Earth Girl

by Janet Edwards

  He nodded at the picture of a skyscraper on the big vid screen. ‘When they built this city, they had no portals, they travelled everywhere by land or air transport. If you lived a long way from New York, it would take you hours, and cost a lot of money to get there. So you wanted to live close, and they built high to pack people and offices into the space.

  ‘Now let’s look at what happened to New York after Exodus.’ Playdon showed more pictures on the vid. ‘They were still doing massive construction there even at the beginning of Exodus, but then people started leaving at ever increasing speed. It was abandoned entirely by the end of Exodus, and ignored for two hundred years because humanity had a lot of other things to worry about.’

  ‘In 2603,’ Playdon continued, ‘a team of historians began a little minor exploration here at New York. They found enough interesting things in stasis boxes to keep coming back. In 2630, one of the first proper dig sites was set up here. Gradually they built the clearways.’

  Playdon used his lookup to project a big image of New York Main dig site, with its green, amber and red hazard warnings. ‘This is New York Main dig site as it is today, or at least as each section was at the time of its last aerial survey. All the skyscrapers still standing, or partially standing, are in red hazard areas. Best estimates are there were twelve thousand of them at the start of Exodus, but the number depends on your definition of a skyscraper. Even ten storeys is high enough when it decides to land on your head.’

  It might have been a joke if he’d said it differently, but his voice was too grim for anyone to laugh. Besides, the memory of the Cassandra 2 team being buried was still raw in our minds.

  ‘Now, let’s add the clearways.’ Playdon tapped his lookup and a network of white lines appeared on the projection. ‘The clearways mostly head straight into the dig site until they hit either the Grand Circle or the Loop. This is the Grand Circle, and as you can see, it’s roughly circular.’ Some lines flashed brightly for a moment. ‘This is the Loop, and it’s more like a tangle of string than anything else.’ More lines flashed. ‘You must be on either the Grand Circle or the Loop if you want to cross the water.’

  ‘Why can’t we portal onto the site?’ asked Joth.

  ‘We need heavy equipment,’ said Playdon. ‘We need the sleds to carry it. Ask Krath or Amalie and they’d tell you how expensive freight size portals are. Just think about the huge area we’re dealing with. How many portals would we need to make a difference? Remember, there’s no point in keeping working the same spot over and over, we’re moving all the time.’

  Playdon shook his head. ‘A decision was taken in the early days to work from scattered domes. Each dome works a nearby sector. Teams sometimes set up mobile domes at safe points within the dig sites and work from those. Obviously, we have a network of cheap evac portals to get people out in emergencies.’

  He gave us his evil smile that meant bad news. ‘You’re probably wondering why I’m covering New York and the dig site clearways in such detail. In a couple of weeks, we’ll be heading deep into New York Main with a mobile dome, and camping out on the Grand Circle to work there for a few days. Before then, I want you to spend time getting familiar with the clearway network. That’s all for today.’

  The class were still in their seats, just starting to talk nervously about the prospect of camping out on the dig site, when the Betans stood up and marched to the front of the room. Normally their every movement projected an air of sexuality, but now that had vanished and been replaced by something more militant. Playdon had been walking away, but he stopped to watch the situation.

  ‘We wish to speak to people,’ said Lolia.

  ‘We’ve decided that since you people will hate us whatever we do, you might as well know the truth,’ said Lolmack.

  ‘We aren’t here because we like history,’ said Lolia.

  Well that wasn’t really a surprise to anyone. I wondered what was coming next. Playdon was obviously prepared for trouble, because he was moving to take up an unobtrusive position near the Betans.

  ‘This dome is primitive and the dig site …’ Lolia gave a delicate shudder of disgust. ‘We were forced into this.’ She gave a complex hand gesture that probably meant something significant in Beta sector but communicated nothing to the rest of us. ‘Three months ago, we were happy. We had a triad marriage. I was about to have our first child. Lolmack was the father, and we planned that a second child fathered by our other partner would soon follow.’

  I stared at the Betans in disbelief. Surely not …

  ‘Our baby was born Handicapped. Our partner instantly divorced us.’ Lolia’s face twisted with remembered pain, but she made herself carry on speaking. ‘Hospital Earth insisted we must spend most of our time on Earth, or lose our child. Our clans feared the effects if it was known that we had had a Handicapped birth. It would cause the loss of much hard won status.’

  Lolia shook her head. ‘Clan alliance council met and we were told to keep the child secret or become clanless. We had to find a convincing reason for being on Earth, and the only possible ones were to study history or medicine. Our grades were in arts so it had to be history. Our clans make vids, and we thought to make vids set in history, but this course is …’

  ‘It is for the lowlife and clanless,’ said Lolmack. ‘We exist in barbaric conditions.’

  ‘And we cannot see our child,’ said Lolia. ‘Lolette can’t be with us here, and when it’s evening here, it’s night at her Nursery. Hospital Earth say she can’t move Nursery each time we change dig site to a different time zone.’

  ‘So, despise us,’ said Lolmack, ‘but you despised us anyway, and we have suffered too much to care.’

