz corrected. “I don’t have friends anymore.”

Dad tossed his crust back onto his plate before pushing it away. He twisted in his chair to stare directly at Liz. She saw herself reflected in his bright blue eyes. Wow, she was a haggard mess. Her black curls frizzed in every direction, her blouse managed the rare feat of being more disheveled than Dad, and a massive welt on her right side marred her dimpled cheeks. Her reflection dulled as the sparkle faded from Dad’s gaze, and his shoulders dropped. He knew the truth in her words, but he fought against it anyway. “Honey, don’t say things you don’t mean.”

“I do mean it! I stood up for Jane, and do you know what she did? She yelled at me! Said I embarrassed her. Can you believe that? Becky was harassing her, and as usual, being a spiteful bit–” Liz stopped herself as Dad’s eyes widened. “And of course, Phebie sided with Jane and made some snarky comment that I take things too seriously. Can you believe that? I just wanted to make Becky stop. Everyone knows Jane is too much of a coward to do it herself.”

Dad shrugged. “Jane is shy. Nothing wrong with that. When I first met your mother –”

“Don’t,” Liz said through gritted teeth. “Don’t start with this again.”

Dad worked his jaw and ran a hand through his close-cropped hair. He looked behind Liz toward the family portrait on the back wall, and she could sense the dark cloud forming above his head. That cloud spewed a hailstorm of guilt onto Liz’s soul. She really was the worst daughter in the world.

“Sorry honey,” Dad muttered under his breath. “But this isn’t like you.” He started counting her misdeeds, lifting an ink-stained finger with each accusation. “You stay in your room all night. You quit softball. Your grades are slipping. You and Jane haven’t talked in over a month.” He threw out his arms. “And now you’re getting into fights!” He sighed and pinched between his brows. “I spoke with your school’s counselor. She thinks you need to talk about it.”

Liz shot up. Her guilt be damned, she wasn’t going to sit here for another second. “You talked with Donna!?”

Dad remained seated, looking up at Liz with a concerned expression. Or was it pity? “Ms. Richards is worried about you. So am I. Honey, I know it’s been tough.” He placed a hand on his chest. “It’s been tough on me too. I just want to do anything I can to make you feel better.”

“And what if I don’t want to feel better!?” Liz shouted.

“Why wouldn’t you want that?”

“You wouldn’t understand!” Liz wanted to say more. Wanted to ream him out. All she managed was a groan before stalking away.

“Young lady…”

“Shut up!” Liz yelled behind her shoulder. “I’m done talking with you.” She rounded the corner.

“I – well, I never thought I’d have to do this, but I think I have to ground you,” Dad called out. He then whispered to himself, “How does that work?” Liz rolled her eyes.

“It means we don’t speak for the rest of the night. No, scratch that. We don’t speak for the next week.” She reached the stairs just as the regret hit. Why was she acting this way? She couldn’t manage a single conversation without snapping. She needed to retreat into her room before she did any more damage to the people around her. She dashed upward, readying herself for a night huddled under the covers. She reached the second-floor landing, pulled out her phone, and –

Why wasn’t her phone connected to the Internet? She opened her settings. The screen read, “No Wi-Fi signals found.” Liz moaned loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear before clomping back down the steps. She had to hand it to her father; he was good at getting under her skin.

Dad sat in the same spot at the kitchen table with a smug grin. The plates and silverware had been replaced by an unplugged router and some sort of headset with wires sticking out of it.

“I can’t believe you,” Liz said, walking back into the kitchen. “A little petty, don’t you think?”

Dad gave an apologetic shrug. “Oh, most certainly. But grounded girls don’t get to have fun upstairs on their phone.”

“Grounded woman,” Liz corrected, gripping the seat opposite her father. Her knuckles paled as she attempted to snap the wooden frame in half. All she managed to do was dig a dull pain into her palms.

“Women don’t get into fist fights at school. Little girls do,” Dad said, then stuck out his tongue. And I’m the one acting like a child? – Liz thought.

Liz took a deep breath before sitting down again. She looked around the room. A thin layer of dust covered every surface. Tumbleweeds of hair gathered in the corners. The tiled floor had lost its sheen to months of neglect. Except for a few kitchen appliances, nothing in here had been touched since – that night. The only noise left in this dying home was the hum of Dad’s equipment emanating from the basement. The door to Dad’s workshop was ajar, and Liz could just make out the glow of the computers inside. As she shifted her gaze back toward her father, she caught a glimpse of the shelf on the far side of the room. A portrait lay next to the tray with Dad’s keys. Three smiling faces stared back at Liz. A reminder of the last time she was happy.

“I’m sorry Dad,” Liz said, feeling defeated. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

Dad pushed his chair closer to the table. “You’re right. You shouldn’t have.” He stared down at the tablecloth as if it held the solution to their insurmountable divide. “And I should have been more sensitive. I’m sorry too.”

