Joshua embraced him, feeling Neil’s sharp shoulder blades under his hands, the solid, wiry frame of him, and he was so full of joy that he almost couldn’t stand it. He pulled back to tell Neil that he was so glad he was there. They could finally do all the things they were meant to do together. But instead of Neil, his Neil, he was holding the young Dr. Green, who stared at him with Neil’s eyes. Joshua jolted with confusion.
“Recognition is governed, in part, by the fusiform gyrus,” Dr. Green said.
“What?” Joshua asked.
“Joshua. Wake up. You know who I am.”
“What?” Joshua asked again.
“Wake up,” Dr. Green said. “This doesn’t have to be a dream.”
Wake up.
Chapter Sixteen
Neil’s hands shookas he left the meeting with Brian Peters. It was one thing to have to exist in this world without Joshua while knowing he was out there, alive and completely out of reach, but it was another to try to do it without the benefit of his work as a distraction. And, as of fifteen minutes prior, he was out on a forced sabbatical. Sure, it was only twelve days for now, but it was twelve days of pure hell as far as Neil was concerned.
The cherry on top was that it wasJoshuawho had gotten him into this situation.
Neil didn’t wait to get back to the apartment before putting in a call to the Neil Russell Foundation. After haranguing someone named Rebecca, he was finally transferred to Joshua’s cell, and as the sound of the ring hit his ear, he nearly doubled over, suddenly nauseous with nervous anticipation that almost blanked out his rage.
“Dr. Green?” Joshua’s voice answered, sounding every bit as overcome as Neil felt. “Can I help you?”
“You sure as hell can,” Neil said, his tongue feeling thick, and his head swirled with lightness and blue dots. “You can call off your investigations, Mr. Stouder.”
“Excuse me?”
Neil tasted a surge of anxious bile in his throat. He didn’t know what he was saying. Words just came out. He held on to the side of the bike rack he stood next to and listened to them tumble from his lips like a sickness.
“I know you don’t support nanite projects since your husband died, but the collateral damage here is too much. I’m not going to let you screw me over in a grudge against nanites or against me. I’m ethical and honest. I do the best work there is in this field and taking me out of the game isn’t going to result in better nanite outcomes. I need my job, Mr. Stouder. Not for money. Not for glory. And, believe it or not, not for my ego. I need it for my sanity. And if you had any clue at all why that is, you’d leave me to my work in peace. Are you listening, Mr. Stouder?”
“Yes. I hear you, Neil,” Joshua said.
Neil’s knees went weak, and his chest felt like it was being crushed in. “Then why? Why call Peters? Why ask him about my questionable hobbies and my activities? Which are, for the record,no one’s business. Not yours. Not his. I didn’t cause your husband’s death. If people had listened to me from the beginning, it wouldn’t have happened. But no! Who listens to a kid? No one.”
“I do,” Joshua said. “I’d have listened to you.”
Neil’s throat felt tight. “The hell you would have. And what could I have said? ‘Mr. Stouder, believe me. I’m twelve. I know what I’m doing.’”
Joshua made a strange noise, and then Neil spouted off more. “Do you have any idea how important this work is to me? Do you know what it means when a massive donor calls a project head and basically implies with his questions that they might be interested in funding an immense nanite project, except for the pesky kid with a big mouth and weird hobbies?”
“Maybe you could try controlling your mouth, Neil,” Joshua said, and his tone when he said Neil’s name was full of meaning. “Or you could try telling me more. About yourself. About your hobby. Why do you read all those books on reincarnation? That’s a strange topic for a scientist, don’t you think? Or maybe you want to tell me where you came from. I mean, where youreallycame from.” Joshua sounded almost panicked now, like he was on the verge of some sort of emotional freak-out himself.
Neil’s dread ratcheted up in the face of it. Was this a trick? Would he say something that would incriminate his sanity and get him blacklisted from credible nanite research for life? “Are you…are you trying to sabotage my career?”
“No, of course not. I’m worried about you.” Joshua sounded like he wanted to say something else, but had settled on the closest thing he could admit to.
Neil scoffed. “Worried? Aboutwhat, exactly?”
“After I denied the funding, I felt concerned about your mental health. I worried that you might…hurt yourself.”
“Hurt myself? Are you kidding me? I’m not going to go put a bullet in my brain because you aren’t giving me money. I’ve had more reasons to off myself than that and made it through.”
“Well, that’s comforting,” Joshua said in a tone that made it clear that it was not. Then he seemed to steady himself, and he came back sounding more professional and more in control. “Listen, as a potential donor to your project, I have every right to be concerned for your mental welfare.”
“Oh, please. You’re not donating, so let’s call off this charade.”
“I actually haven’t decided yet.”
