across the apartment to the recycling bin. He missed, but it didn’t break; it just rolled around the kitchen floor.
The second option was no better. Dodge was right: if he took a real job, he’d be arrested. In California, he’d be arrested for a federal crime, leaving Texas to avoid paying child support. At least if he got a job in Texas it would come with one less count against him.
He leaned his head against the window. It was cool against his skin. Listening to the rain, a thought came to him. It came to him in his father’s voice: “Do you want to do it on their terms or yours?”
No matter what he did, he would eventually have to face a judge in Texas.
It took almost ten minutes to boot up his computer. He sent an e-mail to Foster, phrasing it as though they were in adjacent cubicles. “Have you got funding for that project? I might have some breathing room next month.” He didn’t even sign his name at the bottom. There was something ecstatically normal about that note.
A few seconds later, his phone rang. It was Foster. “Ryan, I got your note.” The phone made a series of clicking noises, probably caused by the weather. It cleared up as Foster said, “Are you really interested? If you are, I won’t interview anyone else.”
“Yeah,” Ryan said, “I’m interested.”
“It’s the software director position,” Foster said. “The pay is pretty good, about what you were making at GoldCon before we got laid off.”
If Ryan were making that kind of money, it would only take a couple of months to accumulate enough cash to put a dent in his child support. He might even be able to appear in court beforethe payroll information made it to the deadbeat-dad office. The charges would at least be suspended. Like Constable Holcomb had said, “Can’t pay child support from jail.” A few months after that, there had to be a way to repeal the legal mess that kept him away from Sean.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m interested,” Ryan said. “When can you put together an offer?”
“We’re really close to having funding—a couple of months? Two or three? Three max.”
When Ryan hung up the phone, he didn’t feel the relief that he thought he should. Foster had changed. Everything had changed. Going back to Texas felt off balance, like going backward when the solutions to his problem should be forward. It all nagged at him. What had led him to Petaluma in the first place? It sure had seemed like he was here for a reason.
Something nagged at Dodge when he hung up the phone too. Why would Ryan choose to be arrested when he could just sue the bastard? This one was getting away from him. He had to play a card.
Dodge picked up the phone and called his sister, Emmy, or, more properly, Professor Amolie Nutter, Department of Physics, UC Berkeley.
Upstairs, Ryan dug up the book Foster had sent him months before,
The Cosmology of Creation
. As he read, the mix of religion and science both tugged his curiosity and ticked his bullshit meter. Ryan couldn’t tell where the science ended andthe religion began, but he knew that Foster wouldn’t budge on biblical literalism. Was it just a big scientific-seeming rationalization of religion or a genuine treatise of discovery? By midnight, barely halfway through, the math and physics were completely over his head. Still, it convinced him of one thing for certain: Foster believed that he’d discovered a link between science and spirituality.
As he went to sleep, a question kept ringing in his head: which came first, matter or consciousness?
Five hours later he awoke to someone pounding on his door. He jerked up from a nightmare, the same nightmare he always had, another view of his past, the part that had led to the restraining order that kept him away from Sean. Tammi. Damn Tammi. You’d think that, at least in his dreams, she’d have found her way to hell. He looked around, not sure where he was.
Katarina yelled through the door, “I need a ride to school. It’s
The second option was no better. Dodge was right: if he took a real job, he’d be arrested. In California, he’d be arrested for a federal crime, leaving Texas to avoid paying child support. At least if he got a job in Texas it would come with one less count against him.
He leaned his head against the window. It was cool against his skin. Listening to the rain, a thought came to him. It came to him in his father’s voice: “Do you want to do it on their terms or yours?”
No matter what he did, he would eventually have to face a judge in Texas.
It took almost ten minutes to boot up his computer. He sent an e-mail to Foster, phrasing it as though they were in adjacent cubicles. “Have you got funding for that project? I might have some breathing room next month.” He didn’t even sign his name at the bottom. There was something ecstatically normal about that note.
A few seconds later, his phone rang. It was Foster. “Ryan, I got your note.” The phone made a series of clicking noises, probably caused by the weather. It cleared up as Foster said, “Are you really interested? If you are, I won’t interview anyone else.”
“Yeah,” Ryan said, “I’m interested.”
“It’s the software director position,” Foster said. “The pay is pretty good, about what you were making at GoldCon before we got laid off.”
If Ryan were making that kind of money, it would only take a couple of months to accumulate enough cash to put a dent in his child support. He might even be able to appear in court beforethe payroll information made it to the deadbeat-dad office. The charges would at least be suspended. Like Constable Holcomb had said, “Can’t pay child support from jail.” A few months after that, there had to be a way to repeal the legal mess that kept him away from Sean.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m interested,” Ryan said. “When can you put together an offer?”
“We’re really close to having funding—a couple of months? Two or three? Three max.”
When Ryan hung up the phone, he didn’t feel the relief that he thought he should. Foster had changed. Everything had changed. Going back to Texas felt off balance, like going backward when the solutions to his problem should be forward. It all nagged at him. What had led him to Petaluma in the first place? It sure had seemed like he was here for a reason.
Something nagged at Dodge when he hung up the phone too. Why would Ryan choose to be arrested when he could just sue the bastard? This one was getting away from him. He had to play a card.
Dodge picked up the phone and called his sister, Emmy, or, more properly, Professor Amolie Nutter, Department of Physics, UC Berkeley.
Upstairs, Ryan dug up the book Foster had sent him months before,
The Cosmology of Creation
. As he read, the mix of religion and science both tugged his curiosity and ticked his bullshit meter. Ryan couldn’t tell where the science ended andthe religion began, but he knew that Foster wouldn’t budge on biblical literalism. Was it just a big scientific-seeming rationalization of religion or a genuine treatise of discovery? By midnight, barely halfway through, the math and physics were completely over his head. Still, it convinced him of one thing for certain: Foster believed that he’d discovered a link between science and spirituality.
As he went to sleep, a question kept ringing in his head: which came first, matter or consciousness?
Five hours later he awoke to someone pounding on his door. He jerked up from a nightmare, the same nightmare he always had, another view of his past, the part that had led to the restraining order that kept him away from Sean. Tammi. Damn Tammi. You’d think that, at least in his dreams, she’d have found her way to hell. He looked around, not sure where he was.
Katarina yelled through the door, “I need a ride to school. It’s
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