The woman flushed, and I saw several colleagues look at her as if she had messed up.

“Frankly, we consider you a national resource,” said a woman in uniform. “A national treasure, if you will.” She gave an unconvincing smile. “Like the Declaration of Independence.”

I sighed. “Which is kept in a sealed display case under lock and key, with armed guards. No, thanks. Anyone else?”

The cool-eyed general spoke again. “The fact remains that you are minors, and as such must be under adult supervision and guardianship, according to state law. We’re offering you such guardianship with a great many benefits and privileges. There could be many less-attractive options.” He sat back looking satisfied, as if he had just crushed an opponent at Battleship.

I blinked and looked around the room in disbelief. “You’rekidding, ” I said. “We’ve escaped from top-security prisons, lived through mental and physicaltorture, lived on our own foryears, made tons of smarty-pants grown-ups look like fools without even trying, eatendesert rats withno A1 steak sauce, and you’re telling me we’reminors and have to haveguardians? ” I shook my head, staring at him. “Listen, pal, I grew up in a freakingdog crate. I’ve seen horrible part-human mutations die gut-wrenching deaths. I’ve had people, mutants, and robots trying to kill me twenty-four/seven for as long as I can remember, and you think I’mgonna cave tostate law? Are youbonkers? ”

My voice had risen steadily and it filled the room. Everyone was stock-still, dead quiet.

Finally the man who had first greeted us cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Well, perhaps we should take a break and meet again tomorrow.” It was like someone looking at a horrible battlefield wound and saying, “Let’s put a Band-Aid on this thing, patch it right up!”