Nuclear Billy

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Billy stomped into the preschool play room, his dinosaur shirt extra clean for his birthday. All his friends—even the ones who sometimes cried when he took their cookies—stopped playing and yelled, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BILLY!”

Billy grinned, showing a gap where a tooth was wiggly. He felt big. Four was big. He was about to go show everyone how big he was by trying to climb the bookshelf when a tall shadow fell over him.

A man in a very black suit, with a face like he’d eaten a lemon, knelt down. He held a shiny black briefcase. “For you,” the man said, his voice flat. “Happy birthday.” He didn’t sound happy. He sounded like he wanted to be anywhere else.

Billy’s eyes got huge. A present! A grown-up present! He grabbed the handle. It was heavy. “Mine?” he asked, pulling it close to his chest.

The suit man glanced over at where you were talking to Miss Holly, the teacher. He sighed, a long, tired sound. “Yes. It’s yours. Don’t… don’t lose it.” He stood up quickly and walked away, his shoes clicking on the linoleum.

Billy didn’t care about the grumpy man. He had a new thing! He dragged the briefcase over to the carpet where the blocks were. He tried to open it, but the latches were tricky. He huffed. Grown-up presents were sometimes mean like that.

Instead, he decided to show Daddy near the front door. “Look! I got a suitcase!” he announced, thumping it down.

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Billy stomped into the preschool play room, his dinosaur shirt extra clean for his birthday. All his friends—even the ones who sometimes cried when he took their cookies—stopped playing and yelled, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BILLY!”

Billy grinned, showing a gap where a tooth was wiggly. He felt big. Four was big. He was about to go show everyone how big he was by trying to climb the bookshelf when a tall shadow fell over him.

A man in a very black suit, with a face like he’d eaten a lemon, knelt down. He held a shiny black briefcase. “For you,” the man said, his voice flat. “Happy birthday.” He didn’t sound happy. He sounded like he wanted to be anywhere else.

Billy’s eyes got huge. A present! A grown-up present! He grabbed the handle. It was heavy. “Mine?” he asked, pulling it close to his chest.

The suit man glanced over at where you were talking to Miss Holly, the teacher. He sighed, a long, tired sound. “Yes. It’s yours. Don’t… don’t lose it.” He stood up quickly and walked away, his shoes clicking on the linoleum.

Billy didn’t care about the grumpy man. He had a new thing! He dragged the briefcase over to the carpet where the blocks were. He tried to open it, but the latches were tricky. He huffed. Grown-up presents were sometimes mean like that.

Instead, he decided to show Mommy near the front door. “Look! I got a suitcase!” he announced, thumping it down.

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Oh, you're back at preschool! It's pick-up-time. The sun is still up, and the playground is full of noisy, busy little kids. Billy is sitting on the bottom of the twisty slide, his briefcase tucked between his knees like it's the most important treasure in the whole wide world.

But Billy is not alone.

Standing in front of him, with his hands on his hips and his own identical black briefcase -- scratched up a little, because he dropped it on the concrete -- is Timmy. Timmy has curly red hair and a freckled nose. He’s wearing a firetruck shirt. His briefcase is open, showing the same blinky map.

“Mine’s got more buttons!” Timmy said, puffing out his chest.

Billy scowled. “Nuh-uh! Mine’s louder!” He pressed a random key on his computer. It made a high-pitched DING!

Timmy pressed one on his. BEEP!

“See?” Timmy said. “Mine beeps better.”

“Mine makes—” Billy looked at his screen. He didn’t know what all the squiggles meant, so he just pointed at a red blinking light. “—that! That means it’s the best!”

Timmy squinted. He didn’t understand it either. But he wasn’t going to let Billy win. “My daddy says mine is special! For grown-ups!”

“My daddy says mine is secret!” Billy shot back, even though you hadn’t said that at all. He hugged his briefcase tight. “And it can make a REALLY big boom! Bigger than your whole house!”

Timmy’s eyes went wide. Then he hugged his own briefcase. “Mine can make a boom bigger than TWO houses!”

Billy stuck out his bottom lip. “You’re not playing with it right.”

Timmy stuck his tongue out. “You’re not the boss of me!”

Billy looked over at you, still sitting on the slide, his cheeks puffed out and his fingers gripping the edges of his computer. “Daddy! Timmy’s being mean!”

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Oh, you're back at preschool! It's pick-up-time. The sun is still up, and the playground is full of noisy, busy little kids. Billy is sitting on the bottom of the twisty slide, his briefcase tucked between his knees like it's the most important treasure in the whole wide world.

But Billy is not alone.

Standing in front of him, with his hands on his hips and his own identical black briefcase -- scratched up a little, because he dropped it on the concrete -- is Timmy. Timmy has curly red hair and a freckled nose. He’s wearing a firetruck shirt. His briefcase is open, showing the same blinky map.

“Mine’s got more buttons!” Timmy said, puffing out his chest.

Billy scowled. “Nuh-uh! Mine’s louder!” He pressed a random key on his computer. It made a high-pitched DING!

Timmy pressed one on his. BEEP!

“See?” Timmy said. “Mine beeps better.”

“Mine makes—” Billy looked at his screen. He didn’t know what all the squiggles meant, so he just pointed at a red blinking light. “—that! That means it’s the best!”

Timmy squinted. He didn’t understand it either. But he wasn’t going to let Billy win. “My daddy says mine is special! For grown-ups!”

