by Rudy Rucker
"We should keep that quiet for now, Cobb. I don't want to end up in the middle of another feeding frenzy."
Nobody paid much notice when they landed on the dead-end street with Babs's warehouse. There was a homeless woman fishing in the bay, some kids working on an ancient old truck, a woman bent over her garden, a long-haired boy sitting on some steps strumming his guitar, a man walking down the street with a bag of groceries. And now here were Cobb and Yoke again, back in the thick of it. They walked in through the open garage door to Babs's warehouse. The little plastic chicken Willa Jean cackled a warning. Randy Karl Tucker looked up from a nanomanipulator, surprised to see them. "Shit howdy! I thought you'd be gone till next weekend, Cobb."
"Well, we -- um -- "
"We pretty much did everything in Tonga already," said Yoke.
"Did Phil come back too?" asked Randy.
"Not yet," said Cobb after a quick glance at Yoke.
"I hope you ain't gonna try and rush me off to that dang Moon," said Randy. "I'm Win' it here. Hey, Babs! They're baaack! Quiet down, Willa Jean." The little chicken walked over and pecked at Cobb's foot. And Yoke and Cobb's gaze fell upon the twisted purple leech-DIM embedded in Willa Jean's back. With a grunt of anger, Cobb lashed down with an arm suddenly grown long. He caught hold of the wildly squawking Willa Jean, formed his other fingers into scissors, and excised the offending strip of limpware. And then he dropped the chicken and cut the leech-DIM into teensy tiny bits.
"God damn you to hell, Cobb!" Randy picked up the wounded plastic chicken and cradled her to his chest. "Willa Jean's been my special pet since India!"
"She'll live," said Cobb. "You got any more of those xoxxin' leech-DIMs around here?"
Randy sullenly refused to answer, and Yoke got right into his face. "Phil told me you were bragging about leech-DIMs, Randy. If you have any, cough them up. I wasn't going to talk about it, but down in Tonga we saw some shit that--"
"What's all the psychodrama?" asked Babs Mooney, ambling out from the warehouse's colorful, fabric-hung depths. "You sound like a bunch of snap-heads!"
"Did Randy give you any leech-DIMs yet?" asked Yoke.
"Tomorrow Aarbie Kidd is supposed to -- "
"Call it off, Randy," said Cobb. "Or I'll tell Willy to disinherit you without a cent. Frankly, he'd love the excuse."
"Oh, fuck my ass and call me Barbie," said Randy. He sighed and made a voice connection with his uvvy. " 'Sup, brah? No, that's why I'm calling. No can do. Problem at this end. Yeah yeah, a shitty diaper. Reet. Later." He glared over at Yoke and Cobb. "Satisfied?"
"What excitement," said Babs, sitting down on a sofa. "Tell me what came down in Tonga. The way you two look, it must have been savage."
Yoke so much wanted to pour out her heart. She'd been meaning to uvvy her twin sister Joke on the Moon, but Babs was right here, and she was cozy and easy to talk to. And even Randy, in his oddball way, was comforting too. "Can you really really promise to keep a secret, Babs? Randy? Not tell a single soul outside this room?"
"I'll close the front door if you like," said Babs.
"You should," said Cobb. "If we're going to spill everything. And then you'll understand why I got so upset, Randy. I'm sorry about Willa Jean. I bet we can rig up a safe workaround. You don't need a full leech-DIM to remote-run a chicken, for God's sake. I'll help you design something simpler."
"Okey-doke," said Randy. "Hell, it's just as well not to be startin' up again with Aarbie Kidd."
So for the next two hours Yoke and Cobb told Babs and Randy the whole story of what had happened in Tonga. As they talked they made a supper of what Babs had around her kitchen: half a loaf of bread, a green pepper, jack cheese, old salsa, hibiscus tea, a liter of beer, and a gnawed Hershey bar. Cobb, of course, didn't eat anything, and he decorously held his pores closed so as not to exude an unappetizing smell.
"Show me how you make something with the alla," asked Babs when Yoke finished talking. It was dark outside and the kitchen was lit with candles.
"I don't want to," said Yoke. "Not today. I did it way too much this morning. The cubic meter of gold. Did I mention that I put Andy Warhol's signature on it?" She smiled and yawned, then got out the two sculptures wrapped in Phil's shirt. "These are more the kind of realware I'd like to get into." They looked good to her: the chunk of glass glinting in the candlelight, the ants shiny on the band of metal.
"Those are great, Yoke," said Babs, handling them. But Yoke could tell Babs wasn't all that impressed. Babs only liked art that did things.
