“So you feel that these safety regulations are unnecessary?”
“Some of them, yes.”
Michael felt a surge of respect for his father as he held his ground.
“And what do you think?” Jacobsen asked him.
“I agree with my father. It’s obvious that the regulations were a necessary sop to critics after the Greenland accident, but frankly, they’re a waste of time and the taxpayers’ money. What’s more, they don’t really make the system any safer than it already is. Which is very safe. We’ve brought documentation of just how safe it is even before we add the additional features.” He pulled a memorypak out of his pocket and handed it to her.
Jacobsen sighed. “You’re as persuasive as your father. Very well, gentlemen. I can’t promise miracles. But let me see what I can do.”
James Ryton stood up. “We’d appreciate hearing about the vote, Senator.”
“My assistant, Andie, will contact you.”
Michael shook the senator’s hand again and walked out of the office feeling relaxed, almost gleeful. Jacobsen’s good-looking red-haired assistant gave him the thumbs-up sign as he walked past her desk, and even his father nodded at her.
So that was the famous Eleanor Jacobsen, he thought. Well, she certainly lived up to her reputation: sharp, intelligent, and politically wily. The right mutant in the right place. He couldn’t wait to tell Kelly about her.
5
the night shuttle rode silently above the clouds. Above the atmosphere, in fact. An all-night flight had been reduced to half an hour’s span, thanks to the intercontinental shuttle. Barely enough time to unseal your screencase, Andie thought. She peered out the window at the dark field of space, studded with stars. Below her, the marbled blue ball of Earth slept under its blanket of clouds. The moon winked on the horizon, round and silvery, a friendly night-light. She wondered briefly what it must be like to live on the surface of that arid satellite, on an airless, reflecting plain, under domes, terraforming slowly, painfully, knowing that your children will inherit and enjoy the work you do now. She’d never been to Moonstation. Yet. As for Marsbase, well, she hoped to see it as soon as it was finished. She could never live off-Earth, but she’d love to visit.
Andie leafed through a brochure attached to her shuttle ticket. It invited her to invest in Moonlodge, a resort “now under construction in the beautiful mountain ranges near the Sea of Tranquillity. Open to members only, of course.” She resisted the urge to snicker. In photos and video, the moonscape had always struck her as strange and dramatic. Eerie. Never beautiful.
Across the aisle, Karim was holding the same brochure. Andie caught his eye and winked. He smiled, then cocked his head toward the row in front of him where his boss, the august Senator Leon Craddick, had managed to fall asleep. Craddick’s great shaggy head of white hair nodded forward gently as he snored. Eleanor Jacobsen glanced across at her colleague, frowned, and went back to the dossier she was scanning. What endurance and concentration, Andie thought admiringly. And it certainly paid off in the Senate.
She saw Senator Joseph Horner sitting several rows back, muttering over his laptop, scalp glistening between thin strands of hair. Probably praying for more well-heeled converts, she thought. What was he doing on this junket? He wasn’t even supposed to believe in evolution, much less evolved mutants. Not that that stopped him from soliciting mutants as converts to The Fold. Andie was willing to bet he’d twisted more than one arm for a shuttle ticket. Regardless of his personal beliefs, Horner couldn’t allow the search for the next step in human evolution to begin without God’s personal representative to Congress on the team. The temptation to push him out an airlock was great, but she banished the fantasy and resolved to stay as far away from him as possible.
Closing her eyes, Andie imagined sitting in a Brazilian bistro ordering a Cuba Libre. What a shame that Stephen Jeffers hadn’t come along. She’d have enjoyed sharing a café table with him. Well, perhaps Karim would provide some company. Her implanted memory of Rio showed her sprawling beaches, glorious flora in full bloom, a sparkling city filled with white buildings reaching to the sky, moving to a sensual beat that never seemed to stop. The shuttle slowly nosed down in descent. Andie silently practiced her Portuguese and waited to see the white lights of the landing strip outside Rio.
The homescreen flashed amber at Sue Li Ryton from across the room. She put down her grocery bags on the cool blue tiles of the entry hall and keyed up the messages. The first appeared; she could almost have predicted its content. The words, when they appeared, confirmed her suspicions.
“Mom, I borrowed the keys and the skimmer. See you around eleven. Michael.”
