by E. M. Foner
“Okay. Give her my number so we can do the location thing when she gets here.”
“EarthCent owes you a debt of gratitude,” the president said. “If you ever get caught up in customs, give me a call.”
“Earth doesn’t have customs.”
“We’re working on it.”
Ellen turned to Marshall after the call disconnected and found the older trader smiling broadly. “What?”
“You hung up on the President of EarthCent twice,” he told her. “I’ve been wondering where I was going to come up with a new story to tell at the Rendezvous competition. I’ll have to embellish a little, but it’s got great potential.”
“I’m not sure it’s something I want to be known for.”
“Could you give me a hand with the shade tent? I can take it down myself, but it’s faster with two.”
“Of course,” Ellen said, and in ten minutes, the standard canopy deployed by human traders who made frequent visits to planetary surfaces was folded up and stored away in the hold.
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Ellen, and I hope to see you at Rendezvous,” the older trader said. “I have an open slot from the tunnel controller so I may as well get going.”
“An open slot? How come I had to reserve a time?”
“You didn’t, but if you contact the controller ahead and ask for a reservation, the AI will make one for you. They aim to be accommodating. If you’re all packed up, you have just enough time to walk to the monorail station to meet your guest. I noticed that the battery on your phone is running down. I don’t know if it will last long enough for her to find you if it has to broadcast the location beacon.”
“Thanks again for everything,” Ellen said, and after commanding her ship controller to secure the vessel, she started for the monorail station. Behind her, Marshall’s ship silently ascended into the sky, gathering speed as it went. Her phone rang just as she reached the switch-back ramp that rose to the elevated station.
“Hello?”
“Is this Ellen?”
“You must be Hildy. I walked over to the station to meet you.”
“How very kind. I just arrived and I’m heading for the exit ramp.”
“Can I come up and help you with your bags?”
“I travel light. Just look for the EarthCent hat.”
Less than a minute later, Ellen saw a woman in her mid-fifties with an EarthCent baseball cap coming down the ramp with a single bag. The luggage wasn‘t even floating—just a hard-sided case with two wheels.
“Thank you for wearing your Galactic Free Press ID,” Hildy said by way of greeting. “It’s probably the only one on the planet, which makes it easy to pick you out in a crowd.”
“The paper traditionally sources all of its Earth news from the teacher-bot newspapers and syndicated journalists, which is why they sent me here in the first place.”
“Stephen told me he heard something about your mission from Chastity,” the head of EarthCent’s public relations said, falling in alongside the reporter, who took a moment to remember that the president’s full name was Stephen Beyer. “And thank you for taking me on such short notice. I checked with the Vergallian travel agency that we normally use and commercial service to Aarden required a minimum of two connections.”
“I’ve never flown commercial. My first experience in space came after I signed on as an apprentice with a trader who visited the world where I grew up.”
“I hope it was a good experience,” Hildy said, glancing over at the reporter. “I’ve heard some unfortunate stories, though I don’t recall if they were from the news or an EarthCent Intelligence briefing.”
“I was lucky,” Ellen said. “I originally signed on with a woman whose husband had been her partner, but he decided he’d had enough of living in Zero-G and wanted to settle on a planet. They had already paid off the mortgage, so she took an equity loan to buy out his share, and was almost finished paying it down when I came along. I didn’t receive any wages, but she gave me a percentage of the new stock to trade on my own account, which was the best education a trader can get. Then she got remarried and I did the last year of my apprenticeship with a man I met. We still keep in touch, and I hope to see her at Rendezvous.”
Hildy took advantage of the opportunity to ask an unending stream of questions about the trading life, stopping only when they reached the ship and strapped in for departure. Ellen requested the minimum G-force lift-off from the controller, not wanting to take any unnecessary chances with her passenger’s health. It was a costly move, in terms of her fuel pack, but probably no worse than if she had been stuck carrying the ore shipment she had convinced John to take for her.
By the time they reached the tunnel entrance, Hildy had shifted to questions about the news syndicate Ellen had just helped establish.
“So your paper’s primary interest is expanding investigative journalism on Earth?” Hildy asked, and then added hastily, “Please stop me if you aren’t comfortable answering.”
“Not at all,” the reporter said. “I can’t believe I’m speaking with somebody so high up in EarthCent that she calls the president by his first name. It makes me feel like I have access or something.”
“You do have access unless you lose our phone numbers, and then you can just contact the president’s office. There are only a half-dozen of us working full-time on Earth. We rely on the tunnel-network ambassadors and their staffs to handle most of the diplomatic legwork, and EarthCent Intelligence is headquartered on Union Station.”
“I just spent a month on your planet meeting journalists all over the globe and I still don’t get how the government works. It seems to be a crazy patchwork of old nations and new city-states.”
“That’s a fair description,” Hildy said. “I don’t know if you’re interested in history, but the bottom line is that when the Stryx opened Earth, they basically broke the historical power structure. The Stryx didn’t attempt to dictate new laws to the existing leadership, but they made clear that interfering with emigration wouldn’t be tolerated. When alien transports from different species began landing all over the world and recruiting contract labor, people realized they could vote with their feet, and they did.”
