Lost Boys by Orson Scott Card Page A
Authors: Orson Scott Card
Tags: Fiction, General, Family, Horror, SF, Occult fiction, supernatural, Families, Moving; Household, north carolina, Missing Children, Domestic fiction; American, Occult fiction; American, Moving; Household - North Carolina, Family - North Carolina
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terminal compassion if you ever let it get out of control."
"Now you're making fun of me."
"You're a wonderful wife and a wonderful mother and now you better go tell Stevie the good news so he won't get an ulcer before morning."
"Come with me," said DeAnne.
"He doesn't want to see me."
"Step, don't be as petulant as he was."
"What about my sandwich?"
"Let it dry out. I'll poach you those eggs."
"I ate two candy bars at work, it's not like I need dinner," he said as he followed her down the ha ll to the boys' room. "I'm going to get fat working there. There's a candy machine right around the corner from my office. Twenty steps and I have a Three Musketeers in my mouth."
"Well, don't do it," said DeAnne. "You worked too hard to get down to this weight."
Stevie was still awake, of course. DeAnne explained what Dr. Mariner had suggested. "Isn't that wonderful?"
Stevie nodded.
"She really is a good principal, Stevie. So you remember, you do have at least one friend at school already."
He nodded again. Then, glancing at his father, he reached out and put his hand behind her neck, to draw her close, so he could whisper in her ear. "You didn't tell Dad that I cried, did you?"
She almost told him that Step had wanted to keep him home from school; but they had decided years ago that they would never hint at disagreement between them on decisions dealing with the children, so that they'd never get the idea that they could play one parent off against the other. So instead she just shook her head. "But even if he guessed it," she whispered, "that's nothing to be ashamed of."
"I know," he said softly. "But don't tell." He lay back down and she tucked him in again and turned off the light.
"Leave the hall light on!" said Robbie loudly.
"Are you still awake, Road Bug?" asked Step.
"Don't nobody go to school tomorrow," said Robbie. "Not Stevie and not you either, Dad!"
"Don't I wish," said Step. He left the hall light on.
5: Hacker Snack
Here is how Step's days were spent: Most days he drove to work, leaving the car for DeAnne only when she knew she was going to need it for shopping. He would rather have left it all the time, but he was never sure when he'd be coming home, and it was hard to carpool with such an uncertain schedule.
He always began the workday by drifting into the programmers' pit, a large room with even more computers than Gallowglass's office. Most of the machines were already up and running, usually with lines and lines of assembly language on the screen, though sometimes there was a screen filled with the faded-looking colors of the 64. As he moved from machine to machine, the programmers would point out what they were doing, and sometimes they'd have a problem and Step would pull up a chair beside them and help spot the flaw in the code or find some simple, elegant solution. Step usually felt inadequate at this, because all the programmers knew the workings of the 64 better than he did and quite often he had to ask, What are you getting from this register? Or, What does it mean to store that value in that location? And they'd kind of laugh and say That's the current location of the character set, or, That's the wave- form for the sound, and the tone of their voices always suggested that everybody knew that.
But the truth is that while they knew the 64, Step had a gift for code and he knew it and they knew it. He could look at a routine for a few minutes and then rewrite it to cut the amount of memory it used in half, or make it run twice as fast, or make it smoother and more responsive on the screen. Back when he'd been working alone on programming, he thought of himself as a clumsy amateur, and he was always vaguely ashamed of his code. But now he realized that he was pretty good after all, or at least good enough to be better than the caliber of programmer that Eight Bits Inc. was able to attract.
Still, it wasn't too smart for him to keep thinking of himself as a programmer. Because whenever
"Now you're making fun of me."
"You're a wonderful wife and a wonderful mother and now you better go tell Stevie the good news so he won't get an ulcer before morning."
"Come with me," said DeAnne.
"He doesn't want to see me."
"Step, don't be as petulant as he was."
"What about my sandwich?"
"Let it dry out. I'll poach you those eggs."
"I ate two candy bars at work, it's not like I need dinner," he said as he followed her down the ha ll to the boys' room. "I'm going to get fat working there. There's a candy machine right around the corner from my office. Twenty steps and I have a Three Musketeers in my mouth."
"Well, don't do it," said DeAnne. "You worked too hard to get down to this weight."
Stevie was still awake, of course. DeAnne explained what Dr. Mariner had suggested. "Isn't that wonderful?"
Stevie nodded.
"She really is a good principal, Stevie. So you remember, you do have at least one friend at school already."
He nodded again. Then, glancing at his father, he reached out and put his hand behind her neck, to draw her close, so he could whisper in her ear. "You didn't tell Dad that I cried, did you?"
She almost told him that Step had wanted to keep him home from school; but they had decided years ago that they would never hint at disagreement between them on decisions dealing with the children, so that they'd never get the idea that they could play one parent off against the other. So instead she just shook her head. "But even if he guessed it," she whispered, "that's nothing to be ashamed of."
"I know," he said softly. "But don't tell." He lay back down and she tucked him in again and turned off the light.
"Leave the hall light on!" said Robbie loudly.
"Are you still awake, Road Bug?" asked Step.
"Don't nobody go to school tomorrow," said Robbie. "Not Stevie and not you either, Dad!"
"Don't I wish," said Step. He left the hall light on.
5: Hacker Snack
Here is how Step's days were spent: Most days he drove to work, leaving the car for DeAnne only when she knew she was going to need it for shopping. He would rather have left it all the time, but he was never sure when he'd be coming home, and it was hard to carpool with such an uncertain schedule.
He always began the workday by drifting into the programmers' pit, a large room with even more computers than Gallowglass's office. Most of the machines were already up and running, usually with lines and lines of assembly language on the screen, though sometimes there was a screen filled with the faded-looking colors of the 64. As he moved from machine to machine, the programmers would point out what they were doing, and sometimes they'd have a problem and Step would pull up a chair beside them and help spot the flaw in the code or find some simple, elegant solution. Step usually felt inadequate at this, because all the programmers knew the workings of the 64 better than he did and quite often he had to ask, What are you getting from this register? Or, What does it mean to store that value in that location? And they'd kind of laugh and say That's the current location of the character set, or, That's the wave- form for the sound, and the tone of their voices always suggested that everybody knew that.
But the truth is that while they knew the 64, Step had a gift for code and he knew it and they knew it. He could look at a routine for a few minutes and then rewrite it to cut the amount of memory it used in half, or make it run twice as fast, or make it smoother and more responsive on the screen. Back when he'd been working alone on programming, he thought of himself as a clumsy amateur, and he was always vaguely ashamed of his code. But now he realized that he was pretty good after all, or at least good enough to be better than the caliber of programmer that Eight Bits Inc. was able to attract.
Still, it wasn't too smart for him to keep thinking of himself as a programmer. Because whenever
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