by Jim Stark
The restaurant section directly in front of her had a hand-painted sign jutting up from the flat roof: “The E-tery.” The “E” was for “Evolution,” and for “eat,” of course. Way too cute, Lilly thought. Below those words was painted “Le E-tery,” the French version of the name, in letters twice as large as the English. She knew from the Netfiles that the place had been called Ed and Ellen's Motel before it had been bought by that first-ever band of bewildered Evolutionaries back in 2016 ... seventeen years ago, she thought. There were only twelve pioneers in the beginning, and now, with clans in every country of the world, the burgeoning movement had some 230 million adherents, more than two percent of the planet's population of ten-plus billion, an economic success story without precedent or parallel. “Weirdos,” she sniffed under her breath as she continued to review what she knew about the people and the place.
This first Evolutionary clan was called Victor-E, after Victor Helliwell, the famous recluse who had invented the LieDeck. No one seemed to know exactly why that was; in fact some said it was just a play on the word “victory,” and had nothing at all to do with Helliwell. It was a controversy that no one cared enough about to actually resolve. In any event, Victor-E was known the world over as the “motherhouse of the movement,” at least by those not in the movement. Its members had built a vaguely wheel-shaped town that covered—or at least meandered over—seventy of their two hundred acres. The main work-and-play facilities were well in behind the E-tery, housed inside an air-supported Pliesterine bubble that covered an area of seven acres and rose a hundred and fifty yards above the ground. There were dozens of enclosed wooden pathways—spokes, they were called—wandering ungeometrically from the bulbous hub out to forty “sleeperies,” their bedroom units, forking as needed. The way the cow went, it seemed to Lilly when she'd looked over a map of the place on her MIU screen a few days earlier. The Evolutionaries called all of that stuff their life-base, or their “living terminal.” Lilly thought that second term sounded ugly, like “bus terminal."
It was impossible to see all this from where Lilly stood in front of the motel. She had been dozing in the back of the cab for the last few miles, so she hadn't actually seen the Victor-E complex yet. She would have to explore the whole facility in the next few days, but for now, all she wanted was a hot cup of coffee and some quiet time to get organized before having her first supper with these alien beings.
A smallish brown dog was circling the new arrivals, sniffing them, assuming that they were here to stay. And no threat, said the voice of his instinct. He had never known the beatings that could crank fear up to bad-dog status, so he had always been puppy-like in his trust levels. Chances are these new people don't know I'm not supposed to go in by the front door, he felt. They might even open it! He lifted a hind leg and peed on a tire to make sure they knew he'd done his outdoors chore and was ready for refuge.
"Careful,” said Lilly as the driver slipped slightly on the icy pavement and almost lost his footing. He slammed the trunk lid and didn't respond. The last ten months had taught her to expect this kind of psychological abuse, but it still stung. In addition to the recent Henderson Scandals that had tarnished the good name of the organization and sullied its reputation, there were people who never had got past old grudges about how the WDA's military founders, led by U.S. General George Brampton, had summarily dismissed the UN's cabal of useless diplomats and taken over the world body right after the LieDeck Revolution—as the final act of the Revolution, really. This taciturn taxi driver seemed about the right age for that unhelpful sentiment. Never mind there hasn't been a war for nineteen years and there's no crime to speak of, Lilly brooded silently. He would have been a teenager during the Revolution. He's in his mid-thirties now, and a classic loser. He probably has a wrinkled old B.A. stuffed in a drawer at home. Maybe he thinks his stinky life is our fault. I bet he's an Evolutionary.
A young woman with long blond hair was standing inside the tall glass door of the restaurant, dressed for mid-July. She was repeatedly breathing on a small area of the glass, rubbing it clear of frost with the butt of her hand, and wishing it would stay clear for more than a few seconds. Big Wus really is a big wus, she thought as she pulled the door and watched the spaniel bully his way past the clan's new spy and her temporary porter. “His name is Big Wus,” she said as a wave of cold air washed in, and went right through her light blouse. “I'm Julia,” she announced. Lilly stepped aside so the driver could wiggle through with the two fairly heavy cases. “I'm Julia,” the girl repeated with equal fanfare to the driver as he stepped in and smacked the cases on the linoleum floor.
