The Shockwave Rider (10 page)

“Well, there are the simulation cities, not to mention the paid-avoidance zones.”

“Sure, and there are the places like Trianon where you get a foretaste of tomorrow. But don’t bleat me. Trianon couldn’t exist if G2S didn’t subsidize it with a billion dollars a year. Simulation cities are only for the children of the rich—it costs nearly as much to send the kids back to the past for a year as it does to keep them at Amherst or Bennington. And the paid-avoidance areas were created as a way of economizing on public expenditure after the Great Bay Quake. It was cheaper to pay the refugees to go without up-to-the-minute equipment. Which they couldn’t have afforded anyhow.”

“Maybe mankind is more adaptable than they used to believe. Maybe we’re coping well enough without such props.”

“In a day and age when they’ve quit covering individual murders on three-vee, where they just say bluntly, ‘Today there were so many hundred killings,’ and change the subject? That’s not what I call coping!”

“You don’t seem to have coped too well yourself. Each of your personae led to failure, or at any rate it didn’t lead to fulfillment of your ambition.”

“Partly true, but only partly. In the enclosed environment of Tarnover I didn’t realize how apathetic most people have become, how cut off they feel from the central process of decision-making, how utterly helpless and resigned. But remember: I was doing in my middle twenties what some people have to wait another decade, even two decades, to achieve. You people were hunting for me with all the resources at your command. You still didn’t spot me, not even when I changed roles, which was my most vulnerable moment.”

“So you’re blaming others for your failure and seeking consolation in your few and shallow successes.”

“I think you’re human after all. At any rate that sounded as though you’re trying to needle me. But save your breath. I admit my worst mistake.”

“Which was—?”

“To assume that things couldn’t possibly be as bad as they were painted. To imagine that I could undertake constructive action on my own. I’ll give you an example. A dozen times at least I’d heard the story of how a computer purchased by one of the hyper-corps exclusively—on their own admission—to find means whereby they could make tax-immune payments to government officials for favors received, had been held an allowable business expense. I was convinced it must be folklore. And then I found there really was such a case on record.” A sour chuckle. “Faced with things like that, I came to accept that I couldn’t get anywhere without supporters, sympathizers, colleagues.”

“Which you were hoping to obtain via your church?”

“Two more personae intervened before I hit on that idea. But, broadly speaking, yes.”

“Wasn’t it galling to have to rethink yourself so often because of outside circumstances?”

There was another pause, this time a long one.

“Well, to be candid, I sometimes regarded myself as having escaped into the biggest prison on the planet.”

DEAN INGE HE SAY

“There are two kinds of fool. One says, ‘This is old, and therefore good.’ And one says, ‘This is new, and therefore better.’ ”

RECEPTION TODAY IS OF AVERAGE QUALITY

“This is Seymour Schultz, who’s one of our orbital troubleshooters.”

A lean dark man wearing blue, smiling and proffering, according to custom, a card bearing his name and code. Projected image: man of action, no-nonsense type.

“Ah, I saw one of your colleagues taking off just now.”

“Yes, that would have been Harry Leaver.”

“And this is Vivienne Ingle, head-of-dept for mental welf.”

Fat in gray and green, never pretty. Projecting: got here on merit, I know more than you do about yourself.

“And Pedro Lopez, and Charlie Verrano, and …”

Plug-in people as predicted, which meant he could switch off half his attention and still be sure he’d do and say the right conformist things.

“… Rico Posta, veep i/c long-term planning—”

Snap back. Vice-presidents count, often stay put instead of bouncing around.
So for this tall bearded man in black and yellow a specially warm handshake and:

“Great to meet you, Rico. Guess you and I will be in circuit quite a lot over this diversification you have in mind.”

“And—oh, yes, my daughter Kate, and over there is Dolores van Bright, asshead of contract law dept, whom you absolutely must meet right away because …”

But somehow he wasn’t at Ina’s side any more as she crossed the room to make the introduction. He was smiling at Kate, and that was ridiculous. Because on top of not even being pretty she was bony—damn it, scrawny! Moreover, her face was too sharp: eyes, nose, chin. And her hair: tousled, of no special color, mousy-brown.

But looking at him with a degree of speculative interest he found dreadfully disturbing.

This is crazy. I don’t like thin women. I like them cuddly. Ina, for example. And that’s true in all versions of myself.

“So you’re Sandy Locke.” With a curious husky intonation.

“Mm-hm. Large as life and twice as.”

There was an appraising pause. He was vaguely aware of Ina, who was on the far side of the floor now—and this was a big room, of course—as she glanced around in surprise to relocate him.

“No. Larger, and half,” Kate said unaccountably, and pulled an amusing face that made her nose woffle like a rabbit’s. “Ina’s making wild signals at you. Better catch up. I’m not supposed to be here—I just have nothing else to do this evening. But suddenly I’m glad I came. Talk to you later.”

“Hey, Sandy!” Loud over the omnipresent soothing music, bland as the decor warranted to offend nobody. “This way!”

What the hell happened just now?

The question kept leaping back into his mind even when “just now” was an hour old, distracting him constantly without warning from the prescribed display of interest in the affairs of these new colleagues of his. It cost him much effort to maintain a veneer of politeness.

“Say, I hear your kid had to go be straightened, poor thing. How’s she doing?”

“We collect her Saturday. Good as new or better, so they say.”

“Should have signed her with Anti-Trauma Inc. like us. Don’t you agree, Sandy?”

“Hmm? Oh! It’s no use asking me. I’m strictly swingle, so for me you’re into a no-go zone.”

“Yeah? Shame. Was going to ask your view on fifty-fifty schools—know, where pupils pick half, staff the other half of the curriculum? Fair compromise on the face; in the guts I wonder …”

“At Trianon?”

