Chapter 11

At the end of our third week at the resort, there was an invasion. Really. It started when these four blokes came to our entry gate and demanded to be admitted, claiming they were federal officers. Over the gate intercom, the office manager asked for proof of their identity and the purpose of the visit, but they wouldn’t say, so the manager told them they’d need a search warrant to enter the grounds. That’s when the fuss started ‘cause the berks climbed over the resort’s fence and came onto the grounds. I was in the pool when I saw some clothed blokes come running past the pool shower block whilst asking people they passed for me! Asking where I was!

As those blokes ran past outside the pool fence, going towards the sports pitch, I saw that they had Tasers on their belts like the enforcers had back in Fairbanks, so I assumed that must be who these berks were—Program enforcers, and what the bloody hell were they doing here? I watched as they ran toward the volleyball court where a whole gang of teens were playing. They stopped the game and were questioning the kids, especially the girls. Andrew was with me, so I told him that those arseholes were Program people looking to kidnap me and that he had told me he’d protect me when I agreed to come here (I was only half kidding; my seeing them appear so suddenly scared me).

“Please get help now!” I whisper-shouted at him.

Whilst I huddled in the pool with a few other teens, hiding as best we could against a deep-end wall, Andrew jumped out and got some help—and some resort members, who had already been alerted about the intruders, quickly sprang into action. The enforcers had finished at the volleyball court and were now just coming onto the pool deck when the cavalry arrived: Stuart, a guy named Jason, whom I knew was a sheriff’s deputy, a sergeant actually, Randy the fullback, and several other big blokes, whom I recognized as part of the resort’s unofficial security team. They were all nude, facing these clots with Tasers. What happened next was epic. We all watched, peeking over the pool’s coping.

Jason identified himself as a sheriff’s deputy, “I’m off duty but you’re trespassing and if you don’t move to get off the grounds in sixty seconds, you’re gonna be arrested.”

Clot: “We’re federal agents and we’re looking for a teen named Emma Clarke. We know she’s here.”

Jason: “Where’s your warrant?”

Clot: “We don’t need warrants. We’re federal Program enforcers and have the authority to take minors into custody.”

Jason: “Not in Maryland, you don’t. You need a warrant. The sixty seconds starts now.”

Clot, pulling his Taser: “You don’t have much protection from this. If I shoot, it’ll hurt.”

That’s when three of the good guys yanked the sun-shade umbrellas out of their stands and, using them as shields, advanced on the enforcers, two of whom let fly their darts, which the umbrellas blocked handily. Being surrounded, the enforcers were subdued very quickly. Stuart was awesome; he did some fancy wicked kung-fu thing with his legs and took two of the clots down. Yay, Royal Marines! Randy did a nasty football tackle on another clot (Andrew assured me that it was an extremely illegal tackle) and gave him a spot of pounding in the process. No bones were broken. Probably. Jason took the spokesman clot down in a move too quick for the eyes, putting him face down on the pool deck with an arm in a hammerlock.

Oh, those Tasers were never gonna be used again. One of the resort blokes pulled the wires out of the unfired ones, then clobbered all of the ugly things into pulp using a leg of a table as a hammer. Jeez, that crunching sound they made was ace. So sorry if you clots have to pay for them.

After the enforcer clots were trussed up with the Taser wires—that must have hurt—Jason started questioning them. The Office of Social Awareness had sent them, the spokesman clot said. His mouth was running so fast the words were tripping over each other. Maybe because he was face down on the concrete deck with Jason kneeling on his kidney and still applying his enthusiastic hammerlock.

“The national office got phone calls from some high school Program coordinators. We were told that somebody’s been agitating against the Program. The coordinators told National that a bunch of parents were given instructions about how their kids could refuse to participate. Doing that’s against the rules. Some of those parents phoned their kids’ schools and others wrote letters, telling the school officials that they know that their child can’t be forced to participate in the Program. A few of the parents told the high schools that they heard about how the Program had gotten stopped in a school in Alaska and that all the students had refused to cooperate there, so National checked Alaska school Program records and found that an Emma Clarke was named as an instigator for the resistance—plus she’s also in the database as a non-compliant participant. Our tech people checked with cell phone companies and located her phone; we tracked it here.”

