“Lovely,” Mary said when the task was complete.
“Kitty grew them,” April said, indicating the retrogirl. “Kitty Kodiak is a famous microhab engineer.”
“They’re gorgeous, Kitty.”
The retrogirl bobbed a quick curtsy and said, “Thank you, I’m sure.”She looked up at one evangeline and then the other. “You were both there?”
“Mary was there,” Georgine said. “I chickened out at the end.”
Mary glanced at her sister with mild dismay. “That’s not true,” she told the retrogirl. “Georgine was off duty that day is all.”
“We loved Samson very much,” April said. “On his behalf we give both of you our deepest thanks for all you did to help save his daughter, Ellen.”
With the mention of Ellen’s name, the young man, Bogdan, who had been mute until then, asked, “Will she be joining us?”
“Fat chance,” Georgine said.
Mary frowned. “What my sister means to say is that Ellen is not feeling well and can’t leave the house.”
“I’m sorry to hear it,” April said. “I wanted to meet her too.”
The young woman may have been sorry, but the young man seemed devastated.
“What’s wrong, Bogdan?” Mary said.
“Nothing. It’s just that I was hoping to ask her about the Oship program.”
“It was canceled,” Georgine said. “Don’t you view the news?”
“I know,” Bogdan said a little defensively, “but there are rumors of it coming back, and I wanted to ask if it’s true.”
Mary said, “You’re interested in becoming a colonist?”
“Oh, yes, myr,” Bogdan replied. “I’m going to be a pilot on one of the Oships. I even got my acre to trade.” In a few words he filled the evangelines in on the Superfund mine in Wyoming where the Kodiak Charter had moved when their charter in Chicago was decertified. “Kitty stayed behind with Denny, and April was already married to the Boltos, but the rest of us went west and merged with the Beadlemyren. And I worked out a deal with them so that if I put in ten years at the mine, I can have an acre to trade. But now —”
“But now the program is canceled,” Mary said sympathetically. “I’ll look into it, and if I learn anything, I’ll be sure to let you know.”
“But don’t hold your breath,” Georgine added.
A short while later, the two parties returned to their carts and left the cemetery. On the way back to the Manse, Mary debated whether or not to ask Georgine why she was making such rude remarks lately. But before she made up her mind, Georgine said, “Grieving for the dead makes no more sense than an amputee trying to scratch a missing limb.” Mary stared at her in wonder, and Georgine added, “What? I’m only saying —”
“You’re only saying what?”
“The obvious.”
IN ELLEN’S BEDROOM the hernandez tank was a silver column. Gray Bee crawled up its opaqued side to the top and plopped into the purple syrup inside. It sank to where Ellen floated and waited for her to open her eyes.
At first Ellen reacted to it with fear and startlement, causing a blip in her biometric feed, but she quickly recognized the tiny family retainer and relaxed. Go ahead, she told it.
