Over the next few months, they worked with university lawyers to file provisional patents for their processor designs while simultaneously approaching potential commercial partners. Reed's NASA connections opened doors that would have been closed to two students, while Michael's technical presentations convinced skeptical engineers that their improvements were real and reproducible.
The breakthrough came when Intel agreed to license their electromagnetic field optimization technology for inclusion in their next generation of processors. The financial terms were better than either Reed or Michael had dared to hope.
"Twelve percent royalty on all processors incorporating our technology," Reed read from the licensing agreement. "With minimum guaranteed payments of two million dollars over the first three years."
Michael studied the contract with the careful attention of someone who understood that this document would change his life. "Split evenly between us?"
"Absolutely. Equal partners from the beginning."
"Reed, do you realize what this means? I'm fifteen years old and I'm about to become a millionaire."
Reed laughed. "Welcome to the club, Michael. Though technically, I've been a millionaire since I was ten thanks to my father's trust fund. But this is different. This is money we actually earned ourselves."
"Wait, you're already rich?" Michael looked genuinely surprised. "You live in a rented room and eat ramen noodles half the time."
"The trust fund covers my expenses, but I've never really thought of it as my money," Reed explained. "It always felt like my father's legacy, something I was supposed to use responsibly for education and research. But this Intel deal? This is ours. Money we made by solving actual problems."
Michael nodded slowly. "I get that. There's a difference between inherited wealth and earned wealth."
"Exactly. Plus, between my NASA research funding and now this licensing deal, I'm starting to understand what real financial independence feels like. Not just having money, but having the freedom to pursue projects because they're important rather than because they pay the bills. The T-Sphere technology could be worth ten times as much when we're ready to develop it."
Their partnership had evolved beyond simple collaboration into something approaching friendship. Michael spent most evenings at the Marlborough Street house, where MaryGay had essentially adopted him as another unofficial family member. Herbie had also approved of Michael, demonstrating his acceptance by bringing Michael his favorite tennis ball during their first meeting.
"You know what the best part of this is?" Michael said one evening as they reviewed the final licensing documents. "It's not the money, though that's incredible. It's having someone to share it with who actually understands what we've accomplished."
Reed nodded. "Success means more when you have someone who appreciates not just the results but the process of getting there."
"Michael's good for you," MaryGay observed one evening as they watched Michael patiently explain computer architecture to Herbie, who seemed genuinely interested despite his lack of opposable thumbs. "Having someone around who can match your intellectual intensity but who's also still figuring out who he wants to become."
"He's good for all of us," Reed agreed. "He asks questions that make me think about my research differently. And he's so curious about everything. Yesterday he spent an hour asking me about plasma physics, then switched to asking about the history of MIT, then wanted to know about my family."
"That's what fifteen-year-olds do," MaryGay said with a smile. "Even genius fifteen-year-olds. They're still trying to understand how the world works, not just how equations work."
As spring progressed toward summer, Reed found himself looking forward to Sue and Johnny's return with new excitement. The prospect of introducing Michael to the Storm siblings felt like bringing together different parts of his chosen family.
"You're going to love Sue," Reed told Michael one evening as they worked on refinements to the T-Sphere concept. "She's brilliant in a completely different way than we are. She thinks about biological systems the way we think about electromagnetic systems."
"How old is she now?" Michael asked, sketching improvements to the T-Sphere communication protocols.
"Twelve, almost thirteen. But don't let that fool you. She asks questions about space exploration that most graduate students wouldn't think of. And Johnny's nine, completely hyperactive, but he has this way of looking at problems that cuts straight to the essential issues."
Michael looked up from his sketches. "It must be nice, having people you can talk to about anything. I mean, really talk to, not just exchange information."
Reed heard the wistfulness in Michael's voice and realized that despite their successful collaboration and Michael's growing confidence, he was still fundamentally lonely in ways that reminded Reed of his own childhood.
"Michael, you know you're part of this family now, right? Not just the business partnership, but actually part of our family. MaryGay thinks of you as another son, and I think of you as a brother."
Michael's expression brightened in a way that had nothing to do with electromagnetic fields or computer processors. "Really?"
"Really. You're stuck with us now, whether you like it or not."
"I like it," Michael said quietly. "I like it a lot."
The T-Sphere project continued developing through their collaboration, even though they both understood it was years away from practical implementation. But working on it together gave them a shared vision of the future that went beyond immediate commercial success.
