Realware

by Rudy Rucker

  "No, it sounds floatin'," laughed Yoke. They kissed for a while, then got up and stretched. The sun was getting too hot.

  "What now?" said Phil. "Go back up?"

  "I think we should sneak off," said Yoke. "It bothers me for them to think they've got us trapped here."

  "Where would you want to go?" asked Phil.

  "Anywhere. I don't like the idea of spending the rest of the day sitting around that house with two maids and four bodyguards watching me. This trip is my vacation. I want to look at Neiafu. Hey, Cobb, Josef, come over here." Hearing Yoke's call, the two came over.

  "Could you fly us over to Neiafu?" Yoke asked Cobb.

  "They'd see," said Cobb, pointing upward. "Tashtego and Daggoo would come after us. I don't want to get in a fight with them. They're mean motherfuckers."

  "We could go underwater like a submarine," suggested Phil.

  "They could still see us," said Cobb. "This water's really clear. I'm sure they're watching that we don't move away from the island."

  "They will not see you if you are not where they look," said Josef. "And this is what I know how to do."

  So Cobb stretched himself thin enough to wrap around Yoke and Phil, with Josef on the inside with them too. Josef hooked into their uvvy connection and gave them a view of his odd way of seeing things.

  Normally when Phil would imagine the future, he'd see a single mental movie of himself going ahead and doing something. But now, thanks to Josef, he was seeing his immediate future as --oh, a mansion with many rooms. In some of the rooms Tashtego and Daggoo zoomed down on Cobb and rousted them, but in a few of the rooms Cobb swam on undisturbed.

  They zigzagged across the harbor from coral head to coral head. At one tricky point, Josef's vision showed them as apprehended in all the futures but one. So they picked the one, which meant that Cobb suddenly dove down to the bottom of the water and burrowed into the mud. A bit later the futures started opening up again. Cobb swam in close to the shore and lurked beneath one of the docks of Neiafu until there came a moment when nobody was looking that way. Cobb disgorged Yoke and Phil, who scrambled onto the dock. Yoke used her alla to quickly make them some bland shorts and T-shirts. She and Phil walked up the dock's gangplank to Vava'u, looking like ordinary yachties come ashore for a bit of sightseeing. Cobb waited in the water, and Josef hung from Yoke's earlobe like a cunning gem.

  They looked at the few small, utterly nontouristy stores, closed for Sunday. Canned food, rope, straw fans, rubber thongs, pieces of cloth. The early afternoon sun was quite hot. A few Tongans walked slowly by, polite and handsome, dressed in their best clothes. Last night Kennit had told them that church could be an all-day proposition in Tonga. Phil could hear a congregation's voices lifted in song somewhere off in the distance.

  "Let's go in here," said Yoke, indicating a small, blue-painted wood building: the Bounty Bar. They sat down by a window; at the next table were two tipsy wharf-rats, one a dark-skinned Fijian, one a pale New Zealander. Yoke ordered ice cream and Phil had a Coke.

  "Listen," whispered Yoke after a minute. "They're talking about Onar!"

  "Typical American, a loudmouth, always bragging," the New Zealand Kiwi was saying. "A real name-dropper, mentioned HRH. He was asking what's the most valuable and marketable element, pound for pound. What would you guess, Nuku?"

  "Hundred dollar bills!" said the Fijian.

  "Oh that's no good, you silly bugger. Every bank note has a DIM in it; each and every one of them is registered with the gimmie like a pedigreed dog. You can't just make up serial numbers for bills that don't exist. I said what's the most valuable element, meaning primitive chemical substance, don't you know."

  "Carbon!" said the Fijian. "In the form of a very big, very beautiful diamond." The Kiwi made a negative, fishlike face. "Bottom's dropping right out of the diamond market, it is. I hear Mbanje DeGroot's selling a bulk nanomanipulator that makes the price curve linear instead of exponential. No, my friend, the top four elements are rhodium, platinum, gold, and palladium. The market for palladium and rhodium's a bit thin and illiquid, and platinum's a shade high-profile. I told Onar that gold's the best bet. Metals are safe from all that nanotech fiddling, don't you know. There's no way to convert one kind of element into another, is there?"

  "How about black people eating white people?" The Fijian grinned, showing his sharp teeth. And then their next round of drinks arrived.

