Dydeetown World lf-4

by F. Paul Wilson

  "Thiggy."

  That broke the ice. The rest of them crowded closer, some patting me on the back, some gently punching me on my shoulders, others hugging me, and all of them speaking softly, almost reverently…

  "Siggy, Siggy, Siggy."

  What was going on?

  Looked around for B.B. but couldn't find him in the press.

  Then the crowd parted to let someone through. An adult. A woman. Slim, with straight, light brown hair flowing over her shoulders. Nice figure.

  When she smiled, I knew her. The platinum hair was gone, and so was all the make-up. But by the Core I knew her.

  "Jean!"

  "Hello, Mr. Dreyer," she said, calm and as matter-of-fact as if we had just had lunch together yesterday.

  She put a hand on my shoulder and kissed me on the cheek.

  All around us, the urches giggled and whispered.

  "They like you," she said.

  With the toddler urches clinging to my arms and legs, I could only gape at her.

  "B.B. has spoken so much of you, about how you almost died catching the ones who were snatching our toddlers. You're a hero here, Mr. Dreyer. All the urchingangs have heard of you."

  Finally found my voice.

  "It's been two years, Jean. Thought you were Out Where All The Good Folks Go."

  "I was. I went to Neeka and settled there for a while. I thought it would be all right. I thought I could fit in. But it didn't work out."

  "You didn't tell them you were a clone, did you?"

  "No. That wasn't the problem. I had plenty of men interested in me."

  "I'll bet."

  No shortage of food on the Outworlds, but they were always short on women.

  "But I quickly found out that I would never be considered a suitable mate for anyone there."

  "Why not?"

  She shrugged forlornly. "I'm sterile."

  "Oh. Right."

  Had forgot about that. All clones, male and female, are routinely sterilized at birth — at deincubation, rather. Injected with something that keeps the gonads from producing gametes without interferring with their hormone output.

  As far as Outworlders are concerned, a woman who can't breed is not a real woman.

  "So, I came back home," she said with forced brightness. "

  She put one hand on the shoulder of a nearby urch and tousled the hair of another. "And found some people who really need me."

  "Yeah, but you were free to come and go as you pleased out there. Earthside you're — "

  "A mother — something I can't be anywhere else."

  The realization hit me then. I'm a little slow, but eventually I get there.

  "You're Wendy!"

  She curtsied. "At your service."

  "Hear you're a real mother to them."

  "I try."

  "Wendy bes mom ev!" It was B.B. He had squeezed in beside her and was grinning up at both of us. "An Sig bes fren. Protectee."

  Circuits were beginning to come to life, correlations were forming in my pitiful brain.

  "You hired that actor to hire me to…to…"

  She nodded, smiling. "Of course! Me and my Joey Jose holosuit."

  It all fit. Someone had been snatching her children and returning them damaged. She had wanted it stopped and so she came to me — or rather, sent someone to me.

  "Why me?"

  "Because you don't quit."

  Shrugged that off. Probably just trying to get on my good side.

  "Why didn't you come yourself?"

  "I wasn't sure you'd take the job from me. I know how you feel about clones. Besides, Spinner was always hovering about. I couldn't risk him spotting me."

  "Doubt he'd recognize you."

  "This is the real me," she said, twirling a strand of brown hair around her finger.

  "You look nice," I said before realizing it.

  "Why, thank you, Sig." She was staring at me, her eyes soft and wondering. "You've changed, haven't you?"

  Shook my head. "Not a bit. Why should I?"

  "I don't know. And I can't say exactly what it is, but you're different."

  "My hair — combing it different."

  Which was true. Now that I just had a little scar where my button used to be, I could keep my hair shorter and not have to worry about that little metal nubin showing.

  "No, I mean different inside. And by the way, I've been wanting to ask you for two standard years now — "

  That was a giveaway that she'd spent some time on the Outworlds — only Outworlders talked about "standard" years.

  "— about that greencard you returned to me at the shuttleport."

