37

Oliver Bowen

May 26, 2045. Sydney, Australia.

On the elevator, Oliver watched his reflection in the polished brass door, trying to ignore the stares of the defenders sharing the elevator with him.

Lila was waiting in the lobby. She waved, as if he might not notice the only human in sight.

“How are you doing?” Oliver asked, squeezing Lila’s shoulder.

She blinked slowly. “Well, let’s see. Apparently I have a boyfriend.”

“Erik?”

She nodded, smiling. “He gave me a gift, a painting of us. He painted it himself.”

“Is it any good?”

“No,” she said laughing. She made a face. “In fact it’s awful. But in this case it really is the thought that counts.”

Oliver had to agree. He touched her sleeve, drawing her away from the pedestrian traffic between the elevator and the exits. “How do they strike you? We all seem to be ending up with ‘special friends,’ but you’re apparently getting to know Erik especially well.”

“I don’t know about that. I am spending a lot of time with him. He gets upset if he sees me with another defender. Humans don’t seem to be an issue, but if I’m with another defender, it’s as if I’m being unfaithful.”

“So what’s your impression of them?” Oliver wasn’t getting many opportunities to talk with the others.

Lila sighed. “When I look at a defender, I see them storming over that school, fighting to keep us safe. I feel such overwhelming gratitude toward them. Love, even.” She sighed. “But I have to admit, at times they scare me. Not Erik, but generally speaking.” One of the elevators swished open; a half dozen emissaries stepped into the lobby. Lila waved to them. “The way they tore that Luyten apart at the racetrack. The huge stockpile of weapons…”

Oliver nodded, said, “The weapons were a shock. Thanks.” They went to join the others, to wait outside for the limos that would take them to the theater.

Oliver found it interesting, how cliques always formed no matter the situation. He and Lila gravitated toward Bolibar, Galatea, Alan, Sook, Azumi—their little clique, bunched together on the edge of the larger crowd of humans.

“Who’s in charge?” Sook was saying as Oliver and Lila joined them. “I mean, it’s not Vladimir. He’s some sort of midlevel official. Why haven’t we met the leaders?”

“All these dinners and performances,” Bolibar said. “Next they’ll take us to an ice cream social. It’s like they’re trying to soften us up.”

“Of course, the social events are mixed with these tours of their military might,” Alan pointed out.

Azumi nodded. “It’s an odd mix of activities, that’s for sure.”

Oliver had been wondering the same thing. They’d been in Australia for eight days and had yet to meet anyone in power. When he’d asked Erik if the defenders had a leader, Erik had proudly answered that they had three: Douglas, Luigi, and Ichiro. Why hadn’t these leaders met with them?

A parade of limos pulled up in front of the hotel, and Vladimir stepped out of the one in the lead. Everyone stopped talking.