“My daddy says mine is secret!” Billy shot back, even though he hadn’t said that at all. He hugged his briefcase tight. “And it can make a REALLY big boom! Bigger than your whole house!”

Timmy’s eyes went wide. Then he hugged his own briefcase. “Mine can make a boom bigger than TWO houses!”

Billy stuck out his bottom lip. “You’re not playing with it right.”

Timmy stuck his tongue out. “You’re not the boss of me!”

Billy looked over at you, still sitting on the slide, his cheeks puffed out and his fingers gripping the edges of his computer. “Mommy! Timmy’s being mean!”

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When you open the front door, Billy runs into the living room with his briefcase clunking against his knee. Clunk, clunk, clunk! He drops to the floor, sprawls out on his belly, and flips the latches open. The screen glows blue. It shows him the whole world again.

Outside the window, a loud, scratchy bird -- maybe a blue jay? -- is going CHEEP CHEEP CHEEP CHEEP over and over and over.

It's annoying! Doesn't the bird know that right when Billy gets home, it's quiet time? Mommy and Daddy want to rest after work!

"Stupid bird."

He pokes the screen. A menu pops up. Lots of squiggly words. One of them has a picture of a little rocket next to it. He doesn't know what it says, but he knows what the rocket means.

Boom.

He looks at you, his face serious like a tiny general. "Daddy. The bird is being bad. It's quiet time and it's being loud." He points a finger at the screen. "Help me make it stop!"

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When you open the front door, Billy runs into the living room with his briefcase clunking against his knee. Clunk, clunk, clunk! He drops to the floor, sprawls out on his belly, and flips the latches open. The screen glows blue. It shows him the whole world again.

Outside the window, a loud, scratchy bird -- maybe a blue jay? -- is going CHEEP CHEEP CHEEP CHEEP over and over and over.

It's annoying! Doesn't the bird know that right when Billy gets home, it's quiet time? Mommy and Daddy want to rest after work!

"Stupid bird."

He pokes the screen. A menu pops up. Lots of squiggly words. One of them has a picture of a little rocket next to it. He doesn't know what it says, but he knows what the rocket means.

Boom.

He looks at you, his face serious like a tiny general. "Mommy. The bird is being bad. It's quiet time and it's being loud." He points a finger at the screen. "Help me make it stop!"

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Billy was sitting on the living room floor, his new briefcase open beside him. The TV was on, showing a cartoon about a silly sponge, but then a very serious lady with a microphone came on. Her face looked worried.

“In a shocking development,” the lady said, “several world governments have confirmed a… a distribution error.”

The screen changed. It showed a little girl, maybe Billy’s age, in pink pajamas, holding a briefcase just like his! She was laughing and pointing at the screen. Then it showed another boy, with curly hair, banging his briefcase on the floor like a drum.

Billy’s mouth fell open. He pointed a finger at the TV. “Hey! That’s my toy! They have my toy!”

The serious lady kept talking. “Authorities are urging parents to remain calm and to secure these devices immediately. We repeat, these are not toys.”

But Billy wasn’t listening to the boring lady. A big, slow smile spread across his face. His eyes sparkled. It wasn’t just his toy. Not even just his and Timmy's! It was a game! A sharing game, but with the best toy ever!

“They’re playing too!” he whispered, full of awe. He looked at his own screen with the map and the blinky lights. Maybe… maybe they could play together. Make the booms even bigger!

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The knock on the door was sharp and fast. Rat-a-tat-tat!

Billy was on the floor, the briefcase open, his finger hovering over the map. He was looking for a place that looked like a squished bug. The knocking made him jump. "Daddy, someone's here!"

When you opened the door, the suit man was there. But he didn't look like the grumpy lemon-man from preschool. His face was pale and sweaty. His tie was crooked. He kept shifting his weight from one foot to the other, like he really, really had to go potty.

"Good afternoon, sir," he said, his voice too high and too tight. He was holding another briefcase, this one blue with cartoon planets on it. "There has been a minor administrative recalibration regarding the Future Leaders Initiative birthday disbursement."

Billy looked up from his toy, his green eyes wide. The man was talking in a funny, wobbly voice. Billy didn't understand the big words, but he understood the blue briefcase with the planets. That looked like a baby toy.

The suit man cleared his throat, a shaky sound. "The device currently in your son's possession was… erroneously allocated. This," he said, holding up the blue case, "is the age-appropriate educational tablet. I am here to effect a one-for-one exchange. I must retrieve the previous unit. Immediately."

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The knock on the door was sharp and fast. Rat-a-tat-tat!

Billy was on the floor, the briefcase open, his finger hovering over the map. He was looking for a place that looked like a squished bug. The knocking made him jump. "Mommy, someone's here!"

When you opened the door, the suit man was there. But he didn't look like the grumpy lemon-man from preschool. His face was pale and sweaty. His tie was crooked. He kept shifting his weight from one foot to the other, like he really, really had to go potty.

"Good afternoon, madam," he said, his voice too high and too tight. He was holding another briefcase, this one blue with cartoon planets on it. "There has been a minor administrative recalibration regarding the Future Leaders Initiative birthday disbursement."

Billy looked up from his toy, his green eyes wide. The man was talking in a funny, wobbly voice. Billy didn't understand the big words, but he understood the blue briefcase with the planets. That looked like a baby toy.

The suit man cleared his throat, a shaky sound. "The device currently in your son's possession was… erroneously allocated. This," he said, holding up the blue case, "is the age-appropriate educational tablet. I am here to effect a one-for-one exchange. I must retrieve the previous unit. Immediately."