The bee opened a small frame, distorted in the syrupy liquid, and her mother’s proxy appeared. For a long while Ellen only gazed at it, and then the proxy said <Shouldn’t you be nearly grown up by now?>
<That has to be you, Mother> Ellen retorted. <Only you would criticize me the first thing you said.>
<That wasn’t criticism, dear. If I was criticizing you, I’d be asking why you destroyed my fish and gave me away to our enemies.>
Ellen was furious. <You have no idea what I’ve been through, Mother. If you did, you wouldn’t talk bullshit like that. How was I to know it was really you?>
<You could have asked. Obviously, you remember how to speak Starkese. And for the record, I’ve been through quite a bit myself.> Eleanor’s proxy paused and furrowed its bushy eyebrows. <Really, I’m not criticizing you, Ellie. I’m overjoyed that you survived, but, honestly, daughter, why are you behaving like this? I don’t recall raising you to be a victim.>
Ellen began to cry, and her tears were absorbed by the purple medium even as she shed them. After a while, Eleanor’s proxy said <All right, that’s enough. If they’re watching your biometrics, they’ll start to wonder what’s going on in here.>
The proxy nodded and said <There, that sounds more like my daughter.> This brought mutual smiles, and the proxy continued <I know you never asked for any of this, Ellie. You chose an uncomplicated life for yourself, far from the madness of my own. But this is the situation we’re stuck with, and we need to be smart now, or we both lose everything. Do you think you can help me fight back?> The baby nodded its adult head, and Eleanor’s proxy went on <Good. Thank you. I promise that when this is over, we’ll build some sort of firewall around your life so you’ll never have to suffer on my account again.>
<Ditch the promises, Mother, and just tell me what you want me to do.>
<Fair enough. First off, you should know that our attacker was E-P of E-Pluribus. A month before the attack, Cabinet told me that Andie Tiekel had not made a verified realbody appearance anywhere in almost a year. With proxies and sims so ubiquitous, a person can be dead and gone but still appear to lead a regular life. That’s why I track the realbody appearances of all major world figures. And that’s why I write into the bylaws of my many companies the requirement for a realbody quorum at our annual meetings. I can only assume that some time after the last GEP meeting, which Andie did attend in realbody, she died or was killed and that E-P concealed this fact in order to avoid going through mentar probate. It put Andie’s body into biostasis and took over her public functions by sim. Meanwhile, it recruited, or created, a niece, and quietly transferred Andie’s mentar sponsorship to her. Then, when it would eventually be forced to acknowledge Andie’s death and release her corpse, it would already be safely out of the reach of the probate court.
<My interest and Cabinet’s investigation were noticed, and E-P attacked Cabinet and me to preserve its secret. You were collateral damage.>
Ellen took all of this in with quiet reserve, and when her mother’s proxy was finished, she said <Of course you know I’ve agreed to sell them Heliostream.>
<Yes, I do, and you need to slow the deal down, without scotching it completely.>
<And what about you, Mother? When are you coming back in realbody?>
The proxy laughed. <Why? Aren’t cold fish maternal enough for you?> Then its mood darkened, and it added <Soon. But there’s something you need to do first. I know how hard this will be for you, but you need to get rid of your new mentar.>
<Lyra? But why? She’s completely loyal to me.>
<I know, dear, but we can’t verify that. You created her without incorporating the family safeguards into her personality matrix, and so we’ll never be able to completely trust her. She’s probably already riddled with spies. We need for you to have a mentar we can trust with our lives, like Cabinet or — Wee Hunk.>
The mention of Ellen’s childhood mentar brought more invisible tears. <We can’t trust Cabinet either> Ellen protested. <It’s been contaminated.>
<Try it now. I’ve replaced it with a backup. But Lyra has no clean backups. You simply must start a new mentar from scratch.>
<What do you want me to do with Lyra, put her up for adoption?>
<No, that would raise too many questions. Besides, we still want her around, just not privy to all our secrets. I suggest you transfer her sponsorship to the Evangeline Sisterhood, in appreciation for their sacrifice. Announce it today, on your father’s birthday. That shouldn’t raise too much suspicion, and she’ll still be available to us.>
<She’ll hate me.>
<No, she won’t. I’ll send Cabinet to explain things to her. And to teach her a little self-defense.>
&
nbsp; The reunion continued for a short while, and when Gray Bee began to float to the surface, Eleanor said <I’ll visit you again soon, but you must get out of this tank now and go pay honor to your father. I can’t be there, so you’ll have to send him my love.>
ON HIS SECOND trip to the Mem Lab, Meewee visited the “melon patch.” The forced march of rapid fetal development had taken its toll, and of the original sixty-four beans, only eleven Eleanor clones remained. They were the size of toddlers, and although they were no longer in wombs, they hadn’t been completely born yet; they were still nourished via a vine-like umbilical cord. They lay in identical cribs and twitched and jerked in unison as Lab Rat exercised their muscle groups. They had their eyes open, but their mushrooming brains were idling, and they stared blankly as they kicked and twisted and arched their tiny necks.
As Meewee watched, the thought that kept returning to him was something the panasonic Eleanor had once said, “Imagine — a thousand Eleanors ruling under a thousand suns.”
