by Rudy Rucker
Thuy strode over, gave Jayjay such a hard shove with her gold-clad foot that he fell over on his side, then perched herself on him as if she were sitting on a log. He lay there, looking happy to be in physical contact. Poor men, thought Nektar, they’re dogs. Jayjay was cute, too. If Thuy didn’t want him, maybe Jil Zonder would. Jil deserved a fling. It might shake her out of her doldrums.
“Why didn’t you and the beezies fix Nektar yourselves instead of calling in a strung-out pighead derelict like Jayjay?” Thuy asked the shoons, wagging her finger at them. “You there—the shoon that looks like me—squeak up! You can talk, can’t you?”
The tiny Thuy-shaped shoon bobbled her little pigtails and spoke in a surprisingly rich alto voice: “We can talk. We can sing.” Capering expressively, the shoon now performed a bit of Papageno’s aria from The Magic Flute, vibrating her whole body like a loudspeaker.
The Big Pig Posse kids laughed.
And then the shoon laid her little finger against her lips to mime secretiveness. “Let’s switch to quantum-encrypted instant messages,” she said. With everything visible and audible via the quantum-entangled surface-mesh-monitoring orphidnet, the one way to have a private conversation was via dynamically encoded messaging.
“I’m not a derelict, I’m important,” said Jayjay, rolling out from under Thuy and catching his arms around her waist. “See—the shoon-beezies want to make plans with us! I’ll set up a secure channel for us, okay?”
Nektar ignored the planning session. She’d spoken her piece; let the little kiqqies work out the details. It was time to put her look together. Her blond hair had dark roots, but that was okay. She dried her hair, combed it out, and pinned it into an upside-down bed-head ponytail. For Kittie’s benefit, she donned sexy black underwear with red stitching, making sure the girl watched. Then came black tights and a black slip, mascara and lipstick, a cream-colored silk blouse, high black boots, and her casual red twill skirt and jacket.
The sheets on the bed were disgraceful. Nektar stripped them off and threw them into the hamper, with Kittie right there at her side pitching in. Nektar needed breakfast: a quart of Lapsang Souchong tea and a bowl of granola with apricots and yogurt. She called over Happy Shoon and sent him downstairs to make the tea. He was the most trustworthy of the lot, Jil’s original model.
“Would you four like to come downstairs with me?” Nektar asked the Big Pig Posse. Kittie nodded, but the others didn’t. They were so into their private conference that they didn’t hear her.
“Time to eat!” Nektar messaged into the Posse’s quantum-encrypted channel.
“We had some food already,” said Jayjay out loud. “Maybe we should—”
“It’s been a couple of hours,” said Kittie quickly. “You should be glad to eat with Chef Nektar. Are you kidding? What an honor. You guys can talk later.”
As they headed down the stairs someone knocked on the front door. Looking through the orphidnet, Nektar saw Jil Zonder and Craigor Connor out there, the pair in a state of uneasy truce.
“Wow,” said Kittie. “We’re smack in the middle of the Founders show.”
“Maybe I’ll make a special episode with just you,” Nektar purred to Kittie. “Can you be a dear and let them in? I feel like I’ll go crazy if I don’t get my tea this minute.”
Nektar hurried into the kitchen and poured herself a mug of smoky black tea with two spoons of sugar and enough whole milk to cool it down—ahh. The caffeine molecules ran up and down the corridors of her brain turning on the lights. She fixed herself a bowl of cereal, then sat down at the kitchen table as the crowd appeared.
“Poor Nektar,” said Craigor, pushing forward. “You had, like, mind parasites? I would have come earlier, but I thought, you know, she’s losing weight with sudocoke.”
“You would think that,” said Nektar, crabbily. “Sit down; don’t hover. Help yourself to some food. Scavenge. My four young friends here, the Big Pig Posse, they’re used to finding their meals in garbage cans. But try my fridge first. Thanks for coming, Jil.”
Jil looked good today; her bobbed dark hair lustrous, her figure sweet in jeans and a pullover. Instead of answering Nektar out loud, she sent a quantum-encrypted message. “You can have Craigor for good. It’ll never be the same between us again. You’ve ruined our marriage.” Stone-faced, she turned away and opened Nektar’s fridge.