“No. Try live the future today, get it all wrong.”

And:

“—wouldn’t take on a secondhand home. Too big a clog, reprograming the automatics. Short end to a friendship, inviting someone over and having him webbed solid to the driveway because the moronic machinery misunderstood you.”

“Mine you can update with no more than the poker’s code. Tough it isn’t at Trianon. Sandy here’s a smart shiver—bet he’s into the same type thing, right?”

“Presently between houses, friend. Next time maybe I’ll move up where you are. Maybe I’ll go clear back instead. I’m still sussing the aroma.”

And:

“You were tribed in teentime, Sandy? Hmm? Son of mine wants in the Assegais! Sure their solidarity and morale are great, but—uh …”

“Fatality rate kind of high? I heard that too. Since they switched from Baron Samedi to Kali. Me, I’m trying to plug Donna into the Bold Eagles. I mean what’s it worth to get custody of a kid from a cross-marriage where she got to take some oath about shivving any white the warlord says?”

“Bold Eagles? Not a hope. Signing up kids at birth now. Go find some nice quiet tribe that follows Saint Nick. The life-assurance rates are lower, to begin with.”

And so on.

But at alarmingly frequent intervals he kept finding that his eyes had strayed past the shoulder of the Important Person he was chatting with and come to rest on the untidy hair or the pointed profile of Ina’s daughter.

Why?

Eventually Ina said in a tart tone, “Kate seems to have you mezzed, Sandy!”

Yes, mesmerized would be a good name for it.

“Takes after you in that respect,” he answered lightly. “Mainly I’m puzzled to find her here. I thought this was strictly a meet-the-folks deal.”

That was convincing; the girl was one jarring element in an otherwise predictable milieu. Ina softened a little.

“Should have guessed. Should say sorry, too. But she knows quite a lot of the staff, and she called up today to ask if I was doing anything this evening or could she drop by for dinner, so I said there was this party and she could ride my back.”

“So she isn’t with the corp. I thought maybe. What’s she doing with her life?”

“Nothing.”

“What?”

“Oh, nothing worth mentioning. Going back next fall for
another
course of study. Right here at UMKC,
again.
And she’s twenty-two, damn it!” In a lower voice—but Sandy already knew that damaging number, no extra harm involved. “I could peg it if she wanted to go study in Australia, or even Europe, but … And she blames it all on this cat her father gave her!”

At which point she caught sight of Rico Posta signaling for her to go talk with him and Dolores van Bright, and separated with a mutter of excuses.

A few seconds, and while he was still debating whether to pay another call on the autobar, Kate was at his side. The room was crowded now—fifty-odd guests were present—and last time he saw her she had been the far side of the floor. It followed she had been watching him as keenly as Vivienne. (No, not any more. Hooray. Mental welfare was taking time out.)

What do I do—run?

“How long are you going to be in KC?” Kate demanded.

“The usual. As long as G2S and I agree I should.”

“You’re claiming to be the bounce-around type?”

“It’s bounce or break,” he said, trying to make the cliché sound like what it was supposed to be: a flip substitute for a proper answer.

“You’re the first person I’ve met who can say that as though he means it,” Kate murmured. Her eyes, dark brown and very piercing, were constantly on his face. “I knew the moment you came in there was something unusual about you. Where did you bounce in from?”

And, while he was hesitating, she added, “Oh, I know it’s rude to pry into people’s pasts. Ina’s been telling me since I learned to talk. Like you don’t stare, you don’t point, you don’t make personal remarks. But people do have pasts, and they’re on file at Canaveral, so why let machines know what your friends don’t?”

“Friends are out of fashion,” he said, more curtly than he had intended … and how long was it since he had been taken that much off his guard? Even pronouncing that curse on Fluckner—already the encounter felt as though it lay ages behind him—had not been as disturbing as his casual party conversation. Why? Why?

“Which doesn’t mean nonexistent,” Kate said. “You’d be a valuable friend. I can sense it. That makes you rare.”

A sudden possibility struck him. It could be that this plain, thin, unprepossessing girl had found a way to reach men who would not otherwise regard her as attractive. The offer of friendship, deeper than the commonplace acquaintanceships of the plug-in lifestyle, might well appeal to those who hungered for solid emotional fare.

He almost voiced the charge, but he seemed to taste in advance the flavor of the words. They were like ashes on his tongue. Instead, with reluctance, he said, “Thank you. I take that as a compliment though thousands wouldn’t. But right now I’m thinking more of the future than the past. I didn’t enjoy my last position too much. What about you? You’re studying. What?”

“Everything. If you can be enigmatic, so can I.”

He waited.

“Oh! Last year, water ecology, medieval music and Egyptology. The year before, law, celestial mechanics and handicrafts. Next year, probably—Is something the matter?”

“Not at all. I’m just trying to look impressed.”

“Don’t bleat me. I can tell you’re not wondering why anybody should waste time on such a mishmosh. I see that look all the time on Ina’s face, and her so-called friends’ here at the company.” She paused, pondering. “Maybe … Yes, I think so. Envious?”

My God! How did she catch on so quickly? To have the chance without being fettered by the demands of Tarnover, without having it drummed into your mind nonstop that every passing year sees you three million further into the government’s debt
. …

It was 2130. A thudding sound announced the issue from wall vents of a cold buffet supper. Ina returned to ask whether he wanted her to bring him a plateful. He was glad. He could use the distraction to formulate not his but Sandy Locke’s proper response.

“Ah, you don’t have to know everything.-You just have to know where to find it.”

Kate sighed. As she turned away an odd look came into her eyes. He only glimpsed it, but he was quite certain how best to define it.

Disappointment.