Everyone's Island

by Kris Schnee

  One of the rats just lay there awaiting fresh commands. The other scuttled over to sniff the human's fingers curiously and ask for food in English.

  Garrett took a breath, and talked to Zephyr about his plan.

  * * *

  Martin had agreed after long thought and prayer. Garrett called a public meeting with no music playing, no cheerful intro speaker. A microphone and camera stood ready to carry his words elsewhere to anyone who cared. Castor's hundreds of residents and guests looked up to the main platform, not knowing why Garrett stood atop the highest roof.

  Garrett did the work himself, as he'd done other awful things. He tugged on a wet, salt-encrusted rope and the American flag came down slowly, for him to fold it reverently into a box. The flagpole stood bare, an empty rod, and he felt an irrational fear of it now. Already he was filled with a mix of anger, shame and despair at what he was doing, and a need to get his pompous speech over with.

  He spoke, and the words were broadcast. "I'm an American by birth, and I came here with an American spirit, trying to create wealth and live on a frontier. I'd be happy to live my life and let people join me who want to. But I was told that I was out of line, that I couldn't both obey the law and be out here. Some have been gentle in their objection, by putting enough regulations on me that I can't comply. Others have told me that I can't act without their permission, which they withhold. Still others came openly as thieves and murderers. None have stopped us.

  "We've reached a point where we're being used as pawns in some larger dispute, and we can't continue to play. I don't blame any specific person or party or ideology; I understand that it's complicated. I won't let others' disputes ruin us. So, very reluctantly, I... I renounce my citizenship. It's the most American thing I can do: taking care of myself and looking for peaceful, honest interaction with people. This station is no longer flying the official flag, even though I want it to fly again someday."

  And damn it, he did. He hated staring at the bare pole after all the times he'd looked up at it and seen the flag flying in the breeze. The pole was dead, soulless. He knew that was stupid, that he was talking about nothing but a tattered piece of cloth. But the wind was making his eyes water and he clutched the boxed flag to his heart, only reluctantly passing it down and trading it for another. Stupid, crazy, pointless pageantry... Why do I care? I never cared when they made us recite the Pledge in school; I sneered at cheesy war movies my parents showed me; I studied with Europeans and Asians who had no problem leaving home. He looked at the new box and pulled out its contents.

  "This is also an American flag!" It was a bright yellow thing in an archaic design, showing a rattlesnake and the motto, Don't Tread On Me. "I don't know how other people want to live, here or elsewhere. But I'm choosing to protect my own life and the opportunity that my work creates for people."

  The serpent flag fluttered against the noise of wind and his own echoing voice, and there came another sound from below. Garrett looked down, hardly able to see, and found that folks were clapping. People had gathered on the topdeck, a mix of Pilgrims, tourists, and others. More people in and around the station were looking up at him -- or more likely, at the flag. The applause was scattered, with confusion on people's faces, but he could see that some people shared his thinking.

  Well then, that's enough. The deed's done; I'm weaseling out of a bad situation. There's no more I can say. Still he hesitated, longing to say it better, to feel like he wasn't dishonoring his family and everyone else. He didn't know how, and it hurt him not to know. The ignorance made him feel weak. If his dispute was force against force, he'd lose. And if someone could make a case for slapping irons on him, and all he had in his defense was a litany of complaints, a reasonable jury would side against him. He didn't know what to do anymore, and that left him feeling like a criminal and a traitor for doing what he thought was right.

  He climbed down and got mobbed by questions. Oh, hell, Martin had brought reporters in. Now that he was aware of them he stammered, trying again to put into words why he'd done this, why he'd had to do it. He was pressed against the deckhouse wall with too many eyes on him.

  "Give him some breathing space," said a commanding voice. People turned to see the speaker, giving Garrett a break. Garrett could see who had caught their attention, the guy who was happy to speak in the absence of more blustering by Garrett:

  Bradford Duke, former cultist.