"The real breakthrough will come when we can miniaturize the electromagnetic field generators," Michael said during one of their theoretical discussions. "Right now, the power requirements are too high and the components are too large. But if we can solve those problems..."
"We could have swarms of autonomous computational devices that could tackle problems no traditional computer could handle," Reed finished. "Scientific research, space exploration, maybe even artificial intelligence applications."
"Exactly. Imagine sending a cloud of T-Spheres to Mars ahead of human missions. They could analyze soil samples, map terrain, establish communication networks, even begin constructing basic infrastructure. All working together as a coordinated system."
Reed felt the familiar excitement that came with glimpsing technological possibilities that could change everything. "Michael, between your T-Spheres and my propulsion systems, we could revolutionize space exploration entirely."
"That's the plan," Michael said with a grin that made him look exactly like the fifteen-year-old he was. "Save the world through applied mathematics and engineering."
"I can think of worse ways to spend our lives."
"Reed, phone call!" MaryGay called from downstairs one evening in April. "It's Sue!"
Reed hurried downstairs to find MaryGay holding the cordless phone with an enormous grin on her face. "She has news," MaryGay said, passing him the phone.
"Sue?" Reed said, settling into the living room chair while Herbie immediately claimed his lap. "What's going on?"
"Reed!" Sue's voice was higher and more excited than her usual measured tone. "I have the most incredible news! Mom says we can spend the whole summer with Aunt MaryGay again! Not just two weeks, the entire summer!"
Reed felt his heart lift with unexpected joy. "The whole summer? That's fantastic! What changed?"
"Grandma's doing much better, and Dad's taking a three-month consulting job in Japan. Mom thought it would be better for Johnny and me to have a stable summer with people we love instead of being shuffled between relatives or stuck in day care programs."
"Sue, that's wonderful news," Reed said, genuinely thrilled at the prospect of having the Storm siblings back for an extended stay. "I've missed you both so much."
"We've missed you too! Johnny's been asking about Herbie every single day, and I have about a million questions about your research to catch up on. Oh, and Reed? I have something else to tell you."
"What's that?"
Sue's voice became slightly shy, which was unusual for her. "I made some friends at school this year. Real friends, not just people who think I'm weird but tolerate me. I actually had fun at normal twelve-year-old activities."
Reed felt a surge of pride and relief. His gentle encouragement in their letters had apparently helped Sue find social connections with her peers. "Sue, that's incredible. Tell me about them."
"There's this girl named Lisa who loves animals and wants to be a veterinarian. We started talking when she found out I was interested in genetics, and now we spend lunch together talking about science stuff. And there's this boy Marcus who's really good at basketball but also likes reading science fiction. He's been lending me books about space exploration."
Reed smiled at the happiness in Sue's voice. The lonely, serious child he'd met the previous summer was developing into a well-rounded young person who could appreciate both intellectual pursuits and normal social activities.
"That sounds perfect, Sue. I can't wait to meet them when they visit, and I can't wait to see how much you've grown this year."
"Oh, and Reed? Johnny wants to know if you've built any real rocket ships yet, and if Herbie still remembers how to play fetch with a Frisbee."
Reed laughed, scratching Herbie behind the ears. "Tell Johnny that the rocket ships are still theoretical but getting closer to reality every day. And tell him that Herbie has been practicing his Frisbee skills specifically in preparation for his return."
When Sue and Johnny arrived in late May 1994, Reed was amazed by the changes a year had brought. Sue had grown several inches and lost some of the serious intensity that had characterized her eleven-year-old self. She still loved biology and asked sophisticated questions about Reed's research, but she also talked excitedly about her friends, showed interest in age-appropriate activities, and even giggled occasionally.
Johnny had grown as well, though his essential character remained unchanged. He still possessed boundless energy and an enthusiasm for turning everything into an adventure, but his vocabulary had expanded and his attention span had increased marginally.
"Reed!" Johnny announced upon arrival, launching himself into Reed's arms with typical enthusiasm. "I learned how to swim, and ride a bike without training wheels, and I can count to a hundred in Spanish! Want to hear?"
"Definitely," Reed said, returning the enthusiastic hug while Herbie danced around them in circles of joy. "But first, let me get a good look at you both. You've grown so much!"
Sue approached more sedately, but her smile was genuine and warm. "Hi, Reed. It's so good to see you again."
Reed hugged her carefully, struck by how much more mature she seemed. "Sue, you look wonderful. Happy. I can see that this has been a good year for you."