  Felt myself tighten up inside. Didn't want her figuring out that I'd done something stupid like changing the worthless phony card Barkham had given her to a genuine counterfeit Realpeople card. She'd probably get all sorts of wrong ideas then.

  "What about it?"

  "It felt…different.""

  "It worked, didn't it? So don't complain." Then I thought of something: "Wait a bit. How'd you get back Earthside without Spinner finding out?"

  "Simple," she said with a mischievous smile. "I declared citizenship on Neeka, changed my legal name, and came back on a visitor's pass."

  "But that only gives you a limited stay."

  "As far as Central Data is concerned, Jean Double came to Earth as a visitor and disappeared."

  "'Jean Double,' huh? You've gotten pretty glossy since you left."

  "I'm not as naive as I was two standards ago, if that's what you mean."

  Laughed. "Nobody is!"

  She laughed, too, and I liked the sound.

  "But is this it?" I said, looking around at the Lost Boys' tunnel village. "This is it for the rest of your life?"

  "It's not so bad." She hooked her arm around mine and I felt a strange tingle run up to my shoulder. "Come on. I'll give you the tour."

  The kids fell back, then followed us in a herd as she led me toward the greenery. Watched her out of the corner of my eye. She thought I'd changed? She'd changed! This was not the dumb woman-child clone of two years ago walking at my side. She was a grown-up — content, assured, self-confident. More than her hair had changed. Seemed to me she'd made major changes under that hair.

  "The daybars were here before I came, but the children never took advantage of the artificial sunlight. I had them collect some soil from the upper tunnels, steal seedlings from a few choice window boxes, and here we are: fresh vegetables."

  "Filamentous," I said, and meant it.

  She led me through the old station, showed me the various models of hut. Did my best to appear interested, but couldn't get a certain question out of my mind. Finally, when she stopped and showed me her own hut, I asked it: "How come you're wasting your life down here?"

  She turned on me like a tiger. "Waste? I don't call this wasting my life!"

  "Bloaty. What do you call it then?"

  "Doing some good! Making a difference! And I don't need your dregging Realpeople seal of approval to make it matter to me, either!"

  "Making a difference?" She was getting me riled. "What difference? They're still going to grow up and move upside with no legal existence and try to scratch out a living in the shadow strata."

  She turned away. "I know. But maybe they'll be just a little bit better people because of what I've done for them down here. And maybe…just maybe…"

  "Maybe what?"

  "Maybe they won't all have to move into the shadow strata. Maybe some of them can go somewhere else."

  "Like where?"

  "The Outworlds.""

  Too stunned to speak as she turned around and faced me with all this hope beaming from her eyes. Jean Harlow the clone had a Big Idea. A Dream.

  That can be dangerous.

  "Did they make you travel back and forth from the Outworlds in an unshielded cabin or something?" I said when I'd regained my voice. "Being out there must have affected your mind."

  "I'm not crazy!" she said with this b
eatific smile. "Farm planets like Neeka are crying for settlers — the younger the better! They need hands!"

  "But these are little kids here! They can't — "

  "Little hands quickly grow into bigger hands!"

  "And how are you going to get them off planet?"

  She frowned. "That's the problem."

  "That's not the only problem," I said. "Who knows how they'll be treated out there? Some dregger could turn them into slave labor, or worse."

  "I know, I know," she said in a miserable voice. "But look at this." She gestured at the platform around us. "Something has got to be done. These are babies. This has got to stop!"

  Stood and stared at her, not really understanding her. As usual.

  Guess there are two ways at looking at things like the urchingangs. Me, I've always accepted them. The urchin problem was swept under the carpet long before I was born and I've always taken it for granted that they'd still be there long after I died. Urchins: Everyone knows they're there, but as long as they stay out of sight in their assigned niche, no one has to bother about them.

  Then there's the other way: Someone sees the lumps in the carpet, lifts it up and says, Hey, what's this dregging mess doing here? This has got to stop.

