Chapter 1.

Friday, December 17, 2032 3:17 am.

Jessie Graber stretched sleepily and squinted at the neon numbers on the digital clock sitting on her nightstand. 3:17? She yawned and shifted her weight to a different part of the bed, taking care not to arouse her soundly sleeping husband. It’s almost Christmas, she realized, fighting the foggy cobwebs clouding her memory. Jessie smiled, remembering the present she had picked out for Brandon: a fuzzy cow pillow. Jessie knew exactly how her husband felt about cows; he was very vocal about it. A loud snore cut through the quietness. Jessie giggled and felt her husband’s arms around her. He laughed quietly as he held her.
“What’s funny, Smeegles?”
Jessie sighed and smiled at his babyish nickname. Nothing, Honey Bear.”
“Yeah right.” Brandon pulled her close and she felt his stubble brush against her cheek. Slowly she slipped back into unconsciousness.

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Friday, December 17, 2032 7:01 am.

“Don’t forget to put the mail out.” Brandon Graber grabbed his lunch bag and kissed his wife. He paused and looked into her eyes for a long moment. “And wake up the kids.” He smiled and hurried out the door. Jessie smiled to herself and tramped upstairs to waken their sleeping children.
“Kiddos!” she called out. “Breakfast!” Jessie turned around and headed downstairs to the kitchen, paying little attention to the family pictures hanging on the wall. She had seen those pictures millions of times before. She could remember every smile, every funny expression… The sound of thudding feet soon followed and two sleepy-faced boys emerged, squinting at the bright florescent kitchen lights. “Morning, boys,” she greeted. “Where’s Kyle?” Sean shrugged and headed for the dining table. The youngest, Matt, simply replied, “I don’t know,” before heading the way of all the world at breakfast-time. Jessie shook her head impatiently and mounted the steps in search of her eldest. Jessie turned the door knob and peeked inside, straining past all the garbage and clutter strewn across the room. “Kyle?”
“Mmmm.”
“Kyle Shelby Graber! Everyone’s waiting. Do you want a demerit for being late?” The covers moved.
“No, Ma’am,” a slurred voice mumbled from beneath the load of blankets. Jessie tiptoed through the room over to the bed and peeled back the comforter.
“Get up.”
“I ain’t gonna comb my hair… Cuz I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”
Jessie laughed and grabbed her son’s hand, pulling him out of bed. “Yes, you are. Come on.”


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Friday, December 17, 2032 3:17 pm.

