Permanence

by Karl Schroeder

  Everything was huge and spaced far apart. A road ran by the building she had just exited and vehicles festooned with garish paintings and carved detail zipped past at reckless speeds. Everywhere there were green plants like the ones in Mom's terrarium only huge. There were many trees, real ones like she'd seen in books.

  But the sun… Rue staggered and finally had to sit down. Nobody seemed to care; the only people standing on the steps were a dissolute looking fellow in rumpled clothing, who glanced at her sidelong but said nothing, and a woman in hospital greens who was talking on a ring phone. The light was blazing hot, the sun impossible to look at. The air was full of dust and other irritants; it was hard to breathe. Was this what Earth was like? How could these people stand it? And where was her welcoming party? Where was Leda? Oh yeah, they weren't coming. Rue was poor after all, they had no need of her now.

  "Meadow-Rue Cassels?"

  She looked up hopefully. A nattily dressed young man wearing a newsvid monocle stood several meters away. He smiled. "It is you, isn't it?"

  "Rue. It's just Rue." She watched him step up and stick out his hand. She flinched, remembering Jentry, but when he just stood there, hand out, she realized he wasn't going to hit her. What was he doing, then?

  "Help you up?" he said.

  "Oh." She took his hand and he drew her to her feet.

  "Would you like to comment on your discovery of the first cycler to visit Erythrion in ten years?" His voice had changed subtly; he was in newshound mode now. Suddenly self-conscious, Rue stammered and blushed.

  "Don't worry," he said, "this isn't live. We can edit you however you want. If you don't want something to go out, just say, 'off the record. Is that okay?"

  "I don't know," she said. "I just—"

  "Get away from her, you parasite!"

  It was the fellow in the rumpled clothes, who had approached and now waved at the news hound as if he were some kind of irritating insect. He was in his late thirties, had greasy hair and a paunch and dark circles under his eyes. His clothes were rumpled, Rue realized, because he had probably slept in them. "Shoo," he said to the news hound, "there's nothing for you here."

  The newshound raised one eyebrow (the one opposite the monocle). "And who are you, sir?"

  "Maximilian Cassels," said the rumpled man, drawing himself up to his full meter-and-a-half. "And I'll not have you leeching off my cousin."

  "I just want an interview," said the newshound. "Look, all the other guys ran off to the Permanence monastery when they learned your comet's really a cycler. They're all trying to interview the abbot; a new cycler is a much bigger story than a new comet. But… I think there's a human-interest angle here, with her." He turned back to Rue. "I understand you're probably upset and tired right now. Can I leave you my number? You can call me later when you're ready for an interview. And listen, it'll probably be a good idea for you to do one. Get you the sympathy of the public, you know?"

  "Well, I—"

  "She doesn't need sympathy," growled Maximilian. "She needs her family." He went to take Rue's arm; she stepped away from him.

  "What about my family!" she said. She took another two steps back. "They were supposed to meet me. Aunt Leda and the whole clan, she said. Not that I believed it really, but then… who the hell are you?"

  The rumpled guy put his hands on his hips and cocked his head. "I really am your cousin," he said. "Leda really is your aunt and she did come to meet you. They all did. I came by myself since none of 'em will have anything to do with me. When the news came down that you'd staked a claim on a cycler, they all threw up their hands and left. No money in you, so why hang around?"

  There it was. The humiliating truth. "And you stayed?"

  "Damn right," said Maximilian. "You're family."

  "Oh. I don't know what to…" Rue was seeing spots. Without warning she found herself on her knees. The sunglasses had flown off her face; blinded, she waved her hands and cried out. Everything was turning around her. She must be feeling Treya's rotation, she thought crazily.

  "Hang on," said somebody, "I'm a doctor." She felt a hand on her shoulder. People were arguing over her head. One of them, she realized, was the woman in green who'd been talking on her phone a few minutes ago.

  "She's got heatstroke," she said. "Probably lived her whole life in one of the stations. Never been above ten degrees before."

  "She stays with me," said her cousin.

