by E. M. Foner
“How do you like teaching on Flower?” Julie asked, hoping to keep the Drazen girl talking in her musical voice.
“It’s a bit lonely, actually. The only other Drazen women on board are all married with children, and the Humans who I teach have lives of their own. When I lived on Union Station and went to the Open University, I never understood how students from your species could walk around talking to the Stryx librarian about anything and everything. But since I’ve been here, I probably talk with Flower more than anybody else.”
“You should come out with me sometime, I mean, if Drazens do things like that. I don’t really know any girls my age either.”
“I’d love to, and thank you for saying that, but I was probably your age before my parents let me out of the apartment on my own. We mature much slower than you do.”
“Really? How long do you live?”
“I’m embarrassed to tell you,” Rinka said and changed the subject. “Have you ever heard of solfège syllables?”
“Are they a Drazen thing?”
“They’re Human, though I’m not sure which of your many warring cultures they came from. I took a survey course on Earth music at the Open University and it covered all of your systems for musical notation and voice teaching. I remember that one of your languages even has a verb to describe singing a passage in solfège that’s derived from two of the syllables, Sol-Fa.”
“I’m afraid I didn’t understand all of that.”
“How about this?” Rinka asked, and sang, “Do, Re, Mi, Fa, Sol, La, Ti, Do.”
“That I get,” Julie said with a smile.
“Flower and I made up a little song for the children to practice the solfège syllables. It goes like this:
Do – A Dollnick, a four-armed Dollnick
Re – A gun that shoots with light
Mi – Who me? You didn’t see
Fa – A Farling taking flight
Sol – The star that you call home
La – It turns the sound down low
Ti – So the ball doesn’t roam
That will bring us back to Do (Flower says so).
“Wait a second,” Julie protested. “I’m sure I’ve heard it before with different lines.”
“Ours are better,” Flower informed her. “La - A note to follow So? Really?”
“How does ‘La’ turn the sound down low?”
“I’ve noticed that when your children don’t want to hear something, they put their hands over their ears and sing, ‘La, la, la, la, la.’ I imagine they get it from their parents.”
“Do you think you can sing it from memory?” Rinka asked Julie.
“Can I practice at home first?”
“You really are shy, aren’t you? Alright, let’s stick with warm-ups for today. You can just hum.”
The Drazen sat back down at the piano and played a series of five notes that rose to a peak and then fell back for nine notes in total, all while humming along. “Now you.”
“Uhm, uhm, uhm, uhm, uhm, uhm, uhm, uhm, uhm,” Julie managed without blushing.
“Good. Now up one with Ahh,” Rinka said, and started the sequence one note higher.
“Ahh, ahh, ahh, ahh, ahh, ahh, ahh, ahh, ahh.”
“Excellent. Keep your jaw relaxed and try with Eee.”
“Eee, eee, eee, eee, eee, eee, eee, eee, eee.”
“Now put your hand on your diaphragm so you can feel the movement and we’ll try staccato.”
“What’s that?”
“Making sharp separations between the notes. Like this.”
The lesson continued with different exercises and vocalizations, and when Rinka informed her that their time was up, Julie couldn’t believe a half-hour had gone by so quickly.
“I don’t remember the last time I felt this good. What do I owe you and when’s my next lesson?”
“This was the free try-out to see if you liked it,” the Drazen girl said. “I normally keep an open slot after the travel chorus in case we go over time. Flower handles my bookings, so you can check your own schedule and work out open times with her.”
“Great. What’s a travel chorus?”
“The children you saw were the top singers from their classes. I have them for an hour every day after school to practice. If we were on a planet, the travel chorus would go to competitions, but instead we’re going to put on performances at stops. It’s still in the planning phase.”
Eleven
“Is that some sort of game?” Irene asked her husband. She pointed at the giant display behind the steam table that normally showed an exterior view of Flower. Both of their heads began turning from side to side as they watched a glowing white ball pong back and forth between the two vertical paddles at opposing edges of the display. “It’s sort of peaceful.”
“I think it’s supposed to be tennis, or maybe ping-pong,” Harry said. “But where are the players?”
“It’s a recording,” Flower replied via the serving bot’s speaker. “I thought it would help your new members from Bits feel at home.”
“That’s so thoughtful of you,” Irene said. “I noticed that they’ve been keeping to themselves. Harry, we should eat with one of their groups tonight.”
“I don’t think there are any open spots at their tables,” her husband replied, glancing at the seating area. “We signed up sixteen new members from Bits in the end, and they took over two tables of eight.”
“Which makes it too late for you to join them for a bite,” Flower cackled, and let out a whistle of untranslatable amusement at her own joke.
“I don’t get it,” Harry complained, aware only that the Dollnick AI was laughing at something. “What’s so funny?”
“The new members are all old-fashioned computer enthusiasts from Bits, and there are eight bits in a byte. Get it?”
“Oh, that’s really funny,” Irene said politely. “What do you recommend today, Flower?”
