Gifted by H. A. Swain

Cicada, I ping Arabella to let her know I’m free because we’ve been missing each other all day. First she was at a movie premiere, then a fashion show while I was visiting Al, and now she’s at an after-party for the release of a horror novel called The School for Broken Children in an old college where everyone is dressed as scholars as a joke. We agreed to meet for dinner, just the two of us at The Deep End, the hottest CelebuChef restaurant in the City, then we’ll hit another premiere or maybe a concert, depending on how we feel and how much Buzz Ara stills needs.
    While I wait for her reply, I turn on my receiver and scan the waves for pirate radio on my way into the Distract. But then my dad calls. Not even a ping, but a real live video connection, which can’t be good. Quickly I stash the receiver as he appears on my WindScreen.
    â€œOrpheus! What the hell have you done?” he demands. “Who the hell have you been talking to?”
    â€œHello to you, too,” I say.
    â€œIt’s all over the Buzz!” he yells as he paces his office, drink in one hand and the lights of the Distract behind him.
    â€œWhat is?” I ask.
    â€œThat you’re refusing to have an ASA!” He gesticulates wildly, sloshing bourbon on his shoes.
    â€œI never said that.”
    â€œIt must have been your mother then.”
    â€œCouldn’t be,” I tell him. “I was just with her at Alouette’s.”
    â€œWell someone said it,” he snarls. “The media is having a field day.” He points to his giant wall screen where the Buzz is chaotic with images of our family.
    I scroll through the headlines on my ExoScreen. Sure enough, he’s right. It’s everywhere.
    â€œHow do you think this makes me look?” he rages. “My own son, a freeloader, never worked a day in his life, now refuses the very thing that’s made our family fortune.”
    â€œFor the fiftieth time, I’d gladly work if you’d let me! There are lots of jobs at Chanson I could do.”
    â€œIs that so?” Spit flies from his mouth, leaving droplets on the camera eye. “What can you do besides be charming and appeal to a broad range of people? You’re no genius yet!”
    My face stings like he slapped me. “If I don’t know how to do anything, that’s your fault. You’re the one who sent me to SCEWL. Which was a joke! All they do is groom CelebuTantes for fame.”
    â€œWhich is exactly what I need from you. The heir apparent to my empire. You’re supposed to look good and not screw it up. Now all you need is an ASA and this family stays in business.”
    â€œNo, you stay in business, Dad! But what about me? What if that’s not what I want?”
    â€œYou selfish little…” Now Dad is so mad, he’s muttering. “I worked for everything this family has. I found your mother in the gutter and resurrected her career. I saw the writing on the wall for the entire music industry before anybody else did and I saved it. I bought the dead copyrights to huge catalogs of music then solved the digital distribution problem. You play a song, you pay. End of story. Before that, music had become a useless commodity aimed at the lowest common denominator of society. Anybody could shake their ass, auto-tune their voice, and give away a song for free on the Internet until I fundamentally changed the industry. And I did it all for you. But you’d throw it all away!”
    â€œThat’s exactly what Calliope said you’d say!”
    For a moment, my father looks startled. Then he recovers and slowly walks toward his camera so he looms large on my screen. “What are you doing talking to Calliope Bontempi? Are you on her side?”
    â€œNo, of course not,” I say. “She cornered me. I told Esther.”
    He marches away, screaming, “If you or your mother or Calliope Bontempi think you can take me down,