by Vernor Vinge
“Easy. I’ll chat up the Siberians in a couple of hours—then shuffle that across to my other groups, I don’t know how fast things will break; it may be just you and me on the Fairmont side. Synch up with me after you get done with Miri Gu tonight, and we’ll see about using your ‘magical memory.’”
Juan frowned and pedaled fast along white sidewalks and turn-of-the-century condos. His part of town was old enough that it looked glitzy even without virtual enhancements.
Bertie seemed to notice his lack of response. “So is there a problem?”
Yes! He didn’t like Bertie’s unsubtle reference to what the little blue pills did for him. But that was just Bertie’s way. In fact, today was all Bertie’s way, both the good and the bad of it. “It’s just that I’m a little worried about the local test. I know Miri gels good grades, and you say she is smart, but does she really have any traction?” What he really wanted to ask was why Bertie had pushed him into this, but he knew that any sort of direct question along those lines might provoke a Freeze Out.
“Don’t worry, Juan. She’d do good work on any team. I’ve been watching her.”
That last was news to Juan. Aloud he said, “I know she has a stupid brother over in senior high.”
“Heh! William the Goofus? He is a dud, but he’s not really her brother, either. No, Miri Gu is smart and tough. Did you know she grew up at Asilomar?”
“In a detention camp?”
“Yup. Well, she was only a baby. But her parents knew just a bit too much.”
That had happened to lots of Chinese-Americans during the war, the ones who knew the most about military technologies. But it was also ancient history. Bertie was being more shocking than informative.
“Well, okay.” No point in pushing. At least, Bertie let me on his unlimited team.
Almost home. Juan coasted down a short street and up his driveway, ducking under the creaking garage door that was just opening for him. “I’ll get over to Miri’s this evening and start the local team stuff while you’re in East Asia.”
“Fine. Fine,” said Bertie.
Juan leaned his bike against the family junk, and walked to the back of the garage. He stopped at the door to the kitchen. Bertie had gotten every single thing he had wanted. Maybe not. I bet he still plans on messing with my local exam. “But one thing. Miri’s handshake—she was real definite, Bertie. She doesn’t want you coming along, even passively. Okay?”
“Sure. Fine. I’m off to Asia. Ta!” Bertie’s voice ended with an exaggerated click.
JUAN’S FATHER WAS HOME, of course. Luis Orozco was puttering around the kitchen. He gave his son a vague wave as the boy came in the room. The house had a good internal network, fed from a fixed station in the roof. Juan ignored the fantasy images almost automatically. He had no special interest in knowing what Pa was seeing, or where he thought he was.
Juan eeled past his father, into the living room. Pa was okay. Luis Orozco’s own father had been an illegal back in the 1980s. Grandpa had lived in North County, but in the cardboard shacks and dirt tunnels that had hid amid the canyons in those days. The Orozco grandparents had worked hard for their only son, and Luis Orozco had worked hard to learn to be a software engineer. Sometimes, when he came down to earth, Pa would laugh and say he was one of the world’s greatest experts in Regna 5. And maybe for a year or two that had been an employable skill. So three years of education had been spent for a couple years of income. That sort of thing had happened to a lot of people; Pa was one of those who just gave up because of it.
“Ma, can you talk?” Part of the wall and ceiling went transparent. Isabel Orozco was at work, upstairs. She looked down at him curiously.
“Hey, Juan! I thought you were going to be at finals until very late.”
Juan bounced up the stairs, talking all the while. “Yes. I have a lot to do.”
“Ah, so you’ll be working from here.”
Juan came into her work room and gave her a quick hug. “No, I was just gonna get supper and then visit the student I’m doing the local project with.”
She was looking right at him now, and he could tell he had her full attention. “I just saw about the local exam; it seems like a great idea.” Ma thought it was so important to get down on the real ground. When Juan was younger, she always dragged him along when she went on her field trips around the county.
“Oh, yes,” said Juan. “We’ll learn a lot.”