  "So where is Onar?" Phil asked Yoke.

  "Well!" said Yoke. "When Cobb and I came up from meeting the aliens at the bottom of the ocean, I suddenly realized that I didn't have to deal with Onar anymore. I mean, here he'd gotten me to do something really dangerous, and like why? I don't owe anything to him. He was trying to get me to give him the alla, and I was all 'Go to hell.' " Yoke paused and looked at Phil round-eyed over a spoonful of vanilla ice cream.

  "And then?"

  "Cobb and I ditched Onar and flew back to Nuku'alofa. But I still wanted to look around Tonga, you wave. I mean I came here to do some diving. And I guess Onar uvvied the King, because the King called me up and said he'd let me use his island in the Vava'u harbor if I'd please just use my alla to make him some gold and imipolex. So I'm like why not. But it's not working out well. I might have to bail on Tonga pretty soon."

  "Back to San Francisco?" asked Phil. "I just got here. The ticket cost a lot. There's still so much for us to do and see."

  "Maybe back to the Moon," said Yoke. "I should show the alla to my family and friends back there. It's such a radical change. Too big to discuss on the uvvy. But you're right, Phil, I'd like to enjoy Tonga some more with you."

  "If you leave, please take us with," said Josef out loud, his little voice deep and strong.

  "I don't know about that," said Yoke. "Six aliens? Where's your new node anyway?"

  "Oh, it's on Vava'u," said Josef. "Somewhere."

  On the way out, Phil and Yoke asked the cashier about the local sights.

  "You might like the singing at the church up the road that way," said the woman behind the counter "But that walk's all in the sun. And they're nearly done. If you go the other way it's shady, and in a mile you come to Mount Talau."

  "How tall is Talau?" asked Phil.

  "One hundred thirty-one meters," said the woman proudly.

  "I can handle that," said Yoke.

  They walked along under strange tropical trees, trees like Phil had never seen before: some with ferny leaves and masses of orange blossoms, some with purple flowers, some with doughy-looking trunks. Josef kept quiet, letting them enjoy themselves. They walked by a school and many little houses. The road petered out and became a dirt track. They passed a stripped, rusted-out car with a solemn goat standing inside it. A little farther on, a muddy trail led up a steep hill: Mount Talau. They scrambled to the top; there were a lot of trees up there and a bit of a view. The great open sea. They kissed for a while. Phil loved the smell and feel of Yoke. And her bold eyes. Looking around the hilltop, Phil found a giant bean pod hanging down from a tendril that vanished up above into some high trees.

  "That's a serious bean," said Yoke. It was a lovely pale green and nearly three feet long.

  Phil tried to snap the bean loose. He twisted the fibrous vine, bent it back and forth, but it wouldn't give. Finally he chewed the tough stem in two. The bean had a wonderful curve to it, and it bulged out in seven great pouches around its hidden seeds. It was like a bean in a fairy tale or a comic strip. Phil and Yoke laughed about it a lot.

  On the walk back down, Josef suddenly told them to duck around behind one of the native's houses. Peeking around the corner, Phil saw a bronze moldie go racing by, running up the road on foot. He was a shaped like a muscular man, though he was wearing a woman's red bikini.

  "Tashtego," breathed Yoke.

  "Malo e lelei," said a voice behind them. It was an old man walking across the yard from another house. His shirt had several buttons missing, many of his teeth were missing as well, and he was carrying a small aluminum
tub holding a big fillet of fish. He struck up a conversation with Phil and Yoke, talking about his sister in California. His name was Lata. Phil asked Lata about the bean he'd found.

  "Lofa bean," Lata told him. "If you wait and pick when it's ripe, you can use the seeds for--dancing."

  "I think he means castanets," said Yoke, clicking her fingers. Lata invited Phil and Yoke into his house to look at his seashells. They took off their shoes, sat on his couch, and Lata brought out his trove, a little plastic bag containing shells wrapped in paper. The shells looked shiny and well-loved, as if the old man had gathered them and admired them over many years.

  "Take some," he offered. "As many as you like."

  "Oh no," said Phil at first, but soon it was clear that it would be rude to refuse the hospitality. Yoke picked out a big whelk, two brown cowries, and two tooth cowries.

  "Right now is the good time to be walking back down," said Josef, using the uvvy this time. So they started saying good-bye.