  8. Tess

  It was a long vacation, or a dream. She only had to do what she was told: homework, dance lessons, eating her vegetables, taking her pills. Mom and Dad said it was great to see her being content, even-keeled and not spending all her time with computers. She sat on the porch, staring vaguely at the sun and glancing at the textbook in her hands.

  Mom came outside, where her breath made clouds in the early spring air. "I brought cocoa. Aren't you cold?"

  "I'm okay."

  "You should wear a jacket." She left and returned with the one Tess had worn sometimes on Castor, then wrapped it over Tess' shoulders with a hug. Tess shivered.

  Mom was still there while Tess stared at the book. "I've been thinking," Mom said. Tess waited. "Do you like being back here with us?"

  "It's okay."

  "Tess, come on. I'm your mother; don't you want to argue?"

  Tess' thoughts kept dead-ending, like she could be having lofty ideas and plans but didn't care enough to try. Why bother, when she was being cared for by people who loved her? She shrugged. "It doesn't matter."

  "You've been getting some calls and e-mails. How are you feeling about the stuff that happened to you? You can tell us if you're still upset."

  Tess thought back, and those days at sea felt like they'd happened to someone else, some fantasy adventurer. She'd been thrilled, angry, terrified, running around doing things that had seemed important at the time. She could feel a little of how it'd been out there, like the faint crust of sea-salt under her fingers as they brushed the jacket. Now she was okay and safe, and it didn't matter if she made mistakes. "I'm not really upset."

  "You should talk to your friends more. They're worried about you."

  Really? She guessed they missed her. "If you think I should."

  "I want you to do what you want. There's such a thing as being too cooperative."

  Tess wondered why Mom was giving her a hard time. Wasn't everybody happy? She turned to look at Mom. Tess wasn't frowning or anything, just watching in a world that felt dim and grey like a thick wool blanket.

  Mom stared and took a step back, like she'd seen a ghost.

  * * *

  For the next week Mom had her take only a half-dose at dinner. The school gave out the morning drugs to a third or so of the kids at breakfast, under supervision so kids wouldn't abuse them. Maybe the half-doses were a mistake, because classes kept getting duller and that feeling deepened into annoyance. Stupid, she kept scribbling in her paper notebook. The stupids mutated into doodles and circuit designs, carving out a little space from her feeling of I don't give a damn. She daydreamed in class, seeing castles in the clouds outside the window.

  With the dreams in her head and her brain feeling a little less wrapped in cotton, she tried skipping her morning dose on Friday. It wasn't that she cared, so much as that she kind of wondered what would happen, where that would take her. A teacher walked by to make sure she took her medication with her grape juice. But then Tess spat the pill into a napkin when no one but the black camera-domes was watching, just as the pill was starting to turn to grey grit in her mouth. Some other kids did that too, she knew, because you could mix the pills with booze to get high or make a girl pass out. Not that the school knew that.

  Tess wandered the halls between classes, reminiscing through years of school and getting mostly that grey, gritty feeling. The splotches of color on the walls looked like grade school projects, not high school work, but Tess had lost track of what got you a gold sticker here. On Castor the "grades" were about whether stuff broke and people died, not wh
ether you felt good. Tess stared at a hand-painted poster of dinosaurs and cavemen in the Hollow Earth. She saw paint splotches with no meaning to them.

  "Junk," she said, and tore a chunk out of it with one hand. The paper ripped like a bad walkway platform. She felt weird, lost in the school's twisty little passages. A boy had seen her shred the poster, but he walked on by; enforcing the rules was someone else's job. Tess felt a moment of fear, but the school's machines wouldn't react to her defacing stuff, only to her being too loud or moving suspiciously. She could probably walk right out the door or something without being caught. Again without caring whether it worked, Tess went to a dusty iron door and pushed. It didn't budge; it was locked against unauthorized exit. Tess shrugged and went to her next class.

  But an hour later, at recess, she was back at the door. She was thinking, It's pointless to be here; I could learn more at home. And: What right has anyone got to keep me here?

  The door was shut against her, protecting her on behalf of unseen masters.