"It really has," Sue agreed. "I'm still the same person, still interested in the same things, but I feel more balanced, I guess. Like I don't have to choose between being smart and being social."
—
The first week back was spent reestablishing routines and catching up on everything that had happened during their year apart. Sue wanted to hear about Reed's research progress, Michael's collaboration on the Intel project, and all the technical developments she'd missed. But she also wanted to talk about makeup, boys at her school, and whether Reed thought the sundress she'd bought in New York made her look older.
"Sue, you're twelve," Reed said with amusement as she modeled the dress in MaryGay's living room. "You look exactly like you should look."
"But do I look pretty?" Sue asked with the kind of earnest concern that reminded Reed she was still very much a young girl, despite her scientific interests.
"You look beautiful," Reed said honestly. "But more importantly, you look happy and confident. That's what makes people really beautiful."
Sue beamed at the compliment, then immediately switched topics. "Now tell me about this Michael person. You said he's fifteen and smarter than you are?"
"He's not smarter than me," Reed protested. "He just thinks about problems differently. You'll like him. He has that same curiosity about how everything works."
Johnny, meanwhile, had reacquainted himself with Herbie and was now focused on exploring every corner of the house and neighborhood to see what had changed since his last visit.
"Reed, there's a car in the alley that's all broken," Johnny announced after one of his reconnaissance missions. "The engine's all taken apart and there's tools everywhere."
Reed looked out the window to see their neighbor working on what appeared to be a restoration project. "That's Mr. Rodriguez. He's been working on that car for months."
"Can we go look at it?" Johnny asked with the kind of intense interest that suggested this wasn't just idle curiosity.
Reed was surprised by Johnny's fascination with the car, but they walked over to introduce themselves. Mr. Rodriguez was happy to explain what he was doing, and Johnny listened with the kind of focused attention he usually reserved for stories about explosions.
"How do you know which parts go where?" Johnny asked, studying the disassembled engine with obvious fascination.
"Practice," Mr. Rodriguez said with a smile. "And lots of manuals. Would you like to see how the pistons work?"
For the next hour, Johnny absorbed information about internal combustion engines with the same intensity Sue brought to molecular biology. Reed watched with growing amazement as his hyperactive nine-year-old friend demonstrated genuine mechanical aptitude.
"Johnny's got good hands for this kind of work," Mr. Rodriguez observed as Johnny carefully examined a carburetor. "Natural feel for how pieces fit together."
That evening, Johnny peppered Reed with questions about car engines, mechanical systems, and how things were built. Reed found himself drawing diagrams and explaining concepts he hadn't thought about in years.
"Where did you learn all this stuff?" Johnny asked as Reed sketched the basic components of a transmission.
Reed paused, memories of Gary's garage flooding back unexpectedly. "My uncle taught me when I was about your age. He made me work on cars every weekend."
"That sounds awesome! Was your uncle less mean during those lessons?"
Reed considered how to answer that question honestly. "My uncle wasn't a nice person, Johnny. He was actually pretty cruel to me. But I have to admit, he taught me useful skills, even if he did it for the wrong reasons."
Johnny nodded with the serious expression he wore when processing complex information. "So even mean people can teach you important stuff?"
"Sometimes," Reed said carefully. "But that doesn't make being mean okay. It just means we can learn valuable things even from bad experiences."
"Can you teach me how to fix cars?" Johnny asked hopefully.
Reed looked at Johnny's eager face and made a decision that surprised him. "You know what? I think I can. MaryGay's car has been making some weird noises lately. Maybe we could take a look at it together."
The introduction of Michael to Sue and Johnny happened on a warm evening in early June. Reed had prepared both sides for the meeting, but he was still nervous about how the dynamics would work.
"So you're the person Reed's been mentoring," Sue said when Reed made the introductions, studying Michael with the same analytical attention she brought to everything else. "He talks about you in his letters. Says you're even smarter than he is."
Michael looked embarrassed by the praise. "Reed's being generous. I just ask different questions than he does."
"That's exactly what makes you smart," Sue said matter-of-factly. "Anyone can memorize information. Really smart people figure out which questions are worth asking."
Johnny's acceptance of Michael was more immediate and physical. Within hours of their introduction, he had appointed Michael as a backup playmate for games that required more sophisticated strategizing than Herbie could provide.
"Michael, want to help me build a fort that could survive a zombie apocalypse?" Johnny asked with the seriousness of someone planning actual military defense.