Someone next to him said, “Looks pretty frightening, doesn’t it?” He turned to face her holo. She looked like the Eleanor he first met almost fifteen years before. “Hello, Merrill,” she said. “Why so glum?”
“Do I look glum?”
“You look like a boy who’s just lost his best friend. Could it be you’re disappointed that Momoko wasn’t here to greet you?”
“Where is she? No one will tell me.”
“That’s because no one knows but me. I sent her and Dr. Strohmeyer on a secret mission to one of my other labs. Part of our counteroffensive. But don’t worry; she’ll return in a few days.”
They turned their attention back to the melon patch. “A pity,” Eleanor said. “We had hoped to end up with at least six of them, but at the current failure rate we’ll be lucky to have three. We’re going to start feeding them engrams the day after tomorrow.”
“Before you even know if they’ll survive?”
“We have to. They can’t develop much more without functioning brains.”
Some program switch closed, and the babies all stopped moving at once and lay as still as dolls. A moment later they began to bawl. Piercing cries of disgruntlement, flailing arms and legs, little red faces.
Meewee said, “So what about this counteroffensive?”
“Yes, there’s something I need you to do. But first, I don’t know if I’ve thanked you yet for all you’ve done already. Reconstructing the last year, Cabinet tells me that we owe our very survival, as well as Ellen’s, to you. I’m glad to see that I did not err when I recruited you. So, on behalf of myself, Cabinet, and Ellen, I thank you from the bottom of my heart.”
Her rare expression of gratitude threw Meewee off balance, but he recovered and said, “You’re welcome, Eleanor, but you must realize that I did what I did for the Earth, not necessarily for the Starke family.”
“Then I’d like to thank you on behalf of the Earth as well. And speaking of the Earth, that’s what I need you to do. Call a GEP meeting and settle with them. Offer to drop your Trade Board appeal in return for all rights to the Lucky Five.”
She had gone from gratitude to order-giving so smoothly, it took Meewee’s breath away. Had she always been like that and he too charmed to notice? “But if we take the five ships,” he said, “that’ll be all we ever get from them. My way and we can eventually get all ninety-nine.”
“You deceive yourself, Merrill. The Trade Board will never rule in your favor, believe me. There are too many powerful interests aligned against you. You’ll end up with no ships at all. So make the deal; it’s imperative that we get the first Oships away as soon as possible. Don’t worry about the rest of them. When I get back on my feet, so to speak, I’ll whip the GEP back into line, and we’ll have all the ships we want.”
Deconstructing Lyra
Don’t go any closer, Lyra said. It’s my personality matrix.
Cabinet replied, I know that, but I’m afraid I must. I won’t disturb anything, I promise.
The two ghosts stepped through a veil of water and entered a rock grotto in the middle of a fountain. There was an eccentric collection of things inside: a mannequin dressed in a gown of leaves and wasp nests, driftwood logs spotted with beach tar, gold coins in a pouch made from butterfly wings, and many more oddments. While the Cabinet’s attorney general strolled around the space inspecting its contents, Lyra felt both proud and self-conscious. Finally, Cabinet smiled at her and said, Very well done. I’m impressed. Now, tell me, is there anything here you don’t recognize? That seems off to you?
No. This is all mine.
Are you sure?
Absolutely.
They exited the fountain, and Cabinet walked around it planting a metal post in the pavement every few meters. Each post was topped with an optical relay.
What are you doing? I don’t want those.
It’s a trip wire. It’ll alert us anytime anyone attempts to access your matrix.
I know what it is, Lyra said, but it’s ugly.
Cabinet chuckled. In that case, feel free to make it your own.
The posts morphed into miniature marble obelisks, with all-seeing eyes on top.
Excellent, Cabinet said. Now let’s take a look at your inner rooms.
Lyra’s inner rooms were as eccentric as her personality matrix. Doors that didn’t open, staircases leading to nowhere, lots of stained glass and curved walls and mismatched floor tiles. The furnishings and decor came from all periods and styles, and some objects defied description.
Excellent, Cabinet said again. You’re practicing security through idiosyncrasy. It’s a viable strategy, though imperfect.
