The Tree of Knowledge by Daniel Miller (room on the broom read aloud .txt) 📕

canned response, “Well, it’s my birthday, so my friends gave me this feather boa to wear.”

Right on cue, the strawberry blonde smiled, put her hand on his shoulder, and said, “Happy birthday!”

Albert couldn’t believe it. She had touched his shoulder. An indicator of interest. Could this stuff really work?

“Would you like to buy me a drink? My name’s Sarah,” said the woman.

Albert could still feel the red in his cheek. “Well, it’s my birthday, Sarah, so how ’bout you buy me a drink,” he said, trying to mimic her Southern accent. Ariel had told him that people tend to respond more to those who adopt their mannerisms, and they always love hearing the sound of their own name.

“Well, I suppose I could do that for you, sweetheart.”

Albert attempted to stifle his smile. Is this beautiful woman buying me a drink? “Thank you, Sarah. My name is Joe.”

“Pleased to meet you, Joe.”

As the bartender brought them their drinks, Albert’s new friend crossed her legs and rubbed her foot. “Oh, my feet are killin’ me.”

Albert noticed that Sarah wore heels of at least five inches in height. He had always found this ritual by which women punished their feet absurd and couldn’t help but comment.

He smirked. “See, I’ll never understand that. Why do you women wear such uncomfortable shoes?”

Sarah leaned back with a perplexed look on her face. “Um, because they look good.”

Albert pressed on. “Well, the reason you think they look good is because that’s what society tells you looks good. There’s nothing inherently better looking about high heels than flats.”

The second the words came out of his mouth, Albert knew he had lost her.

Chapter 19

“Whatta we got?” said Eva as she entered the hotel room of the Princeton Hyatt Regency that had become her official war room. She hated this hotel. Every time she walked through the door, cheap cologne and the stench of men insisted on making their presence known. Her face was beginning to show the strain. Over the past several days, she had interviewed countless acquaintances of Puddles, Turner, and Ying and had come up with absolutely nothing. The illegal wiretap she had been running on Detective Weatherspoon had been equally worthless, and the general’s impatience was showing more by the day.

“We’ve got something,” shouted Agent Beel, waving a piece of paper in the air in triumph. Beel’s excitement could be measured by the rate at which his jaws gnawed on his oversized wad of gum.

Eva gave a skeptical stare. Up to this point, the blond surfer-cum-FBI agent had done little to advance her investigation. Days ago, she had asked for data on Puddles’s and Turner’s cell phones, and Beel still hadn’t produced anything.

The agent smiled. “You know, that cell phone data you wanted.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I got it. It looks like Puddles and the gang are in Vermont.”

“Now?”

“Well, as of a couple weeks ago. They shut off their cell phones.”

Eva bit her lip. “That information would have been valuable then, but they could be anywhere now.”

“Don’t be so pessimistic,” chided the young agent. He leaned back in the undersized maroon hotel desk chair and ran his fingers through his overly gelled hair. “Let me talk to a few contacts and see what I can come up—Hey, where you going?”

Eva opened the door of the hotel room. “Vermont, and you’re coming with me.”

Chapter 20

After Albert’s new friend Sarah politely explained that she needed to go to the bathroom and then never returned, the gang gave up on the night’s lesson and headed back to the farm for their briefing on Eva Fix. Gabe and Ariel had spent the last couple of days gathering information on the woman in black and were eager to share it with the rest of the team. Albert’s brain was clouded with exhaustion, and just keeping his eyes open was a Herculean task. While he couldn’t wait to learn more about Eva, he wanted nothing more than to collapse into his bed and sleep until he couldn’t sleep anymore.

Albert and Ying flopped onto the living room couches, and Gabe passed out detailed portfolios to the group. The cover page, coated in plastic, and its accompanying television screen image said, “Eva Fix: Personal Profile.” Albert found the minimalist order of Gabe’s presentation to be quite pleasing and proceeded to flip through the binder.

Gabe began, tapping the computer keys to change slides as he went along. He adjusted his wheelchair toward the television screen. “Eva Veronica Portilla Fix was born twenty-eight years ago to Cristina Culebra and Calvin Fix.”

Both Albert’s and Ying’s heads snapped around to look at each other and then back at Turner to make sure they had heard correctly. But Turner just sat stone-faced, absorbing Gabe’s presentation.

Albert couldn’t restrain himself. “Waaaiiit. You’re telling me that Eva Fix is Cristina Culebra’s daughter?”

“Yes. Why?” said Gabe, somewhat confused at why this first bit of information was having such an impact on the professor.

“So, Professor Turner, Cristina Culebra is the woman you fell in love with?”

The professor sighed. “I’m afraid so.”

“Don’t you think that was information that you should have shared with us?” asked Albert, doing his very best to contain his apoplexy.

“Cristina Culebra is not our problem. Eva Fix is our problem. I didn’t feel that it was relevant.”

“Didn’t feel it was relevant! I—” Albert threw his hands in the air and looked at Ying, who appeared equally flummoxed.

Seeking to massage the tension, Gabe continued, “Eva’s father, Calvin, owned Fix Industries, a defense company, but died of a heart attack when Eva was a baby. Cristina never remarried. She raised Eva while assuming leadership of Fix Industries. From an early age, Eva displayed exceptional abilities in mathematics and chess. At the age of twelve, she became a chess grand master, and at the age of fourteen, she was admitted into Princeton University’s mathematics program.

“While at Princeton, Eva became involved with the Society for Reason, Enlightenment, and Democracy or RED, a quasi-political, charitable movement founded by her