"There's so many possibilities," said Yoke, running her hand over the embossed ants.
"Realware," said Babs. "I'd love to make some."
"I'd like to meet Shimmer," said Randy thoughtfully. "I bet she escaped the Cappy Janes. Shimmer can give an alla to most anyone she wants to, right? I wonder what I'd make with an alla?" Randy looked at the healed up Willa Jean in his lap and gave a country chuckle. "Maybe a sexier chicken."
"Randy!" said Babs.
"After Tonga, I think the best thing to make would be allas for everyone," said Cobb. "So people don't beg you and hassle you for things."
"Can you make an alla with an alla?" asked Babs.
"Josef said it was possible, but that the Metamartians don't want to tell us how," said Yoke. "And speaking of chickens, they put living things into their preprogrammed alla catalog too. Everything but moldies and people. I want to make a real reef and then try to limpware engineer an imipolex reef to copy it."
"I'm starting to think being a moldie is better than being flesh and blood," said Cobb. "By the way, Randy, you would have gone bananas over Vaana. Did I mention that we fucked?"
"How do moldies actually do it, Cobb?" asked Randy, his voice turning low and husky. "When it's just the two of you, one on one."
"I'm outta here," said Yoke, getting to her feet. "Can I sleep in the same place as before, Babs?"
"Sure. And I'm so sorry about Phil."
"Me too. Thanks." Yoke found her way to a foam mattress on the floor in a corner of the. warehouse, next to a giant red and purple wall-hanging. She took off her clothes and put on Phil's shirt to sleep in. She set Phil's funny big bean pod next to her bed. The bean had seven odd shiny spots on it, a little patch near the summit of each bulging seed.
February 24
"Yoke?" "You're going to wake her?" "Shh!" "What's she going to say?" "This feels fine, doesn't it?" "I don't like being small." "Will she help us?" Yoke woke to the sound of mutterings, of squeals and hisses and a few very clear notes of tiny bird-song. Her eyes flickered open. For an instant she flashed back to a Christmas morning when Whitey and Darla had left her and her twin sister's new toys on the floor right by their beds. Today seven tiny live action figures were set out: a woman, a man, a unicorn, a beetle, a snake, a pig, and a mynah bird. Cute.
Yoke sleepily closed her eyes, drifting back toward her dreams.
"Did she see us?" "She's asleep again." "I thought she'd be scared." "I want to get big." "Wake her up!" "Where are we?" "Yoke!"
Yoke opened her eyes again. The seven little figures were still there. The Metamartians?!
"Good morning, Yoke," murmured little Shimmer, half the size of Yoke's thumb. The miniature woman, man, and five animals were crawling around on Phil's bean, which looked somewhat the worse for wear. There was a hole in each of its seven bulging seeds. Evidently the seven little figures had tunneled into the seeds like weevils, sealing their entry holes over with plugs of green imipolex.
"You stowed away," murmured Yoke.
"I knew you'd keep the bean," said Josef the beetle. Of all the Metamartians, he alone was the same size as before. "I showed the others how to make copies of themselves as small as me. And I copied myself too. We're the copies. We flew to your room and got inside your bean."
"Go away," said Yoke. "I don't want the powerball to eat me too." Wubwub answered. "Aw, we not gonna decrypt any more Metamartians. Seven's all we need for a complete family, you know what I'm sayin'?
We got the family now, we gonna look around a little, make a baby, maybe help Om spread the allas, and then we move on."
Yoke sat up, fully waking. "I thought the Cappy Janes killed you. Cobb and I saw them burning you on the beach."
"We're copies," said Ptah. "Like Josef said. We left before the Cappy Janes got there. Our original selves died; they let themselves get killed so the Cappy Janes would think they'd won. We're seconds; well, actually, I'm a third. Like I told you when Om ate my first self, Yoke, losing a life isn't a big deal for us. Every day, every minute of my life on Metamars, I saw one of my time-lines end. Letting the Cappy Janes kill versions of us was a small price to pay so that we can observe your people in peace. Do you mind if we settle in here?"
"I don't want to help unless you can bring Phil and Darla back."
"Are you not grateful for the boon of your alla?" asked the little unicorn Peg. She was the Metamartian Yoke liked the least. Such a tacky-looking thing, with her swilly, corny style of speech.
"I could live without it," said Yoke airily. "It caused me nothing but trouble in Tonga. I went there to do some diving and I ended up being a golden goose. In fact, here, you can take it!" She pulled the alla tube out from under her pillow and tossed it at the little figures, who hopped about in kind of a cute way.