  "We'll let her decide that," said the doctor. "Right now, the only place she's going is the hospital."

  3

  THE DOCTOR'S NAME was Rebecca France, though as she admitted, she wasn't quite a doctor. "An intern," she told Rue the next morning when she came to visit. "I was actually practising back on Terisia, but licensing is much stricter here. I had to go back to med school when I emigrated."

  Terisia was a deep colony three light-days from Allemagne: Rebecca was from the stations too, which, she explained, was why she had known what was happening to Rue outside the elevator building.

  "They're supposed to mail you a package on how to adapt to Treya. I take it you didn't get it."

  Rue shrugged. "I missed a lot of important mail."

  She had awoken to find herself in a hospital bed, dusk light brighter than Allemagne's gardens at mid-day glowing through heavy drapes. The nurse who came in when she buzzed had shivered. "I can't believe you need it this cold," she'd said.

  The nurse, like Rebecca and everyone else here, was deeply tanned. "You'll get like this, too," said Rebecca now as she put her wrist next to Rue's for comparison. "After a year or two. Believe it or not, this is still considered pale by Earth standards." Rebecca had black hair like Rue, but she kept it up in a complex braid. She was slim like Rue as well, but much taller. They shared the wide gray eyes most station people had, but that hardly implied any family resemblance, as there was genetic engineering way back in most people's lines. Where Rue had an oval face that she considered far too fragile-looking, Rebecca had a square jaw and wide cheekbones, implying a different racial origin, though it was hard to tell nowadays.

  Rue nodded absently. She thought it was probably gauche of her to ask, but she'd been brooding on a problem since she awoke. "Thanks for helping me out, Rebecca. But… who's paying for my stay here?"

  Rebecca looked surprised. "I don't know. I assume they're charging it against your credit. — Except that you're still on a visitor's visa, I guess. I understand you thought you'd come into a lot of money and now it's all gone. Do you have any money?"

  Rue shook her head. "No." she said. "But I can work. How soon can I start?"

  Rebecca laughed. "You're getting ahead of yourself. First you have to adjust to the heat here. That'll take some time."

  Rue opened her mouth to object that she wouldn't have that time if she got deported as a debtor, but decided it was too ugly a discussion to have with someone she'd just met. "Then how do I adjust as quick as possible?"

  Rebecca sat back. "Well, there's three ways. First, you can buy a cool suit and go nocturnal. That's the easiest, but the only jobs you can get for that shift are service jobs. Not a good start. Or, you could move to the mountains at Penumbra North. It's much cooler in the alpine biomes; that's what I'd do if I were you."

  "What's the third way?"

  "Well, that would be to ingest some medical nano that can protect you while your body adjusts. It would fix you up instantly, but the problem is they're expensive."

  Rue frowned at the beige ceiling. "The mountains it is, then."

  "So, you're planning to settle down here?"

  "Yeah. I guess so— I've got nowhere else to go."

  Rebecca gnawed on a thumbnail for a while, then said, "Since the coup, they've raised the bar on citizenship requirements. You know, isolationists." She rolled her eyes. "Okay. Here's what you do. You've got to apply for citizenship and to do that you've got to put in your quota of eco-work. It's usually a minimum of planting twenty trees and seeing them through at least two seasons. There's al
ways plenty of eco to do in Treya. Then, you've got to pay off your debt. That means getting a job, which will be hard to do while you're doing eco-work. So, you get something part-time to convince the bureaucrats that you're sincere in paying them back and spend the rest of your time on the eco. Make sense?" Rue nodded. "You'll also need bribe money from time to time," added Rebecca.

  The prospect was daunting. "Um, Rebecca… could you help me with that stuff? Just a wee bit?"

  The intern laughed. "Sure. Look, I've got to go, but I'll pick up a reader and find pointers to some immigration brochures and maybe stop by later?"

  "Yeah!"

  Rebecca rose and walked to the door. "Why?" Rue asked impulsively.

  "What?"

  "Why are you helping me?"

  Rebecca made a moue and shrugged. "I'm from the stations too. It's hard here for us outsiders. We have to stick together."