  Irrationally Tess kicked the door, hating the thing for being in her way. She had no reason to be here; she should go home. She looked into an empty classroom, where a window opened for her. Oh, you admins are so smart. Tess climbed out and walked away from the school. Outside, the sun blazed, giving a hint of spring that made her shade her eyes. She went to her little car and hopped in before anyone tried to stop her, with a grin on her face.

  A red Sovereign veered into the lot, motors humming, and pulled into the space to her left. Tess paused, key in the ignition, so that she wouldn't hit anyone. There was just the driver, and she was distracted on the phone. "Well, I for one welcome such a policy --"

  Tess' dulled eyes widened and she flung herself down to hide from Henweigh.

  The counselor was saying, "But if the legislature doesn't understand that, I'll have to go to Annapolis myself and get things under control." Good, she was walking away... but then she went around to her right rear door and flung it open heedlessly, denting Tess' car. Tess winced and lay there while Henweigh leaned against the Sovereign and talked. "I'm flattered. Certainly I'll volunteer." She wouldn't shut up! Tess just had to stay down and keep quiet.

  Not this time.

  Henweigh was carried away with her grand plans on the phone. Enough! Tess turned the key, and her little car started with an electric hum. Tess sat up with no indication she was doing anything wrong and pulled smoothly away from there. A frantic glance in the rear-view mirror showed Henweigh looking at Tess' car with puzzlement. Then Henweigh got distracted by her scheming again. Tess circled away through the parking lot, getting out of there, and her car hummed all the way home.

  Mom and Dad were at work, so she let herself in. It was then that the fear hit her; she was a truant! You had to go to school. What was I thinking, sneaking out? Yeah, I can study here, but if I get caught, I'll get drugged again.

  All the pent-up frustration burst out of her as she leaned against the kitchen counter and sobbed. She hadn't felt anything, hadn't thought anything except through a haze. Now that dullness had faded, and she was pissed.

  That felt better. Fire flowed in her veins.

  She rummaged in her room for her computer to call Zephyr, but the local version was gone and the real one was way off on Castor. I've neglected him for so long! Would he even talk to me?

  In her mind she heard, Of course I will, silly. I'll always be with you in some form, even if it's just software in your brain.

  Tess leaned over her desk, eyes shut, thinking, Thank you.

  Before she could call, she heard an engine outside, a big old gas-gulper. She peeked out a window and found a white van pulling into the driveway. School officials? Tess' own car was outside for anyone to see. They'd find her; they'd drag her back!

  Somebody got out, wearing a long coat and shades. Tess had seen her picture before, and recognized the voice that was muttering at her front door.

  Tess threw the door open. "Miss Hayflick? What're you doing here?"

  Valerie the roboticist looked off-balance; she'd been about to tape a note to the door. "I should ask you that. Why aren't you at school? I'm in town and wanted to meet in person, but didn't expect it to be right now."

  Tess didn't feel guilty and Valerie wasn't likely to turn her in, so she shrugged. "I quit."

  Valerie laughed. "Good."

  Tess invited her in and got her a soda. They sat facing each other across the kitchen table. Valerie pushed her sunglasses up and said, "Glad to finally meet you. So, you're the hacker."

  Tess stared at the table. "Not lately. I'm not anything."

  "Don't say that! I know about your work. You're brilliant." She eyed Tess and said, "What's going on?"

  "You're nosy, you know that?" She didn't want to tell everything to Valerie, the one who'd enslaved her best friend. Tess had been weak and stupid. "I wasn't in any shape to do anything useful, after the pirates came. I was a wreck."

  "And now?"

  Tess slapped her hands on the table and leaned forward, full of words before she knew what she was saying. "I want to work again! I want to feel like I'm achieving something and doing things that no one's done before, not chained up and being a good little girl!" She blushed, angry at herself for leaving Castor. "And I want to be with Zephyr again."

  Valerie rolled the soda can between her hands. "I guess he misses you more than me."

  "You hurt him," said Tess.

  "I didn't have a choice."

