by Sarah Zettel
Teal opened her mouth. Chena was sure she was going to say, To get out of here. Mom must have thought so too, because her face darkened with warning.
Teal, who could actually act like she had a brain sometimes, swallowed and said, “No, thank you.”
“All right, let’s see what we have, then.…”
While Madra shuffled and murmured to herself, Chena stole another glance at Administrator Tam. He seemed preoccupied now, staring out the windows as if listening to some private voice that had nothing at all to do with what was going on in the room.
At last, Madra made a couple of fresh imprints on her reports and announced that Mom was on the G3 shift and Teal was on K5. She buzzed the information into their chips with a handheld scanner and wished them good evening.
Chena wasn’t even sure Administrator Tam saw them leave.
It turned out that was just the first line of the day. Mom also dragged them to the bank to see how much they had in positives (not much), to the rental office to hear the prices on empty houses (too much), to the school administrator to hear the price and conditions of classes (way too much), and to the passport office so she could get chipped for getting to and from her job at the geothermal power plant.
By the end of it all, Chena was seriously regretting her morning’s excursion, and Teal was mad enough to spit at her. Mom wouldn’t even consider letting them go somewhere, even on the roof garden of whatever building she was in, no matter how many times they swore they’d stay together, they wouldn’t talk to strangers, and any other model behavior they could think of. It was all a complete no-go. She just glowered if they tried to promise too hard.
They missed dinner sitting in line. By the time they got to the dining hall, there was nothing left but a kettle of the hot cereal, which had been cooking long enough to get crusty. It still tasted good, though, and Chena ate without complaint. She had expected Mom to be verbal, telling them the shifts were a strictly temporary thing, that it wasn’t going to be that bad, but she wasn’t. A cloud of silence had descended around her, and it stretched out to include Teal and Chena. Teal ate fast and spent the rest of the time fidgeting with her comptroller. Chena tried to get a quick look at what she was doing and failed.
She hiding it from me? she wondered, and the thought left her feeling strangely angry.
By the time they got out and headed back toward the dorms, twilight had descended. They walked, silent, side by side, Chena wondering what they’d have to wait for next.
All at once, the world around them shifted and rustled, as if the wind had picked up. Chena’s head jerked up, automatically looking for a changed sign or warning light.
Then the forest bloomed. Bright white cups lifted up from nests of dark green on the forest floor. In the trees, the vines spread velvet blossoms colored deep purple, bloodred, and cobalt blue, the petals stretching themselves out until the flowers were the size of Chena’s head.
In answer, the twilight seemed to break into a million fragments that swarmed around the flowers. Big angled zigzags of darkness darted around the trees, and smaller dots zoomed around the flowers so thickly, the petals were almost lost inside the clouds.
“What is it?” breathed Chena.
“Bats,” said Mom. “And beetles, I think, going after the nectar in the flowers.”
A gust of wind carried a thick, sweet perfume to Chena, along with the noise of the flapping and screeching overhead and a high, tinny drone that could be heard even under the perpetual sound of rustling leaves and falling water.
“I don’t like this,” muttered Teal, rubbing her arms. “I’ve got creeps.”
Chena wanted to tell her not to be a baby, but Mom was already moving. “Let’s get inside, then.”
Chena wanted to rebel, but those were practically the only words Mom had said since they had left the bank, so she decided now was probably not the time to argue.
She was not surprised, however, when inside turned out to be a lot less interesting than outside. People sat around the common room, mainly on pillows on the floors, and they talked or played games with counters and cards. Chena wandered around the room a little, looking over the shoulders of the other kids, but they mostly glowered at her or pointedly turned away. With all the adults around, it was no place to start something and try to break her way in. She didn’t see Sadia anywhere.
In the end, she finished her prowling and ended up against the wall next to Teal. She slid down the wall until she sat next to her sister, who was messing with her comptroller.
“What are you doing?” she asked softly. Mom wasn’t going to be any help here. She’d found a bunch of other women, all in villager clothes, to talk to.
Teal just hunched farther over her comptroller.
“Come on.” Chena nudged Teal with her shoulder. “Show me.”
“No.”
“Please?” Chena tried. Come on, I’m bored.
“No,” repeated Teal. “You’ll laugh.”
“I won’t, I swear.” Chena touched her mouth to seal the promise. “What is it?”
Teal glanced around, spotted Mom in her cluster on the other side of the room. “I’m ’crypting a spy list,” Teal murmured.
“A what?” Chena pulled back, but remembered in time not to laugh.
“A spy list.” Teal looked back down at her tiny screen. “You know, I figured if Dad’s a spy out there for the Authority, there might be spies here, so I’m making a list of who we’ve seen and who they are…” The sentence trailed off again and she shrugged. “Stuff like that.”
Well, it’s better than sitting here and staring at the walls. “Good idea,” Chena admitted. “I should have one too.” And I can put in Shond, and Sadia, and definitely that crazy old woman on the roof.… “We should both use the same encryptions so we’ll be able to read each other’s lists.” Chena took the comptroller out of Teal’s hands and made it scroll out the work Teal had done so far. She felt her eyebrows rise as she read the columns of numbers and letters.