  I was utterly grazzed. The Betans were here because of their baby. I wasn’t sure they were really doing the child a favour. Growing up having Betan parents was going to be difficult, and if their clan made vids … Well, everyone knew what Betan vids were like. Still, at least they were trying. No, not just trying, but going through hell to do the right thing.

  Nuke it. I daren’t speak up in favour of them and their ape baby. If I seemed too emotional, then people might get suspicious, but … respect!

  I could depend upon Dalmora to do the talking anyway. Before I’d even finished thinking things through, she was on her feet. ‘I’m sure that I speak for the whole class, when I say how impressed I am. I think you’re doing something wonderful. I don’t know that I would have as much courage in your situation, but I admire you and if I can do anything to help …’

  I hastily made noises of agreement.

  The rest of the stunned class gradually nodded, except for Krath of course. ‘You’re doing this for some …’ He glanced at Playdon, broke off for a second, and started a new sentence. ‘Well, if that’s what you want, that’s fine of course.’

  Playdon strolled over to the Betans. ‘It would have helped if you’d explained the situation at the start. I’ve a strong objection to anyone who appears to be coming on courses just to disrupt them, but I’m always willing to help a genuine student with their problems.’

  Playdon’s eyes turned away from the Betans for a moment and I realized he was looking at me. It was only for a second, and then his attention was back on the Betans. ‘Clearly, you’ve no long term interest in practical history, so it would make sense if I excuse you from some of the morning sessions on compassionate grounds. That should give you time to visit your child in the daytime. You can start by visiting her tomorrow morning.’

  The Betans looked grazzed. ‘You would really do that?’ asked Lolmack.

  Playdon nodded. ‘It may affect your practical grade for the course, but it doesn’t sound as if that would worry you. I’ll make sure you still do enough dig site work to get the pass grade that you need to continue on to do a full history degree. Next year, I’m running a specialist pre-history degree course, but that’s going to be heavily practical. I think it would be best if you transferred to a University Earth specialist pre-history degree co
urse at that point. They run several and you could choose a pure theory one with no time on dig sites. University Earth would give you married accommodation and you could have your baby with you.’

  ‘We cannot study at University Earth,’ said Lolia. ‘If we are known to be students at University Earth, then it will be clear our child is Handicapped. Our clans would disown us.’

  ‘I could arrange to have you study at University Earth but get you accredited via University Asgard so you’re technically our students,’ said Playdon. ‘University Earth will co-operate to assist the parents of a Handicapped child.’

  ‘We would be very grateful if you can do that,’ said Lolmack. ‘After we have our degree, our time on Earth can be explained as researching our clans’ pre-history vids.’

  ‘You’re planning to make history vids like Ventrak Rostha?’ asked Playdon, warily.

  ‘Yes,’ said Lolia, ‘but of course with more physical relationships. Sector audiences are hypocritical about sex. They wish to watch our vids, but are embarrassed that they concentrate on physical relationships. We feel there would be a good market for vids that also feature historical events so the viewer can excuse themselves by claiming they are educational.’

  Playdon laughed. ‘You could be right.’

  The Betans headed off, eagerly talking to each other. Playdon got some food and went off to his room. The rest of the class settled down to gossip about the shock news.

  ‘They’re doing the right thing. I admire them for it. I don’t know if I’d have the courage,’ said Dalmora.

  ‘I wouldn’t do it,’ said Krath. ‘Anyway, I don’t think it’s necessarily the right thing. An ape baby is better off being raised by its own kind.’

  I felt a strong urge to throw Krath across the room, but I had to control myself. I was supposed to be Military, so I shouldn’t be getting overexcited about some Handicapped baby. I thought it was safest to go back to my room at this point, but I did manage to ‘accidentally’ tread on Krath’s foot as I went past him. I left him hopping on one leg.

  I sat in my room rethinking the whole situation. I’d realized earlier that I no longer wanted my time on this course to end in a dramatic scene where I shouted my anger at the exos. I’d shifted my ground to picturing a dignified exit, and now I was admitting something else. I didn’t actually want to leave at all.

  For the first time, I considered staying on when the class knew I was an ape. Was it remotely possible? Playdon had given me a look when he was talking to the Betans. He’d never spoken to me about my Handicap, I realized he wouldn’t unless I opened the subject myself, but what he’d said to the Betans was meant for me too. Playdon had thought I’d come on this course to disrupt it, so he hadn’t been welcoming. He’d been quite right about my motives too.

  Now he’d changed his mind, and decided I was a genuine student with a problem. I’d changed my mind too, so he was right again. When the day came that the class found out I was an ape, Playdon would be willing to help. He wouldn’t allow them to openly abuse me but exactly how many subtle insults could I handle without losing my temper?

  The class would naturally be angry with me. Some of them would despise me for being an ape, and the rest would resent all the lies I’d told them. That lying hadn’t felt bad when they were the hated exos, but it did now.