  Rue nodded and lay back. She soon slept again.

  When she awoke it was to find the newshound sitting in the corner of her room, reading. He wasn't wearing his monocle today. Out of the light of the blinding sun, she could see he wasn't much older than she was, though it was hard to tell since his skin was so dark. He was dressed perfectly, though, in a burgundy suit that must have cost a small fortune. Even his hair was perfect.

  He looked up, saw she was awake and said, "Hello again. I'm Blair Genereaux, we met at the elevator yesterday?" His voice was smooth and pleasant, like an announcer's.

  Rue nodded guardedly.

  He cleared his throat. "We seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot somehow," he said. "You see, I didn't know… that you didn't know… about the cycler. I guess it was an awful shock for you."

  "Yeah." Despite her natural caution, Rue felt grateful that he should be sensitive enough to notice. Or comment. Not at all like Jentry, this one. "Thanks."

  "You'd become something of a cause celebre before you docked," he continued. "I thought it would be fun if I could get an interview, so I came down. The other hounds were all after the smell of money. I wanted to know how it had all affected you. That's why I was still there when you came down."

  Rue's caution reasserted itself. Nice story. "But why? I'm just a girl from the stations."

  "Well." For the first time he looked uncomfortable. "The fact is, Rue, I'm new at this. I don't have a byline or good representation on the Web. I've been breaking in slowly by doing pieces that… well, frankly, that nobody else bothers with."

  Rue laughed.

  "What's so funny?" he asked.

  "I'm relieved, that's all." He stared at her in obvious puzzlement.

  "Sorry," said Rue. "Look, the last thing I want is publicity. You scared the crap out of me when you popped up begging for an interview yesterday. You were the first sign other than messages on the screen that this fortune thing was real. And then… I'd just had the fortune taken away before I even got to it. So why should you be interested? I know I'm a nobody without it."

  Now it was his turn to grin. "Fame doesn't work that way, Ms. Cassels. There's probably a million people out there today wondering how they would feel if they were in your shoes. Yesterday they were all daydreaming they were you. Now they have a chance to contemplate the twists of fate that fortune brings us, using you as the exemplar. I think they'll want to hear the story and I think both you and I could make some money off it."

  Money. There was that…

  "I'm not going to say yes," she said at last. "But I'm not saying no either. Can I think about it?"

  "Sure. You've got about a day before this becomes stale news." He rose and came over to the bed, extending his hand. She shook it, surprised by the warmth of his skin.

  "You're like ice," he said, concerned. "They told me outside that you're doing fine…"

  "I am. Thank you, B— Mr. Genereaux. I'll seriously consider your offer."

  "Good. I'll call you again tonight."

  He left and Rue snuggled back into the covers, thinking about the interview, then thinking about Blair Genereaux's pleasant face and the warmth of his hand.

  * * *

  "ARE YOU PACKED?" These were the first words cousin Max spoke as he strode into her room after dinner that evening. Rue was sitting in a chair by her bed, reading the brochures Rebecca had brought and waiting for Mr. Blair Genereaux to call.

  "Packed? Why?"

  Max looked like the bouncer at Allemagne's bar had shaken him down for contraband. He was carrying a large plastic-wrapped bundle under his arm. His hair was matted as if he hadn't combed it since he'd slept and the heel of his left shoe flapped open as he paced to the closet.

  "It's checkout time, couz," he said. "They say you're fine."

  Indeed, the doctor had told her that at lunch time, but Rue had put off thinking about it. "I don't have anywhere to go," she said. "Except back to the ship."

  He smiled brightly. "You can stay with me."

  "What about the hospital fees?"

  "Paid." He shrugged. "It was the least I could do and never let it be said that I didn't do the least I could do. Ha. This yours?" He held out her bag.

  "Give me that."

  "Put this on," he said, tossing her the package he'd entered with. Rue puzzled over it; it appeared to be clothing, but all wrapped up and folded for some reason.

  "It comes like that," he said. "From the store."

