Poisoned Rationality

A whole corridor of The Wammy House was out of bounds. Only three children actually had their rooms down there, but they were relocated without explanation. Roger knew it was only a matter of time before an institution full of young geniuses translated rumours into facts, but some time may be bought by not confirming them in the interim. He personally felt a little rail-roaded into this. His concern growing as his mind filled with how potentially catastrophic events could transpire to be. Roger had never felt so out of his depth; a concept made worse by the fact that this was his territory. This was psychology.



He waited in his office, watching the monitors, until a knock came at his door. It was Ann, their housekeeper and one of his more long-standing colleagues, a frown was etched across her forehead. "He\'s sleeping." She commented quietly. "Madeleine has administered a sedative and he went out like a light." She watched Roger nod and bow his head. "I have mixed feelings about this."



"As do I."



"Whose idea was it?" Ann crossed the room, sitting down in front of the desk. "There are children here and Mello was a handful enough as a child. Kato is still having nightmares about the last time he came and threatened to blow off her kneecaps."



"It was Matt\'s idea." Roger rubbed his temples. "Ann, what else was I to do with them? If I\'d left them there, someone was bound to end up killed. I did suggest that Near found them a secure unit but..." He gestured helplessness. "It is true, as Matt so," he struggled for the word, "eloquently pointed out, that I\'m probably the only psychiatrist in the world who could understand their history."



"I still believe that Mello should be restrained. For his own safety as much as everyone else\'s."



Roger shook his head. "He won\'t commit suicide. It would be a mortal sin in his eyes." The guardian paused, recalling other sins that Mello appeared to have no hesitation in perpetuating. "Wammy told us often enough that their minds should be trusted. He always consulted Lawliet. Near just says to trust Matt. Matt says no to the restraints. What can I do?"



Ann rose from her chair. "I\'ll speak to Matt again."



"No." Roger took a couple of headache tablets from his drawer. "They are settled now. Let them be. Mello is unarmed, which much reduces any threat from him. Any alert can be responded to quickly enough, just keep the caretakers in readiness and the children away from the area."



Three rooms away, one of the communal recreation halls was buzzing with speculation. In the corner, two of the children were having a competition to see who could hack the system first and see if Roger had written anything yet. Pooled information just told of people being smuggled in, through the delivery entrance, hidden underneath blankets. Reports ranged from one to four individuals. The current top theory was that those housed up there were some kind of celebrities or else children with a contract taken out on them with a hitman. One person held out that it was Near, come home for a rest after catching Kira. He was quickly shouted down, on the basis that there would be no need for secrecy if that was the case. In the midst of them, listening with a faint smile on her face, Lauren noted the child\'s name. With minimum information, nine year old Pwyll had been very close.



Through the door and across the spacious hallway, up the stairs and turn left, around a corner and there the intrepid teenagers had to stop. The fire door was locked, blocking access to the corridor beyond. All eight of its doors were closed and there were lights on behind them all. "Aww, man!" Holiday moaned. "That\'s illegal! They shouldn\'t lock fire doors!" His comrades agreed and a plan was formed to take shifts watching for clues. Someone exciting had to be down there.



Beyond the fire door and the third door to the left, Matt sat on his old bed and watched Mello sleep across the room. He had refused a sedative of his own, though Madeleine had argued with him over it. He lit a cigarette and shuffled off to take tentative, shaky steps across the carpet to the desktop provided for their use. His server was empty. No files, no programmes, nothing to show for a decade of writing, programming and hacking. All of his servers reported the same story and he didn\'t have to search to know through which backdoor they had been taken. He had set up the key himself. He had set a timer for the knowledge of it to be sent. Insurance against arrest, he\'d thought.



Matt glanced back at Mello, who looked so peaceful now. It was almost like it was five, six years ago, themselves transported through time to somewhere simpler. Almost. He tapped out ash into a can and opened another brower. The EHC website appeared like an old friend. He had hardcoded the site, as one of the founder members. The third best hacker in the world. Matt smiled grimly and logged on, immediately beseiged by PMs and an attentive chat room. He didn\'t have the energy for it, instead answering the only PM that mattered.



Mariomatt: Ohai Crash. My code is 1890839c84js0.

CrashnBurn: Welcome back, Mario, man.

CrashnBurn: You ok?

Mariomatt: I wouldn\'t go that far.

CrashnBurn: Your place looked pretty trashed. I heard the screaming as well. Was that you who shot the webcam?

Mariomatt: No.



Matt wondered how little he could say and still retain the respect of his internet partner-in-crime. CrashnBurn didn\'t type anything else for just over a minute. When he did, it was a username and password.



CrashnBurn: There you go, all safe and sound.

Mariomatt: Tyvm.



It didn\'t sound like enough, but he couldn\'t think what else to say. He logged onto the server and started to download things.



CrashnBurn: Mario, keep the server. It\'s easier.

Mariomatt: Wow! Seriously?

Mariomatt: Aww, ty man.

CrashnBurn: Dude, just what I saw through that webcam scared the sweet beJesus out of me. I\'m thinking you could do with a break.

Mariomatt: TYVM

CrashnBurn: Go ahead and change the password. It\'s yours.

Mariomatt: TY

CrashnBurn: How many times this year am I going to have to save your ass, btw? Just so I\'m prepared.

Mariomatt: -.- Way my life is going? I\'d be on 24 hour standby. TY for the server.

CrashnBurn: You don\'t sound yourself, so I\'m figuring you\'re going to sign off in a minute. One question first.

CrashnBurn: How come I haven\'t seen half of them programmes? I\'ve been looking through and there\'s pwnage stuff there, man.

Mariomatt: Yeah. WIP.

CrashnBurn: Right.

CrashnBurn: I\'ll just watch my back. They\'re going to be crowning you head honcho when you post them.

Mariomatt: LOL

CrashnBurn: Honestly man. If you wrote them on your own, you must be some kind of genius.



Matt added a blushing smiley and said his goodbyes. He didn\'t even check his e-mails, just logged off and closed down the machine.



There was silence, but for the wind in the trees outside. He used the table to support his route to the windowsill and sat on it. It had only been a couple of months since he had last sat here, but it felt like a lifetime had been completed in the interim. Like he was an intruder into his own past. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine being twelve again. Surprisingly, it worked. For whole minutes, he felt the comfort of home fall about his soul like a quilted hug. Then the present pushed back with a poisonous rationale: that wasn\'t being twelve. Being twelve was to sit here anxious for test results and rankings, terrified that if he fell too low, he would be kicked out somewhere else. Being twelve was to spend hours finding cheats and short-cuts, like using a photographic memory and speed-reading techniques to cram in the information quickly enough to leave time for some games.



He took the handheld from his pocket and switched it on. Muted against disturbing Mello\'s beauty sleep over there. He felt numb. Unable to feel a thing. Too scared of the future to even contemplate it. Too anxious about the past to dwell upon it. Too unsure of the present to want to be in it. He knew that, above his head, a camera was sending a feed into Roger\'s office. That was the compromise, mooted for his personal safety though Mello knew nothing of it. They hadn\'t wanted him to be left alone with him and Matt had laughed in their faces. He played his game, but received no joy from it.



Matt left the windowsill and crossed the room again, half tempted to squeeze into bed with Mello, if only to imagine the look on Roger\'s face. But these were single beds and it might scare his lover to wake beside him. Mello had been on the settee these past three weeks, when he slept. If he\'d slept. Matt lay on his own bed and wondered if he would ever be able to sleep again.