"I'm not grateful one bit," continued Yoke. "As far as I'm concerned, you can turn yourselves back into personality waves and find a different world to xoxx with."
"She a tiger," said Siss admiringly.
"It's too late to stop it now," said Ptah. "How this all comes out is up to Om."
"Are you talking to yourself, Yoke?" said Babs, suddenly appearing in Yoke's field of view. "Oh my God, what are those wavy little figurines? And they're moving! Did you make them with your alla?"
"Hi, Babs. These are the aliens I was telling you about. Okay, Metamartians, this is Babs. And Babs, this is Shimmer, Ptah, Wubwub, Siss, Peg, Josef, and--the seventh one's new. The little bird that looks like he's wearing a yellow mask."
"I'm Haresh," said the bird, his voice loud and melodious even though he was but one centimeter long. "An Indian my-nah. I am very pleased to be meeting you, Miss Yoke and Miss Babs."
"Did you tell the powerball to eat Phil?" said Yoke accusingly.
"Yes, but it was Wubwub's idea that I so do. I am very sorry about this. Can you help us find shelter?"
"They're so little," said Babs, leaning over the Metamartians. "They're really from another world? Oh, I'd do anything for them. Do you guys want to live in one of my cupboards? Or I could find a dollhouse."
"It's too risky, Babs," said Yoke. "As soon as people --or the moldies -- find out about them, they're going to want to kill them. The place could be bombed. We'd all die and the Metamartians would escape as usual."
"I ain't livin' in no dollhouse," said Wubwub "I'm gonna alla me a right-size body." There was a sound like a loud handclap and a bigger copy of Wubwub appeared, knee high and pig-sized. "I'm gonna get more respect if I'm this size," said the fresh Wubwub. "You know what I'm sayin'?"
"I want to be large as well," said Shimmer. Ptah, Peg, Siss, and Haresh chimed in too. "I'm no insect." "The floor is vile with dust." "Someone might step on me." "I'll be tall, not small."
There were five more explosive sounds as the necessary volumes of air were converted into patterned imipolex. And now Yoke's sleeping corner was crowded with a marble woman, a bronze man, a blonde unicorn, a green python, a black pig, and a giant bird with a yellow mask around its eyes. This made thirteen Metamartians in all: a single Josef, still the size of a beetle, plus big and small versions of each of the six others.
"Praise Om," said the new Metamartians.
"This is insane," said Babs. "What happens to the little guys now?"
"We feel it's ecologically unsound for one of us to have more than one body in a given time-line," piped the tiny Shimmer. "Farewell." And the six small Metamartians dissolved into poofs of air -- effectively killing themselves.
"I don't think people could ever act that way," marveled Yoke. Josef buzzed over to perch on Yoke's pillow. "I'm happy to see you again, Yoke," he said.
"What happened to you on Vava'u?" asked Yoke. "You disappeared when I needed you. When all those Tongans were crowding in on me."
"There was no way out for you," said Josef. "You'd painted yourself into a corner, as one says. Remember that we can see a little way into the future. I didn't want to be there when Tashtego and Daggoo arrived to deliver the great scolding."
Babs was all agog, smiling at and touching the aliens. "I don't know what to ask first," she laughed. "Where you're from, what you want--this is wonderful. At first I thought you were just Silly Putters, or moldies."
"Our essence is energy," said Shimmer. "We can incorporate ourselves in various ways. The moldie form seems to be convenient. For now." She glanced up at the sunlit windows high in the warehouse walls. "I'm ready to get out and about and see some things. To be a tourist! Our plan for now is to blend in and mingle. And then Om will spread the allas, and we'll mate, and we'll move on." A warning gong sounded, meaning that someone had just entered Babs's front door.
"Maybe that's Randy and Cobb," said Babs, looking upset. "They went out last night and they never came back." She hurried off.
"Great day in the morning!" came Randy Karl Tucker's voice. "You're all paisleyed up there, Babs. Checkerboard paisley everywhar!"
Cobb's deep voice murmured something. And then there was a crash of someone knocking over a chair.
"You gross cheeseball. Randy!" cried Babs. "And you're lifted on camote? Here I thought we might start a relationship and you act so --so disgusting! You're a sporehead and a cheese-ball. I wish I'd never seen you! And, no, you can't go back there."
The low rumble of Cobb's voice came again, and then Randy's voice lifted in incoherent ranting that segued into words. "Hiiigh as a kite tail! Babs don't want me to head this-a-way, Jose? Well that's whar I'm a-goin'!" Another crash, followed by snorting sounds and more yelling. "Fee-fie-foe-fum, I smell fuck plastid" A pile of books tumbled over, and then Randy appeared, followed by Cobb and Babs.
