The Wellstone

by Wil McCarthy

  “I hope you had fun tonight,” she growled to herself. And answered quietly: “Don’t worry. You’re going to love it.”

  And then she stepped into the fax, and stepped in again, and the fax did that looking-glass thing where you exited into the same room you’d just left. Except that she was only one Xmary when she stepped out, and after a dizzy moment of integration she understood everything: the pool, the boy, the thing at history class, the fight with Mummy and Da. And she resolved: they could ground her and single her all they liked, but unless they cut off her damn feet they could not keep her away from Feck. Especially on Restoration Day.

  “We have much to discuss,” Mummy said, “but perhaps your father ought to call the police first. Love?”

  “Yes, my dear.” Da got up off the sofa and traced out a window on a bare patch of wall, right beside Xmary’s head. “Telecom, please. The Denver Metro Police.”

  And while the connection was ringing through, the window flashed up headlines, and since Xmary was right there she couldn’t help seeing them. Especially the one that read, KUIPER RAMPAGE: MISSING FRIENDLY PARK ESCAPEES MAY INCLUDE PRINCE BASCAL.

  And then it was gone, and Da was talking to some beautiful blond woman in police beige. Xmary staggered to the sofa and plopped down heavily, holding three fresh thoughts in the privacy of her skull. First, that this “rampage” was another volley in Feck’s alleged uprising. Second, that the prince had visited—and disappeared from—Café 1551 on the same night Xmary had. And third, that these events were too bizarre to be unrelated.

  And where exactly did that leave Xmary? The Kuiper Belt?

  “Gods,” she murmured, then looked up, afraid that Mummy and Da had overheard her and would somehow divine her thoughts. But for once they were paying no attention to her.

  Their names and dates in stone engraved,

  Their mortal coils in coffins saved,

  Their worlds unmade, their streets unpaved,

  The last to clear the way, the way,

  the last to clear the way.

  And through that haze of final tears,

  To dam and tame the stream of years,

  Had seemed the noblest of careers,

  To stretch man’s fleeting day, his day,

  to stretch man’s fleeting day.

  And now that morning lingers on,

  We blink into the sun and yawn,

  The joys of night and evening gone,

  and tell ourselves we’re gay, we’re gay,

  we tell ourselves we’re gay.

  — “Cemetery Jingle #3”

  BASCAL EDWARD DE TOWAJI LUTUI, age 13

  chapter eleven

  the long carry

  There was no clearly defined “morning” aboard the good ship Viridity. The cold had faded with Conrad’s insulation trick, but the heat had continued to build until finally he awoke with a yelp, scrabbling at the itchy, crawling sensation of weightless sweat blobs against his skin. He had no idea what time it was, or how long he’d slept, because the ship’s only chronometer was on Bascal’s control panel in the bridge.

  But he had to get up and demirrorize the wrapping again, and while he was up he visited the ’soir. This wasn’t strictly necessary, but if he went back to bed it soon would be. Unfortunately, this was a messy process they really hadn’t worked out yet. You had to peel back the gasket sealing the toilet lid, and then carefully do your business without breaking up the pool of water that clung jiggling at the bottom, by the effluent drain. And then you had to reseal the lid and flush, and inevitably there were droplets of stray liquid—not water—that could only be collected by hand. Thank all the little gods he hadn’t needed to crap yet.

  So then Conrad had to wash his hands, another elaborate process. Water here was something akin to toothpaste: you squeezed out only as much as you needed, because any more would just get away from you and make a mess. And yeah, there were several globs that he had to chase down and consolidate. They formed a neat little water ball, and it occurred to him that there’d be water-ball fights before long. Was that bad? Should it be prevented somehow? He stuffed the water balls down the drain and plugged it behind them.

  By the time he got back to his bed, he was most of the way awake. In zero gee it turned out there was no tossing and turning. Rolling over involved a lot of work with the blankets and straps, and didn’t accomplish much anyway, since the mattress didn’t press hard enough to be uncomfortable or cut off your blood flow. But he wiggled and sighed for a while, trying to put himself back to sleep.