  Well, sure. Now that I really thought about it, yes, it should be stopped. But who was going to do the stopping? Not an everyday jog like me. And certainly not a renegade clone of Jean Harlow.

  This has got to stop had never occurred to me because I knew it would never stop.

  And what you can't change, you accept.

  At least that was what had always worked for me.

  "Don't go stirring things up," I told her. "You might get hurt."

  She shrugged. "I'll risk it."

  Pointed to the kids standing and staring at us from a distance. "They might get hurt."

  "I know." She turned those big eyes on me. "Will you help me?"

  Shook my head. "No."

  "Please, Sig?"

  That startled me. She never called me by my first name.

  "With all your contacts, you could help me find a way to get some of these kids out of here."

  Shook my head again, very slowly so she couldn't confuse it with anything else. Knew if I got myself involved in this one it would make me crazy.

  "Double no. And let's change the subject."

  She gave me a long, reproachful look. "I suppose you want the rest of the payment for ridding us of those NeuroNex snatchers."

  "We're even," I said. "Consider it a favor for a friend."

  She smiled. "So I'm a friend? How nice of you to say so."

  That took me back. The friend I'd meant was B.B., but I didn't correct her.

  "Better be getting back," I said. "Is there a shortcut out of here?"

  "Only if you're B.B.'s size."

  "But they must have had lots more entries and exits in the old days."

  "Of course, but they've long since been sealed up and built over. The nearest adult-sized entry is the one you used to get here."

  "You going to lead me out?"

  "B.B. will do that. Goodbye, Mr. Dreyer."

  She turned and walked away.

  — 5-

  Strangely enough, about a week later I was sitting in my office with my feet up on the desk, thinking of Jean — nothing personal, just wondering what she was going to do with all those kids — when B.B. raced in. His eyes were bugging out of his ashen face.

  "Got uh! Got uh! Got Wendy!"

  My insides did a flop to the right, then to the left as I got my feet down and shot upright.

  "When? Who's got her?"

  Already knew the answer to the last part. What a dregging jog I'd been not to remember what Spinner had said about watching my every move.

  "Yellows!"

  That stopped me.

  "You mean M.A. types?"

  He nodded vigorously. "Four!"

  What 'round Sol were Megalops Authority police doing arresting Jean?

  "Where'd they take her?"

  "Dunno! Dunno!" B.B.'s face skrinched up and he started to blubber.

  "Hey, little man. Calm down."

  Seeing him break up was upsetting. Motioned him over by my chair and put an arm over his shoulder. He slumped against me and sobbed.

  I said, "I'll find out what's going on. If the yellowjacketstook her, she'll be down at the Pyramid. Probably all a big mistake."

  He seemed to take heart from that. "Think?"

  "Sure."

  Biggest lie of my life.

  "Y'get Wendy out, ri', Sig? Get back Mom-to-all?"

  "Do my best."

  "Cn'do, Sig. Know it be filamentous soon. Cn'do any!""

  "Yeah."

  — 6-

  The People's Pyramid — Open To All The People All The Time.

  Megalops Central really is a pyramid — no holo envelope. The real thing, squatting in the middle of a huge plaza. Hollow inside with all the governmental offices in the outer walls.

  Supposedly a showpiece but actually a colossal waste of space. A golden Cheops model, sloping up stepwise to a transparent apex. The steps provide landing areas, making up for the lack of a flat roof, I guess. Always bustling. Never closed.

  Took me a while — had to answer lots of questions and go through a genotype check — but managed to get a short visit pass. Sat there in a booth facing a blank wall. Noticed recorder plates overhead. Every word, every move was going into Central Data.

  The wall cleared and there was Jean. She looked surprised. Shocked, in fact.

  "You? You're the last one I expected to see."

  "Sorry to disappoint you."

  "No-no! It's so good to see a familiar face."

  "B.B. asked me to see what I could do."

  She looked scared. "I don't think anyone can help me now."