“Try the vegetarian lasagna. I’m thinking of doing ethnic food nights once a week just to spice things up.”
“That’s a great idea. Back home, Harry and I belonged to a lodge that put on an international supper every month. I always liked the Italian food best, but he preferred Chinese. We had German, French, Japanese, Balkan, Polish, Greek—”
“It’s all Greek to me,” Flower interrupted, and the serving bot performed a drum roll in the air with its upper set of arms. “What, is my timing off? I thought that was a classic Human joke.”
“Depends on the context,” Harry said. “Are you planning on doing a stand-up routine? You’ll have to come up with jokes that demand less of the audience.”
“Or I could find a smarter audience.”
“Suit yourself. How about Chinese for the first special dinner?”
“You need to think outside the box. When I said ethnic food, I meant from the different Human groups that have gone native. I’ve been reading through the new edition of the All Species Cookbook and I have to admit there may be something to the concept of providing the recipes in a living language. Your cooks on open worlds have done a clever job of coming up with look-alike dishes that pay homage to their hosts. I’m planning to start with Dollnick cuisine.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“Just some peas to go with the main entrée,” Irene said, and the bot deposited a measured ladleful on her plate. “I’m pretty certain that lasagna is from Earth, Flower.”
“Do you think you were the first species in the universe to come up with broad, flat noodles layered with different proteins and vegetables? This is a popular recipe for Humans in Vergallian space because everything except for the cheese is from the local agricultural system.”
“The Vergallian agricultural system? We can eat their food?”
“Some of it. Humans travelling in alien space are advised to order off the Vergallian vegan menu in a pinch.”
“Bring me a tea,” Irene requested of her husband. “I’m going to go find us a place.”
Harry joined Dave at the hot drinks station and fixed his wife a cup of tea before pouring himself a coffee.
“Doesn’t that keep you up at night?” Dave asked as he sorted through the herbal teabags.
“Caffeine never kept me from falling asleep, I guess it’s a baker thing,” Harry replied. “My doctor told me to stop drinking coffee with supper a few years back when I told him I was waking up at night, but it turned out not to make a difference.”
“You mean to use the bathroom?”
“Once a man reaches a certain age, you have to assume it comes with the territory. As long as I don’t wake up more than twice, I’m happy.”
“I used to consider twice a good night,” Dave said, finally locating the bag he was searching for. “No more.”
“It’s gotten worse?” Harry asked sympathetically.
“Better. I sleep like a baby.”
“How’d you manage that?”
“How do you think?”
“Surgery?”
“I’m not sure, really,” the older man confessed. “I used getting up at night as an excuse to go see the Farling doctor because I wanted to change his mind about the ice cream restriction he put on my nutrition chart. His end of the conversation went something like, ‘I’ll fix you for ten creds. Now drop your pants and tell me your favorite ice cream flavors.’ I hadn’t even gotten to pistachio before he was yelling ‘Next’ and pushing me out the door, but I haven’t woken up at night since.”
Harry followed the older man back to their usual table where Irene was sitting next to Brenda and took the seat next to his wife. “Where are Jack and Nancy?” he asked, noting the empty spots.
“On another dinner date, plus Jack said something about following up on a lead with his friend who runs a restaurant,” Brenda informed them. “I see you took the lasagna too.”
“Flower was pushing it. She probably made too much.”
“It’s good, though,” Tom said to Harry. “You were right about the food in this place, but the ladies are a bit stand-offish.”
“It’s not us, it’s you,” Brenda told him. “If you could manage a complete sentence without leering, I’d consider letting you buy me a coffee just to hear about life on the Sharf recycling complex where you worked forty years.”
“You know, that would make an interesting topic for a course in the continuing education program,” Irene ventured. “Women for men who don’t understand women.”
Tom couldn’t help responding with a leer, “I know what women want.”
“I doubt that very much,” Maureen said, taking the chair on Dave’s other side. Somehow, with six out of eight seats taken, Tom found himself with an empty space on each side. “Tell me what I’m thinking right now.”
By the time Harry and Irene finished their meal, Maureen had actually moved a seat closer to Tom so she wouldn’t have to talk across an empty place.
“I’m beginning to think I shouldn’t have recruited him,” Harry said to his wife after they left the common room. “He’s done nothing but chase after women since he came on board.”
“He seems to be a good listener,” Irene observed.
“That’s because he’s not stupid, and he knows if he opens his mouth, any intelligent woman would run the opposite direction.” They entered the lift tube, and he said, “Amusement park.”
“You’re sure you want to come to work with me? I didn’t mean to talk you into it. I just thought you might find it interesting.”
“I want to understand how volunteering got you out of theatre practice tonight,” Harry said. “It seems to me like Flower is making up the rules as she goes along.”
“Flexibility is a sign of high intelligence,” the Dollnick AI responded over the capsule speaker. “As it happens, this is an extra shift for your wife, so there has to be some kind of trade-off. Your theatre group is doing something different tonight as well.”
“What’s that?”
“You’ll find out when you get there.”