  And then he noticed how rapidly the temperature was falling. Not actually cold yet, but the heat that had woken him was gone, and the sweat trapped between his clothes and skin was turning unpleasantly tepid. He’d have to fix that, keep it from getting too cold, or he’d just be getting up again. And again. And he wasn’t sure how long it’d been since he’d last changed clothes, but once he was up he quietly ordered a new set from the fax, changed into them in the cooling darkness, and disposed of his old ones. Then he went to the environment panel and bumped the reflectivity of the cabin’s wrapper from zero percent to fifty percent, hoping that would be close enough to maintain a comfortable temperature. Then he went back to bed, and sighed and wiggled some more.

  When he finally gave up on sleeping, some of the other boys had begun to stir. He ruminated on the day ahead: Adventure? Boredom? He should rig up a program to regulate the mirrors automatically, that was one thing. And something needed to be done about that damned bathroom....

  When Karl Smoit sat up and rubbed his eyes, Conrad decided that morning had finally arrived, so he got up and retrieved a wellstone sketchplate Bascal had stowed in one of D’rector Jed’s cabinets. The more he thought about it, the more he realized how much work there was to do before Viridity would be anything like a stable environment, much less a comfortable one.

  Using his pinkie for a stylus, he scribbled on the sketchplate:

  To Do List:

  Thermostat for Mirrors

  Chronometer/Clock

  Measure Stored Energy

  Sink Hood

  Better Light Controls

  Water Dispensing Limit

  Bathroom Cleanup Tools

  By now Karl and Jamil were grumbling at each other over first use of the bathroom, and Preston and Martin were showing signs of getting up, and there were various thumps and rustles from the storage closet where Ho had sequestered himself. That left only Steve Grush asleep— a condition Conrad was inclined to leave him in.

  Soon there was breakfast, which Bascal and Xmary joined blearily. Afterward they washed up, and then Xmary announced her schedule, which specified the times for lights-on, lights-off, three meals, an exercise hour and a story hour, and (thankfully) a “laundry check” of unspecified but probably beneficial nature.

  “You should add ‘maintenance,’ ” Conrad told her. “I’ve got a long list of issues, and it’ll probably get longer before it gets shorter.”

  She nodded, looking annoyingly chipper and perky. “Okay. Maintenance. Does that include cleaning up?”

  “Well, we should probably put that down, too.”

  She made a note on her sketchplate. “Maintenance. Cleaning. One hour or two?”

  “Um, I dunno. Two hours each?”

  “The days are going to be long, boyo,” Bascal agreed, sidling up and putting an arm around Xmary. “It’s better to have too much to do than too little. Can I see your list?”

  Conrad dug the sketchplate out of his pocket, mimed tossing it to Bascal, and then did toss it when he was sure the pilinisi was ready to make the catch. Zero gravity was a new twist on this familiar act, but Conrad correctly intuited that he needed to fire the plate directly at Bascal’s chest, not fast or hard but very straight, in a flat spin for stability. The prince caught it on the first try.

  “Yeah,” he said a few seconds later, looking it over and nodding. “Yeah. I’m going to add a few items before you get started. You need more sailing lessons, for
example. Every day. And a turn at the helm while I’m doing other things. We really shouldn’t leave it unattended for long periods.”

  Resignedly: “Right. I can see that.”

  “Well, I’ll go update the master list,” Xmary said, decoupling herself from Bascal’s arm. Then she looked at the two of them and added, “Be nice to each other, all right? Set an example.”

  When she was out of earshot, Bascal said, “How did we get so lucky, Conrad? What are the odds?”

  “I dunno. Not bad I guess.”

  Bascal rolled his eyes. “ ‘Not bad,’ the man says. Not bad. Run the experiment a hundred times, and how many Xmarys do we get?”

  “There’s a lot of unhappy people in Denver,” Conrad answered. “You’re popular, and the Constabulary got confused. They just grabbed whoever was next to you. What you’re really asking is, how many people in that position would play along? I’m guessing quite a few.”

