To
his surprise, she actually laughed. When had he last heard her do that? The correct
answer might be never. “It does have its funny side. Growing children would make the world’s
worst hunger strikers. They’re eating machines. But you’re right, it’s something new under the
sun. Which of the new intakes do you think floated it?”
“Oh, come on. None of them. We’ve only got one kid smart enough to even know what a
hunger strike
is
, and he’s been here for almost a month.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “And I’ll be glad when he’s out of Front Half. Wilholm was an
annoyance, but at least he was out front with his anger. Ellis, though . . . he’s
sneaky
. I don’t like
sneaky children.”
“How long until he’s gone?”
“Sunday or Monday, if Hallas and James in Back Half agree. Which they will. Hendricks is
pretty much through with him.”
“Good. Will you address this hunger strike idea, or let it go? I’d suggest letting it go. It’ll die a
natural death, if it happens at all.”
“I believe I’ll address it. As you say, we’ve currently got a lot of residents, and it might be well
to speak to them at least once en masse.”
“If you do, Ellis is probably going to figure out Alvorson’s a rat.” Given the kid’s IQ, there
was no probably about it.
“Doesn’t matter. He’ll be gone in a few days, and his nose-tweaking little friend will follow
soon after. Now about those surveillance cameras . . .”
“I’ll write a memo to Andy Fellowes before I leave tonight, and we’ll make them a priority as
soon as I’m back.” He leaned forward, hands clasped, his brown eyes fixed on her steel-gray
ones. “In the meantime, lighten up. You’ll give yourself an ulcer. Remind yourself at least once
a day that we’re dealing with kids, not hardened criminals.”
Mrs.
Sigsby made no reply, because she knew he was right. Even Luke Ellis,
smart as he
might be, was only a kid, and after he spent some time in Back Half, he’d still be a kid, but he
wouldn’t be smart at all.
16
When Mrs. Sigsby walked into the cafeteria that night, slim and erect in a crimson suit, gray
blouse, and single strand of pearls, there was no need for her to tap a spoon against a glass and
call for attention. All chatter ceased at once. Techs and caretakers drifted into the doorway
giving on the West Lounge. Even the kitchen staff came out, gathering behind the salad bar.
“As most of you know,” Mrs.
Sigsby said in a pleasant, carrying voice, “there was an
unfortunate incident here in the cafeteria two nights ago. There have been rumors and gossip
that two children died in that incident. This is absolutely untrue. We do not kill children here
in the Institute.”
She surveyed them. They looked back, eyes wide, food forgotten.
“In case some of you were concentrating on your fruit cocktail and not paying attention, let
me repeat my last statement:
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