They can do that? Shit.

“We were sent to pick her up. We have federal authority to do that. You gotta release us; you can’t hold us,” he finished.

Jason let out a nasty laugh. “Release? In your dreams. That’s not happening. I’m also thinking that this looks very much like an attempted kidnapping. You people have zero law enforcement authority in this state and any authority you possess to ‘pick up’ a child is restricted to a school while the school is in session. If you claim something happened in another state, my state requires an arrest warrant for a felony in order to begin extradition procedures. So your attempt here is actually a kidnapping. But we’ll go easy on you ... Me, I won’t arrest and charge you. I think that we’ll do something better. You guys like making kids get naked? We’ll show you all exactly what that feels like.”

They hauled the four up onto their feet—and then noticed that they all had handcuff pouches on their belts, so they replaced the makeshift Taser wire restraints with the cuffs. Then they were frog-marched away. I found out what happened to them later from Jason.

Jason rang up his post, he told me later, and got two of his detective friends from there to come to the park. He got dressed and took a couple of other resort blokes—one of them was a Marine gunnery sergeant from Annapolis Naval Academy, a personal combat instructor—with him, and the detectives, and the handcuffed enforcers. Together, they all went in a caravan of vehicles—two panel lorries, two SUVs, and the enforcers’ two vehicles—to a Wal-Mart just outside Annapolis, and stopped at a light pole near one of the car park entrances. Here they circled the vehicles around the light pole to block the view of what they were going to do; no other cars were parked nearby.

Two of the enforcers had tried to put up a struggle when they were dragged out of the lorry that they had been stuffed into, so the Marine had used a combat move on each of them, something Jason told me was called a suprascapular strike, stunning them long enough that they presented no further difficulty; seeing that, the other two berks were much more cooperative. They stripped the enforcers out of their clothes and handcuffed them together in a daisy chain around the light pole, facing outward. Jason told me that it only took less than a minute to get them cuffed together around the pole like that. Then they filled the keyholes in the cuffs with fast-setting superglue. Using some short lengths of rope, they secured the handcuffs to the pole high enough so the berks had to remain standing. They stuffed the enforcers’ clothing into the boots of their own cars, piled back into the vehicles, and took off.

They hid the enforcers’ cars by parking them amongst all the other cars in the Wal-Mart car park, and dropped the keys in the boots with the clothes. Then Jason called the local police to tell them about the naked men at the Wal-Mart and not to hurry in releasing the four. He explained how they had trespassed at the park in an abortive attempt to pick up a teen for their “protective custody” but in reality it was technically an attempted kidnapping.

I asked Jason if anybody could get into trouble over this.

He told me, “Well, Emma, look at what happened. First, they were trespassing. Even if they were sworn law-enforcement officers, which they’re not, they couldn’t legally enter a private gated property without a warrant. Officers can’t enter private premises without permission or a warrant unless we have a reasonable knowledge of a crime in progress or that someone’s life is in danger. We can’t just go in somewhere private and hunt for someone like that. Next, they’d need to admit that they were taken out by a few nude guys, with them being armed.”

I giggled.

“Yeah. Next, except maybe for me, they don’t know who anyone else was. Topping it off, there’s the kidnapping. Enforcers don’t have arrest powers but they can, under the doctrine that the school is the in loco parentis guardian of a child while at school, do what they call ‘protective custody’ but technically that’s only for children who are causing a disturbance and while in school. I’ve heard that they claim that a kid refusing to participate is ‘causing a disturbance’ but I seriously doubt a judge would agree with that reasoning. Besides all that, you’re not enrolled in any school in Maryland and there’s no Program running anywhere in the summer, so they totally lack any jurisdiction over you. And you heard what I told them about their claim involving another state. No, my dear, no one will get in trouble over this—except perhaps them.”

