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"Oh, by the way, child," Katherine Hepburn asked while knitting. "Are you staying for dinner tonight?"
"No, not today. I need to get home early. My dad's actually coming home for dinner tonight."
"Ah, Commissioner Stacy. He's quite the busy man these days."
"Tell me about it." Gwen sighed. "Honestly, I think I could miss curfew every day and he wouldn't even notice anymore."
"That won't do, young lady." Katherine pointed a knitting needle at her. "I'll keep an eye on you on your father's behalf."
"Oh, how strict, Katherine." Gwen smiled sweetly. "But I promised George I wouldn't get a boyfriend before college. I'm very good at keeping my promises."
The comment reminded her of something.
She reached over and pulled the book from in front of Henry's face.
After glancing at the cover, she blinked.
"Harry Potter? You read children's books?"
"Why not?"
After the lessons he'd learned from things like RoboCop and One Hundred and One Dalmatians, Henry's purpose in reading books wasn't merely passing the time.
He was comparing them with his memories.
Looking for differences.
Looking for things that were missing.
Trying to determine whether those missing elements still existed somewhere in this world.
"Do me a favor," Gwen said.
"What favor?"
Henry sat up and looked at the young woman.
By his standards, it was difficult to remember that she was still under eighteen.
She had already grown into a beautiful young lady.
If he crossed any lines, her father would probably throw him in prison.
"Can you teach me how to drive on Sunday afternoon?"
"Why not ask George?"
America was a nation built around cars.
Learning to drive was simple.
First came the written test for traffic regulations, after which one received a learner's permit.
The exact process varied by state.
After that, most people simply learned from family members or friends on roads or in empty parking lots.
Once they felt ready, they scheduled a driving test.
Pass, and they got a license.
Which was why Henry found the request strange.
Gwen smiled brightly.
"Because ever since he became commissioner, he's too busy."
Then she waved the novel in front of him.
"And among everyone I know, you're the one with the most free time."
Choosing not to debate whether he was actually idle, Henry replied,
"If you see George tonight, have him call me.
"He needs to know about this, and I need his permission.
"If I don't get a call from him, I'm not teaching you."
As he spoke, he held out his hand.
"No problem!"
Gwen immediately returned the book.
Then she turned to Skye.
"Come on. Let's go study in your room."
The younger girl didn't move.
Instead, she glared at Henry, who had already settled back onto the couch.
"I want to learn how to drive too."
Henry reopened his book and hid behind it.
"Wait until you're sixteen.
"That's the minimum legal driving age.
"Until then, the most I'll buy you is a secondhand bicycle.
"Would you like training wheels?"
"Jerk!"
"You're standing next to the daughter of the Police Commissioner and discussing illegal activities."
Henry didn't even lower the book.
"That's clear evidence of poor judgment and insufficient intelligence.
"Looks like school won't save you after all.
"What's your future plan? Working at a strip club?"
"Aaaaah!"
With a furious scream, Skye launched herself at him and grabbed both his long hair and beard.
Unfortunately, Kryptonian hair follicles were considerably sturdier than ordinary human ones.
No matter how hard she pulled, she couldn't yank out a single strand.
In the end, Gwen stepped in, restrained the younger girl, picked up her school bag, and dragged her toward her room.
At this point, such daily battles were completely normal.
---
Skye's bedroom looked nothing like a young girl's room.
There were no stuffed animals.
No pink decorations.
No frilly curtains.
Instead, it resembled the workshop of a dedicated engineering student.
Electronic components and half-finished homemade devices covered the desk.
The bookshelf held more than just elementary and middle-school textbooks.
There were numerous advanced books borrowed from the library on electronics, electrical engineering, and computer science.
Because those books had to be returned eventually, stacks of notebooks filled with copied notes occupied much of the room.
The most eye-catching item was a bare computer assembled directly on the desk.
Its monitor was an old monochrome display.
Almost every component had come from scrapyards.
Anything functional was used as-is.
Anything broken had been repaired.
Everything had been cobbled together piece by piece.
The money for those discarded parts came from jobs Skye performed around the house.
In many Western households, children earning money through chores was perfectly normal.
There was no concept of simply receiving allowance for nothing.
Even Gwen's tutoring sessions technically fell under the same principle.
Naturally, these jobs consisted only of safe household tasks approved by parents or guardians.
The reason Skye had become so obsessed with electronics traced back to her first attempt at running away after moving here.
She had managed to locate a sewer entrance and was preparing to lift the manhole cover and disappear underground when Henry appeared.
With a smug grin, he pulled a tracking device off her body and carried her straight home.
Afterward, no matter how carefully she checked herself, there always seemed to be another tracker somewhere.
And Henry always found her.
Always.
People often said that where there was oppression, there would be resistance.
So Skye began teaching herself electronics in order to locate the tracking devices hidden on her body.
Some of the homemade radio-frequency detectors she built actually worked.
She found a few.
But it didn't matter.
Henry always managed to produce another tracker she had overlooked.
Sometimes it operated on a different frequency.
Sometimes it relied on an entirely different tracking method.
Reporting him to Child Protective Services was something she'd only tried once.
The biggest problem was that Henry could easily afford lawyers.
And her accusations had been false.
She possessed no evidence whatsoever that he had abused or harmed a minor.
The reason she never tried it again was even simpler.
The look of disappointment on Katherine Hepburn's face.
Skye didn't want to see that expression a second time.
Thus, after abandoning the idea of exploiting official systems, she chose to fight Henry through technology instead.
Fortunately, every time Henry won, he couldn't resist showing off.
He would proudly explain exactly how he had bypassed her equipment and tracked her down.
Skye's task was then to decipher the clues hidden within those explanations.
As for the homemade computer—
Part of its purpose was connecting to the internet and seeking advice from knowledgeable strangers.
The other purpose was considerably more ambitious.
She wanted to hack BB.
Because Skye was absolutely convinced that BB's internal systems served as the receiving station for Henry's trackers.
If she couldn't eliminate every tracking device, then she would simply disable the system used to receive and display the signals.
And so she threw herself headfirst into the world of computers.
Ordinary computer usage wasn't enough.
She had to learn programming.
She had to learn hacking.
Programming at least had textbooks.
Hacking required studying security protocols, firewalls, and network architecture.
Finding vulnerabilities.
Bypassing protections.
Breaking things.
Nobody published step-by-step guides on how to infiltrate other people's systems and maliciously alter them.
This time, Henry couldn't provide hints.
Everything depended on Skye's own efforts.
Occasionally, she'd seek advice from helpful strangers online.
People like CK, TS, and Miss_C.
Kind souls who performed good deeds without revealing their real identities.
---
The first time Gwen entered this room, she had been completely shocked by Skye's interests.
Now, however, she had adapted.
The strange electronics no longer intimidated her.
The overwhelming atmosphere no longer felt unusual.
She simply ignored the piles of components and focused on her responsibilities as a tutor.
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