Sue Li sighed and took off her pink coat. She knew Michael was taking Kelly McLeod out again. Should she tell James? The less he knew, the better. He was so much against this kind of thing. Harmless, as far as she was concerned. But it looked as though Michael intended to spend all his free time with this girl. Sue Li couldn’t cover for him indefinitely. Especially with the summer clan meeting coming up. They were due back in Seaside Heights in June.
The screen scrolled up the second message: a request for James to contact Andrea Greenberg, code 3015552244. Andrea Greenberg? Sue Li felt suspicion gnaw at her. It wasn’t like James to receive messages at home from women. Who could this be? A business acquaintance?
She trusted her husband, more or less. In a marriage of this duration, trust was almost beside the point. Theirs was a union cemented by time and family.
Once, she’d expected more. With Vinar. How she’d thrilled to his touch, lived for the moments when they could be together. Of course, she’d been very young. One couldn’t expect the same passion in maturity. And yet, after Vinar disappeared, Sue Li had hoped she and James could achieve a true unity of mind and body. Well, with telepathy, they could at least connect mentally, although she often found the experience unsettling. Especially now, with James’s mental flares beginning. As for their bodies, well, she’d stopped expecting a sexual feast long ago. But that didn’t keep her from feeling possessive of her husband.
Hanging the coat in the hall closet, Sue Li wiped her sweaty forehead with the back of her hand and rolled up the sleeves of her suit. The temp display on the wall clock registered 15C. Warm for April. She touched the intercom toggle.
“Melanie?”
No answer. Probably out sulking somewhere. She’d been even quieter and more withdrawn than usual since that incident at the bar two months ago. Sue Li smothered a pang of guilt. What could she say to that girl? Was it her fault that Melanie was a null, and had such a hard time because of it? She’d done everything she could for her daughter. Sue Li kicked off her shoes and wiggled her toes, closing her eyes in relief.
“Jimmy?”
“Yeah, Ma.”
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing.”
As usual, Sue Li thought. He was probably levitating all the furniture in the master bedroom, waiting to surprise her later. “Well, since you’re doing nothing, would you carry my packages into the kitchen and put them away, please?”
“Sure, Mom.”
The packages floated upward and around the corner. By the time Sue Li reached the kitchen, boxes were disappearing into cabinets, vegetables into the refrigerator. So far, so good, she thought. She turned to put a glass in the sink. A bright orange package whizzed past her face, almost colliding with her nose, circled around her head, and back again, like a small satellite. She grabbed for it, but it danced out of reach. Sighing, she closed her eyes and summoned all her irritation into the mental equivalent of a slap. She threw the image at her youngest son at half power. The box fell to the ground with a clatter. The intercom clicked on.
“Ma! You didn’t have to do that!”
“I’ve had a day full of cantankerous art dealers and ultrasensitive conservators. I’m not in the mood for your jokes.” She picked up the fallen container. A box of condoms. Open.
“Jimmy, where did you get
this?” She tried to sound calm.
“I found it in Michael’s drawer.”
“Well, put it back. We must respect people’s physical privacy, not just their mental rights.”
“Are you gonna tell Dad?”
Did she detect a note of glee in her youngest son’s voice? She’d put a stop to that right now. Steel in her voice, Sue Li snapped at her son.
“You’d better mind your own business, young man, or I can intensify that spanking. Or maybe you’d prefer to be compelled to repeat the seventeen chants for patience and caution for a few hours? You’re not too old for it.” She left the threat suspended in air for a moment. “I want that package back where you found it. Now!”
“All right.” He said, all the life in his voice extinguished. Sue Li was relieved when she heard the intercom click off. Jimmy was becoming a little too unpredictable. They’d really spoiled him. He got bolder each year, more disruptive. He’d hidden Halden’s clothing for an entire morning at the last meeting. She began to fear group censure as childish pranks gave way to malicious mischief. Of course, James was as blind to the flaws in his youngest son—and namesake—as he was to the gifts of his eldest son. Sue Li shook her head.