"I'm Alex,” he said cheerily as Julia shut the door firmly. He removed his gloves and took off his hopelessly misted-up glasses, putting the gloves in one coat pocket and the glasses in another. “I'm out at Base Walden. Things are ... good for you here?"
Julia shook his hand, and then she put her other hand on top of his, to warm him up. “Maybe you can face me on the Net after you have your supper at home,” she said with a coquettish smile. “I'll tell you all about us if you like."
"Sure, why not?"
"Oh, that will be so fun!"
"How do you know?” asked Alex teasingly. “Maybe I'm no fun at all."
"Well I'm fun,” asserted Julia as she let go of his hand, “so if you're not fun, then I'll just click you right off of my MIU screen."
"Fair enough,” he chuckled as he put his bulky gloves back on—he left his glasses in his coat pocket. “And good luck with your new boss,” he added sarcastically.
"Oh, she's not the boss,” laughed Julia. “She's just here to—"
"Tell her, not me,” said Alex as he opened the door and threw a glare at his erstwhile passenger. “Face ya later,” he said to Julia in a voice that said he really did want to, that he really would try to remember to call when he got off shift and settled down for some nice Nettime.
Lilly had taken all this in while using the opportunity to dig a couple of tissues out of her gigantic purse and tidy up her nose. Now, with the used tissues stuffed into her pants pocket, she finally felt ready to be civil. “I'm Lillian Petrosian,” she said with a trained smile and the presentation of a patchy, red hand. “My friends call me Lilly,” she offered, hoping to score a few easy points from her greeter, who seemed to be in her late twenties. And then it hit her—from the Netfiles: This is Julia Whiteside, Randy's aunt!
Julia took the hand, and was surprised at how bony it was, and how cold. She wanted to stick the poor woman's hands under her arms and hold them there a while, but Lilly wasn't an Evolutionary, and Julia had been reminded over breakfast that the ways of the WDA were ... well, different. She remembered being told about that over and over when she had first joined Victor-E four years ago. “Different doesn't mean worse or better; it just means not the same as us.” Well, too bad for this Lilly person, she thought sadly. I really like it when my hands are real cold and somebody lets me warm them up in their pits, especially when we both get to giggling and all that.
"Let's have some coffee,” she said, releasing the icy hand and heading off towards the counter. “And ... welcome to Québec, and to Victor-E,” she added, almost forgetting her primary mission. “You'll get used to winter after a while if you dress up right ... and don't go out too much. I'm skinny too—just like you are, but not as much—so I don't go outside when it's this cold outside unless I have to. At least we don't have to go outside to pee,” she said, with a grin. “Like Big Wus,” she added, in case the new WDA monitor might have misunderstood her meaning.
Lilly couldn't help but notice that the restaurant was totally empty. A hint, I suppose. She took off her boots and put on the old loafers she'd carried from Florida in her large handbag while Julia carefully set two mugs in a very straight row. “Just black,” Lilly said across the room as she put on the second shoe. She tossed her trench coat across the back of a chair and put her purse/handbag on the seat, then walked to the counter, where Julia had successfully po
ured two cups of steaming black coffee.
Julia led the way to a table that was furthest from the frosted windows, close to a baseboard heater. “This is my favorite table when it's winter outside,” she said with a wide smile. “My ‘special table’ is what I call it."
"Thanks for the coffee,” said Lilly. “God, is it ever cold out there."
The two women were as distant in their philosophies as they were in their IQs, but they were close in age. Just as Julia knew that all WDA agents were pretty much stunted in the area of making friends and having fun, Lilly knew that Evolutionaries were a lost cause when it came to realism. Both were glad to sense that the face-offs they'd have in the course of the next year would likely be minor skirmishes or even non-events.
"You got such nice, long, straight hair!” gushed Julia. “Just like mine, except yours is black and mine is yellow."
"I always used to wear it short, ever since I was a kid,” said Lilly, “but Ed, my ex-boyfriend, he said—"
"I really like the WDA flag,” interrupted Julia, pointing at the metal case by the door with the large WDA emblem emblazoned on the side. “Is your gun in there?"