  "That was so touching, him offering us his treasure," said Phil back out in the shady street. Lata was still on his porch, kindly watching them. "Maybe you should make him something with the alla, Yoke."

  "HRH said none of the Tongans is supposed to know," said Yoke.

  "Look, you can do what you like, Yoke. See that rusty old bicycle leaning against Lata's house? Why not make him a nice new one? Make it out of titanium. Give it a basket and a bell."

  "What do you think, Josef?" asked Yoke.

  "I am content to observe," said the beetle.

  "I'll do it," said Yoke, and took hold of her alla. She turned her back to Lata as if to hide the miracle --though it was kind of hard for someone not to notice a brand new bicycle being formed out of a shimmering web of magical air. In making the bike, Yoke tweaked the stored realware so that the frame had anodized gold cowry-shell patterns on top of the titanium. She wheeled the beautiful bicycle across the little yard and presented it to the old man. He accepted the gift with joy and dignity. In the grand scheme of things, a bicycle was, after all, a fitting exchange for his shells.

  When they were halfway back to Neiafu, Lata rode past them, jingling his bell. And then things started to go crazy. Somehow everyone in every house they passed had heard of their miraculous gift. Men, women, and children streamed out, mostly in good Sunday clothes, offering presents. Shells, flowers, woven mats, even cans of beans and meat. It became hard to move forward. Just to get the people to back off, Yoke recklessly popped a dozen bouncy kickballs out of her alla, each with a different pattern, followed by gallons and gallons of ice cream. But the people were clamoring for something really good. Yoke made some gold bracelets and then --the biggest crowd-pleaser of all -- a score of brand-new uvvies. Many of the Tongans didn't have uvvies yet.

  By the time they got back to the harbor, a full-blown mob was squeezing in on them. Someone tried to grab Phil's lofa bean, but he hung onto it. He thought to uvvy for Cobb, and the old pheezer moldie came surging out of the ocean like Neptune come to rescue his children. Yoke created three dogs, who came into existence wildly barking --clearing out some space for Cobb. Cobb wrapped his arms around them and shot up into the air. But now Tashtego and Daggoo were homing in on them.

  "Josef's gone!" Yoke exclaimed, touching her ear. "I don't know how to escape them, Cobb!"

  Cobb dove down into the harbor water. He covered them over and fed them air. But now here were the coppery Tashtego and big black Daggoo, clamping tight bands around Cobb, Yoke, and Phil. The five of them swam back to the island together, staying beneath the surface so it wouldn't be easy for the agitated locals to pursue them. Phil still had his lofa bean and Yoke still had her shells.

  "I hear you've started a riot in Neiafu," Kennit said frowning when they arrived. "On the Lord's day. You have done exactly what you were forbidden."

  "So?" said Yoke. "What are you going to do about it?" And to that Kennit had nothing to say. Nobody quite knew how to deal with Yoke's defiance.

  "The ship is going to be a day late," said Kennit finally. "We'll be asking you to create the imipolex tomorrow morning." And that was that.

  Phil and Yoke had supper with the Tongans at a long table on the veranda, real Tongan food prepared by Ms. Teta. Fish, taro, and squash. Kennit didn't seem to carry any kind of grudge, and the other Tongans were friendly as well. They enjoyed teaching Phil and Yoke things about Tonga -- the history, customs, geography, and language.

  While they talked and ate, Cobb was hanging out with Tashtego and Daggoo off at the edge of the clearing. Despite old Cobb's misgivings about the Tongan moldies, the three of them seemed to be getting along very well. Indeed, from their hoarse cackles, it seemed likely that one of them had brought along some betty.

  Soon it was full night, with an incredible clear sky. Phil was intoxicated by the stars, the full moon, and Yoke's low voice. And then it was time to go to bed.

  "Now I am not going to do it with you tonight," said Yoke as they closed the door to her room. "I want that clear. I don't want to make a mistake and rush things. So no pushing, okay?"

  "That's fine," said Phil. "I'm just happy to be with you, Yoke. We have plenty of time -- I hope."

  Phil took a shower and put on boxer shorts and a T-shirt for pajamas. Yoke was in a nightgown, sitting at a table playing with her alla. She'd just made a big rough prism of green glass with little whorled bubbles in it. The glass sat on one fat edge, rising up maybe ten inches. It had some funny little peek-through windows cut into it. The glass was smooth on one side, nubby on the other; it was something that Phil's hands instinctively longed to touch. He reached out to caress it.