As the box of condoms levitated up and out of the kitchen, she sank down into the green floatchair by the basement door and felt the cushion conforming pleasantly to her shape. She felt a peculiar urge to laugh and cry. Michael was hardly a child any longer, but did she need such definitive proof? She tried to repeat the chants for calmness. On a busy day, she often invoked them. But they failed to provide the insulating tranquillity she’d felt so many times before.
There were joysticks in the bar. Occasionally, she used one when James worked late. And there was Valedrine in the medicine cabinet. For a moment, she was tempted. Then the front door slammed.
“James?”
“No, Mom, it’s me.” Melanie said quietly. She walked into the kitchen wearing a blue tunic and green leggings, opened the refrigerator and stood there, staring into it. Sue Li reached around her to retrieve a package of instant squid. Finally, Melanie selected a bunch of kiwi wafers and closed the refrigerator, idly munching. Sue Li nodded approvingly. Keeping the mutant metabolism balanced required many small meals.
“How’d your day go?”
“Okay.”
“Dinner won’t be ready for a while.”
Melanie shrugged. She walked toward the living room, but turned suddenly, as though she’d remembered something.
“Mom?”
Sue Li opened the package of fish, waiting for the reconstituting chemicals inside to react with the air. She didn’t bother to look up.
“Yes?”
“Cousin Evra is having an all-night party on Friday of graduation week. She wants to work on a skit for the clan meeting. Can I go?”
“Who else is invited?”
“Tela, Marit, Meri. Just girls.”
“I thought you didn’t get along with Tela.” Sue Li frowned, concentrating on cutting the fish into delicate slices. She envied Zenora’s finely tuned telekinetic skills. She could slice sushi from fifty yards away.
“Oh, she’s all right.”
Sue Li turned on the convection oven. If Michael were home, she’d have asked him to cook the fish quickly, telekinetically, but Jimmy always burned food. So careless, she thought. Michael had much more control over his gifts. She turned to her daughter.
“It seems fine, if you’d like to go. Your father will be pleased to see you’re getting involved in clan affairs.”
“I’ll bet.”
“Don’t get wise, Mel.” Sue Li dipped the fish into flavored maikon crumbs and set it into the oven’s airflow, where it floated, undulating gently.
“We can drive you over if you want to wait for me to get home.”
“N-no, that’s okay. Michael said he’d drive me.” Was it Sue Li’s imagination or did Mel seem uncomfortable? But Michael was a fine driver. Sue Li was grateful for his help in chauffeuring the younger children. And when Melanie graduated from high school in a few weeks, she’d be allowed to apply for a license, too.
“Whatever you wish. Now if you’d finish those crackers, I could use some help here.”
The clock read twelve-thirty, bright-yellow numbers radiating from the far side of the dark room, next to the screened window. Michael rolled over on his back. In bed beside him, Kelly stirred. He reached out and lightly ran his hand over her hip, savoring the satiny feel of her flesh.
“Mmmm.” She snuggled closer. “Stay all night?”
He kissed her cheek. “Can’t. I’ll be late as it is. I think my father keeps one eye open until he hears the front door close.”
“Why do you live at home? Don’t you want your own place?”
“Sure. But it’s clan tradition. We don’t move out until we’re married.”
“And everybody adheres to it?”
“Almost everybody.”
“Wow. Mutant tradition sounds amazing. The biggest tradition in my family is to go see my aunt for Easter. And my parents didn’t even make a fuss when I didn’t want to go.”
“How’d you get out of it?”
“I told them I had a report due. Our family isn’t close the way yours is. They know I’d be bored chipless.” She rolled over and gently traced her finger down his chest.
“Your family seems pretty tight.”
He shivered at her touch, a pleasantly teasing sensation he wanted both to stop and continue. “Claustrophobic is a good word for it. I’d be happy to skip the yearly clan meetings, for all the good they do me.”
“What’s it like?”
“What do you mean?”
“To be a mutant. To go to clan meetings?”
He sighed. “A pain. I get an earful from my father, mostly. ‘Thou shalt not mix with normals.’ And I have to listen to the year’s report: how many births, how many deaths. Then there’s the reading of the Chronicles. And, of course, my cousins.”
“By the dozens?” Kelly giggled.
“Nearly.”
“It sounds interesting.” She leaned back and stretched. She looked like a lovely silhouette to him, outlined in the yellow glow of the chronometer.