  I’d have to think about this. I didn’t want to leave. I hadn’t thought through the consequences before I decided to come on this course, but now they were becoming obvious. Moving to another course in mid year would be a mess, and all their good team spots would be filled. I was a tag leader for team 1 here. Fian was a great tag support. Playdon was a Stasis Q. The class might be exos, but they weren’t a bad bunch. I’d taken an instant dislike to the Betans, but now they’d turned out to be being pretty noble in their way. Krath was an idiot, who kept mindlessly repeating his dad’s ideas, but …

  I’d come to terms with the rest of the class being exos. The question was, could they come to terms with me being Handicapped?

  15

  The following evening, I called a special Registry number. I didn’t say anything, just entered a code, put my hand on my lookup screen to verify my identity, and ended the call. That doesn’t sound very important, but it was a huge step for me to make. Nothing would happen immediately, because Hospital Earth wants to avoid people asking on a whim when drunk or powered and then regretting it, but in three days time I’d get a mail that gave me access to my parents’ details.

  After I’d made the call, I sat there, physically shaking, wondering why I’d done it. I could have made it any day since I was 14 years old, and I’d always sworn I never would. My exo parents threw me away at birth, and I sure as chaos was never going to chase after them and beg for acceptance. It was a matter of pride.

  So what had happened to change that? Had I lost my pride or just gone totally mad? Maybe both, but it was really because of my crazy masquerade in this class. My norm classmates had accepted me as one of them. Playdon trusted me. Fian was someone that I could have loved if the genetic dice hadn’t fallen the wrong way. Dalmora, born to be a celebrity of Alpha sector, was a genuinely caring person. I’d helped save the lives of ten strangers, and it hadn’t mattered whether they were exo or ape. They were just people in trouble, and I knew they would have done exactly the same for me.

  On the surface, none of that seemed to have the slightest connection to my unknown parents, but of course it did. Everything did. Everything in my life was because of them and their decision. Everything kept coming back to the shadowy figures who’d handed their ape kid over to Hospital Earth and walked away. If they hadn’t done that, my entire life would have been different, and I wouldn’t be telling a bunch of lies to an off-world class.

  I’d tried not to admit it to myself, but I’d known the truth all along. I might have claimed that I’d joined this class to prove I was as good as any norm and yell abuse at them, but the class were just substitutes for my parents. I’d been just as obsessed as all my friends in Next Step. They’d been desperate for acceptance, while I’d been desperate for revenge, but it was just two sides of the same coin.

  It’s not totally true that all my friends in Next Step were obsessed with their parents. Keon wasn’t. He was maddeningly lazy, irritatingly smug, and annoyingly intelligent, but I’d always admired one thing about him. When he was 14 years old, he’d said that it was far too much effort to be bothered about parents he’d never known, and he really meant it!

  I lay back on my bed and sighed. There might not seem to be any logic in it, but I knew that the first step towards facing my class as an ape, was facing up to the issue of my parents. I was finally doing what my friends had done four years ago. I was 18 years old, I was at least theoretically an adult, but that wasn’t going to help me very much. The only advantage I had over the average naive 14-year-old, was that I’d seen what happened to my friends. I knew from bitter experience that this was going to be an utter disaster.

  All of us, except Keon, had gone through difficult times when we hit that big Year Day that meant we were 14 and had two options offered to us. We could ask for information about our parents and attempt to make contact. We could also make one attempt to portal off world. We’d all been thinking about it for years beforehand of course.

  I was the only one crazy enough to take up the portal option. Everyone told me not to do it. Issette must have said it a hundred times. The others said it about thirty times each. Candace said it about fifteen times. The Principal of my Next Step said it three times. The teacher who ran my school history club said it eight times. My ProDad insisted on our first meeting in over a year so that he could go on record as saying it.

  Even Keon made the supreme effort to comment it was a bad idea. He pointed out that Hospital Earth didn’t make mistakes. The last confirmed case of someone being diagnosed as Handicapped in error was over a hundred years ago.

  I knew that.

  Keon pointed out it was going to be unple
asant. There’d be a medical team standing by off world to grab me on arrival as I went into anaphylactic shock. They’d then portal me back to Hospital Earth Casualty, who would have another medical team standing by to treat me. He said they probably wouldn’t let me die, but it was likely to be painful.

  Keon came the closest to convincing me. I still went ahead anyway. I knew Hospital Earth hadn’t made a mistake. I knew what would happen, and that there was no chance at all, but I had to try. So I had ten seconds on another world and a week in hospital.

  I only really needed a day in hospital, but Hospital Earth tend to be a bit neurotic because in very rare cases there can be some lingering after effects. I wasn’t a rare case, so there were no after effects. I was just a perfectly average ape girl cursed by a malignant fate. Everyone came to see me, brought grapes, and told me how stupid I’d been. Keon came too, but he just sat there eating the grapes.

  I didn’t care if they all thought I was stupid. It was still worth it. I hadn’t just given in and been a passive victim. I’d tried to fight fate, and experienced the inevitable defeat, but I was proud that I’d tried. The only bad thing was that my psychologist didn’t say I was stupid. He said it had been a positive experience for me, and I said he could take his opinions and nuke them!

  The others might have thought I was stupid taking up the portal option, but I thought they were totally out of their minds taking up the parental information one. My decision gave me one physically unpleasant day, but they went through mental agony with emotional after effects that lasted for years.