“Apology accepted,” Liz mumbled.

Dad cupped a hand over his ear. “Sorry, what was that?” Liz returned that comment with a flat look. Her reaction tugged on Dad’s lips.

Liz pointed toward the black box. “Can I have the router now?”

“What year was I born?” Dad asked.

Liz raised an eyebrow. “I don’t remember.”

“Good. So at least you know I wasn’t born yesterday.” He laughed at his own joke. “No router while you’re grounded.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes!” Dad patted the headset to his left. “But I can do you one better than those videos you watch all night.” He scooped up the device and moved toward Liz. “I know you love my gadgets.” I used to love your gadgets. When I was eight. – Liz decided to keep those comments to herself.

Dad placed the device down. “Can you guess what it is?”

“Dad…” Liz and her father used to play this game all the time when she was a kid. Dad would show off his latest invention, and a better version of Liz would be dazzled by her father’s handiwork. Even now, Liz could remember the joy of working together on a new project in the basement. When their minds were fully in sync, it felt like they could do anything. It felt like all was right in the world. But that was before. Before Liz realized her father wasn’t as perfect as she once thought. Before the daughter her father had idolized was long gone.

“Liz?” Dad took the seat beside Liz. He reached out a hand and placed it on hers. She broke from her stupor and glanced into Dad’s eyes. A tiny speck of hope ran across his pupils. “I thought this could be fun. Maybe it could make you feel better...” What he didn’t have to say was how this would make him feel better too.

Liz wasn’t sure if she succeeded in a believable smile, but the glow in Dad’s expression was a good sign. Creases formed beside his eyes as he slid the device toward her. She took a deep breath and leaned over to inspect the headset. It looked like a crown made from steel with sensors welded onto the inner part of the circle. Wires connected the different sensors together to form a kind of hairnet. A long cord extended out the back of the headpiece.

Liz rubbed her chin. This was interesting. Were those neural modules? They were used to detect brainwaves. What were they transmitting? The device reminded her of Dad’s invention from last year. If she remembered correctly, it could make someone’s thoughts appear as text. How exactly did it work again?

“Want me to give you the answer?” Dad asked, smiling. Liz held up a finger to silence him. The old Liz, which had remained buried deep within her being, slowly resurfaced. She loved a good puzzle. She needed to figure this out on her own.

“Can I check the basement?” Liz rotated the device in her hands. The rest of the room faded away.

“If you’re referring to my lab, then yes. Go right ahead.” Dad waved toward the open door.

Liz took the device and strode over to the workshop. She bumped her shoulder into the doorframe without thinking. Dad let out a yelp, then he moved to help Liz down the steps. After reaching the basement, she took the cord at the back of the device and inspected it one more time. It ended in three prongs.

Liz looked up. The basement had been rearranged – again. Dad said he couldn’t think unless he changed his surroundings on a regular basis. Evidently, complacency in his environment stifled his cognitive function. Or so he claimed. He wasn’t making this easy for her. Randomly assorted junk sat in the middle of the room with a nest of wires hanging overhead. Each wire led to a different machine or computer haphazardly placed in the space. Tables and chairs lined the walls, each with gadgets and monitors resting atop them. Liz moved a standing telescope out of the way and started peering behind the various pieces of equipment. She was searching for –

“Got it!” Liz said aloud. The cord fit perfectly into Dad’s mega-server. The whirring piece of machinery looked like an old computer from the sixties. It extended from floor to ceiling, radiating with dozens of blue and green lights. Liz plugged the headset into a vacant port, and a nearby monitor lit up. She sat in a rusted stool opposite the monitor to read prompts on the screen. “It’s just the device that shows the words in your head as text on the screen,” Liz said with a tone she hoped conveyed her disappointment. “You’ve shown me this before…”

“Have I?” Dad asked. He rested a hand on her shoulder and motioned toward the screen. “Look closer.”

Thick cables connected the monitor to the server and the computer at Liz’s feet. A program was already running on the computer that appeared to be recording something. She clicked on the window to reveal dashed lines on a solid black background. The lines formed a graph with a thick, green line laid flat at its center. Liz considered for a moment before snapping her fingers. She put the headset on, and the green line bounced up and down. It danced and formed a wave pattern on the screen. “It’s recording my thoughts,” Liz whispered. This was nothing she hadn’t seen before, but on another window, there was a text box reading, “ready to transmit.”

“Transmit?” Liz asked. She peered down at the keyboard. A piece of red tape covered one of the function keys. Instinctively, she reached a finger toward the key.

Dad grabbed her wrist. “Don’t touch that!”

Liz looked up at her father, her mouth forming a line. “Then how am I supposed to know what it does?”

“Sorry sweetie, but I haven’t tested it yet. I don’t want it to hurt you.” Dad rubbed the back of his head with his free hand. “But I’m sure you have a good idea what it does now.”