It was clearly a joke, but he treated it as a serious suggestion. “Maybe when I’m ready I can get one of those running blade things. I remember it did used to help a little.”
The look on Val’s face said that she couldn’t imagine anything better, and for one moment, Sophie wished she could be the person to bring that joy; she’d never been able to run more than a lap without overheating and seizing. Anyway, it wasn’t necessary; she knew she made her parents proud. They still had to work on trust, but at least they were all starting to understand that was a group project.
CHAPTER SEVENTY
VAL
They were invited to the campaign launch, David’s supportive parents, with their own part in the plan. Sophie and David rode separately, Sophie as part of David’s team—she was dividing her time between the campaign and community college art classes and the new group she and Gabe had started after splitting from FreerMind. She’d made it clear she’d help as long as their goals aligned; on her own terms, as usual. That left Val and Julie to drive to the rented ballroom where their son would launch his political career.
They circled three times before finding a spot two blocks from the venue. The streets were busy, too, most people headed the same way they were. Julie grabbed Val’s hand and Val squeezed back; whatever came of this campaign, it was exciting.
The crowd inside milled, waiting. A few danced to the music playing through the PA system, some song Val forgot the name of though she’d heard it all over school. Television cameras surrounded the stage, along with a few still photographers claiming their own space. More TV cameras scattered near the walls, where Piloted reporters tested their mics. Val and Julie walked past; David had asked them to sit onstage behind him and Sophie.
David greeted them when they reached the top of the ramp. He’d opted for a dynamic response foot over the microprocessor type, saying he’d had enough computer-controlled body parts. His gait was gradually becoming more natural. “You’re cutting it close.”
“Parking was awful.” Julie hugged him, reaching a hand toward his hair before stopping herself.
He frowned. “I hope that doesn’t keep people away.”
“Are you kidding?” Val gestured at the crowd. “This is already a terrific showing.”
“Especially for an unknown political candidate, months before the primary,” Julie added. “You’ve got people excited.”
“She’s got people excited. Half the crowd is here because she asked them to come.”
“They’re here for both of us,” Sophie said, joining them. “We were not above using my advantages or yours, Poster Boy.”
He glanced out at the cameras. A reporter noticed his attention and shouted, “Hey, David, how’s your foot? Are you thinking of getting your Pilot reconnected?”
He shook his head, less an answer than an expression of annoyance. Turning back to the family, he said, “I’m a soldier. If this is what you need from me, this is what I’ll do.”
“You said you wanted this, remember? Nobody’s making you.” Sophie looked impatient. “Is it time yet? I’m ready to get started. Hey, how do I look?”
She did a twirl like she was showing off a dress, pointing a finger to her temple. The honest answer was that seeing Sophie with a Pilot light, even a fake one, even knowing Sophie would never have gotten one for real, felt like a knife in Val’s heart.
“Like a sheep,” Val said, a joke and a truth wrapped in one. “No offense to those who have them.”
Sophie took a seat with them at the back of the stage. The lights went off. A spotlight was angled in a way that probably blinded whoever was at the podium, but from the chairs, Val saw into the darkness. Dozens of blue lights dotted the space, like fireflies on long grass. The flickers were an optical illusion, the result of people walking, nodding, talking. It made her remember the first time she’d ever seen a Pilot, back before she’d known what it was, that single pinprick in a darkened auditorium.
David approached the podium to cheers. He bent to speak into the mic so it wouldn’t have to be readjusted for Sophie.
In the first-draft speech he’d tried on them, he started with “There weren’t any celebrities available, and I’ve been told I’m the next best thing.” Sophie had vetoed it as too self-deprecating.
He used the beginning she’d written instead. “Hi. You know me from a bunch of commercials where I told you to buy a popular product, and you did.” He’d wanted to add an apology there, but Sophie had told him to wait.
“I’ve been told I have a trustworthy face.” Some people laughed.
“So I’m here to ask you to trust me on something else this time, and I’ll be back to tell you why I’m your candidate in a minute, but first—and I know this is backward—I’m here to introduce you to the smartest, most motivated, most dedicated person I know: my sister.” Val was pretty sure Sophie had left the descriptors up to him.
David waited for Sophie to join him, giving her a hug, turning with her to face the cameras. Val thought it was the strangest thing, to watch this movie of her grown kids not only getting along, but supporting each other, raising each other up. David came to sit beside them, and Sophie took his place at the microphone.
“My name is Sophie, and I’m here to tell you my brother should be your candidate. It’s going to sound like he’s a one-issue candidate for a bit, but that one issue bleeds into everything: education, health, jobs. Everything. I’ll talk about that in a minute.
“David got a Pilot early, to fit in and keep up in class, and as you maybe know, it nearly killed him. He’s one of the people—we don’t know how many yet, but we’re going to find out—whose Pilots generate something he calls ‘noise,’