“Really he loves you,” messaged back Nektar. “I’m sorry I did it. The last few times were just for the Founders ratings. And I was drunk the first time. You don’t know what hell I’ve been through. In my head I keep begging you to be my friend again. Please, Jil.”
“Funny kind of friend.” Jil took a pitcher of juice from the fridge and poured herself a glass, her back still turned to Nektar. “There’s a hole where my heart used to be.”
“I know I’m horrible,” messaged Nektar. “And you’re wonderful and noble and brave. Forgive me. You mean so much more to me than Craigor ever could.” Craigor, now sitting right across the table from Nektar, didn’t even know that Jil and Nektar were channeling each other.
“Hands off him from now on?” messaged Jil, sliding a glance over toward Nektar. “Maybe I could still love Craigor a little bit. For the kids’ sake, anyway. And maybe I need this marriage. Do you promise not to reel him back in the next time your ratings are low?”
“Don’t worry about the ratings. I’m planning to start up with this blue-tattoo girl. Why don’t you give yourself a treat and pay Craigor back.” Nektar’s eye fell on Jayjay in his skull-painted jacket. “How about that one right behind you,” she messaged Jil. “He’s young and hot; he chased the beetles out of my skull. Talk to him.”
“You’re terrible, Nektar. What an idea.”
“Sauce for the goose, sauce for the gander,” messaged Nektar. “You deserve that boy. Look how cute he is. He can’t take his eyes off you.”
Chapter 7
The Grill in the Wall
“Would you like some juice?” said Jil, turning toward Jayjay with a pitcher in her hand. “It’s mango.”
In person, Jil’s face had more nuances and complexities than the orphidnet meshes revealed. One orphid per square millimeter of skin wasn’t nearly enough to capture the lively high-res play of a woman’s eyes and mouth. Particularly Jil’s.
“Wonderful,” said Jayjay, taking the plastic pitcher from her, or meaning to, but somehow he and Jil bobbled the handoff, and the pitcher fell, bouncing out a floppy yellow-orange tongue that puddled sticky on the floor.
“Oops!” called Craigor from the kitchen table. Kittie, Thuy, and Sonic had already sat down as well, Thuy holding a cantaloupe and Sonic bearing cups and Nektar’s big pot of tea.
“The shoons will mop that,” Jil reassured Jayjay. Her dark eyebrows were arch-formed, always giving her an optimistic, playful appearance despite any inner pain. “The shoons can open up pores and make themselves into sponges. They clean up after my kids all the time. And my husband.” She gave a sharp whistle; Happy Shoon and a doughboy trotted over to roll in the juice, chirruping as their bodies dampened and swelled. Jil gave Jayjay a really nice smile. She had faint freckles across the bridge of her perfect nose.
Usually Jayjay was tentative with women, but, faced with the alluring Jil, he found the courage to go for it. “When I first saw you on the orphidnet and heard your name, I thought you were this beautiful girl Jilena who was a year ahead of me in high school,” he said softly. “I worshipped Jilena from afar.”
“I was done with high school a looong time before you,” said Jil, looking Jayjay up and down. “Flatterer.” Jayjay felt the orphids on his body registering major hitcounts—he was live on Founders. And maybe Jil was checking out his physique too. He tingled at the thought.
“I’d love to talk to you about the Hibrane,” said Jayjay, his pulse pounding in his ears. “I hear you’ve been there. I’m a budding physicist. We should get together alone sometime.” He glanced over at the others, wondering if they were noticing him flirt
ing with Jil. It would be good for Thuy to realize that Jayjay had other options.
But Thuy was busy cutting up the cantaloupe and offering Kittie a slice, and Kittie was enthralled with Nektar, and Nektar was chattering at Craigor as if to keep him from looking at Jil. For his part, Sonic was drinking tea as fast as he could. The guy could never get enough caffeine.
“You’re a homeless kiqqie,” exclaimed Jil, sounding a little disappointed. Dammit, she’d already done an instant check via the orphidnet. “And you’re addicted to the Big Pig?”
“The Pig helps me get ideas,” said Jayjay. “I wouldn’t say that I have a problem. Anyway, I’m cutting down really soon.”
“Oh, I know all about that,” said Jil.
“I watch you on Founders,” said Jayjay. “You’ve gotten a bad deal lately. I really admire that you’ve hung onto your sobriety. You could show me the way. Mold me, Jil, train me to be like you. Clear-eyed. Hi-res. A coiled spring. I want to please you.” He could hardly believe he was saying these things. His mouth was way ahead of his brain.