  “Ah,” the prince said. “Now there’s a romantic notion. You’re a fun guy, Conrad.” He fiddled briefly with the sketchplate and added, “Our first order of business—our absolute highest priority—is to do something about our coloration. The sail is transparent, which is good, but you’ve got the cabin all shiny, which is bad. We want to be”—he fluttered a hand—“invisible. A light conduit: photons in one side, out the other.”

  Conrad was nodding. With wellstone sensors and emitters readily programmed for it, “invisible” objects were commonplace for certain uses. Many people had invisible toilets, for example, to hide the fact that they had any bodily functions at all. Photons hitting one side were analyzed and absorbed, then re-created on the far side just as though they had traveled through unimpeded. A really transparent toilet would simply show off the water and other contents as if they were floating in midair, but an invisible one hid everything, looking like a weak lens, a slight distortion in the air and nothing more.

  “The problem is heat,” Conrad said. “We’ve got to hold ours in or we’ll freeze to death.”

  “I realize that,” Bascal said, in a testy way that sounded patient but wasn’t. “But the trick is to make the inner surface reflective, and the outer one invisible. We can even keep the windows clear. One-way mirrors.”

  “Oh. All right. That sounds sensible.” Conrad knew about one-way mirrors, another popular programming trick that involved asymmetrical atoms. “Do you know ... how?”

  “We’ll work on it,” Bascal said. “I’m not completely sure how it’s done, but we’ve figured out harder things together. Right?”

  “Uh, sure. I guess.”

  “And Conrad?” Bascal glanced up over the top of the sketchplate.

  “Yeah?”

  “Don’t work too fast on the rest of this. Stretch it out; make it last. We’re going to be out here a long time, and we need to stay busy.”

  That night at story time, Xmary told the tale of the first American flag, and following along in the same theme Karl, who was also American, recited what he could remember of “Paul Revere’s Ride.” Jamil followed up with “Sinbad the Sailor,” which turned out to be the first of many Sinbad stories he knew and promised to tell. It didn’t have much to do with sailing, but entertainment was entertainment.

  And then somehow it was Bascal’s turn again—the seating pattern was totally different from yesterday’s— and he was saying, “I’m taking you back, back, back before the Tongans and Europeans had discovered one another, to a time when land powers ruled the coasts of the Pacific, and sea powers ruled its islands.”

  He paused for effect—he was a big one on pauses and cadence—and then continued. “On the island of Tongatapu, a special day had arrived: Elders’ Day, and all the people were afraid. The young prince, Polua-le-uli-gana, or Polu to his friends, did not understand.”

  “Understand what?” someone asked, as if on cue.

  Bascal answered, “The people wouldn’t come out to throw the fishing nets. They refused to race up the coconut palms and be the first one to throw down the most coconuts. They wouldn’t swim in the ponds, or come to the king’s feast. Instead, they stayed hidden until the feast was finished.

  “Prince Polu was sad. He didn’t understand why on Elders’ Day his playmates stayed in hiding, or why one of them would never be seen again. When the prince questioned a servant, he got no answer. The servant simply walked away. Prince Polu lived with his royal family at Lapaha, a large village on the main island. The village included many great stone buildings, and even a stone pier jutting out into the lagoon for the king’s ships to use. Many paths led toward this royal village. Many people walked these paths to bring gifts, food, news, and greetings to the prince’s father, King Malietoa. Some people came because they were commanded—some to be honored, others to be punished.

  “The prince was tired of all the noise and confusion. He was lonely. Tomorrow had been declared Elders’ Day, and as usual, all of his friends were in hiding. People hurried from task to task with worried looks and sad faces. The prince felt as if they were preparing for a funeral rather than a feast day.

  “He slipped away from his bodyguards and walked far from his home until, just as the sun was setting behind the sea, the prince reached Kolovai on the other side of the island. This was his favorite place, a place to see everything but not be seen. He climbed up the steep cliff until he reached his observation post, a large, flat rock that stuck out from the cliff. Here he could see the sky above, the ocean beyond, and the meandering pathway below. The prince rested.