What was totally brill about the incident’s outcome was the spectacle of those berks cuffed together naked around the light pole in the Wal-Mart car park. The four were shown on the evening TV news and as well, their pictures got in the papers. The local cops took their time finding someone to cut those handcuffs off, too. Also brill was that when the county prosecutor heard what had happened, he began an attempted kidnapping investigation and the press went to town with that story. They did have to face trial for attempted kidnapping—that came a year later, and during the trial they plea-bargained the charges down to conspiracy for false imprisonment and they all wound up with a one-year sentence.

I guess I’m batting a thousand on Emma versus the enforcers. Jeez, another baseball metaphor committed...

What wasn’t brill was when, during the following week, in I suppose what was another retaliation, a Maryland Child Protective Services investigator turned up at the park, asking for admittance. She too was asked for a warrant. She said she was simply investigating a complaint involving me, but was told that she’d need a court-issued warrant to enter the grounds and was sent away. Looks like those damn Program arseholes won’t give up harassing me.

Whilst I was staying at the park, I had kept up a correspondence with my Johns Hopkins contact, Dr Larry Wilson. I would be offered some space in their Applied Physics Lab, he told me, and access to the facilities I needed and an appointment as a “visiting assistant professor.” I had previously told him that I could fund my own work, at least the theoretical parts, but eventually there would be some lab work needed for some fabricating to test my ideas. As well, I had asked him about teaching opportunities, so he was still working on that. He said they wanted me to teach at the advanced level, like graduate seminar. I told him that I would do that, but I wanted to hold out for a more basic course first.

I also was in touch with my engineering school boffins at UAF and learnt that my idea of etching tiny channels in the sandwiched silicon wafer, which would hold captive my substrate recipe, worked and that method could be used in fabricating superconducting microchips which could run small devices on a tiny power source for, well, forever. They had a paper in preparation with me named as senior author and would send the first draft to me by email soon.

The end of the month arrived and it was back to textile life. When Stuart and family (and I) got back to their home, after just an hour of being back, it felt like I had never been away. But when it was time to go to bed, that’s when reality truly hit. This was bloody awful ... I was so lonesome. After about a half hour of tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable with no success, I heard the pad of feet as someone tiptoed into the room.

“Emma? You awake?” Abi whispered.

“Yeah. Can’t sleep.”

She giggled. “Me too. Want company?”

“Yep.” I moved over and she climbed in. She was nude.

“Why you wearin’ clothes?” she mumbled.

“Erm ... habit? Not at the park, so...”

“Emma, just ditch ‘em.”

This cuddling was feeling much better naked when...

“You guys? I’m bloody lonesome...” Sam was stood at my bedside, tugging my blanket.

“Climb in, Sam, it’s good to have you here too.” I giggled.

About two minutes later, ohmygod ... I heard, “Is there any room in there for me?” Andrew asked uncertainly. “I frikkin’ can’t sleep.”

Fortunately my bed is queen-sized. Guest room, you know.

“Sure. Pile on in, sweetheart.” I made some room.

He wiggled next to me and, “You’re nude...”

I giggled. “You told me that ‘naked’ is appropriate in this situation.”

“So I did, sweetheart. Let me join you in nakedness.”

Oh heavens, this cuddling is so brilliant...

That’s how Gerry found us in the morning, a bunch of naked bodies all mooshed together like a litter of kittens.

“Okay kids, what’s up here?” she demanded.

“Ooofff ... wha?”

“Lonesome...”

“Couldn’t sleep...”

“Needed my sis...”

Don’t know who said what, though.

“Alright. I know that you all were super-close for the last month but...”

Four pairs of sad puppy-dog eyes looked pleadingly back at her.

“Okay, okay, I give up. But if you do sleep like this, there need to be some ground rules.”

She enumerated them. “You must make absolutely sure that no one finds out what you do here and that any sexual escapades are strictly forbidden. And sleeping together is only for when you don’t have school the following day unless you get advance permission.”

Wow, not bad. We could deal with those rules.

“All right, now Gramps and Grandmum are coming over for lunch. We still have lots of things to put away, so everyone up now and let’s get going. Breakfast is ready so don’t be a dilly-dally.”

