He slumped down on the stool. "Probably. I'm really up shit creek, then."
"Why is that?" with lazy amusement Lawrence realized just how stoned she was. "I have no character. You said so yourself."
"I didn't say you had no character. I said you had the wrong character, which for the purposes of today's experiment will serve you well. You're what they want."
"Let's hope so. Are you okay to get home from here?"
She straightened up again. "Oh, I don't need any help from you. I have a citybike card. I'll just take one off the rack, and zoooom, I'm home." She caught the barman's attention and wagged a finger at her cup. "Same again."
Lawrence drained his juice and stood up. "Take care." He walked to the far end of the bar where the barman was preparing her tea. "Do something for me," he said quietly to the barman. "When she leaves, call a cab for her. This should cover it." He put an EZ twenty on the counter.
The barman nodded and pocketed the bill. "Sure thing."
Day three was linked teamwork. The AS split them into groups of five and dropped them into a shared i-environment. There were to be eight tests. For the first five, they would rotate the leadership, while the last three were to be a group effort.
Lawrence's group was given a river to cross for its first task. It was running through a hot, unpleasant jungle, complete with insects that bit exposed limbs and reeking marshsulfur air bubbling out of the mud along the foot of the banks. Crocodiles peered at them from midriver, occasionally snapping their jaws in anticipation. Ropes, oil drums and wooden planks were stacked up on the bank. Even laying all the planks end to end, they weren't long enough reach across the water.
Their designated team leader started snapping out orders. He wanted to build a platform that would go halfway across the river, they would take up the section from behind them and rebuild it out in front to the other bank. Lawrence helped willingly enough, even though he knew they were wasting their time. The scheme was overelaborate. They should be building a raft.
He briefly toyed with the idea of slacking off, or maybe not tying off his rope as tight as it needed to be. Not active sabotage exactly, but as the idea was doomed anyway... There were only two places, after all. But he guessed the AS would be watching for anything less than 100 percent commitment.
Sure enough, when they turned the bridge into a platform in the water and started trying to build the last section, two of them wound up falling in the river along with several planks. The crocodiles moved in eagerly, huge jaws hinging open.
For his own command, Lawrence was given the last stone in a henge to erect. He took a quick inventory of the equipment they'd been given, which was mainly poles, shovels and ropes, and issued his instructions. They measured the length of the stone, and the height of the others. That told them how deep to dig the pit at the base of the stone. With that done, they set about tipping it in, rigging up levers and crude pulleys. This was the part that required a high level of coordinated teamwork, and everyone played his part perfectly, following each of the orders that Lawrence shouted out. Eventually the massive block tilted upright. Lawrence had a nasty moment when it rocked about, but it stayed upright.
It was the final three tests that made him irritable and disappointed. There was just too much competition between the group members for them to have their own idea adopted. Lawrence reckoned the AS had deliberately structured the tasks so that there were multiple solutions to each problem. His fellow candidates began to question him and each other, whining and bitching, especially when their own proposals were turned down. When Lawrence was convinced he had the most efficient solution to the second task he had to shout to make them listen, which they resented. They were competing, not cooperating. The simulations were deviating from the way people behaved in real life. Drawing from his own time in action with the platoon, Lawrence knew there would be a better level of rapport.
Hardly anyone spoke when they left that evening. Lawrence heard that there had been near fights in other teams during the last three tests. At least his own group had managed to keep reasonably civil. That must count in their favor.
Joona was in the square. The potato stall was back, along with a larger number of protesters. She caught sight of him, and intercepted him. Lawrence tried to smile off the startled looks of the other candidates, though he knew exactly what they must be thinking.
"Yours," Joona said curtly, pressing an EZ twenty into his hand. "I don't need your charity."
"It wasn't charity. I was concerned about you, that's all."
"Did I ask you to be?"
"How could you? You didn't know what planet you were on."
She turned quickly and started walking back to her friends. "I've survived in this city long before you got here, space boy."
"Sorry I cared," Lawrence shouted after her.
He had dinner in the Holiday Inn that evening.
Day four was interviews and evaluation. First time up, Lawrence was quizzed by two college officers about his background and motivation and likes and dislikes. He knew he had to be courteous and slightly self-deprecating and honest and relaxed and show he had a sense of humor as well as being overwhelmingly interesting. Tall order cramming those traits into ninety minutes while you're telling them your life history and slanting it so that your inquisitors believe they cannot possibly afford to let you slip out of the college.
The second interview was with an assistant to the deputy principal, a cheery old woman who dressed in clothes a century out of date, presumably to give her an authoritative schoolmarmish air. They sat on opposite sides of a steel-blue desk in her office, a fourth-story room with a good view out over the canal.