  “It was night when voices woke him. The moon was full. The silver of its shining face flowed across the rippled surface of the sea like a ghostly, glowing road. The prince shivered, although the rock beneath him was still sun-warmed. The voices that were once far away were now directly below him. The prince listened.

  “ ‘If you could have one wish before you die,’ said the voice of a young boy, ‘what would it be?’

  “Another voice answered: ‘I would paddle out beyond the reef and watch the frigate birds fish the open sea. Oh, how I’d love to glide on the winds, higher and higher, and then plunge straight down to spear a fat, juicy fish. I’d swallow it whole, and with a full belly I’d glide again, around and around, closing my eyes and dozing in midair, in the warm sunshine.’

  “ ‘How can you talk of food when tomorrow is Elders’ Day?’

  “ ‘Stop! Tonight I will not think of tomorrow. Until the sun rises, we are alive. So let us live!’

  “But the first boy said, ‘I cannot stop thinking about the horror of tomorrow. I don’t want to die! I don’t want to be eaten!’ There were no more words, just the crying of the one child and the gentle shushing of the other.

  “Suddenly, Prince Polu understood. His legs began to tremble, his stomach heaved, and his heart pounded madly and painfully in his chest. On every Elders’ Day one of his friends disappeared. On every Elders’ Day a special feast was prepared for his father. Lesser chiefs from all around the islands—and many from neighboring kingdoms Polu’s father had conquered—came to share the feast. A special animal was roasted. King Malietoa was always given the tender nape of the neck and the rich, flavorful heart. Now the prince realized. ‘The animal I thought was a roasted pig was something else entirely!’

  “No wonder his friends hid. No wonder the servants were too ashamed to answer his questions! And Polu knew, deep down in the marrow of his bones, that there were some things around here that needed to change. He shouted out, ‘Brave travelers, listen! Please wait. I must speak with you!’

  “Suddenly, the sounds of the night stopped. Silence filled the darkness and echoed in Polu’s ears. ‘I am the king’s own son, Polua-le-uli-gana. I will not harm you. Who are you? Tell me the story of your journey.’

  “At first the two young travelers said nothing. The prince shouted again, ‘Speak to me. Perhaps I can save your lives. If you’re marked for death already, I can hardly make things any worse.’

  “One of the boys whispered to the other. �
�We have nothing to lose. We might die now if this is some wicked trick. So what? Tomorrow we die in the king’s stone kitchen.’

  “The other boy called out, ‘We are from Eua. We were selected from the matai’s family. Tomorrow we finish our journey. Tomorrow we meet our death with courage that will honor our family.’

  “As the prince listened to these words, his heart nearly broke with sorrow. And then a dangerous plan began to form in his mind. He might lose his life, but he might gain life and pride and freedom for many others. So the prince stepped forward and gave a strange order. ‘Climb this coconut tree that stands between shore and sea. Break off its finest branch. Hurry. Already the sky loses its darkness as the sun draws near. Soon, it will slip above the waves and your time will be over.’

  “The two boys ran to the tree. Within minutes they returned with a large palm frond.

  “ ‘Plait the frond into a mat,’ the prince said. ‘Wait. Let me lie in the middle of it.’

  “Again, they obeyed the prince’s order, wrapping him in the middle of the palm frond as if he were a large, freshly caught fish.

  “ ‘Good. I’m ready.’ The prince’s voice was stern and clear. ‘Carry me to the king. Hurry. I hear the roosters warning that night has ended.’

  “The two boys carried their bundle to the king. With heads bowed to the ground, they placed the wrapped bundle at the king’s feet. King Malietoa called to his chiefs. ‘Here is a fine catch brought for our feast. Ha! In isolated areas where the diet is restricted, it is hard to eat well. There are only so many pigs in the world, ah? But a chief must be strong, and straight. His mind must be sharp. What do you feed a human, to build strong human flesh? What meat is the most plentiful?’ The king laughed. ‘Cooks! Prepare this as usual. Once it is roasted, invite all the chiefs to join me as I cut out the heart and neck. The rest will be shared.’