The Island - Peter Watts

Peter Watts 30 The Island
"Said I could come back—!" he squeals, scrambling backwards
along the deck.
"He was your fucking father! You knew, you were there! He
died right in front of you and you didn't even tell me!"
"I— I—"
"Why didn't you tell me, you asshole? The chimp told you to
lie, is that it? Did you—"
"Thought you knew!" he cries, "Why wouldn't you know?"
My rage vanishes like air through a breach. I sag back into the
'pod, face in hands.
"Right there in the log," he whimpers. "All along. Nobody hid
it. How could you not know?"
"I did," I admit dully. "Or I— I mean…"
I mean I didn't know, but it's not a surprise, not really, not down
deep. You just— stop looking, after a while.
There are rules.
"Never even asked," my son says softly. "How they were
doing."
I raise my eyes. Dix regards me wide-eyed from across the
room, backed up against the wall, too scared to risk bolting past me
to the door. "What are you doing here?" I ask tiredly.
His voice catches. He has to try twice: "You said I could come
back. If I burned out my link…"
"You burned out your link."
He gulps and nods. He wipes blood with the back of his hand.
"What did the chimp say about that?"
"He said— it said it was okay," Dix says, in such a transparent
attempt to suck up that I actually believe, in that instant, that he
might really be on his own.
"So you asked its permission." He begins to nod, but I can see
the tell in his face: "Don't bullshit me, Dix."
"He— actually suggested it."
"I see."
"So we could talk," Dix adds.
"What do you want to talk about?"
He looks at the floor and shrugs.
I stand and walk towards him. He tenses but I shake my head,