by E. M. Foner
“Thank you,” Kelly said, and then asked her son, “Where are Svetlana’s girls?”
“They already saw the city from up here yesterday, so they got bored and took the elevator back to our floor. I forgot about needing a room chit to get on an elevator, and I really wanted to run down the stairs, but Tom told me it’s against regulations.”
“Well done, Tom,” Kelly said, fishing in her purse and finding a five-cred piece. Then she executed a perfect handshake transfer, silently thanking Thomas for talking her into taking the half-day EarthCent Intelligence training seminar on best tipping practices for all the tunnel network species, including humans. She couldn’t remember how she had gotten through life before learning all the tricks. “Let’s go, Sam. Your father is probably waiting for us.”
“Bye, Tom,” the boy said, waving to the friendly guide. The elevator doors slid closed, and he hit the button for the third floor before turning to his mother. “You wouldn’t believe all the stories he told me. It’s like there are whole sections of the city where the criminals are in charge. Why don’t the people just leave?”
“Do you mean leave Earth?” Kelly asked. The boy nodded in the affirmative. “It’s a big commitment to uproot yourself and move away from your family and friends. Back before the Stryx opened the planet, there were over a hundred countries, and people rarely moved in large numbers unless there were wars or famines. Most nations had rules for how many new people they would let in, and those immigrants had to be refugees or have certain skills.”
“It’s much better on the station.”
“Yes, but most humans who have left Earth don’t live on Stryx stations. People who sign long-term labor contracts to get off of Earth have to live by the alien rules, and the human colonies on open worlds don’t let just anybody join. Even the Wanderers enforced standards about who could travel with them, though it was sort of upside-down from what you’d expect.
Turning to a more practical subject, the boy complained, “Why is the elevator taking so long? If you laid this building down sideways, it would probably fit inside Mac’s Bones. It’s not like it’s a long way, and going down should be easy with gravity.”
“Your father told me that the controls won’t allow the elevator car to get moving too fast because somebody on a floor below us might push the call button and want to get on.”
“With us? Ride with strangers? But what if we aren’t going the same place?”
“Then the elevator would stop again to let them off,” Kelly explained. “It’s not like a lift tube capsule that can take you anywhere on the station. This car only goes up and down the one elevator shaft.”
“Pretty weak,” the boy said. “They should get some Dollnicks to sell them something decent.”
“They probably don’t have the money. Some parts of Earth’s economy are doing very well, but the businesses that have tried to hold on to their old ways often suffer. Now that people can travel comfortably and rapidly in floaters, they don’t have to stay overnight if they want to come and visit the city.”
“I don’t get why anybody would want to visit anyway,” Samuel said dismissively.
Eight
“Would you mind sitting behind somebody else?” Woojin asked the dog. “It feels like you’re spying on my hole cards.”
Beowulf thumped his tail on the floor three times, paused, and then whacked out another five. Woojin gave the dog a disgusted look, and then mucked his hand without waiting for his turn to bid.
“He did you a favor forcing you out,” Lynx said. “If my father knew I married a man who played poker like you do, he’d come out of retirement and insist on a high-stakes game.”
“I believe Beowulf is less interested in your cards than the chips,” Dring suggested. “It’s your bet, Shaina.”
“Twenty,” she said, pushing two yellows into the pot. “I don’t think Beowulf cares about keeping score. He just likes aces.”
“I think Dring meant the other chips,” Daniel speculated, taking a potato chip from the bowl and tossing it in the dog’s general direction. Beowulf snagged it out of the air and moved to sit behind the EarthCent consul.
“Congratulations,” Woojin said, as Daniel and Lynx folded in order. “You won yourself a dog.”
“Your bet, Hert,” Dring urged, to keep things moving along.
The Drazen Intelligence head scowled at his cards and nudged two yellow chips into the pot. “What’s your hurry today?” he asked the Maker.
“Jeeves?” Dring prompted, before replying. “As soon as the Doogals arrive, Stanley is taking my place and I’m meeting with Donna to discuss an event for the ambassador’s return. You’re invited, of course.”
