Bug Park

by James P. Hogan

  "Hey, wait a minute," Michelle protested. "I'll have to figure that one out. . . ."

  Ohira gestured approvingly toward where Kevin and Taki were talking with Avril and Janna. "See there, my nephew has the right idea. He enjoys himself too."

  Eric and Michelle shifted their attention just in time to hear Kevin saying, ". . . I don't know. I'd have to ask my dad."

  Eric straightened up. "What do you have to ask your dad?" he called across.

  "Oh. . . ." Kevin moved over to them. Taki motioned to the two girls. They followed hesitantly. "This is Avril. That's Janna," Kevin said. "They were asking about the mecs. We wondered if they could come and see Bug Park."

  "It sounds absolutely fascinating," Avril said.

  Ohira nodded his shaggy bullet of a head. "It's a great idea," he pronounced. "We should get more kids' thoughts on what they like, what more they'd want to see."

  Going in like a tempest was typical of Ohira when a new idea seized him. Michelle was less sanguine. "Wouldn't it be a bit premature?" she said dubiously, glancing at Eric.

  "It's called market research," Ohira said. "Never too early."

  "Sure, why not?" Eric said. "Let's do it. How about tomorrow? Vanessa will still be away in town. We'll have the place to ourselves. Could you manage tomorrow?" he asked the girls.

  "Wow!"

  "Great!"

  Doug Corfe had moved closer with the ferry captain. Eric, however, failed to notice them as Michelle laid a hand lightly on his arm. "Do you think it's wise, Eric?" she said. "You know—in view of this DNC business. Can you really be sure that there's nothing to it?"

  He gave her a pained look. "Oh, come on. I've been involved with this technology longer than anybody. Do you think I'd let Kevin and Taki anywhere near it if I had any doubts?"

  "It's not just that. If this becomes a legal issue and a court decides there was any risk and negligence at all, we could be put through a blender over it."

  Eric's expression hardened. He shook his head. "Giving these people any credence at all is the first step to letting yourself be intimidated by them. I'm sorry. Don't take this personally, but I won't let lawyers start telling me what I can do in my private life, at my own house. . . ." Just for a moment, Michelle had the feeling of glimpsing another facet of the real Eric. Then, just as abruptly, he grinned and lapsed back to his more usual, easygoing self. "In any case, I'm not your client. Ohira is."

  "And your client says we stick to our own business," Ohira said to Michelle. She held up a hand and backed off graciously with a so-be-it expression.

  Eric looked away and noticed Corfe and his companion for the first time. He gestured with an arm to usher them closer. "Hey, Doug. Why are you standing there as if you don't know us? It's a party. What are you up to tomorrow afternoon? I could use a bit of help at the house. Kevin and Taki want to bring these young ladies over to see the Park."

  "Aw, gee. . . ." Corfe looked apologetic. He motioned toward the man with him. "This is Ray Young, an old friend of mine. I knew him when I was with a marine radar company up at Bremerton for a while, just after I came out of the service. We'd just decided to get together tomorrow."

  Ray threw up his hands. "Hey, Doug, don't go messing things up on my account. We can make it some other time. I'm not planning on emigrating anytime soon."

  "What were you planning on doing?" Eric asked Corfe.

  Corfe shrugged. "We hadn't exactly decided. Sink a few for old times somewhere, probably."

  "Then that's easy," Eric said. "Nice to meet you, Ray. How would you like to come along and join us at the house too?"

  Corfe looked at Ray as if to say it was a thought. "You'd find it interesting, Ray," he promised. "And we could still take a few beers out on the water. Eric's place is right on one of the inlets."

  Ray made a play of hesitating, then nodded. "Well sure, if it's not imposing on anyone. Thanks, I'd like that. . . . Thanks very much."

  "What kind of things will we be doing?" Avril asked Kevin.

  He moved his eyes to Taki, then back. "Did you ever try parachuting?" he asked her.

  Janna looked alarmed. "Hey, wait. That sounds dangerous. I'm not sure I—"

  Kevin grinned and shook his head. "Not our way. You'll just love it. Trust us."

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  One of the seminar organizers standing at the rear of the auditorium made a T with his hands to signal time almost up. Vanessa acknowledged with a nod and turned her attention back to the bearded man near the front, who had another question. With his plastic bag packed with papers and brochures, and a wirebound pad on his knee that he had been scribbling in continually through her talk, he looked like a dedicated stalker of conventions.

  "Dr. Heber. About side-effects again. Are you aware of the item in Science News this week about four more cases of neural disorder reported among DNC researchers?"

  "Yes, I have read it."

  A pause. "Do you have any comment?"

  Vanessa did her best to convey skepticism without appearing complacent. "What qualifies as a neural disorder?" she replied. "Just overt dementia? Can it be suggestions of stress and not enough sleep? Or anything that strikes the person doing the survey as abnormal? . . . And four out of how many? Was a group size established, or did it just cover anyone they could rope in? And if we do know the size, and what a 'neural disorder' is, how many would we expect in a similar-size group from some other section of the population—the people in this room, for instance? . . . You see my point. Without controls and a measurable criterion to compare them by, nothing is really being said. Superficially it sounds scary, but it doesn't mean anything."

