Read Galileo (Battle of the Species) for Free Online

pajamas, pointed his laser gun wildly around the room.
    “Wow, getting slow on the reflexes, Dad,” Renn teased.
    Adam looked at his son and then the dog, who was now panting. He lowered the gun. “What happened?” he asked.
    “I just had a nightmare,” Renn said.
    “The one about the spiders?” Adam asked.
    “No, this one was about…lizards, it’s nothing. I'm sorry about the window,” Renn replied, attempting to change the subject.
    Adam looked over at the empty window frame and shook his head. “A window can be replaced, Son. It's okay.”
    Renn noticed that Adam wasn’t wearing thought blockers, like he always did during the day. Renn’s face went blank as he listened to the frantic thoughts of the frightened father who thought his son had been in peril.
    Adam looked at Renn and relaxed, with concern still lining his face. “I’ll get some canvas for the window. Try to go back to sleep,” he said.
    Later that morning, Renn awoke to the rustling of canvas tied to his window. He lifted the heavy material and looked outside to see his dad below, sweeping up glass and placing it into a trashcan.
    Renn stretched, wiping the sleep from his eyes, and headed for the shower. He later heard his dad bustling in the kitchen and couldn’t help but snicker at the sound of pans clanking. His dad was the only person that side of town to not at least have a robotic housekeeper. Well, technically he did have one, but it stood lifeless in the garage, collecting dust like an overpriced novelty item one never really uses.
    Renn put on a pair of well-worn jeans and picked up a scuffed pair of shoes. He stared at the shoes for a moment and then looked at Max, as if Max were the only one who understood how much he hated manual shoes.
    Renn slipped one over his left foot, cramming his toes into the sneaker. The heel came next, creating another problem. He stretched the fabric as hard as he could, until he finally slipped the heel in and then scowled while he tied the laces up himself. The other boys in school had shoes that automatically adjusted to the foot's size and then tightened for support, making things like shoelaces obsolete.
    Renn went downstairs with Max at his heels. He walked into the kitchen, smelling bacon frying, and sat down at the dining room table.
    “I need new shoes, Dad,” Renn said.
    Adam glanced at Renn's feet. “Oh, they're fine.”
    “I'm losing circulation. My toes are gonna fall off,” Renn replied, before stuffing his mouth with a piece of toast.
    “All right, if you insist on keeping your toes, we can get some new ones when we drop off the fish.”
    Fish! Renn had completely forgotten they were going fishing that day. He kicked himself for having taken a shower, realizing he was going to have to take another one when they got back.
    Renn got butter on his hand and resisted the temptation to wipe it on his jeans. He looked over to a pile of cloth napkins on the counter, raised his hand, and telekinetically pulled it through the air.
    “Can I get adjustable sneakers this time?” Renn asked hopefully.
    “No adjustables in this house, no mind reading, no telekines…” Adam said, stopping mid-sentence when he turned around and saw the cloth napkin flying through the air.
    Renn and the napkin froze, busted.
    “Put it back,” Adam said with patience.
    The napkin then flew back to the pile, as Renn said, “Sorry.”
    “Now get your butt out of the chair and go get it.”
    Renn walked over and picked up the napkin, patting Max along the way. He started to wiped the butter from his hand, then realized the butter was already gone, and mumbled, “Sorry, Buddy,” when he noticed Max’s head looking suspiciously slick.
    When they finished their breakfast, they packed what they needed and headed outside. Max rushed to the hover-truck, hopping into the bed so as not to be left behind.
    A cloud breezed by, revealing a brilliant sun that showered Renn and his father with strong rays. Adam put his