Data was scrolling down her desktop pane, which was just at the wrong angle for him to read it.
"You did very well on the simulations," she said. "Good reflexes. Good spatial instinct—whatever that is. High proficiency on logical analysis. Integrated well with the group command dynamics. Fast thinker. Care to comment on any of that, Mr. Newton?"
"We were a mess in the last three simulations yesterday. Too much competition."
"That's right. That's why we include them. Think of it as a measure of how unselfish you can be."
"And was I?"
"You certainly showed awareness of the situation. It was a mature reaction. You have the potential to be an officer."
"Excellent." Lawrence couldn't help his hungry grin.
"Which gives me something of a problem. You see, it's more than proficiency we're looking for this week. Your stake also has to be taken into account. And, frankly, there are candidates with an aptitude equal to yours who have a much larger stake in Z-B than you."
Lawrence managed to hold on to his expression of polite respect "I suspect they all had inherited stakes. It's not actually possible for someone of my rank in strategic security to earn a higher stake than the one I have. A lot of the fleet platoon members opt for a much lower percentage. That should tell you all you need to know about my level of commitment to Z-B."
"It does, Lawrence, and it's very impressive, as was your commanding officer's report. But the figures speak for themselves. And we have to stick to our chosen method of selection. You understand that, don't you?"
He nodded sharply. This is a hatchet job, he realized. She's turning me down. I've failed. Failed! His fingers closed tightly around the end of the chair's armrests.
"Good," she said. "What I'd suggest is that you reapply in another couple of years. With the scores you've accumulated over the last three days we'd welcome you back again for another assessment. And by then your stake should have risen to a suitable percentage."
"Thank you." That was what it boiled down to. Thank you. His life's dream denied. Thank you. Five years devoted to the company, putting his life on the line. Thank you. He'd left his world behind, his life, his family, his one love. Thankyou. Thankyou. Thankfucking YOU.
It was sunny and cold when he marched down the stone steps to the square, a cloudless deep
azure sky overhead. He blinked at the sharp light, which was what must be making his eyes watery. It was normally dark when he came out of the headquarters building. People got in his way as he walked. He pushed past them, heedless of their protests. Trams, too, they could fucking wait. Bastard cyclists always in the way.
Fortunately the bar was almost empty. But then it was only three o'clock in the afternoon. When the evening crowd arrived, Lawrence planned on moving back to the hotel where he could call up room service for the rest of the night. He opened the front of his coat and claimed a barstool. "Margarita, one glass, one jug." He slapped a couple of EZ twenties on the bar. "And that's a proper glass, with salt."
"Yes, sir." The barman wasn't going to argue, not yet.
Lawrence dropped his head into his hands and let out a painful sigh, surprising himself by not shrieking in anguish. "Shit! Shit, shit, fuck it!"
Someone pulled out the stool next to his and sat down. Like they didn't have the whole fucking place to choose from. He jerked round angrily to tell them to— "Oh."
"I thought I'd better check on you," Joona said in mild embarrassment "You nearly got run over by a couple of trams."
He turned away. "Enjoy your moment of triumph."
"Suffering in others is not a cause for rejoicing."
"In that case, give the hippie philosophy a break. It pisses me off."
"They turned you down."
"Yeah. All right? They turned me down. Bastards."
"Did they say why?"
"I'm not rich enough. That's what it was in the end. My stake in the company isn't enough. For fuck's sake, I've got a thirty percent investment in Z-B shares. A third of everything I earn goes straight back into the company. What the fuck else do they expect from me?"
"I don't know. What did you expect from them?"
"A fair chance. No, not really. I should have known. Me of all people. I know how companies really work, what really counts."
The barman put his margarita jug down in front of him, pushing a coaster forward for the glass. It was a proper margarita glass, with a thin rime of salt around the rim.
"What does count?" Joona asked.
"Internal politics. You want one of these, or have you got to run back to shout at my fellow corporate cyborgs?"
"We're not exactly on timesheets and shift work." Lawrence nodded to the barman. "Another glass, please."
Waking up was accompanied by its timeless twin: where am I? Lawrence opened his eyes to see a long room with a desk and a couple of worn comfy chairs at one end. The floor was bare wooden boards, with a couple of rugs thrown down, one of which he was lying on. Opposite him was a broad arched window, with thick old curtains drawn. Scraps of streetlight shone around the edges, casting a dreary sodium-yellow illumination against the walls. Several large prints had been hung above the small fireplace, posters for various exhibitions and poetry recitals decades out of date. Definitely student digs. Brighter slivers of light silhouetted the door. When he lifted his head he could see a bed at the other end of the room. Joona was sitting on it, her back against the tarnished brass railings. She had a quilt wrapped around her shoulders. A reefer dangled from one hand, its end glowing morosely in the gloom.