“Not bad, for someone with air between her ears,” she admitted. “But we’re going to want to use some kind of substitution scheme we can remember and not have to code in. That way, if somebody gets hold of the lists, they’ll only be able to do so much when they dump the files.…”
Soon they were whispering back and forth all kinds of possible designations for the various people in the room and giving each other fits of giggles. Mom glanced up from her conversation a few times, but just smiled to see her daughters engaged in their own, relatively quiet game.
What’s she doing over there? Is she trying to find us a cheap house, maybe? Why doesn’t she tell us anything? Chena chewed her lip. It felt raw, but she didn’t stop. Why doesn’t she tell me anything? How bad is it? How much do we owe? She just took the records from the bank. She didn’t show us anything. Is she going to have to go give them her blood or move us into a hothouse or something because there’s not enough?
Why won’t she tell me?
That thought followed her through the rest of the evening, even when the bell rang again and the company in the common room filtered dutifully to the sleeping rooms to unroll their pallets and change into their nightclothes, or not. Chena was stunned and embarrassed to see some of the women just roll themselves up naked into their blankets.
Mom didn’t say anything as Chena just squirmed out of her clothes under her blanket and slid into her nightshirt. It smelled musty.
She’d just pulled the shirt down over her hips when the lights went out.
“Well, so much for that,” murmured Mom. “Good night, my girls.”
Chena closed her eyes and curled in on herself, trying to find sleep in her private warmth and darkness. But all around her came the sounds of unfamiliar breathing, snorts, and snoring, and inside, her thoughts would not make room for unconsciousness and dreams. She kept seeing the administrator looking at Mom, tense and hungry, offering her an easy life and a way out of debt, telling her how hard living down here w
as going to be.
Chena opened her eyes.
“Mom?”
“Shhh, Supernova. What is it?”
“The money,” said Chena in her lightest whisper.
“Yes, that’s kept me awake a number of nights. What about the money?”
“How do we know this isn’t another company town?” That had been Mom’s term for Athena. Because the Athena directorate owned everything, she said. All the stores, all the apartments, all the air, they’d been able to charge whatever they wanted for them and nobody could say no.
Mom let out a long, soft sigh. “That is a very good question. First, they don’t let you run yourself into debt here, like they did on Athena. Second, they give you a way to live even when you don’t have any money. That way you can manage without having to indenture yourself.”
“Yeah.” Chena pushed herself up onto one elbow and turned toward Mom’s voice, even though she couldn’t see her. “But I mean, they keep you so busy working for the town, when do you find time to make money so you won’t have to work for the town?”
Another sigh. “It’s never easy, Chena. We are going to be a long time getting our heads above water. But it will happen. I am not going to let you girls struggle under my debts.”
“I thought they were Dad’s debts,” said Chena, before she could stop herself.
“No, Supernova, they are very much mine too.” Mom’s voice sounded heavy, like it was weighted down with all the things she wasn’t saying. “But they will never be yours.” Chena heard her blankets rustle. Mom’s warm and certain hand caressed her hair briefly. “Now go to sleep, Chena. We all have a long day tomorrow.”
“Right. Good night, Mom.”
The blankets rustled again, and Chena pictured her mother rolling over toward the wall. Chena flipped over onto her back and lay staring at the ceiling for a long time.
She had come to associate debt with danger. As long as they owed somebody, it seemed like that somebody could do whatever they wanted. They could make Dad vanish, they could drive her family out of their home, they could make Mom frightened and angry.
I will not leave Mom in trouble. I won’t give them the chance to screw us to the deck again. I swear I won’t.
Her resolve calmed her, and, eventually, Chena was able to sleep.
CHAPTER THREE
Meetings
Night had fallen solidly across the forest. Tam climbed the long, winding way to Nan Elle’s house more by touch than by sight. He glimpsed the occasional star through the shifting latticework of branches overhead, but they did nothing to illuminate his path. His only light was a small pocket flash he used to find the beginning and end of staircases.
At first the night’s chill had seeped through his clothes, but now a fine layer of perspiration covered his face and he had undone the collar button on his formal black and white coat.
Not enough time in the gym, murmured his Conscience as he paused to catch his breath.
“But I don’t feel guilty about it, so why are you sounding off?” he muttered back.
Your medical health is a default concern, his Conscience reminded him.
Tam just grunted and vaguely wished he could turn that off too, but he didn’t dare. Over the years his Conscience had been tampered with multiple times. Too many alterations to the remaining facade would draw attention he didn’t want.
Up ahead, a light gleamed and vanished, followed by the long, slow creak of a door with neglected hinges. He had tried repeatedly to get Nan Elle to oil those, but she just asserted it made it harder for anyone to sneak up on her.
It also makes it harder to visit in secret. That noise carries.
Warmer air, a more solid sound to his footsteps, and the sharp odors of pepper and chilis wrapped around him, and Tam knew he was inside. He fumbled for the edge of the door, found it, and pushed it shut, its hinges screaming in protest.
Where are we? asked his Conscience. Tam did not answer. He concentrated on keeping his breathing steady and his mind calm. It didn’t work. He had too much going on inside him.