"Well ... yes it is,” said Lilly with all the patience that her job required. “Why?"
"I'd like to shoot a gun,” Julia said. She noticed that Lilly had both her hands tightly clamped onto the cup—well, on and off and on and off, actually. She was trying to warm them up without burning them, and somehow that behavior helped Julia to define the tall, wispy WDA agent as a human being. “Of course not at anything living,” she continued, “like a cow or something or a dog. Did you ever kill somebody?"
"No,” said Lilly, honestly.
"Would you say ‘no’ even if it was a lie?"
"No,” said Lilly, wrongly. But who's to know?
"I wish I had a LieDeck,” said Julia bluntly. “You got one, eh?"
"I have two,” said Lilly after a sip. “There's one built right in my MIU hard drive and the other one is built into my portable Sniffer. I need them both to do my job."
"I'm retarded,” announced Julia. “My mom always told me I was born with my brain like that, but I think it's okay."
Lilly had reviewed dozens of Victor-E Netfiles, and studied the important ones very carefully. She knew to expect some out-of-the-blue commentaries from Julia Whiteside, daughter of the late and legendary Randall Whiteside, but she had no idea what to make of this gratuitous exclamation. She wondered how many other disjointed conversations she'd have to endure in the next twelve months. Keep ... focused, she reminded herself. “What would you do with it if you had one?” she asked.
"I got a brain!” protested Julia. “You hurt my feelings, Lilly. Why did you do that on purpose? I didn't say anything to—"
"No, no,” insisted Lilly, trying hard not to laugh. “I meant ... like what would you do if you had a LieDeck?"
Julia wasn't sure who had misunderstood whom, and wished even more that she did have a LieDeck, so she could find out. Big Wus wandered over, licking his chops, and sat at her feet, earning himself a pat on the head. “I'd play with it,” she said, still struggling to sweep the hurt from her feelings, still looking down at Big Wus. “It must be so fun to have one, eh?” she asked, finally looking up at the agent. “A ... LieDeck,” she specified, meaning not a dog.
"Well, it's ... interesting,” allowed Lilly. “But LieDecks are sort of like medicine or nuclear bombs or guns. They're very dangerous in the wrong hands. History teaches us that—"
"Are my hands wrong hands?” asked a startled Julia, fanning her palms out before her face and trying to grasp this strange, new notion.
It took Lilly a couple of seconds to realize this wasn't a put-down, but a reflection of Julia's disability. “I'm sure you know that only WDA workers can have LieDecks, Julia."
"Yeah, o’ course I know about that,” said Julia, turning her hands over to see if this “wrongness” maybe might show up on the backs.
"Did you ever wish that you could work for the WDA?” asked Lilly. “You could have a LieDeck if—"
Julia's laughter was instantaneous and hearty. “You get that from your father's gene pool,” her mother always used to tell her when she burst out laughing like that. Oh dear, Julia worried, I'm afraid maybe that I hurt her feelings by laughing, but ... jeeze!
"That's ... funny?” asked Lilly, carefully. “What I said?"
Julia made herself calm down, and took a sobering sip of hot coffee before answering. This Lilly person is a lot like Mr. Lloyd, the WDA guy that we had before, she thought ... nice enough, but not too clued in. “Yes,” she admitted, with only the briefest glance at the woman that she was asked to welcome to Victor-E. “It's just that I'm not ... you know ... I'm not smart enough to be a WDA police person,” she tried. “So ... can I, like, ask you a question?"
"Uh ... sure,” said Lilly apprehensively. The Netfile on Julia Whiteside had warned of her disarming frankness, and also of her habit of switching horses whenever she felt like it.
"Would you ever ... you know ... shoot a person?” she asked. “Like on purpose?"
Lilly twitched. “If I had to,” she said. “But I—uh—don't expect I'll ever have to do that, because—"
"Like what would I have to do for you to kill me with your gun?” asked Julia. “What if I—"
"I'm really quite tired,” said Lilly, standing to establish her intentions. “Thanks again for the coffee. Could you get someone to carry my bags to my quarters?"