"That depends," Michael replied with equal gravity. "Are we talking about fast zombies or slow zombies? Because the architectural requirements are completely different."
Reed watched this exchange with delight, seeing Michael's natural teaching instincts emerge as he patiently explained structural engineering principles through the lens of fictional zombie defense strategies.
The summer routine that developed was unlike anything Reed had experienced. Mornings were spent with Sue auditing biology lectures at MIT, where she had become something of a celebrity among the undergraduate students. Reed would work on his research while Sue asked questions that often stumped graduate students.
"Dr. Martinez, what about genetic expression in extreme environments?" Sue asked during one particularly engaging lecture about adaptation. "Like, how do organisms modify their DNA expression when they're exposed to cosmic radiation?"
The professor paused, clearly impressed by the sophistication of the question. "That's actually one of the most challenging areas in astrobiology research. We're still learning how genetic systems respond to space environments."
Afternoons were family time. Reed found himself doing things he'd never thought he'd enjoy: taking Sue shopping for clothes that made her feel grown-up, teaching Johnny basic automotive repair in MaryGay's driveway, and participating in elaborate games that Johnny invented with his seven-year-old logic.
"Today we're gonna make the best fort ever that can protect us from space aliens AND dinosaurs," Johnny announced one afternoon, dragging pillows and blankets into the living room. "But it also has to be a spaceship so we can escape if they're too scary."
"Johnny, how is it supposed to be a fort and a spaceship at the same time?" Sue asked with the patience of someone used to her brother's creative thinking.
"Easy! It's like a transformer, but with blankets. Michael, you're smart, you can figure out the engineering stuff."
Reed expected Michael to point out the logical impossibilities in Johnny's plan, but instead he got down on the floor and started studying the couch cushions with scientific seriousness.
"Okay, so if we anchor these corners here and create a collapsible framework..." Michael began, and before Reed knew it, all four of them were crawling around the floor building what was probably the most over-engineered blanket fort in history.
Reed found himself genuinely excited about these projects. Working with his hands, solving silly problems with limited resources, seeing Johnny's face light up when their ridiculous fort actually stayed up—it was more satisfying than he'd expected.
"You're different with them," MaryGay observed one evening as they watched Reed, Sue, Johnny, and Michael try to fix a broken radio that Johnny had found in the basement and decided needed to "talk again."
"They make everything feel like an adventure," Reed said, watching Johnny hold a flashlight while Michael explained how resistors worked and Sue asked questions about electromagnetic waves. "Even fixing a broken radio becomes this elaborate family project."
Sue's transformation was particularly striking. In the mornings, she was the serious young scientist asking graduate-level questions about genetic expression. In the afternoons, she was a twelve-year-old girl who wanted to paint her nails, talk about boys, and practice walking in MaryGay's high heels when she thought no one was looking.
"Reed, do you think I should try to be more... normal?" she asked one evening as they sat on the front porch, watching Johnny attempt to teach Herbie to fetch specific tools like he was training a mechanic's assistant.
"What do you mean by normal?" Reed asked carefully.
"Like other girls my age. Maybe I shouldn't talk about science so much, or ask so many questions in class. Lisa says boys don't like girls who are too smart, and maybe that's why Marcus hasn't... I mean, maybe if I acted more like everyone expects..."
Sue trailed off, but Reed could see the conflict in her expression. She was trying to figure out how to be herself while also fitting in with her peers.
Reed felt his chest tighten with recognition. "Sue, can I tell you about someone I knew in college?"
"Okay," Sue said, settling more comfortably on the porch step.
"Her name was Sarah, and she was one of the smartest people I've ever met. Mathematics major, brilliant mind, really beautiful. When we first started dating, I was terrified because I thought I had to impress her by being extra smart or extra accomplished."
"Did it work?" Sue asked, though her tone suggested she suspected it hadn't.
"Not at all," Reed said with a rueful smile. "I spent our first few dates basically lecturing her about electromagnetic theory because I thought that's what she wanted to hear. It was awful. I was trying so hard to be impressive that I forgot to be myself."
"What happened?"
"She finally told me to stop trying so hard. She said she liked me because of who I was when I wasn't performing, not because of my research or my achievements. She wanted to see my sense of humor, my curiosity about her interests, my actual personality."
Sue listened intently. "And then it got better?"
