Before the cop can fall, his legs come unfrozen. He catches himself. Red-faced, he glares at the crowd. Grabs his gun in both hands and clutches it against his chest.

“Let me ask you again,” Lyle says. “You know why I know these things?”

The cop sputters. “I don’t know, okay? Why? Why do you know all that shit?”

“Because I can dodge your bullets, Officer.”

Lyle is not lying.

Abruptly, I wonder just what the hell is perched on my temple. And if Lyle is the only person who can tell me, I wonder if it’s worth knowing. Maybe it’s better to just let it lie dormant for the rest of my life.

The police officer looks at his own hands, wrapped moistly around the grip of his gun. “You’re out of your fucking mind,” he says.

The cowboy watches him, not blinking. “You can walk through us like we are ghosts, Officer. You got all the power in the world. But try and tell me power don’t recognize power.”

The cop isn’t listening anymore. Taking those measured mechanical steps, somehow childlike now, we can all tell that he is trying not to run. He beats it out of Eden. Maybe he’ll come back with more cops. Maybe he won’t.

Just before I go inside, I notice the beaten-up kid. He’s sitting in the dirt, staring at Lyle. He’s got this odd look on his face, eyes shining. It’s pretty obvious: the kid’s got a hero now.

It takes a second to place the last time I saw that look. It was in the eyes of the audience watching Senator Joseph Vaughn give a speech outside his offices at the Cathedral of Learning in Pittsburgh. The day my world ended.

Lyle just turns and walks off. Ignores the kid and everybody else. Falls back into that sea of floating neon pixels. He still has a dreamy look on his face. I glance past him and notice Lucy. She’s watching me watch Lyle, a concerned look on her face.

“Be careful around her,” says Jim.

“Lucy? Why?” I ask. “She’s the nicest person I’ve met so far. No offense.”

Lucy seems like the most normal, well-adjusted person I’ve met in Eden. Bringing an old man his supper. Probably saved that cop’s life. She’s human.

“You see goodness in her because you’re good.”

“Are you saying she’s not?”

“I don’t know. But it’s worth thinking on. Hell, your life might depend on it,” says Jim. He pulls the half-finished six-pack out from behind his back and dangles a beer at me. “Her name’s Lucy Crosby, son. Lyle’s her twin brother.”

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“So?” asks Nick. “Can you turn it on? The Zenith?”

The kid whispers that last word, clearly enjoying it.

I’m sitting on Jim’s deck, holding a crummy old watch set to timer mode and keeping track while Nick manhandles his faded Rubik’s cube. Solving it for the thousandth time, his fingers twisted around the toy like melted candle wax.

Apparently, the laughing cowboy kicked up his heels and disappeared after facing down that cop. It was the smart move. A group of sheriffs came back the next day, sunglasses and beards and biceps, huddled up shoulder to shoulder like ducks. They snatched the runner from the night before and served warrants on a few others. Dragged them all out of here with a look that dared anybody to say anything.

For the last week, a sort of local order has emerged in this new world of chaos. I get off work from the construction site at two o’clock. Put on a low ball cap and push my way through Pure Priders and sometimes counterprotesters from the Free Body Liberty Group. Walk two miles home and never show my face to the traffic. Drag ass back into Eden, quietly counting the new amp families that have arrived.

Nick picked up on my schedule pretty quick. Lately, I’ve found him waiting, crouched inside the rotten old hot tub sitting on Jim’s porch. I can hear his giggles from the porch steps. Every day, he jumps out to surprise me—a demented jack-in-the-box.

And every day, I go ahead and act surprised.

“One thing is for sure,” Nick is saying, studying his Rubik’s cube and leaning back in a plastic chair, “we know you ain’t

supersmart.”

“Thanks.”

“Well, sorry. Autofocus’ll make a smart person smarter, but it won’t make a dummy a genius. Except sometimes people who seemed dumb just because they were distracted all the time can end up being pretty goddanged brilliant. Done.”

He holds up the Rubik’s cube, each face washed in solid neon colors.

“Twenty-two seconds,” I say, resetting the watch. “Yeah, you’re real smart.”

“Shoot, it’s just the government cheese.”

Nick waves his hand at me in an aw-shucks movement, then tosses over the Rubik’s cube. I mix up the colored squares, not paying particular attention. Nick watches my hands intently, probably memorizing the reverse series of movements to solve it—the little schemer.

He continues: “I’m guessing the soldier stuff works because the amp reacts automatically. Like when you prick your finger and your arm jumps back. I mean, you don’t tell your arm to jump back. Some other part of your brain is in charge of that. The part that keeps you from getting hit by a bus and stuff. Your amp must be like that, except it can do more than just make you flinch or blink your eyes or whatever.”

Nice, I think. An alien brain is coiled inside my head, able to make complex decisions without asking. Sounds wonderful.

“It can make you do soldier stuff like karate chops and shoot guns and—”

“Leap tall buildings in a single bound,” I interrupt.

“It can make you dodge a bullet,” says Nick matter-of-factly.

“Schoolteacher,” I say, pointing at myself. “Remember?”

“Well, those Priders in the field don’t care what you used to do.”

I toss the cube back and start the clock, the tiny silver watch button digging painfully into my finger. Nick’s hands are already moving when he catches the cube. So is his mouth.

“And we can’t know what the Zenith does until we turn it on.”

“No way, Nick,” I reply.

The kid nearly falls off his chair, cube temporarily forgotten. “Aren’t ya curious?” he nearly shouts.

Curious. A little. Afraid? Petrified.

“It’s complicated,” I say. “It’s a weapon.”

“Your dad gave it to you, right?”

I watch Nick carefully, my face flat.

“Yeah.”

“He wouldn’t do nothing to hurt his son. He loved you. He must have meant for you to use it.”