  Tess thought back to the vision Zephyr had once shown her, of running with Valerie through tunnels. She'd been afraid of something chasing her. "What, do you want us to forgive you? We don't hate you."

  "I want to see him again. I'm not living up to my full potential. The three of us -- think what we could do if we could create anything we could imagine, if we weren't so hemmed in."

  Tess' eyes widened. "Are you offering me a job?"

  "I came south to give a presentation on robotics to a couple of schools. In the process I wanted to check on you. I was planning to come back later." She finished her drink and hesitated before adding quietly, "I'm thinking of taking a trip to Castor, very soon. Want to come?"

  Tess said, "But I've got school! I mean, I can't leave."

  "You're an adult."

  "I'm a kid."

  She shrugged. "If you want to be. How's that been working out?"

  Tess glared at her. Valerie had a sneaky expression; she knew. "You've been spying on me?"

  "I don't spy!" snapped Valerie. "Your tribe told me. You're part of a network of humans and AIs that apparently misses you."

  "Zephyr knows I've been drugged?" She'd hate for him to be worrying for her, or seeing how screwed up she'd been.

  "That part, no. I just figured that out myself." She crushed the soda can between her hands. "Your group didn't tell me everything that it knew or suspected. It's been watching my back as well as yours, lately, and... well."

  "What?"

  Valerie said, "Neither of us is quite allowed to leave the country. I've been quietly declared a 'national manpower asset' forbidden to work elsewhere, which is a big reason why I decided to take an unscheduled vacation with some tools and hardware. From what I gather, you're officially incompetent to travel without a permit, but you look capable of deciding for yourself."

  Tess sat there stunned. "So you're offering...?"

  "To whisk you away to a life of danger and adventure. If we can go before anyone notices, which won't be long if you skipped school. I should warn you that if you come with me, we'll be breaking the law and you might be horribly killed and/or arrested."

  "Like, right now?"

  "Yes! Do you want to, or not?"

  "What will we do if we make it there?"

  Valerie smiled. "I don't know. How high can you reach?"

  * * *

  Left on the counter was a scrawled note:

  "Mom and Dad: I'm running away to sea again. This time it's not for school credit, or community service or anythin
g. Don't worry, though. I know you love me and want me safe and all that, but -- well, I felt dead here. I'll be better there. I don't plan to come back.

  "-Tess, the Gadgeteer"

  * * *

  She hurried to gather up cash, her computer, clothes, and little else. When she stepped out from her bedroom she felt tugged back by the gravity of the junk she was leaving behind, but that's all it was. Junk.

  Valerie's van was full of stuff too, but by the time Valerie hit the gas and started for the shore Tess had figured out what she'd brought. Robot parts, a treasure hoard! Tess hugged a fancy multimeter she'd wished for a dozen times on Castor. There was hardly room for Tess amid the boxes. The van chugged along and she found what looked like the shell of a larger Zephyr-style body.

  Valerie saw her inspecting it and said, "There's no machinery in that yet. Try it on. Since you don't have travel papers, if anyone asks, you're my robot minion."

  "You're serious?" said Tess. The boots weren't designed for human feet and were too small, but she could tolerate them. What was worse than the pinching was the thought of wearing Zephyr, or some knock-off of him. They'd been in each other's heads, but this was a new level of weirdness. The plastic pieces chafed all over and left gaps, but her dark clothes passed for a normal partition between them. She felt like some kind of mech-knight, which made her grin.

  Valerie stopped at a light and looked back at her. She laughed at the improvised disguise, then fell silent; they were near the shore.

  "Wait here," said Valerie. Tess looked through the windshield at a house with a yacht docked there. The boat had probably cost more.

  When Valerie returned, Tess climbed out of the van, holding a box. She imagined people watching, and moved as a good clunky robot would move. The boat smelled of bleach as though it'd been thoroughly scrubbed recently. "Are these guys trustworthy?"

  "Ssh," said Valerie. The boat's crew was a pair of happy-go-lucky guys in surfer wear, who took cash from Valerie and helped her unload the van.