"Much better. Once I stopped trying to be what I thought she wanted and started being genuinely myself, we had an amazing relationship. She made me feel like my quirks and interests were things to celebrate, not hide."
Reed looked at Sue seriously. "The point is, if Marcus doesn't appreciate how brilliant and curious and wonderful you are exactly as you are, then he's not worth your time. The right person will love your questions and your intelligence and your excitement about genetics. Don't hide the best parts of yourself to make other people comfortable."
Sue was quiet for a moment, picking at the paint on the porch railing. "But what if being myself means I don't fit in?"
Reed looked at her serious face and felt his heart squeeze. "Sue, when I was your age, I thought fitting in meant hiding everything that made me different. All it did was make me miserable."
"But you figured it out eventually."
"Yeah, because I finally found people who liked the real me, not some watered-down version I thought would be more acceptable. Sarah taught me that. Ben taught me that. You and Johnny and MaryGay and Michael have taught me that." Reed reached over and gently tugged one of her braids. "Don't waste time trying to be someone you're not. The right people will find you."
Sue nodded slowly, then smiled. "Marcus does seem to like my questions about the books he lends me."
"There you go. Trust that."
The Cape Cod trip in July was Reed's idea, born from a sudden desire to do something completely normal and family-like. They rented a tiny cottage that smelled like salt air and old wood, where nobody had to be brilliant or accomplished or anything other than exactly who they were.
Sue alternated between building sandcastles with Johnny and sprawling on a beach towel with one of MaryGay's romance novels, occasionally looking up to announce plot developments to anyone within earshot.
"Oh my God, she's going to kiss the wrong guy!" Sue shrieked one afternoon, making Reed nearly spill his iced tea. "She's supposed to kiss Captain Blackwood, not his stupid brother!"
"Maybe his stupid brother is actually the right choice," MaryGay suggested from her own beach chair.
"No way. Captain Blackwood understands her love of astronomy. The brother thinks she's weird for studying stars."
Reed couldn't help but smile at how seriously Sue took her fictional relationships while completely missing the real-life lesson in her own complaint.
Johnny had discovered the joy of burying people in sand and had convinced Michael to help him create increasingly elaborate burial scenarios.
"Now we're gonna make Reed look like a mermaid," Johnny announced, already digging around Reed's legs with the focused determination of an archaeological excavation.
"Absolutely not," Reed protested, but he was laughing as Johnny ignored him and continued sculpting.
"Don't fight it," Michael advised, adding what appeared to be anatomically accurate fins to Reed's sand-covered lower body. "I learned to pick my battles with Johnny on day one."
By the end of their first afternoon, Reed looked like a sandy sea creature, Sue had finished one entire romance novel, and Johnny had enough sand in his hair to fill a small beach of his own.
"This feels weird," Reed admitted as MaryGay took pictures of his mermaid transformation. "I haven't done anything this ridiculous in years."
"That's the point," Sue said, not looking up from her book. "Sometimes ridiculous is exactly what you need."
Their evening routine became wonderfully simple: dinner at the cottage's tiny kitchen table, sunset walks along the beach where Johnny collected "the perfect skipping stone" about forty times, and late-night conversations on the porch while they listened to the waves.
"I wish we could stay here forever," Johnny said on their last night, nestled between Reed and Michael on the porch swing while Sue and MaryGay shared the wicker chair.
"Me too," Sue agreed softly. "Everything feels easier here."
"Because nobody expects anything from us here except to be together," Reed said. "But we can take that feeling back home with us."
The drive back to Boston was quiet and sleepy, with Johnny curled up against Michael's shoulder and Sue reading yet another romance novel. Reed found himself dreading the end of summer more than he'd expected, not because he didn't love his research or his life in general, but because these three months felt like the most natural family rhythm he'd ever experienced.
"What should we do next?" Johnny asked from the back seat, where he was sketching designs for an improved sand castle construction system.
"I vote for more car repair lessons," Reed said. "MaryGay's transmission has been acting up, and I think it's time you learned about gear systems."
"And I want to visit the aquarium again," Sue added. "But this time I want to focus on marine genetics instead of just looking at pretty fish."
"I'd like to work on the T-Sphere prototypes," Michael said quietly. "Having everyone around to bounce ideas off of makes the theoretical work more fun."
Reed looked around at his chosen family and felt a profound sense of gratitude. The lonely graduate student who had dreaded the summer months was now someone who couldn't imagine anything better than spending his days with these remarkable people who made every ordinary moment feel like an adventure.