  "It's beautiful, Yoke."

  "Thanks. This alla --it's the ultimate art tool. I can make anything that I can think." She closed her eyes, looking inward. A control mesh of bright lines formed above the tabletop, a foot-wide knot of twisting curves. There was a whoosh of air, and a ribbon of smooth metal formed inside the cube, a Mobius strip with comical hieroglyphics of ants embossed all along it. Yoke cocked her head, critically examining her creation.

  "Did you know we have ants on the Moon, Phil? They snuck up there. I should have made these guys thicker."

  "Can't you revise it?" Phil asked. "My housemate Derek, he says that his sculptures do half the work themselves. Like he's talking with them. He keeps looking at what he's made and changing it. I do that with cooking too. Taste it, spice it, taste it, spice it."

  "Good idea," said Yoke. She popped the same shimmering bright-edged control mesh out and positioned it around the ant Mobius strip which she then--whomp -- turned back into air. Now she made the ant-shapes in the glowing mesh bulge out a bit more and said, "Actualize." The Mobius strip was back, but with its ants much more swollen, bulging out of the metal ribbon into high relief. "Yes," said Yoke, setting down the alla. "Thanks, Phil."

  "Can I try using the alla now?"

  "Shimmer said nobody can use this alla but me," said Yoke possessively.

  "She's not here watching us, is she? Come on, Yoke, let me try."

  "Don't break it." Yoke handed Phil the little gold-colored tube. It sat in Phil's hand, subtly flickering. Phil held it up and looked through it--and saw a dizzying view of the room eternally spinning.

  "It's like staring down through a tornado," he said. "How do I make it do something?"

  "You have to uvvy into it," said Yoke.

  Phil tried, but the alla gave no response.

  "I guess it's registered only to respond to my uvvy signals," said Yoke. "You'll have to uvvy to me and I'll pass your signals to the alla."

  Phil tried for a minute to organize this connection but he couldn't do it.

  "I hate this software bullshit," he muttered.

  "Let me," said Yoke, and in an instant she had herself hooked in as an intermediary between Phil and the alla.

  "Hello," the alla seemed to say in a squeaky cartoon voice inside Phil's head. It displayed an image of something that wasn't anything in particular: an amorphous
gray glob, roughly spherical, floating against a white background.

  "Think your target to me," said the alla voice.

  Phil could think of nothing better than that he'd forgotten his toothbrush. The gray glob elongated itself and grew bristles at one end. Its color and dimensions remained -- indeterminate. At the slightest push of Phil's velleity, the specific features of the toothbrush warped this way and that.

  "Really sensitive, huh?" said Yoke.

  "It's like I'm exploring toothbrush space," said Phil, finding more and more qualities to vary. Tuft stiffness, handle bend, transparency, bristle density--it wasn't like he was fully imagining the toothbrushes himself, it was more like surfing through an incredibly vast multidimensional online mother of all catalogs.

  "Try and actualize one," said Yoke. "It might work."

  "I want that one," said Phil to the alla, and a mental image of an excellent green toothbrush froze in place. "No wait, let me personalize it." With a special effort of will, Phil stamped his name on the image's handle and filliped its tip with a nonstandard kink. "Now make that sucker for me, little alla. Actualize."

  But nothing happened. Wish as he might, Phil couldn't force the magical lines of bright mesh to appear.

  "I guess I have to say it," said Yoke.

  "That is correct," squeaked the alla. "I allow only one registered user."

  "So actualize the toothbrush already," said Yoke, and Phil's toothbrush dropped into his lap.

  Phil handed the alla back to Yoke, who quickly returned to revising her two sculptures. Popping out the old mesh, dissolving the existing version, adjusting the mesh, and making a new one. "The alla remembers the exact format of each of the things I've actualized," said Yoke. "So it's easy to keep changing them." She adjusted the bends of the metal loop, and shaved bits off the curved sides of the big glass prism.

  Phil set his lofa bean down next to Yoke's sculptures and tried to get her to admire it some more. He didn't like for the alla to be getting all the attention. The bean was something remarkable that he himself had found. "What a beautiful green color our lofa bean is, Yoke." Yoke was tired of talking about O