“Well, Earth wasn’t as bad as I expected, other than those irritating phone things. And now that I think about it, I didn’t have a single contact with government at any level.”
“That’s pretty much how it works unless you’re a resident,” Hildy explained. “Then they start hitting you with fees for services, though technology has greatly reduced the number of government employees at all levels. Where Stephen and I live, we pay a monthly fee for public safety and education, but in less populated areas, it’s common for children to study with teacher bots and only spend time in classrooms if there’s parental involvement.”
“I’ve heard that most of the governments went broke in the years after the Stryx opened Earth because their populations fell but the pensioners stayed.”
“Yes, the first few decades were tough for people who remained behind. Remittances from family members working on alien contracts helped, and a combination of inflation and defaults eventually cleared away the debt burden. Some people think that conditions are only improving now because of all the alien businesses operating on Earth, but things have actually been on an upward path for decades. It’s just a shame that a new concentration of wealth and power is leading to corruption.”
“That was the conclusion of all the journalists I met with,” Ellen agreed, stifling a yawn.
“I take it politics isn’t your thing.”
“What? Oh, I’m sorry, it’s the tunnel,” Ellen said. “For some reason, it always puts me to sleep. The boyfriend I finished my apprenticeship with had the opposite problem. As soon as we landed on a planet or docked with a spinning structure that gave him weight, he was falling asleep.”
“You left him to buy your own ship?”
“I was freelancing for the Galactic Free Press by then, and
when I left to chase a story, we just sort of drifted apart,” Ellen said. “I think I’m going to pass out for a few hours. Do you know how to use a Zero-G bathroom?”
“I’ve traveled on Sharf traders before. I’ll just hop on the exercise bike for a while if it won’t bother you.”
“Not at all. Feel free to eat anything you find.”
By the time Ellen woke up, Hildy was passed out in her chair. The two women turned out to have completely opposite biorhythms, and they were only awake at the same time for around six hours of the trip, though part of this was due to the older woman’s ability to sleep more than ten hours at a stretch. Coincidently, they were both up when the ship emerged from the tunnel and they were hailed by Aarden traffic control. After a brief negotiation, Ellen received landing coordinates for an open parking spot at Rendezvous.
“It feels like we’ve barely been traveling for a day,” Hildy commented. “You’re excellent company.”
“Do you mean when I’m awake or when I’m sleeping.”
“Both. You don’t snore, in case nobody has ever told you.”
“Thanks. Now that we’re almost there, are you going to tell me about the big promotion EarthCent is co-sponsoring with my paper?”
“It’s hardly a secret. It’s just that public relations is my job, and once I get started talking about Earth, you can’t turn me off. It basically comes down to trying to piggyback on the success the Grenouthians have had with their documentary tours for aliens. Those are focused on Earth history, of course, with visits to old battlefields, technology museums, and reenactment preserves.”
“I heard of those, but I didn’t get a chance to visit one.”
“You may know that we licensed the Grenouthians to build documentary theme parks with human reenactors at three locations of their choice, one of which turned out to be an orbital studio complex. But the Grenouthians noticed that many cities around the world have abandoned sections which could be restored to earlier periods for less than building replicas, and they’ve been pouring money into doing just that. The bunnies have hired tens of thousands of locals to undergo training to reenact life in the seventeenth, eighteenth, and nineteenth centuries, which were all rich fodder for documentaries.”
“And you want EarthCent to do the same?”
“Not at all,” Hildy said with a laugh. “Besides, the Grenouthians weren’t born yesterday, and they insisted on a monopoly before they started investing in the restorations. What I meant is that we want to promote Earth for destination vacations, but for humans rather than aliens. We’re working on wedding venues, dude ranches, a Scottish Highlands paradise, religious pilgrimages—”
“A Scottish Highlands paradise?” Ellen interrupted.
“Time travel romance for the ladies, distilleries and caber tossing for the men. The point is, Earth has a lot to offer human tourists. Our deal actually touches on the news syndication work you’re doing. Whenever a positive story about Earth runs in the Galactic Free Press, we’ll pay to show our advertising alongside. I’m still fine-tuning the ad copy with focus groups, but some variation on, ‘Come home for the vacation of your life,’ will probably be the winner.”
“That’s catchy. But I thought that EarthCent was chronically broke and had no ability to raise revenue. Are the Stryx subsidizing the whole thing?”
“You haven’t heard?” Hildy asked. “Our embassy on Union Station won the auction for the rights to the All Species Cookbook—your publisher and her sister put up the money. It’s turned into an instant bestseller, and for the first time, we have a solid income stream that we can use for whatever we want without seeking Stryx approval. Ambassador McAllister has been licensing subsidiary rights for even more income, like the new Grenouthian cooking show, and a line of prepackaged ingredients to make the recipes. It’s the first time I’ve ever had a real budget to do anything and I intend to take full advantage.”
“But why is creating new business opportunities on Earth a priority?” Ellen asked. “After all, the only authority EarthCent has on the planet is granting extraterritorial status to alien business operations.”