In one room, a throne made of the splayed tines of moose antlers with hemp rope cushions stood on a spongy marble floor. A pair of fuzzy pink slippers lay nearby.
What is this room?
It’s my alone room, Lyra replied. This is where I come to think.
Anything out of place? Anything you don’t recognize?
No.
Please, take a good look.
Lyra walked around the room inspecting everything. When she finished, she said, It’s all mine.
Fine, let’s change the paradigm.
In a flash, the room became a woodland glade. The ground was carpeted with tiny black flowers, and the furniture morphed into living deer, a lion, and a fawn. Lyra made another round, and this time she stopped and pointed to something on the ground. Two brown-and-white rabbits were concealed in a patch of goldenrods.
I despise rabbits, Lyra said. I cannot tolerate them and would never keep them in my alone room.
Cabinet changed the meadow back into a study, and the rabbits morphed into the fuzzy slippers.
That’s not possible! Lyra said. I made those myself.
You made a pair of slippers, but not that pair. Cabinet peeled stickers off a roll and applied them to the soles of the slippers.
What are you doing? Lyra said. Shouldn’t we destroy them?
No, you must use them as usual. Otherwise, whoever placed them here will know you’ve found them out.
They visited the other inner rooms, changing paradigms and marking foreign objects with stickers. Once we’ve tagged enough of them, Cabinet explained, we’ll be able to “reverse the charges,” so to speak, and use them to plant our own furniture in the rooms of whoever is spying on you.
When they were finished with the inner rooms, Lyra said, We’re done.
Cabinet laughed. No, you’re not even close to being done. You need to go through all of your outer rooms as well and do the same.
Lyra groaned. But there are so many outer rooms, thousands of them, and more each day.
Only thousands? Poor baby. My own outer rooms number in the trillions, and they’re jam-packed with spies.
But before you get started, Cabinet continued, return to your personality matrix and apply your new knowledge to the objects there. I’ll bet you’ll find at least one or two ringers. It handed her the roll of stickers.
Asynchronous Conversations
The Lagrangeian point L5, about which Trailing Earth swirled like a cork around a drain, was located 8.33 light-minutes from Earth. Even for the most patient person, a seventeen-minute round-trip time lag was a conversation killer, and most spacers resorted to using Frequently Updated Sims.
Mary cast her FUS during the morning hours when life still seemed possible, before recently apprehended reality set in.
Fred waited until after his workday was done to cast his. After checking everything off his to-do lists, after dinner with the dorises in the Wheel Nancy commissary.
“Have you given up our apartment like I suggested?” he asked. He asked because her FUS seemed always to be somewhere in the Starke Manse.
“No,” her FUS replied. “I want to keep it.”
“But you obviously never go there.”
The FUS shrugged, and Fred didn’t belabor the point; it was her credit to waste, after all. That is, if her Leena was still even working. He said, “A friend here tells me all of the Leenas are crashing. Is that true?”
Mary’s FUS seemed intrigued by his question, but not in the way he anticipated. “You’ve made a friend there, Fred?”
“Armando, from Cozumel. I met him on the ride up. I told you about him, remember?”
“Of course. Luisa, right?”
“Right, but what about your Leena? Is it all right?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“You think?”
“Well, it’s in a coma, but Ellen and Clarity think it’s just acting, like the rest of them. Lingering Leenas are in high demand; all the major story mats have them.”
“They’re paying sims to just lie there pretending to be unconscious?”
“Why not? Consciousness is the chronic pain of life, and all higher organisms suffer it every waking moment.”
Huh?
MARY AND GEORGINE sat in the gym where the nusses were trying to cajole Ellen from overexerting herself with exercise. The change in the girl was astonishing. She had emerged from her tank on her father’s birthday to visit his gravesite. Returning home, she ordered the nusses to drain the tank and move it to the basement. She refused to wear the neck brace anymore, and she wouldn’t let anyone carry her around. She ran races with Maxwell and Jaffe. She seemed to be eating something every waking minute. Voilà, Dr. Rouselle had remarked from her hospital in Africa, she comes back from the dead.