“Boing,” said Jil. “That’s enough for now.”
“Hey,” said Craigor, jumping to his feet. Jayjay was expecting to get bawled out for hitting on the guy’s wife, but, no, Craigor was into his own ego trip.
“Check this out,” said Craigor, producing four short metal rods with wads of piezoplastic on their ends. He turned his chair over and stuck his rods to the ends of the chair legs—so that now the chair had piezoplastic knees and feet. When Craigor turned the chair upright, it waltzed around the kitchen, faster and faster, culminating with a tap dance and a bow. Craigor made as if to sit down and, with comical eagerness, the tall chair scuttled into position to catch him.
“That’s a walking-chair,” said Jayjay, hoping to steal Craigor’s thunder. “You sold a double-jointed version to the manager at the Natural Mind recovery center in the Armory.”
“How’d you happen to notice that?” asked Craigor, seeming genuinely curious about the specific chain of logic Jayjay had followed. Everything was visible on the orphidnet, and many people had their beezie agents mining for things that were specifically relevant to their lives, the notion of “relevant” being fairly inclusive, due to people’s beezie-assisted abilities think a few steps further than before.
“Jayjay’s beezies were looking for the origins of Nektar’s beetle infection,” said Thuy. “They came from the Natural Mind building, and you caught them when you delivered the chair, Craigor, and then Nektar caught the beetles from you, that time when you squirted too quick. Lose-lose.”
“Mouthy brat,” said Craigor, not especially embarrassed. He waggled his eyebrows at Thuy. “You need a spanking.” He stuck his teaspoon to the side of his walking-chair with a spare bit of piezoplastic, and sent the chair trotting around the table to whack-whack-whack Thuy’s thigh with the spoon.
“Craigor, you should load up on Jayjay’s antibeetle flea-grenades,” said Nektar. “For all we know, the beetles are eating your brain right now.”
Craigor responded in mime, fluttering his hands by his mouth like munching mandibles.
“Don’t worry, Nektar,” said Jil with a sigh. “We got the antibeetle fleas off the Founders show on our way over. And, yeah, the beetles really were lying dormant in us. That’s weird they used Craigor for a disease vector.”
Craigor’s walking-chair flexed its knees, rhythmically hunching against Thuy, who laughed at the urgent bumping. Kittie reached down to rip off one of the walking-chair’s shins. Miming great pain, the chair limped three-legged back to Craigor, leaning against him with a decrescendo shudder.
“You’re funny,” said Thuy to Craigor, meaning it. “I can put you in my metanovel. Are you directly controlling the chair?”
“I run the character animations though a beezie,” said Craigor. “But the beezie draws on a library of body-language routines that I stored. I act things out; that’s how all the great animators do it. My body knows more than my head. I’m a cuttlefisherman, too.”
“Mr. Disease Vector,” said Kittie, who’d attached the loose rod to her crotch. “Animate this.”
“Oh that’s witty,” said Craigor, looking annoyed. He grabbed the leg back.
Jayjay turned his attention to Jil, who was hunkered down by the sink checking up on her shoons. Even in that awkward position, she looked lithe and graceful. He tossed her a tiny heart-shaped emoticon via the orphidnet; she answered by half-turning her head his way and miming a kiss in profile. He was living the dream—in a reality soap!
“Founders fans may want to scan the Big Pig Posse’s backstory,” Nektar intoned, playing show host. “Jayjay loses Thuy, Thuy takes up with Kittie and next—Thuy and Craigor? Kittie and Nektar? Jayjay and Jil? Sonic and the shoons? Stay tuned. Oh, look, the good ads are coming back.” The orphidnet icons of BigBox and Stank glowed in the corners of the room, also the ExaExa beetle logo.
“Do we get paid too?” asked Kittie.
“I think so,” said Nektar. “The orphidnet figures all that out. I’ll register you as extras. And right up front, I’ll let you guys keep your SUV in my garage for a couple of weeks. And there’s a room over the garage you can live in. It’ll be fun having young people around.”
“Bitchin’,” said Sonic, draining the last of the tea. His eyes were bright and black. “I’m ready to settle in for a Doodly Bug death-run.”
“I want to paint that SUV and retrofit it for solar power,” said Kittie.