  "Tell me about it. Couldn't get much from B.B. He was almost incoherent."

  "Not much to tell. I came upside last night and the yellowjackets were waiting for me."

  "What's the charge?"

  "Illegal alien. I guess I didn't do such a good disappearing act."

  "Maybe, maybe not. Was it the same entry I used?"

  She nodded. "It's one of the few big enough for an adult."

  Suddenly I knew: "Spinner did it!"

  Jean blanched. "Oh, no! How can you be sure?"

  "He's been following me! What a jog! Led him right to you!"

  "But you didn't know you were going to meet me!"

  True. But somehow I still felt responsible.

  "Well, Ned Spinner can go sit on a black hole. He's out of luck. I'm a citizen of Neeka now. He's got no lien on me any more!"

  Wasn't so sure of that. Wouldn't be hard for Spinner to establish by genotype that she was a clone of Jean Harlow. When he did that, all her rights — to emigrate from Earth, to take citizenship on Neeka — would go null. The M.A. would treat her like Realpeople until the genotyping was confirmed and Spinner's ownership of her genotype was established. But once that was settled, she'd be property again. Ned Spinner's property.

  "Just for the sake of argument," I said, "let's suppose you wind up in Spinner's clutches again. What'll you do?"

  She shrugged. "Nothing. And I mean nothing."

  "And if he forces you?"

  Her expression was grim. "He'll own one dead clone."

  Was afraid she'd say that. And knew she might not get a chance to make that final gesture if Spinner had her personality wiped. The clone I knew as Jean, the person B.B. knew as Wendy — "Mom-to-all" — would be gone, but her body would go on working for Ned Spinner.

  Wondered briefly which was worse, then realized it really didn't matter.

  "Just a thought," I said. "Don't worry about it."

  She looked scared enough already. Didn't need me injecting a worse reality into the nightmares she was probably having as it was.

  The transpanel began to opaque between us. Time was up.

  "Be back when I find out what's going on. Don't go a
nywhere."

  She smiled — could tell it was forced — and faded from sight.

  — 7-

  "Don't look so grim, Dreyer," said a nasal voice to my left as I stepped from the downchute onto M.A. Central's ground level.

  "You should be feeling lucky."

  Ned Spinner, grinning like a shark.

  "Feeling pretty murderous at the moment, Spinner. Don't press your luck."

  "I'm not scared of you. Especially here."

  Looked at him hard, letting my face show him what I wanted to do to him.

  He took a step back. "You'd better be careful, Dreyer. You got lucky last night. If they'd caught you with her, you'd be in your own cell on grand theft charges."

  So that was why he had her grabbed by official types — he wanted me, too.

  "Tough luck, dregface."

  "You're not off yet. You may still wind up spending lots more time here than you want when they start investigating how her genotype status got switched from clone to Realpeople in Central Data. The M.A.'s gonna to be real interested in that."

  Felt a spike of uneasiness when he said that, but showed him nothing.

  "Do your worst," I said, knowing he would, and headed for the exit.

  Became aware of an awful lot of kids around as I crossed the Pyramid's cavernous inner space. Dirty, skinny kids of all sizes in ragtag clothes.

  Urchins.

  Hadn't noticed them when I came in, but then, I'd been in a hurry at the time. Maybe this was a good begging place.

  Wouldn't think so, but how would I know? Was a habit of mine to avoid M.A. Central at all costs.

  Right now I had to get to Elmero's. Potential trouble brewing and he had to know about it.

  — 8-

  "I think we're safe," Elmero said after a moment's consideration.

  His skeletal body was embedded deep into his polyform chair. He smiled with what he no doubt thought was friendly reassurance.

  "Not so sure," I told him.

  "Where's the link? My contact in Central Data is an old hand at this sort of thing — as you should know. He can add genotypes or subtract them, or change a genotype status from Realpeople to clone and back again without anyone connecting him to the foul deed. And even if they did, all my dealings with him are blind, paid for with hard. Even under Truth he couldn't finger me."