Julia stood up and tried to hide the nasty feelings that filled her stomach. They're all the same, she thought, remembering how the clan's last WDA agent used to change the topic whenever he bloody felt like it. And I'll just have to teach her some other time not to waste coffee or any other stuff, when she's not so tired.
She marched over to the door and lifted the two bags, just as she'd done last year when Lilly's predecessor had arrived and assumed that Julia was a weakling. “Please follow me,” she said with as much politeness as she could manage. “The WDA place is upstairs, right over the kitchen, with a nice view of the pool out in the back yard.” She thought of mentioning that the pool was all emptied out now, except for the snow, but ... even a WDA agent can figure that out for herself.
Lilly gathered up her boots, coat and handbag as Julia lugged the two cases from the front door to the base of the stairs. No point in offering to help, she figured. As long as Julia scores her Brownie points and feels superior, we'll get along just fine.
Big Wus ran by the two women, scampered up the first half of the stairs and turned around on the landing to watch. “Woof,” he said as Julia let the heavier aluminum case bang on every stair. I never know why humans do things, he felt, but they got nice warm houses and good stuff to eat, and sometimes they even like to play with me. “Woof,” he repeated, hopefully.
Chapter 5
SETTLING IN
Tuesday, February 8, 2033—4:00 p.m.
Lilly felt relieved as the door closed and Julia went running down the stairs after ... “Big Wus,” she said lightly, making a mental note to mention him by name in her reports to Control. Great name, she thought. At least these Evolutionaries like to joke around and have fun with life.
The suite that she had been promised was actually a small, one bedroom apartment ... circa nineteen fifty. “Big whoop!” she said out loud as she tossed her trench coat on the second-hand couch. Tenth-hand, actually, she estimated. These were her digs for the next year, and she was determined to make the best of what promised to be a boring situation. Her next promotion would be the big one, the one she had worked so hard for, the one that got her parked someplace that she could maybe call “home.” I'll be damned if I'll let anybody or anything screw that up.
The large bay window at the back of her living room had an electric baseboard heater beneath it. Good thinking, she said to herself. Keeps this window from frosting over, like the others. Lilly hated feeling closed in.
About two hundred yards behind the restau
rant-motel—the original building that dated back to the mid-20th century—was the great bubble that covered the clan's work-and-play area. Lilly found it remarkable that a seven-acre sheet of space-age Pliesterine material could be light enough to be supported by air compressors, yet tough enough and stretchy enough to handle any weather Québec or Canada could throw at it. There were high mounds of snow where the Pliesterine met the concrete base, snow that had slid off the whale's back over the past few months. In the waning daylight, the thing looked solid gray from the outside, but Lilly knew it was translucent. And there was a smallish round patch of snow on the top of the bubble, where the fabric was virtually horizontal, so that on a clear winter's night, if you passed over one of these structures in a plane, it looked like a dim Cyclops’ eye.
Extending outwards from the sides of the enormous bubble, she could see several of the so-called “spokes,” the unheated wooden passageways that connected the central hub to the dormitories, and some of the dormitories to each other. The spokes meandered like drunken covered bridges to wherever the next eight- or ten-bedroom “sleepery” (their word for a dorm) got built—up over hillocks, down through valleys, around big “keeper” trees, with no apparent attention paid to the overall design. To the left and below she saw the covered spoke that led from the E-tery out to the giant hub. She knew from her study of the Netfiles that the occasional windows and lateral doors of the spokes were simply removed in the summer, so that the breezes, and the Evolutionaries, could travel through, or not, as they pleased.
In the far distance, perhaps three hundred yards to the west of the hub and at a slightly lower elevation, Lilly could see the long row of twenty-two smaller Pliesterine bubbles, each an acre or two in size. The Evolutionaries grew their off-season vegetables in there, and their herbs—and their pot. Some of these smaller bubbles were used for purposes like machine shops, winter pens for livestock, a slaughterhouse and meat-packing plant, an auto repair garage and body shop ... even a golf practice range—the kinds of things one wouldn't want, or couldn't fit, in the hub itself.