“I’ll see your twenty and raise a hundred,” the Stryx declared, flipping a red chip followed by two yellows into the pot. “If you’re planning to meet Clive and Blythe during their Libbyland camping trip, Hert, I can take you to see them. They’re near a waterfall, and if you don’t pay attention to where you’re going, it can be tricky.”
“Thanks,” Hert responded.
“He’s just going to eavesdrop on you afterwards,” Lynx pointed out as she threw in her cards.
“Oh, please,” Jeeves said. “I can do that from anywhere.”
“Call,” Thomas announced, pushing in two yellows and a red. “I’ll take you to meet them, Hert. Clive pinged earlier and said he wants Lynx and I to be there in any case.”
“I wouldn’t normally play these cards, but I don’t know how many more hands I’m going to see tonight,” the Maker said, moving his bet into the pot. “Shaina?”
“Not with the four of you staying in.” She folded her cards.
“My mother taught me never to throw good money after bad,” Hert commented, tossing in his own hand. “Where are your children tonight, Shaina?”
Dring rapidly dealt face-up cards to Jeeves, Thomas and himself. “Queen bets,” he prompted the artificial person.
“We’ve been hiring an InstaSitter four evenings a week to come in and speak Drazen with the children, even when we’re home,” Shaina said. “I think it’s a shame that most humans get implants so young that they never have a chance to learn an alien language. Combining babysitting with language instruction makes a lot of sense.”
“Pass,” Thomas grunted.
“It certainly makes a lot of sense for InstaSitter,” Jeeves observed. “I’ll pass as well.”
“I didn’t get my implant until I bought my ship, at sixteen,” Lynx said. “My dad avoided the casinos with a lot of alien gamblers when he took me on the circuit, but I used to know a little Russian and Chinese. It’s all gone now.”
Dring fired out three more cards with his stubby fingers, and the remaining players passed again.
“Why did you guys stay in if you’re just going to pass all the time?” Woojin demanded. Nobody replied.
Dring dealt the next card, and Thomas pushed in three red chips after pairing his queen. “Queens bet three hundred.”
Jeeves matched the bet, and said, “I agree that learning an alien language as a child is mind-expanding. You wouldn’t believe how difficult it is to tell a joke in Stryx.”
“These cards are a joke,” Dring grumbled, giving up on his hand. “I won’t insult the two of you by staying in any longer.” He dealt a final open card to Jeeves and Thomas. “Kings bet.”
“Sorry, Thomas,” the Stryx said, pushing five blues into the pot. “I have to go up five thousand.”
“All-in,” the artificial person replied, pushing his stacks into the pot.
“Can you even go all-in playing seven card stud?” Hert enquired.
“We don’t actually have a limit, so you can always bet everything on the table if you want,” Dring said. Beowulf barked. “And here come Stanley and Donna, so it looks like I’ll be taking a break.”
Jeeves stared at his opponent’s hole cards like he was trying to see through the waxed paper to the pigments on the other side, which he could no doubt do if he pu
t an effort into it. But he had sworn a mighty oath never to cheat at poker, and after hesitating over his stacks, he tossed in his cards, allowing Thomas to claim the pot.
Paul was the first to greet the new arrivals, taking his duties as host seriously, even though he wasn’t playing. “Hey, Stanley. I’ll grab you a glass while I bring a fresh pitcher. Do you want anything, Donna?”
“No thank you, Paul. We just came from a late dinner.”
“Anybody else?”
“I could manage a Divverflip if you haven’t forgotten how to make them,” Hert said.
“Since I mixed the last one twenty minutes ago?” Paul responded with a laugh. “One glass, one pitcher, and one Divverflip, coming up.”
“Is there somewhere private we could discuss your proposal, Dring?” Donna asked. “Too many chefs spoil the soup.”
“We can take a stroll around the hold and stretch our legs,” the Maker suggested. “You play my chips, Stanley. It will save Paul the work of cashing me out and you in.”