“For starters, we feel that it’s important to keep expatriates connected to Earth in some way, just so they don’t go so native that they forget that they’re human. And even though over sixty percent of humanity now lives on other worlds, there are still more than four billion people on Earth, and four billion people without enough to do with their time can cause a lot of trouble. I don’t know if you read the EarthCent Intelligence report that was released in your paper, but most human criminality on the tunnel network can be traced directly to Earth.”
“I did read that, but I didn’t see much sign of it while I was there. Hey, I’ve got an extra hammock if you want to sleep on my ship once we’re down. I’m going to grab the space elevator back up to Flower.”
“Are you landing on Aarden just because of me?” Hildy asked. “If you want to stop on Flower for a few hours, I always like seeing how they’re doing. I appreciate your hammock offer, but I’ve already agreed to stay with Fanny, if you know her.”
“Everybody knows Fanny,” Ellen said. “I’m landing because I reserved a spot at Rendezvous, and if I don’t take it, you never know what will happen. Besides, I have a story to finish writing, and a long, boring elevator trip is the ideal place. I’ll hitch a ride back down with somebody in a couple of days.”
Fifteen
“Sally!” Rachel cried, and holding her arms up as if she was being robbed, rushed toward her old friend. The two women embraced, and then took a good long look at each other.
“I wish I could say you haven’t changed a bit in thirty-five years,” Sally said. “You look happy, though.”
“I’ve had a good life and I’m not anywhere near ready to quit yet,” Rachel replied. “You certainly haven’t let any moss grow on you. How do you stay so thin?”
“Vergallian vegan,” the president of Colony One said with a rueful smile. “It’s actually very good if you travel in Vergallian space, but everywhere else—ugh.”
“This is Georgia,” Rachel introduced the reporter, who after discussing it with her host, had decided to wear her press ID in the open as usual. “She’s with the Galactic Free Press, as you can see, and she came along for the tour.”
“You look familiar,” Sally said. “Did you attend one of our seminars?”
“On Poalim,” Georgia said. “I had a misconception about your organization, but now I’m a big fan.”
“Thought I was a scam artist, didn’t you? I get that a lot, even from people who know I’m funding Colony One out of my own pocket. They think I want to set myself up as queen of a new world.”
“But from everything I learned about the time involved to acquire a colony ship, you’ll be, uh…”
“We’ll all be dead by then,” Sally said. “No need to beat around the bush about it. So, are you both looking forward to the tour? We can start anytime.”
“I don’t understand,” Rachel said, looking around the docking bay where the shuttle from the elevator hub had deposited them. “Are we it?”
“Tours are starting continuously and around the clock. The colony ship’s guiding AI, Flower, has deployed bots to lead the tours herself. There’s a line of them waiting by the lift tube.”
“That sounds like fun. We’ll take the tour and then lunch is on me. I insist,” Rachel said.
“You’ll have to argue with Flower about picking up the check,” Sally said as she led the way to the lift tube. “She’s going all out with the welcome mat. I’ve already lost two of my staff.”
“Lost? As in, you can’t find them because they wandered off?”
“Lost as in Flower convinced them to immigrate, to remain on board. She’s around four and a half million people under capacity, and running a ninety percent vacancy rate is bad for her bottom line. I cheated a little and took a quick tour last night. Can you guess where Flower brought me?”
“To the bridge,” Geor
gia said immediately. “She must know who you are and she wanted to wow you.”
“Flower brought me to an independent living cooperative for humans sixty-five and older. And I have to admit I was impressed, but I’m not quite ready to hang up my spurs yet.”
“Three for the tour?” a floating four-armed robot inquired when the women reached the lift tube bank.
“That’s right,” Rachel said. “Are you artificial intelligence?”
“It’s just a maintenance bot, but Flower controls them all directly,” the founder of Colony One explained.
“Thank you, Sally,” Flower said through the bot’s speaker. “I know that you’re Georgia Hunt because I read your press ID, but who might your companion be?”
“Rachel. Pleased to meet you.”
“Are there any particular attractions you came to see or should I give you my standard tour?” Flower asked as the bot ushered the three women into the lift tube capsule.
“I saw in a Colony One brochure that the outer deck of Dollnick colony ships is always a reservoir,” Georgia said. “I’d like to see how that works.”
“Splendid,” Flower said. “We’ll start at the hull and work our way in, though it will take a few minutes to get there. What else did you learn from the Colony One brochure?”
“Well, I saw that Frunge colony ships are—”
“Deathtraps,” the Dollnick AI interrupted. “I suppose with your short lifespans you might gamble on the cumulative effects of sub-par radiation screening, but then again, your DNA isn’t as robust as that of the advanced species who’ve been traveling the stars for thousands of generations.”
“Oh. Well, I thought that the Drazen colony ship—”
“More of a space-going hotel,” Flower interrupted again. “Did you know that their current model has to tow in an orbital to do any serious terraforming work? I mean, what’s the point of a colony ship if you get to your destination and you can’t re-engineer the atmosphere.”