It took way longer to get everything put away than when we got it together in packing for the month’s stay at the resort. Is this a kind of undiscovered form of time expansion that needs some new physics to describe? No, this isn’t relativity; it’s maths. Packing time as compared to unpacking time must simply be a non-commutative relationship, just as a÷b doesn’t give the same result as b÷a. Hmm ... how can I express this using maths? Let’s designate the number of pre-trip particles ... erm ... items to be packed as “a” and those to be unpacked as “b.” Now assuming that there haven’t been any acquisition trips to obtain items “c” (that is, by shopping), we can safely assert that “a” equals “b.” Since the transit distance needed to carry each item in packing the car and unpacking it is the same in both cases, we can safely ignore that variable. If the time to pack “a” items is expressed as “ta,” and unpack “b” items as “tb,” we would expect that a ∙ ta should equal b ∙ tb. That would be sort of a commutative relationship, but since they are unequal, it’s non-commutative. But wait, this method doesn’t account for food items which were packed and subsequently consumed...

Jeez. There I go again; I’m still doin’ it. Must mean that I’m gaggin’ to get back to my research if I keep seeing mathematics in whatever I’m friggin’ doing.

The Marshalls senior arrived just before noon and got an enthusiastic welcome from everyone. They remarked at how nice and rested—and tanned—we all were. Uncle George wanted to talk to Stuart for a while about some embassy business, so Isabella and Gerry invited me to chat with them about my plans.

Isabella asked, “Emma, have you given any thought to where you’ll be in a year and in five years?”

“Yes, ma’am, quite a bit. I have several projects going on in Alaska where I’m kinda the lead investigator and I’m managing that project remotely, and I’m being appointed as a visiting assistant professor at Johns Hopkins in a week and will have a lab at their APL. I’ll need to manage both of those operations to see how to bring them under the same roof. That’s for the first year and...”

Isabella laughed. “Goodness gracious. That wasn’t what I meant at all, dear.”

I was confused and looked at her uncertainly.

Gerry chuckled. “Mom, that’s Emma. She operates on a whole different plane from us ordinary mortals. I knew what you were asking. Let me paraphrase it. Emma, you’re living with us now and we totally and absolutely love your being here, and the kids are over the moon with you living with us. So don’t take this as a suggestion that you’re not wanted here. Mom was asking how you view your short and long-range personal situation, including your living plans. For example, do you want to live with Scott ... and Mary ... instead?”

“Oh. Ohhh ... erm, well, no, I don’t, actually.” I felt a tear form. “You blokes are much more of a family than Scott ever was or could be.”

Gerry drew me into a hug. “Well, you do feel like a third daughter to me ... in a way, but your maturity makes me feel like you’re more like a little sister to me than a daughter.”

Isabella was looking a bit damp about the eyes herself now.

So I went over to her and hugged her. “Are you my honorary sis-mum-in-law, then? Is that even a relation?”

She laughed and hugged me back. “How is it when I look at you, you’re a beautiful, sweet teenager girl, but when I close my eyes and talk to you, you become at least twice as old?” she asked wonderingly.

I blushed. There just aren’t any answers for those rhetorical questions. But I could answer the one still on the table.

“So my personal plans are kinda in flux. Short-term? Andrew and I have been talking about his future school plans, actually. He’s just about a maths whiz, almost at my level in what he knows, up to college level, that is—maybe college junior maths, I’m guessing. So I’ve been coaching him. Also I’m showing him how knowledge of maths really helps in physics and chem, too. And of course in engineering. He’s a junior now. He needs to organize for those college placement tests first before he decides on a major in uni. So I was assuming I could stay here ... I suppose that was rather presumptuous of me...”

Gerry interrupted, “Never think that. You’re part of the family and that’s final.”

“Thanks,” I blushed. “So I was thinking that I could help Andrew—I discovered that I’m excellent in coaching kids. I don’t really tutor; that implies drilling them in a subject so they can pass tests. I prefer coaching which brings out kids’ strengths and makes them self-confident in their abilities. To be self-reliant in study habits.”

Both women were looking at me with a strange expression now. No, it couldn’t be awe. Could it?

Isabella sighed. “Gerry, I apologize. I thought you were exaggerating about Emma. Emma, I’m in awe at your ... grasp of ... goodness ... it seems everything you do.”