Her look sharpened. “And Bertram is not in this, correct?”
“Um. No, Ma.” No need to mention the unlimited exam.
“He’s not here in the house, is he?”
“Ma! Of course not.” Juan denied all snoop access to his friends when he was in the house. Mother knew that. “When he’s here, you see him, just like when my other friends visit.”
“Okay.” She looked a little embarrassed, but at least she didn’t repeat her opinion that “little Bertie is too slippery by half.” Her attention drifted for a moment, and her fingers tapped a quick tattoo on the table top. He could see that she was off in Borrego Springs, shepherding some cinema people from LA.
“Anyway, I was wondering if I could take a car tonight. My teammate lives up in Fallbrook.”
“Just a second.” She finished the job she was working on. “Okay, who is your teammate?”
“A really good student.” He showed her.
Ma grinned uncertainly, a little surprised. “Good for you…Yes, she is an excellent student, strong where you are weak—and vice versa, of course.” She paused, checking out the Gus. “They are a private sort of family, but that’s okay.”
“And it’s a safe part of town.”
She chuckled. “Yes, very safe.” She respected the school rules and didn’t ask about the team project. That was just as well, since Juan still had no idea what Miri Gu was planning. “But you stay out of Camp Pendleton, hear me?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Okay, you’re cleared to go as soon as you have supper. I’ve got some big-money customers running, so I can’t take a break just now. Go on downstairs and get your father and yourself something to eat. And learn something from this local project, huh? There are many careers you can have without knowing airy-fairy nonsense.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned and patted her shoulder. Then he was running down the stairs. After Pa’s programming career had crashed, Mother had worked harder and harder at her 411 information services. By now, she knew San Diego County and its data as well as anyone in the world. Most of her jobs were just a few seconds or a few minutes long, guiding people, answering the hard questions. Some jobs—like the Migración historical stuff—were ongoing. Ma made a big point that her work was really hundreds of little careers, and that almost none of them depended on high-tech fads. Juan could do much worse; that was her message, both spoken and unspoken.
And looking at Pa across the kitchen table, Juan understood the alternative that his mother had in mind; Juan had understood that since he was six years old. Luis Orozco ate in the absent-minded way of a truly hard worker, but the images that floated around the room were just passive soaps. Later in the night he might spend money on active cinema, but even that would be nothing with traction. Pa was always in the past or on another world. So Ma was afraid that Juan would end up the same way. But I won’t. Whatever the best is, I’ll learn it, and learn it in days, not years. And when that best is suddenly obsolete, I’ll learn whatever new thing gets thrown at me.
Ma worked hard and she was a wonderful person, but her 411 business was…such a dead end. Maybe God was kind to her that she never realized this. Certainly Juan could never break her heart by telling her such a thing. But the local world sucked. San Diego County, despite all its history and industry and universities, was just a microscopic speck compared to the world of people and ideas that swirled around them every minute. Once upon a lime, Juan’s father had wanted to be part of that wider world, but he hadn’t been fast enough or adaptable enough. It will be different f
or me. The little blue pills would the difference. The price might be high; sometimes Juan’s mind went so blank he couldn’t remember his own name. It was a kind of seizure, but in a moment or two it always went away. Always. So far. With custom street drugs you could never be absolutely sure of such things.
Juan had one jaw-clenched resolve: I will be adaptable. He would not fail as his father had failed.
JUAN HAD THE CAR drop him off a couple of blocks short of the Gus’ house. He told himself he did this so he could get a feel for the neighborhood; after all, it was not a very public place. But that wasn’t the real reason. In fact, the drive had been just too quick. He wasn’t ready to face his local teammate.
West Fallbrook wasn’t super-wealthy, but it was richer and more modern than Las Mesitas. Most of its money came from the fact that it was right next to Camp Pendleton’s east entrance. Juan walked through the late afternoon light, looking in all directions. There were a few people out—a jogger, some little kids playing an inscrutable game.