You know you shouldn’t be here, his Conscience said, correctly. Suddenly Tam thought he smelled the odor of old yeast. It was a scent from his childhood, of a failed experiment in a biochemistry lesson, and it never failed to make him uneasy, a response his Conscience had nurtured for years.
For all those years, Tam had learned to walk through it.
“Good evening, Administrator Tam.” An oil lamp flickered to life, and after blinking a few times, Tam made out Nan Elle, stooped and withered, standing in the far corner of the room beside the brick stove. Her title, Nan, meant grandmother, and she certainly looked the part.
“Good evening, Nan Elle,” he replied, coming forward to touch her cheek in greeting. The smell of yeast grew stronger. Tam forced his feelings down. “I’m afraid our constable is upset with you.”
“Our constable is too clever by half.” Elle touched Tam’s cheek. Her hands were dry and callused from a lifetime’s work. “Can’t you appoint a stupid one?” She picked up a mug from the stove and handed it to him. The steaming liquid smelled strongly of mint.
“I’ve tried, but the man gives me depressingly few excuses to fire him.” Tam looked around for a stool and finally hooked one out from under the central worktable.
Nan Elle’s home was primarily one big room. An immaculate slanted writing table stood by the windows under shelves crammed with record books and diaries. Aquarium pipes lined the walls between the bookshelves. Carp and smelt peered at him. White cloth covered the examination chair that stood under three precious power-cell lamps. The central table was the compounding table. Stacks of pots and jars, mortar and pestle, a little oil stove, and straining cloths waited beside bales and packets of things Tam couldn’t identify in the dim light but that gave off a miasma of conflicting odors, some of them none too aesthetic.
At least, he thought, these odors are coming from outside. It was hard to tell sometimes. When a Conscience couldn’t keep control by verbal reminders, it would induce hallucinations and memories. Olfactory hallucinations were the most common, and the strongest triggers of organic memory inside the human mind.
Tam sometimes imagined his Conscience getting frustrated by its inablility to move him. He understood that the ones that were properly integrated and left to grow with their hosts could produce overwhelming floods of emotion or memory.
He never wanted to know what that felt like.
“Since when has an order from a hothouse needed a reason to be given?” Nan Elle was saying. Her eyes glittered bright with humor as she sat in her high-backed wooden chair by the writing table like a queen sitting on her throne.
“Since firing competence and hiring incompetence makes my family look at things twice,” Tam replied solemnly, pushing aside a stack of clay bowls to make room to set down his mug. “They also are not stupid. I’m afraid the constable might try to delay the court to review the evidence. If he does, I’m afraid you are going to have to deal with it.”
“Too bad,” Elle sighed, cupping her own mug in her twiglike fingers. The chair creaked under her as she shifted her weight. “So, what can I do for you, Tam?”
Tam took a long swallow of tea. It had been heavily sweetened with honey and sat well in his stomach. “I was hoping you could tell me something about one of the new arrivals, Helice Trust.”
Elle considered, but then shook her head. “I haven’t made contact with her yet. I’ve met her oldest daughter, Chena, though, briefly.”
“And what did you think of her?”
Again, Elle took her time in anwering. Most people thought of Elle as quick, sharp, and tricky. Tam knew her to be a long and careful thinker. Her quickness was the result of having spent hours turning over various scenarios far in advance.
“The girl’s brave,” she said finally. “Not anywhere near as frightened of the great outdoors as most station children. Determined, also. Not going to let anything get her down. Plenty of attitude. Coul
d become a hustler, if left to her own devices.” Elle cocked her head. “I’ve looked over the fate map you left me last time. They are fascinating stock, if all the expressions are as predicted. Are we keeping an eye on them?”
Tam nodded. “I’m getting pressure from Basante, and others, to force the mother onto the project, but I’m resisting.”
“Why?”
Now it was Tam who took his time answering. “Because they belong to Offshoot now, and that makes them my responsibility. I’ve seen how some of the other administrators run their villages. They are perfectly willing to bully their people into the complex, but I won’t have it here.”
“You don’t want them forced into becoming something they might not want to be?” Tam heard the smile behind Elle’s question.
“Perhaps.”
“Or perhaps you’re saying you don’t trust your family?”
She was goading him now, and Tam had to work to keep from snapping at her. It did not help that his Conscience already had a feel for his answer and was bringing him the scent of green decay.
“I trust my family,” Tam told her. “I just don’t like them very much.”
“Stubborn,” chided Elle. “It’s going to get you into trouble.”
Tam waved her away. “We are starting to forget that these people are human beings, not lab rats. The last time that happened, there was a war and a whole dome got destroyed. I don’t want that to happen again.” He looked down at the mug in his hands. Whips of steam curled across the liquid’s clear green surface. “The Trusts are under my protection. I don’t want anyone to have a chance to go behind my back to get to them.”
How can you make such accusations against your family? asked his Conscience, filling the air with the scent of burning. “If she decides to volunteer on her own,” said Tam to both Nan Elle and his Conscience, “that’s fine. But I will not have my people coerced.” Elle is right. I will not have them made into things they don’t want to be, and have the control over their futures stripped away from them.