Gerry smiled at me. “Andrew’s talked to me about how you make him feel after one of your erm... ‘coaching’ sessions. He said he feels like the most important person in the world, even after seeing everything he works on—you’ve insisted that you even want to review his mistakes. You told him that looking at those was useful to do, as well.”

I nodded. “Yes, absolutely, even the errors have value. In science, the errors sometimes tell you more about the system you’re trying to solve than the things that do work. So I tell my students not to be afraid of them but to work out why they made them. That way they learn how to think critically to avoid making similar errors in the future. Anything a student says, if it’s on point, has value, and teachers frequently learn from their students too. It’s why I love teaching. I get fresh, untainted viewpoints.”

They both wanted hugs again. I could get addicted to this display of love.

I went on. “More short term ideas. As well, I’d love to help Sam and Abi. Sam’s not interested in maths or science but she has a quick mind. She’s observant and analytical. She’d be good taking a general program in college that could lead to any non-science field; she has skills that could make her successful in many areas. I’d like to coach her in developing her innate skills by showing how she can use them in her school learning.”

They both nodded.

“And Abi is the opposite; she’s good in maths like Andrew but I’m sure she must skive off her other subjects, judging how she talks about school. I could help her too. So if I live with you, at least for a year or so, I could work with ... with ... my adopted siblings.”

I was getting teary again. More hugs reassured me.

“For a longer term picture, I don’t know. Even when I turn sixteen, I wouldn’t want to live in an apartment or house on my tod. And I don’t know how long Stuart can remain posted here.”

Gerry smiled. “We’ll be here for a while; this begins the second year of a five-year posting and I’m sure that Stuart will be separating from the Marines after that and there are plans for him to remain on as a deputy chief of mission here when he does retire. He’s got some special skills in applying military thinking to diplomatic problems. That’s what the men are discussing now, actually.”

“Oh, okay,” I said. “And ... erm ... another thing. I need to tell you ... erm ... that I think that I’m falling in love with Andrew. I know what one kind of love is ... I feel it from everyone here, but I feel something different with Andrew. Softer but more intense somehow. More focused. Comfortable. I’m still very young, much too young for commitments, but I’d like to give our relationship a chance to see where it goes.”

“What an incredibly mature way of putting that, Emma. I think Gerry would agree.”

Gerry nodded, “Totally. And I’m sure Andrew feels the same way. I see how he looks at you, Emma.”

What could we do but hug each other again?

We continued chatting for perhaps ten minutes longer and then the men joined us.

“You all look very comfortable,” Uncle George commented. “I trust your discussion was satisfactory?” he asked Isabella.

Oh god, it was a setup. I hope I passed.

“It was perfect, dear,” she answered with a very self-satisfied look. “All questions answered.”

Uncle George went on. “Emma, I have good news for you now. You’re an emancipated teen as of ... well, two and a half weeks ago, actually.”

I was gobsmacked. “Whaaat? How did that happen? You said there’d be a hearing, I’d have to go before a judge, and...”

He laughed. “Details, details. Just arranged it a bit differently. Highly unorthodox, yes, very much so. But fully legal. You did go before a judge. Mr Carruthers, the judge, actually, is a family court judge in this county. You remember speaking to him, I’m guessing?”

“Oh. Yes. Beginning of August, around then. He was terribly curious about me, it seemed, and I had thought his questioning might be a bit rude, actually. Andrew said nudists were private but he was quite prying. But he was so nice, thoughtful, and reassuring, and I knew he was a judge, so I didn’t mind.”

Uncle George nodded. “That was your hearing, then. Since there was no adversary, no court appearance was necessary, was it. Your guardian concurred. You meet all the criteria for independent support, have stable housing, et cetera. The judge simply wanted to confirm your maturity and ability to be independent. You totally impressed him, actually. So instead of being conducted in chambers, he did it at the resort, and he recorded the session too. And you may ask how we knew him? He’s the father of one of Stuart’s friends at the resort and goes there sometimes when he can get away. So that made it easy to have him see you. Otherwise we could have simply gotten onto a judge’s calendar and had a regular hearing, with the same result.”