“Maybe it is. If you’re nonmutant.”
“Well, then I’m qualified. Tell me again about the sharing.”
“We all join hands around the table and link telepathically. Even those who aren’t gifted in that way can manage it in the group circle. You feel a floating sensation. Close, kind of. Friendly.”
“Love?”
“I suppose.” He was uncomfortable using that word, or even accepting it, in reference to the clan. Did he love them? Did they love him? Did their feelings matter in a situation where they had no choice but to cling together?
“That doesn’t sound so awful to me. In fact, it sounds nice.” She paused. “Doesn’t it make you feel special?”
Special? He shook his head. “More like peculiar.”
Kelly grabbed his shoulder and pulled him around to face her. “Look, Michael, all my life I’ve felt like a stranger. An outsider. I don’t think I’ve spent more than a year in any one school. The Air Force keeps you moving, constantly. And the idea of having a group of people around who you know well, who love you and connect with you, sounds pretty good to me.
“That’s because you don’t do it.”
“Maybe.” He thought she sounded hurt. He regretted his words, but it was so hard to explain his feelings about being a mutant. And he’d met people before who looked upon the mutants with a sort of dazed amazement, as though they were…well, special. It made him uncomfortable. He didn’t want Kelly to treat him that way. He reached over and put his arms around her possessively, pulling her close.
“I can’t talk to anyone about this the way I can talk to you,” he whispered fiercely. “No one, in the clan or out, but you.”
“Really?”
He cupped the side of her face in his palm, stroking her downy cheek. “Pe
rhaps the clan meetings sound good to you, but in a way, they’re like living in a small town where everybody knows you but nobody understands you. No privacy. It doesn’t make me feel less lonely.” He rested his forehead against hers. “But I don’t feel lonely when I’m with you. When I was in Washington, I thought about you all the time. Thought about doing this. Wondered if you wanted it too.”
“God, that’s all I’ve been thinking about,” she said. “I couldn’t wait for you to come home.”
He nuzzled her right breast, taking the nipple between his lips and teasing it with his tongue until it was erect. Kelly moaned gently and moved her hand lower, between his legs. In a moment, he was hard, throbbing against her palm. He took a deep breath and let it out in a lingering sigh.
“Do you want to do it again?” she whispered. He could barely hear her.
“What do you think?”
6
andie walked briskly through the deserted lobby of the Cesar Park Hotel and waved her ID badge before the front door’s sensor to unlock it. The doors rolled open and she walked out onto the street. She had time for a quick look at the beach before the meeting at ten.
The city that greeted her was surprisingly silent. Andie knew that the Nunca Mais purges of ’97 had cleared the favelas, those raggle-taggle villages clustered on the hillsides. The new regime had been quick and brutal, despite public outcry. Where were the favelistas now? Andie imagined them working sugarcane plantations in the country’s steaming green interior. If they were still alive.
Andie had expected to see straggling partiers heading home from all-night discos, lovers still walking dreamily, arm in arm, along the beach. But perhaps this was not the case during the week. She had absorbed the legends of Rio. Now it was time to learn the truth.
Carefully, she crossed the bustling Avenida Atlantica, heeding her implant’s warning about unpredictable Rio drivers. She stepped onto the mosaic pavement at the beach’s edge, kicked off her shoes and buried her feet in the white sand of Ipanema. Blue-green waves rolled toward her, breaking upon the wet sand. A few dedicated sunbathers sat in chairs, staring out to sea. But the beach was mostly deserted. She walked along the sand, wishing she’d brought a hat. Even at this early hour, the sun was fierce. She began to feel thirsty, although she’d just finished a generous glass of mango juice in the hotel. But her mouth was dry, tongue cottony. She visualized a glass of water, condensation beading it, and thought longingly of a cool ice cream bar. Down the beach to her left, a fruit ice vendor approached, a tanned boy of about fourteen, wearing filtershades and white jeans. She decided to splurge on an ice bar. As the boy counted out the change, he raised his shades up to the top of his head. When he looked at her, Andie was startled to see a pair of golden eyes, bright as coins, gazing steadily into her own. She nearly dropped her change. The vendor smiled. “Obrigado,” he said, and sauntered down the beach, out of sight.
The Mutant Season Page 7