“I’ll be working on my metanovel,” said Thuy. “Wheenk.”
“The title’s growing on me,” said Jayjay, smiling at her. “I’m gonna be busy with Prav Plato’s physics seminars.” He put on a goody-goody tone, segueing into the plan they’d privately made upstairs. By now he’d privately messaged Kittie the details, too. “We all have a lot to do—if we don’t waste our energy by plugging into the Big Pig.”
Jil gave Jayjay a quizzical look. She could tell he was acting, but she wasn’t sure why. There were so many levels of unreality here. Jil turned to Nektar. “We’ll be on our way,” said Jil. “I’m gonna borrow your Happy Shoon so I can integrate his body-memories into my breeding stock. Knead him in like sourdough starter. You’ve trained these shoons well, Nektar.”
“Can I take a shoon too?” asked Sonic.
“Sure,” said Nektar. Sonic stuffed the Jayjay-faced doughboy shoon into the pleated pocket of his leather jacket.
“Bye-bye,” said Jayjay, seizing the chance to touch Jil’s hand. She upped the ante and kissed his cheek. In the orphidnet, Jayjay saw Jil staring over at her husband to make sure he noticed. Craigor’s smile had gone stiff. Thuy, however, was obliv, or was at least presenting herself that way. Why did she have to be so stubborn? Just because Jayjay liked the Big Pig? Well, hell, if Thuy was going to be such a priss, maybe he should take his golden opportunity for a romance with the divine Jil.
“Come stay on the Merz Boat if you need a place to live,” Jil told Jayjay in a warm tone. “There’s plenty of room. All four of you would fit, actually.”
Jayjay knew from Founders that Jil and Craigor’s cuttlefishing boat was entirely crafted from computationally rich piezoplastic, which had become a fairly expensive and sought-after material. Although Craigor was still netting oversized Pharaoh cuttlefish from the Bay, much of the couple’s income came from selling off bits of the boat’s material in the form of Jil’s shoons and Craigor’s combines.
“Thanks, Jil,” said Jayjay, wondering how Craigor would take his incursion. “I might be there sooner than you think. But at least for today we’ll be kiqqin’ it in Nektar’s garage.”
Some stairs at the back of the garage led up to the room Nektar had mentioned, white-painted with a peaked ceiling. The front and rear walls held generous windows, one showing a palm tree and Dolores Park, the other looking onto the San Francisco hills with their little stucco houses. The room was furnished with rugs, chairs, a double bed, a fold-out couch, a sink, and a fridge. The tile bathroom was
stocked with Stank personal grooming products.
“Fuckin’ A,” said Sonic, eyeing a framed Nantel award to Nektar’s absent husband. “Ond Lutter himself.” The box was a couple of inches deep, holding a preserved blue-green beetle as well as a paper with the award inscription.
“Maybe we should do some Big Pig,” said Thuy, flopping into an armchair. She didn’t actually mean this; she was following their preplanned script.
Jayjay would in fact have liked very much to do some Pig, but he stuck to the script too. “It’s time we all got clean,” he said.
“Yeah, brother,” said Sonic. “Getting down is coming old.”
“You’re slushed,” giggled Thuy, even though she knew Sonic had warped the phrase on purpose. “Yes, yes, it’s time to mad the endness. But how? Whither and yon?”
“Maybe Natural Mind could help us,” said Kittie, also playing along. “I know we were harshing on them before. But that was just our denial talking.”
“Natural Mind it is,” said Jayjay earnestly. “I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired.” Badda-boom.
“Let’s take showers before we go out,” said Sonic looking at the dirt shiny on his hands. “Me first.”
“Me second,” said Kittie.
When Jayjay got his turn in the shower, he had fun freeze-framing the water in his orphidnet view. Orphids were quick; they blanketed the water drops as fast as they formed. Further afield, Jayjay could see Craigor and Jil picking up their kids at school and heading back to their boat. School was still a reality—the orphidnet was no substitute for getting your butt smacked/stroked/sniffed by your fellow mammals in the human pack. With Jil still in her own little family, maybe it wasn’t realistic to think he could sleep with her. Maybe he’d been fooling himself about those vibes he’d picked up from her.
Thuy squeezed into the shower as Jayjay was getting out; the brief, sliding touch of her skin made him unreasonably happy. Someday soon he’d win her back. Thuy was the one he really wanted.