“Fine by me.” The former gaming information trader and current chief financial officer of InstaSitter grabbed a folding chair and moved it into Dring’s place at the table. The spot was empty because the Maker always stood rather than sitting, in deference to his large tail. “Whose deal?”
“You just missed it,” Shaina informed him. “I’m calling five card draw, nothing wild.” She shuffled the deck and then quickly went around the table five times, dealing down cards.
“Ten-millicred ante,” Thomas added helpfully.
Stanley tossed in a yellow and glanced over his shoulder at his wife and the Maker sauntering off in the direction of the training grounds. “I’ve been married to that woman for thirty years, and I think she’s up to something.”
“It took you thirty years to figure that out?” Daniel asked, receiving a kick under the table from his wife. “I’ll take three, honey.”
“Two,” Hert said, carefully extracting his discards from the hand held tightly against his chest. “I must compliment you on your choice of Drazen as a second language for your children, Shaina. I just hope they don’t develop tentacle envy, since we have as many idioms involving that appendage as you do for hands.” He gave his own tentacle a wiggle for emphasis.
“Three,” Jeeves said. “I remember the first time I got up alone on Parents Day in Libby’s class to say a few words about our culture. Afterwards, one of the parents said, “Let’s give the young Stryx a hand,” and I thought the guy was talking about replacing my pincer.”
“I’ll take two,” Woojin said. “I still try to get in a couple of sessions a week with the fencing bot you donated, Hert. I know that at least one other person is using it because I’ve found it left on the Vergallian style setting a couple of times.”
“None,” Lynx said casually. Everybody stopped and looked in her direction, and she tried to maintain a nonchalant expression.
“Three for me,” Thomas said. “Maybe it’s Judith. She was always big into swords.”
“She’s only been here a couple of weeks, and I noticed the settings changing months ago. It started at Beginner Vergallian and it’s up to Advanced Beginner now.”
“Can I take four with an ace?” Stanley asked Shaina, who nodded in the affirmative. “Good, then I have an ace,” he continued, displaying the Ace of Diamonds. Shaina dropped four cards in front of him, and he added them to his ace to create a fresh hand.
“Dealer takes one,” Shaina announced, giving herself a card from the top of the deck.
“If you weren’t teaching the children Drazen, I might have suggested Vergallian,” Hert said. “It’s probably the easiest for your species to pronounce, and it’s also one of the richest languages on the tunnel network. I don’t think translation implants do justice to the tonal variations that are associated with shades of meaning. Most Drazen business consortiums make a point of having at least one major stakeholder who is fluent in Vergallian.”
“Pass,” Daniel said.
“You can’t pass,” his wife informed him. “You have to throw in twenty for the blind.”
“You didn’t say anything.”
“I always play that way.”
Daniel pushed in two yellows, looked at his cards again, and shook his head.
“Me thinks he doth protest too much,” the Drazen Intelligence head proclaimed, chucking in his cards.
Jeeves followed suit, and Woojin dropped out as well, leaving the bet to Lynx. “Raise a hundred,” she said, sliding in two yellows and a red.
“Either you’re trying to sucker me into wasting my money, or you’ve been bluffing all along,” Thomas observed. He glanced at the other players who hadn’t dropped out yet, and then conceded the hand. “So who do you think has been leaving the fencing bot on Vergallian style, Wooj?”
“I’m guessing it’s Samuel. He’s pretty fluent in the language, and the Vergallian immersives he watches are full of dueling. And I doubt there’s a human male his age anywhere in the galaxy who’s better at their ballroom dancing.”
“Call,” Stanley said, pushing in two yellows and a red.
“I’ll see your hundred and raise four,” Shaina announced, pushing in five red chips.
“The blind,” Daniel reminded her. Shaina shot him a look and added two yellows, after which her husband gave up his hand without another word.
“Sorry, but I’m not going anywhere,” Lynx said. She counted out four reds, added two blues, and pushed the stack into the pot.