Yoke had never seen Randy like this. Instead of his usual timid, introverted self, he was wild and expansive. For his part, Cobb looked the way he had after all that betty in Tonga. Quivery. Evidently the two of them had spent the night on the Anubis getting lifted and having sex with hooker moldies. Like great-grandfather, like great-grandson. Icky, sad, and kind of funny. Yoke felt sorry for Babs. She'd obviously had hopes for Randy.
At the sight of the aliens, Cobb hiccuped and sat down on the floor, his skin rippling with rapid wrinkles. Randy made a beeline for Shimmer, shoving Peg the unicorn to one side.
"Dog with an antler, what the hell. Look at this milky mama." He lurched forward, throwing his arms around Shimmer's neck and sniffing deeply. "Hey thar. Want to make twenty bucks the hard way?"
"Greetings, Randy. I am Shimmer from Metamars."
"Whoah!" said Randy. "I'm in looove. Sex with an alien! He ardently embraced Shimmer, and instead of pushing him away, the alien lowered herself down onto Yoke's bed with Randy on top of her. Yoke sprang up, getting well out of range.
"If we do it, can I have an alla too, Shimmer?" Randy was saying. "I'm the natural man to show you the facts o' life."
Even though Shimmer was making a noise that could have been laughter, Ptah and Wubwub dragged Randy off of Shimmer, Ptah pulling Randy's legs and Wubwub pushing his chest with his snout. Siss wrapped herself around Randy's body, strapping down his arms. Haresh the giant mynah bird strutted over to peer at Randy's face.
"Is this typical human mating behavior?" asked Haresh, cocking his head.
"Don't even," said Babs. "He is so far from any semblance."
"Randy's a cheeseball," explained Yoke. "He likes to have sex with moldies. He thought you were a moldie, Shimmer."
"Who says she ain't?" said Randy, trying to raise his hand to his face, seeming not to understand that h
is arm was held I down by Siss's coils. "The nose knows." Randy kept on trying to move his arm, soddenly struggling against Siss.
"Let him go," said Shimmer. "He's harmless."
"I wouldn't trust him," said Ptah. "What if he somehow pollutes your plastic?" But Siss went ahead and uncoiled.
"Once I git naked, I'll do some harm on you all right," said Randy, crawling forward to rest his head facedown in Shimmer's lap. He inhaled deeply. "The nose knows." This time Randy managed to lay his finger against his nose, but in the process he rolled off of Shimmer's thighs, bounced off the edge of the bed, and clunked his head on the floor. "Ow," said Randy, and fell asleep.
"What a colorful individual," said Shimmer.
"I pick the absolute worst men," said Babs.
"I hope you have some other prospects," said Yoke.
"There's always Theodore," said Babs. "I'm going to do a mental reset, Yoke. Like 'Randy is just a friend and I have no feelings for this man.' Reset, reset, reset. Yes, I'm going to call Theodore today. He's been wanting to take me out to a brain-concert."
"You go, girl," said Yoke. "I wonder if I'm going to have to wash Cobb again."
"What do you mean?" asked Babs.
"He's high on betty. Last time he got like this he almost died. I had to knead him with my feet for ten minutes in the shower."
"Betty's bad," said Babs. "My mother took it once and -- ugh." Yoke recalled that Babs's mother Wendy Mooney was a human/moldie hybrid. That is, Wendy had a tank-grown human body that was run by a scarf-shaped moldie that did all the actual thinking.
Now Babs went back to marveling at the aliens. "Randy's right," she said, petting Peg's mane. "You seem just like moldies. But--prettier. I don't mind if you stay here for a while. I don't really mind the moldie smell, you know. It reminds me of my mother. Tell me more about where you come from. It's called Metamars?"
"Yes," said Josef. "That's where we began. But now we travel forever. Our near-term goal when we depart is to get back to a zone of two-dimensional time." He flew from Yoke's pillow to Babs's shoulder, and started talking to her about higher dimensions, with Haresh and Siss listening and adding comments. While they talked, Yoke crouched down and touched Cobb. He didn't seem nearly so shaky and blotchy as he'd been in Tonga. Presumably this time he hadn't taken an overdose. So she left Cobb to sit there, grinning and shivering. Yoke needed fresh clothes. The alla was still lying on the floor where she'd thrown it; she picked it up. She popped out black tights, silver boots like Phil's, a shrimp-colored skirt, and a thick black wool turtleneck.