"Oh, hell," he muttered. At least he was still wearing his uniform. "How did I...?"
"I brought you here," she said. There was a current of humor in her voice. "My turn to rescue you from the bar."
"Thanks." He sat up gingerly. "Do I owe you a twenty?"
"No, a friend helped get you into the tram. There's a stop close to the end of this street."
"Uh, right." He didn't remember much after the third jug of margaritas. Just bitching on about Z-B and how he would have loved to be the first person to land on a new world. He ran his dry rubber tongue around the inside of his dry mouth. The taste was awful. Apart from that he wasn't too bad, just stiff from the floor. "How come I don't have a hangover?"
"I made you take aspirin and vitamin C, and a couple of liters of water."
"Right. Thanks again." The mention of water made him want to pee. Badly. Joona told him where to find the toilet, just outside and down the corridor.
"Try to be quiet," she said as he hurried out "Everyone else is asleep."
His watch said it was quarter past two.
When he got back she was still sitting at the end of the bed, the reefer down to its last half-centimeter. "Want some?" she asked.
"No, thanks. Us cyborgs don't, remember?"
"Of course."
"Look, thanks again for taking care of me. I'd, er, better be going."
"Really?" She took a deep drag. "What's waiting for you?"
"Nothing much, I guess. I've still got three weeks' leave due. I just don't want to impose on you any more tonight."
"If I'd thought you were imposing I wouldn't have brought you here."
A sharp tingle moved down Lawrence's spine. He walked over to the bed and knelt down. She didn't say anything, just kept gazing at him with wide eyes. He took the last of the joint from her fingers and inhaled the way he'd seen it done on the i's. The smoke was bitter enough to make him cough.
Joona started to laugh. "I win."
"Win what?"
"I got to you."
"Yeah." He grinned and took another drag before handing it back. "You got to me. But then you were never going to run off and join the officer college with me, were you?"
She shook her head as if she'd been admonished and pouted. "No."
"Can I stay here the rest of the night?"
Joona nodded.
"With you?" he asked softly.
She opened the quilt. She was naked underneath.
When Lawrence woke up in the morning his earlier confusion was replaced by something close to embarrassment Classic case of now what?
He was lying along the edge of the bed, the quilt covering him, with his back pressed up against the wall. The mattress really wasn't wide enough for two. Joona was curled up beside him, looking a whole lot more fragile than she had last night. She was thin, skinny enough for her shoulder blades and collarbones to be prominent, and a lot shorter than he recalled. She must have been wearing heels before. Funny he'd never noticed that.
When he tried to pull the quilt up gently around her shoulders she stirred and woke. Pale blue eyes, he saw, a contrast to her darkish skin.
"Well," she said.
"Morning."
"Yes, it is."
She snuggled up closer, closing her eyes.
Again: now what?
"So, er, what time do you have to get up?"
Joona's eyes stayed shut "You're always in a rush to go nowhere, aren't you?"
"That's me."
"I was going to take a break from college. It's getting heavy there for me right now. I hadn't got a plan for getting up."
"You're at college?"
She sighed and sat up. "Yes, the Prodi. It's a complete shit-hole. They don't even have enough funds to stop the building from falling apart, and the lecturers are all fifth-raters who couldn't get an appointment cleaning the toilets at a decent university." She got up out of bed with a sudden energetic motion and padded over to the window, pulling the curtains back with a quick tug.
Lawrence didn't point out she was nude; he would have sounded like his mother. But the window was smeared with dribbles of condensation, only a few vague gray shapes of buildings were visible. Joona shivered and rubbed her arms. The air in the room was cold enough to make her breath show as thin vapor.
"Are you leaving me?" she asked.
"Like you, I don't have any plans."
"Actually, I was thinking I'd go to Scotland."
He couldn't figure out if that was an invitation. She certainly wasn't his usual type, not with all this twitchy energy and commitment to her stupid cause. He couldn't imagine her ever walking down the Strip at Cairns, hunting a good time as the sun went down. Come to that, he couldn't even imagine her laughing heartily. He'd never seen her do more than smile wr
yly every now and then. But then again, she definitely knew her own mind. Just like Roselyn. Unlike Roselyn, she wasn't happy with life. There was a lot of anger bottled up inside that small frame—a stupid form of anger, though he would never tell her that to her face. She was far too wrapped up in her issues to welcome contrary observations. He guessed that might make her kind of lonely.
The room had a singular imprint that was all her own. It wasn't just the air that was cold. Most people, he thought, would instinctively keep their distance.
So why didn't I?
Two lonely people. Maybe that was why they'd kept dancing around each other in the bar. They weren't opposites attracting after all.
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