“I won’t tell you what I’m folding,” Stanley grumped. “Only that it doesn’t seem fair.”
“So,” Shaina said, observing Lynx closely. “The gambler’s daughter is either out on a limb with a long bluff, or she thinks her flush will beat my straight.”
“Keep fishing,” Lynx said dryly.
“Could it be a full house?” Shaina asked, watching the cultural attaché carefully.
“I love it when she gets competitive,” Daniel said, flipping his wife’s ponytail onto her shoulder with his right hand. “Come on, babe. It’s not like two creds will break the bank.”
Shaina looked at him sourly for rendering the blue chips at their true value. Two thousand millicreds just sounded so much cooler than two creds.
“I’ll call,” she said, pushing in two blues.
“Jacks over,” Lynx declared, throwing her cards face up on the table. Shaina looked at the full house in disgust, and then deliberately mixed her own cards into the deck before passing it to her husband.
“So, Jeeves,” Stanley said, as they waited for Daniel to shuffle. “Any chance you can hear what my wife is discussing with Dring?”
“Would you eavesdrop on your maker if you had a chance?” Jeeves responded.
The seven other players at the table exchanged looks, and then answered with a collective, “Yes.”
“Call it nostalgia, but I don’t hear what Dring says unless I’m sure he knows I’m listening.”
A few hundred steps away, Donna dropped the casual gossip and stopped to face the Maker. “I heard you want to put on a surprise party for Kelly’s return. Something really special.”
“Yes,” Dring said enthusiastically. “I had in mind a panel of dignitaries. We’ll invite humans, aliens, and AI to present awards and to speak about the ambassador’s contributions to the tunnel network. Most of the advanced species host similar ceremonies for outstanding individuals, and I hoped to combine the best of several cultures.”
“I see,” Donna replied, looking grave.
“It’s not good?” Dring asked anxiously.
“Well, I wouldn’t want to discourage you from doing something you obviously think is important, but it really isn’t Kelly’s sort of thing,” the embassy manager replied honestly.
Dring shook his head back and forth rapidly as if he were clearing his head of the idea, causing his large cheeks to flap. “If you had an unlimited budget and a large guest list to entertain, what would you suggest?”
Donn
a’s heart began to beat louder as she crossed her fingers behind her back and made her own all-in move. “A formal ball with a full orchestra and a grand entrance to announce important diplomatic guests. I checked with the Empire Convention Center, and their main ballroom is available the night Kelly is due back, though we’ll have to make a deposit quickly if we want to keep it. There’s plenty of time to bring in musicians from Earth, and I’m sure we could get a symphony orchestra, since they always need the money.”
“A ball? Like in the novels I borrow from the ambassador?”
“Have you read ‘War and Peace?’” Donna asked. She had never read it herself, but she had watched the ballroom scene in every old movie, immersive and miniseries adaptation she could get her hands on.
“An excellent tale,” Dring confirmed. “Now that I recall, Kelly strongly suggested that book. I suppose this explains her support of Samuel’s dancing lessons.”
“Oh, yes,” Donna said, tightening her middle finger over her index finger to excuse her next statement. “The ambassador and I have talked about putting on a ball for years.” She didn’t see the point in mentioning that these conversations consisted of her pushing for the embassy to sponsor a ball, and Kelly displaying an unexplainable lack of enthusiasm for the project.
“No speeches at all?” Dring asked mournfully.
“There has to be a dinner afterwards,” Donna said, and then crossed the fingers of her other hand and added, “I’m sure the guests would enjoy listening to speeches while they eat, or we could have a separate room set aside for awards and such.”
“A Hall of Praises,” Dring supplied the technical term. “The Hortens and the Grenouthians traditionally separate their official ceremonies from the associated social events that way, and I’ve seen something similar with many off-network species.”
“That sounds perfect. And we could divide the workload along those lines. I’ll handle the ball, the music, the dinner, and the local invitations, and you can invite the off-station dignitaries and arrange the whole praise thing.”