With all enhancements turned off, the houses were low and stony-looking, set well back from the street. Some of the yards were beautifully kept, succulents and dwarf pines arranged like large-scale bonsai. Others were workaday neat, with shade trees and lawns that were raked gravel or auto-mowed drygrass.
Juan turned on consensus imagery. No surprise, the street was heavily prepped. The augmented landscape was pretty, in an understated way: the afternoon sunlight sparkled off fountains and lush grass lawns. Now the low, stony houses were all windows and airy patios, some places in bright sunlight, others half-hidden in shadows. But there were no public sensors. There was no advertising and no graffiti. The neighborhood was so perfectly consistent, a single huge work of art. Juan felt a little shiver. In most parts of San Diego, you could find homeowners who’d opt out of the community image—or else demand to be included, but in some grotesque contradiction of their neighbors. West Fallbrook had tighter control than even most condo communities. You had the feeling that some single interest was watching over everything here, ready to act against intruders. In fact, that single interest went by the initials USMC.
Above him, his guide arrow had brightened. Now it turned onto a side street and swooped to the third house on the right. Caray. He wanted to slow down, maybe walk around the block. I haven’t even figured out how to talk to her parents. Chinese-American grown-ups were an odd lot, especially the ones who had been Detained. When they were released, some of them had left the USA, gone to Mexico or Canada or Europe. Most of the others just went back to their lives—even to government jobs—but with varying degrees of bitterness. And some had helped finish the war, and made the government look very foolish in the process.
He walked up the Gus’ driveway, at the same time snooping one last time for information on Miri’s family…So, if William the Goofus wasn’t really Miri’s brother, who was he? William had never attracted that much attention; there were no ready-made rumors. And Fairmont’s security on student records was pretty strong. Juan poked around, found some good public camera data. Given a few minutes he’d have William all figured out—
But now he was standing at the Gus’ front door.
MIRIAM GU WAS AT THE ENTRANCE. For a moment Juan thought she was going to complain that he was late, but she just waved him inward.
Past the doorway, the street imagery cut off abruptly. They were standing in a narrow hallway with closed doors at both ends. Miri paused at the inner door, watching him.
There were little popping noises, and Juan felt something burn his ankle. “Hey, don’t fry my gear!” He had other clothes, but the Orozco family wasn’t rich enough to waste them.
Miri stared at him. “You didn’t know?”
“Know what?”
“That’s not your equipment I trashed; I was very careful. You were carrying hitchhikers.” She opened the inner door and her gestures were suddenly polite and gracious. There must be grown-ups watching.
As he followed her down the hall, Juan rebooted his wearable. The walls became prettier, covered with silk hangings. He saw he had visitor privileges in the Gus’ house system, but he couldn’t find any other communications paths out of the building. All his equipment was working fine, including the little extras like 360 peripheral vision and good hearing. So what about those popping sounds, the heat? That was somebody else’s equipment. Juan had been walking round like a fool with a KICK ME sign on his back. In fact, it was worse than that. He remembered assuring his mother that she would see any friends he brought to the house. Somebody had made that a lie. Fairmont had its share of unfunny jokesters, but this was gross. Who would do such a thing…yeah, who indeed.
Juan stepped from the hallway into a high-ceilinged living room. Standing by a real fireplace was a chunky Asian with buzzcut hair. Juan recognized the face from one of the few pictures he had of the guy. This was William Gu: Miriam’s father, not the Goofus. Apparently the two had the same first name.
Miriam danced ahead of him. She was smiling now. “Bill, I’d like you to meet Juan Orozco. Juan and I are doing the local project together. Juan, this is my father.”
Bill? Juan couldn’t imagine addressing his own Pa by his first name. These people were strange.
“Pleased to meet you, Juan.” Gu’s handshake was firm, his expression mild and unreadable. “Are you enjoying the final exams so far?”
Enjoying?? “Yes, sir.”