“You’re wanted. Principal’s office.” Kyle juggled his books and stared after the retreating form of the 8th grade teacher, Mr. Swanson. He shrugged and stuffed his homework into his book bag before zipping it shut and hoisting it onto his back. He set off down the hall towards the principal’s office. Kyle hated this ordeal as much as he hated Grandma’s carrot-garlic concoction, given as a reward for getting sick at Grandma’s house. He braced himself for another “talk.” The school principal, Burt Sanders, was 6’7”, thin as a rake, and in his mid 50s. He wasn’t menacing, but very mysterious. Over all, Burt Sanders gave the first-glance impression of a snake.
“Yo, man.” Sam Hone trudged down the hall with his buddy, Trev. “What’d ya do this time? Swipe Teach’s apple?” Kyle punched Sam lightly in the stomach.
“No! I’m an angel.” His face grew serious. “I honestly don’t know, man.”
Sam shrugged. “Well, good luck.”
“Yeah, thanks.” Kyle resumed his pace and turned the corner to the principal’s office. He knocked on the door, barely noticing the gilded lettering proclaiming the principal’s office. Hardly a welcome.
“Come in.”
Kyle turned the doorknob and stepped into the room. He felt like a page in the King’s reception room. Or, better yet, a visitor to… never mind. Some technology geek. Kyle loved technology like a mother loves her baby. Relatives said he took after his father, but looked like his mother. He didn’t find the fact comforting; that he should resemble a woman. But, they assured Kyle that he was a very manly version of Jessie Graber. Somewhat better. He stood at 5’6”, lanky, and addicted to electronic gadgets. Kyle had dark brown hair and hazel eyes and was always found sporting All-Star Converse and a rubber armband. Besides that, his only other major accomplishment was his role as the class clown, a practical joker who found something to laugh about in everything. While this earned Kyle a number of friends and female pursuers, it also earned him countless “teacher glares.” Many accounts of his school escapades reached the principal and they had quickly become political enemies. It would take a miracle to reverse the curse. Kyle drew a deep breath and shut the door softly. He stood facing the principal, who pretended to be busy and just “not have the time to deal with this again.” Sanders looked at Kyle through the top of his eyeglasses.
“Sit down.”
Kyle grimaced. “Yes, sir,” he mumbled. He sat down in a hard-backed chair, strategically placed to allow the victim a longing glance at Sanders’ comfortable, leather chair before the interrogation. Burt Sanders picked up a magazine and lost himself behind the glossy cover. Kyle seethed. Some principal. He restrained himself from yelling at Sanders to hurry up. Some people out there have things they need to do. I’d be watching the clock. Sanders obviously wasn’t. He didn’t seem all that concerned either.
Finally, after about 5 minutes, that seemed to Kyle like hours, Sanders put down his magazine. He raised an eyebrow.
“Well, well.”
Well, well. You’re wasting my time, Kyle thought.
“It appears that… you have several charges against you.”
Helsinki Special. When did you go to law school? “What is this, a court of law?”
Sanders glared. “Complaints, if you’d rather.”
“That’s news.” Kyle managed to maintain a look of pure boredom, sinking down in his seat for special effects.
“It shouldn’t be. It appears you’ve been here quite often.”
“Really?” Kyle sat up and scowled. “Look, you’re wasting my time. What are the complaints?”
Sanders looked down at a sheet on his desk. “The complaints are… you were caught… excuse me… seen carrying a Bible at school and…”
“Hold on a second!” Kyle leaped from his seat in surprise. “What do you mean?” By this time, Sanders was on his feet, facing Kyle.
“Sit down. I’ll get you a drink.” Kyle sat down reluctantly, somewhat surprised that Sanders would do anything along the line of “nice” for him. Probably has rat poison in it, he guessed as Sanders set it down. Sanders sat down across from him again. “I understand that this law is recent, but Bibles are no longer allowed in school. I…”
“Ever heard of freedom of speech? How about freedom of the press? Ring a bell?”
Sanders cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Look, I’m not saying Bibles are illegal in the U.S. I’m just saying that they’re not allowed in school anymore.”
Kyle shot him an incredulous look.
“Please. Let me clarify. For instance, a mosque would not permit a Bible to enter it’s doors.”
“This is a mosque?”
“No!” It was obvious that Sanders’ patience was running out. “It’s just that in some places, a Bible is not appropriate. Do you understand?”
Kyle sucked in his breath. “Whatever.”
“Good. You’re dismissed.”
Kyle picked up his bag and walked out. Whatever. Whatever happened to this world?

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Friday, December 17, 2032 3:45 pm.

Kyle stepped in through the door and let it slam behind him.
“Mom?” he called. “I’m back!” Kyle dumped his backpack on the La-Z-Boy sitting in the corner and made his way into the kitchen. The scent of baking cookies filled the bright kitchen. Chocolate chip. Kyle slid onto one of the bar stools surrounding the island counter, watching his mom as she pulled a cookie sheet out of the oven. Jessie Graber slipped off a badly burned oven mitt and rested her elbows on the countertop across from Kyle. She swiped a stray brown hair out of her brown eyes and smiled.
“How’d your day go?”
Kyle shrugged and reached for a cookie. “Okay, I guess.”
Jessie laughed and flicked Kyle’s hand away from the still-hot cookie sheet. “Don’t touch. They’re not ready yet, pig.” Kyle rounded his eyes at his mom and Jessie turned to the fridge and opened it.
“Yeah? Who’s the pig?”
Jessie smiled and pulled out the milk carton. “Glad you asked.” She pulled a glass from the cupboard and handed it to Kyle. “You are,” she whispered.
“Hey!”
The phone rang, and Jessie left the kitchen to answer it. Kyle took the opportunity to snitch two cookies. He headed to the computer, his idol. A pop-up ad appeared and Kyle made short work of eliminating it. He began work on his special micro-chip programming system. As much as his dad knew about computers, Kyle didn’t even bother trying to explain this. In his parents’ eyes, he knew, Kyle Graber was a computer geek prodigy.