  "Oh." She fumbled for an opening; there was none. After a moment Max came over and unceremoniously tore the plastic open.

  "Oh," she said, "How…" Thoughtful? He seemed to have bought her some spacesuit underwear.

  "It's a cool suit," he said. "Top of the line. You'll want to have it on when we go out; it's still about twenty-six out there and muggy."

  "Oh." She went to the bathroom to change and there she anxiously examined her own face in the mirror. She looked every bit as worried as she felt. She wanted to tell Max to go away, but she'd never had the power to do that with Jentry and truth be told, she didn't know what control Max might have over her here on Treya. Helplessness was a familiar sensation; she let it guide her hands as she dressed, then emerged to find Max stuffing the last of her things into a bag.

  "Ready?" He grinned at her.

  She was frightened. Was he abducting her? What did he want?

  From somewhere Rue summoned the memory of herself shooting Jentry with the reaction pistol. She was not helpless. She wouldn't let herself be.

  Still… she had no where else to go, unless she phoned Rebecca, but she didn't want to impose on her either…

  She sighed. "Okay, Max."

  "Great! These are yours," he said, handing her a small card and a ring phone. The card had a hologram of her on it and proclaimed her to be a probationary citizen. The phone consisted of two rings, a big one worn on the wrist and a small one, the speaker, which went over her middle finger. "Keep the card close to your skin for the next couple of days; it has to learn your scent. I've put a hundred dites in it for you." Without another word he left the room. She hurried after him.

  "Thank you, Max. But how did you get the card?" It was very bright here in the hall so she put on her sunglasses. They still felt weird, like having a tiny clamp around her temples.

  "Your aunt Leda had it made up," he said as they entered an elevator packed with serious-looking people. "I stole it from her last night."

  Rue tilted down the sunglasses and looked him in the eye. "You really are a Cassels," she said.

  He laughed. "Oh, Leda hates me! But she'd never deny me the hospitality of her home."

  "Why not?"

  "Because she's my mother."

  The doors opened and people surged out while Rue was trying to think of something to say. Max hurried her through the lobby and out into roaring heat. The light was a bit more tolerable now. Diffuse, somehow… She looked up and shrieked.

  "What! What is it?" Max clamped a hand on her arm and stared hectically around.

  "Rainbow! That's a real rainbow!"

  He groaned and put a hand
over his face. "My cousin, the rube. Come on."

  "But Max, I've never seen a rainbow before."

  "Yes and now everybody within earshot knows it." He towed her along the roadway toward a large flight of stairs that led into the ground. Rue didn't want to go underground, she was too busy cataloguing all the strange and wonderful objects in the near and far distance: trees, grass, hills, buildings, many of them familiar through inscape or movies, but all wonderful.

  "You've got to get a grip," Max grated. "We've got a lot to do and you're going to have to have your head screwed on right for it."

  "What are you talking about?"

  He let go of her arm. "This is the way to the subway. We need to get you home; all this exposure isn't a good idea. Listen, haven't you been paying attention to the news?"

  "No. Should I?"

  "Yes! Your cycler is the talk of Treya."

  "My cycler?" She allowed the bitterness to show in her voice. "It's not my cycler, Max. And I don't want to hear another thing about it."

  "But couz, it's not responding to hails! And it's coming in from a very strange direction; there's no known cycler ring on that radiant."

  People were funneling down the stairs into the subway. The press carried Rue and Max along. People were dressed in all kinds of ways, with way more variety than she'd expected from her investigations aboard the shuttle. The walls of the stairwell were festooned with garish screens advertising all manner of wonders; the people behind her were discussing a publishing venture of some kind. Compared to this, Max's news was just a bothersome reminder of things past.

  "I do not want to hear any more about the cycler! Is that clear?"

  "But until they've got a positive I.D. on the thing, you've got to be circumspect, Rue, don't you understand? That means no going out without an escort for now; you can't look for work yet and most of all, no talking to anybody! Especially the media."

  Rue stopped walking, but was immediately pushed by somebody behind her. "What are you talking about?"