Miri had already turned away. “Alice? Do you have a minute? I’d like you to meet—”
A woman’s voice: “Yes, dear. Just a moment.” Not more than two seconds passed, and a lady with a pleasant round face stepped into the room. Juan recognized her, too…except for the clothes: this evening, Alice Gu wore the uniform of a timeshare Lieutenant Colonel in the United State Marines. As Miri made the introductions, Juan noticed Mr. Gu’s fingers tapping on his belt.
“Oops. Sorry!” Alice Gu’s Marine Corps uniform was abruptly replaced by a business suit. “Oh, dear.” And the business suit morphed into the matronly dress that Juan remembered from the photos. When she shook his hand, she looked entirely innocent and motherly. “I hear that you and Miriam have a very interesting local project.”
“I hope so.” Mainly I hope Miriam will get around to telling me what it is. But he no longer doubted that Miriam Gu had traction.
“We’d really like to know more about it.”
Miri pulled a face. “Bill! You know we’re not supposed to talk about it. Besides, if it goes right we’ll be all done with it tonight.”
Huh?
But Mr. Gu was looking at Juan. “I know the school rules. I wouldn’t dream of breaking them.” Almost a smile. “But I think as parents we should at least know where you plan to be physically. If I understand the local exam, you can’t do it remotely.”
“Yes, sir,” said Juan. “That is true. We—”
Miriam picked up smoothly where Juan had run out of words. “We’re just going down to Torrey Pines Park.”
Col. Gu tapped at her belt, and was quiet for a moment: “Well, that looks safe.”
Mr. Gu nodded. “But you’re supposed to do the local project without outside connectivity—”
“Except if an emergency comes up.”
Mr. Gu just tapped his fingers thoughtfully. Juan turned off all the house imagery, and zoomed in on Miriam’s pa. The guy was dressed casually, but with better clothes sense than most grown-ups had. In the house enhancement, he looked soft and sort of heavy. In the plain view, he just looked hard and solid. Come to think of it, the edge of his hand had felt calloused, just like in the movies.
Col. Gu glanced at her husband, nodded slightly at him. She turned back to Juan and Miri. “I think it will be okay,” she said. “But we do ask a couple things of you.”
“Nothing against the exam rules,” said Miri.
“I don’t think so. First, since the park has no infrastructure and doesn’t allow visitors to put up camping networks, please take some of the old standalo
ne gear we have in the basement.”
“Hey, that’s great, Alice! I was going to ask you about that.”
Juan could hear someone coming down the stairs behind him. He looked without turning, but there was no one visible yet, and his visitor’s privilege did not allow him to see through walls.
“And second,” Col. Gu continued, “we think William should go along with you.”
Miri’s father? No…the Goofus. Ugh.
This time, Miri Gu did not debate. She nodded, and said softly. “Well…if you think that is best.”
Juan spoke without thinking, “But…” then more diffidently: “But wouldn’t that violate the exam rules?”
The voice came from behind him. “No. Read the rules, Orozco.” It was William.
Juan turned to acknowledge the other. “You mean, you won’t be a team member?”
“Yeah, I’d just be your escort.” The Goofus had the same broad features, the same coloring as the rest of the family. He was almost as tall as Bill Gu, but scrawny. His face had a sweaty sheen like maybe—Oh. Suddenly Juan realized that while Bill and William were father and son, it was not in the order he had thought.
“It’s really your call, Dad,” said Mr. Gu.
William nodded. “I don’t mind.” He smiled. “The munchkin has been telling me how strange things are in junior high school. Now I’ll get to see what she means.”
Miri Gu’s smile was a little weak. “Well, we’d be happy to have you come along. Juan and I want to look at Alice’s gear, but we should be ready in half an hour or so.”
“I’ll be around.” William gave a twitchy wave and left the room.
“Alice and I will let you make your plans now,” Mr. Gu said. He nodded at Juan. “It was nice to meet you, Juan.”
Juan mumbled appropriate niceties to Mr. and Col. Gu, and allowed Miri to maneuver him out of the room and down a steep stairway.