“My information booth assignment today is right next to the kiddie rides,” Irene said, leading Harry out of the lift tube and past the long line queued up for the rollercoaster. “The carnies have been keeping a portion of the amusement park open since all those new people came aboard at Bits. They can’t seem to get enough of the rides.”
“Most of them have probably never been on one in their lives. Do you have your new tab in your purse?”
“I don’t need it for this. There’s an official ship’s tab at the booth, and it’s linked into the large display so that my clients can see what I see.”
“Clients?”
“Information booth staff pride ourselves on our professionalism, even though we’re all volunteers doing our community service. The training manual was over two-hundred pages long and there was an interactive test.”
“Are you pulling my leg?” Harry demanded. “You crammed a two-hundred-page manual and passed a test in just a few days?”
“It was mainly pictures of aliens,” Irene admitted. “Especially children. Some of the species go through a sort of metamorphosis as they mature so you can’t go by the adults.”
“But there aren’t that many aliens on board and I doubt they’re the sort to get lost in an amusement park or a bazaar.”
“We do get alien guests when we stop at open worlds and other facilities where humans aren’t the only occupants. We also get a lot of questions from people who have never seen a particular alien before and want to find out what species it is without acting rude.”
“I suppose if that was the whole manual you’d do well because you’ve always had a good memory for faces.”
“Yes, the alien pictures were much easier to recognize than the rides, which all look the same to me. Would you recognize a Zamperla Disco?”
“Not unless you dropped it on me while shouting the name.”
“How about a Rampage Stampede or a Tivoli Tumbler?”
“I’d probably get motion sick looking at the pictures.”
“That’s right. You used to hide in the bakery when I took the kids to the state fair. What was that ride you liked at the local carnival?”
“The one with the giant teacups, but even Anna decided it was too boring for her when she turned eight.”
“I’m surprised you remember the exact year.”
“Don’t forget that I made all of our kids those birthday cakes shaped like numbers when they were little so I have visual memory cues. Eight years old, chocolate layer cake, teacup ride.”
“Are you my relief?” asked the woman working at the information booth as Irene approached.
“Yes. I brought my husband along to show him what we do. I’m Irene.”
“Margret. I put everything that happened the last four hours in the log, but the main problem is that the same boy keeps running off and losing his family. The last time he was brought in by the fried dough vendor with the stand right at the edge of the food court.”
“What’s his name?”
“Hal, which must be very popular on Bits, because every time I make the announcement, a dozen parents who have lost sight of their own son for a minute show up.” Margret finished untying her volunteer smock and passed it to Irene. “There aren’t nearly as many people as the last few days. I asked a couple of the parents about it, and apparently there’s some kind of big competition going on that a lot of the Bitters are participating in.”
Irene tied on the smock that identified her as an information booth specialist and took her place between the giant display and the small postern that held an official ship’s tab.
“No chair?” Harry asked. “Don’t you get tired of standing?”
“I would if I stood in one place, but I move around the booth. There’s a chair that folds out of the bulkhead if I want to sit down. Ask me something so I can demonstrate how the system works.”
“Uh, where’s the roller coaster?”
“Seriously? We just walked past the line on the w
ay here and you could see it if you turned around. Ask me something hard.”
“Didn’t we just discuss my ignorance of all things related to amusement parks?”
“Then ask me something about the bazaar.”
“That’s an idea. I’ve been meaning to look for an insulated coffee cup with a lid like I used to have back in college.”
“Whatever for?”
“So I can make coffee at home and bring it to work with me.”
“Doesn’t Flower have a coffee maker in the kitchen?”
“It’s not the same as my old one,” Harry said stubbornly.
Irene sighed and addressed herself to the tab. “My client is looking for a travel mug for hot beverages.”
The giant display behind her lit up with a map view of a section of the bazaar where a number of booths were highlighted as possible matches for the query. The control tab showed the same image, and Irene tapped on a likely-looking candidate labeled “Ellen’s Galaxy of Mugs.” The view changed to high-resolution video.
“Whoa,” Harry said, flinching at the motion blur.
“Are those what you’re talking about?” his wife asked, pausing with the view on a collection of lidded travel mugs.
“Bingo. I’ll take the silver one. How much are they?”
“It’s not a catalog, Harry. You have to go there and buy it yourself.”
“Where is it?”
Irene tapped something on the tab which reverted the image to map mode, and then she pulled back the field of view. “It’s way on the other side of the bazaar, maybe a twenty-minute walk from here if you don’t get lost. But I don’t see any people moving around so they probably aren’t open.” She tapped a different control and a colored overlay appeared that blocked out almost every one of the vendor stands. “I was afraid of that. Most of the specialty sellers are only open for a few hours around lunch between stops unless you make a special appointment. I’ll buy a mug for you next time I work the floor during a stop.”
A heavily tattooed older man with a small boy in tow approached the couple. “Dropping off,” the carny said.
“Is he lost?”
“I caught him trying to crawl under the carousel. Kids don’t realize how dangerous it is under there.”