  "But if it was shown to be significant . . ." the bearded man persisted.

  Vanessa looked at him and sighed inwardly. Why did people ask questions that could have only one answer? "If it were proved to be a problem, I'd agree it was a problem," she said. Appreciative laughs here and there greeted her answer. Although a couple of hands were still raised, she seized the moment to wrap things up. "I'm sorry, but we have had a time signal from the back. There is something else about to start in the room. If there are any more points, I'll take them out in the lobby area outside. Thank you all for your interest."

  There was a polite round of applause. Seats creaked, and a mumble of voices built up as the audience began standing and dispersing toward the doors. Vanessa recovered her carousel of slides from the projector and collected her notes. As she stepped down from the dais, a gaggle of people who had come forward escorted her to the exit amid questions and proffered calling cards.

  The lobby was abuzz with intense-looking people clutching program books and papers, talking from seats or standing in the spaces between. There were a lot of beards, heavy spectacles, tweedy skirts, and sweaters. Vanessa spent maybe five minutes disposing of the questions. Then, when she was free at last, she made her way over to a table set up with urns and an offering of snacks, put down the things that she was carrying, and fixed herself a hot lemon tea. A young woman announced herself as a reporter from the Tribune and asked if Vanessa would be willing to do an interview for the Science section. At that moment, Vanessa saw the stocky, mustached figure of Phil Garsten standing by the wall, waiting to get her attention. It was Saturday, and he looked casually off-duty in light blue slacks and a tan windbreaker. Vanessa gave the reporter the numbers of the house and her office, and invited her to call sometime next week. Garsten waited until Vanessa was alone, and then ambled over. He helped himself to a cup and held it to one of the urns.

  "So, this is life on the wild side, eh?" he drawled while he ran the coffee. "The real Vanessa that we've never glimpsed before. What have I been missing? I haven't seen so much fun since my draft physical."

  "Give me a break, Phil. Having to put up with these dreary people for a whole weekend is bad enough. I don't need a eulogy on life's ecstasies from you as well."

  "We all gotta do what we gotta do—for as long as it takes, anyhow. How'd the talk go?"

&nb
sp; "Oh, pretty well. Practically a full house."

  "Good. Who was that cute chick?"

  "A reporter. She wants to set up an interview. You know, I've been doing this for long enough, you'd think I'd have gotten used to it by now, but there's still that relieved feeling when it's over. You know—like when you've made it to the airport, got your boarding pass, checked your bags, and now you can unwind."

  "Did you get questions?"

  "Of course—it's getting to be a hot subject. And if you came to set your mind at ease, naturally I played the party line." Vanessa picked up the file containing her notes, indicated the carousel box with her head, and moved away as a chattering group approached the table. Garsten took the box and followed her to an unoccupied lounge chair by a low table. Vanessa slipped the folder under an arm and turned to sit against the back of the chair, regarding him over the rim of her cup. Garsten put down the carousel box. "But I don't think you're here to check on that," Vanessa said. "What is it?"

  Garsten looked around and lowered his voice. "I got a call from the Lang woman at home last night." Vanessa drew a sharp intake of breath. Garsten nodded. "From the way she talked, it sounded like you two have already met."

  Vanessa's mouth compressed into a tight line. "She was over at the house. One of these meddling bitches who can't just stick to her job. She has to get involved in everything. I felt trouble in the wind as soon as she walked into the scene. What did she want?"

  Garsten folded his arms loosely, his cup resting in a hand. "Sounds like a pretty accurate assessment. She's checking out the background on the DNC story." Vanessa nodded. That wasn't surprising. She would have expected that much. It was Theme Worlds' lawyer's job. However, to bring Phil here, there had to be more. He went on, "And she was asking about Jack. She thought I might have a handle on what he knew. She's got her suspicions about what happened, too. She didn't press it, but I could tell. And she'll keep digging. I know her type."

  Vanessa took a long breath and exhaled it into a sigh. She sipped her tea while her eyes took in the floor and shifted agitatedly over the surroundings. "Have you got a cigarette, Phil? . . . No, forget it—they won't let you, here. It means we don't have the luxury of as much time as we thought. We're going to have to move things faster."

  Garsten nodded. "That's the way I figured it too. I didn't bother you with it last night since you were . . ." he bunched his mouth and made a play of being delicate, "relaxing. But I talked to Martin this morning. I called him on the yacht about a half hour after you'd left."

  "And what does he think?"

  "Oh, he agrees. The longer things drag out now, the more likely the ball of wax will come unglued. He wants us to get together at the Mansion to talk about it."

  "Who?"

  "You and me. Andy. The guys. . . . Could you get away from here to make it there for lunch say?"

  "You mean right now?"

  "No, tomorrow."

  "I guess so—I'll be clear by then. I'm not due back in Olympia until late, anyhow." Vanessa looked at Garsten curiously. "What is Martin thinking? To bring the whole thing forward?"

  Garsten nodded. "ASAP. Didn't you say something about Eric going up to the mountains sometime soon?"

  "The Barrow's Pass resort—next weekend. . . . Could you have things ready by then?"

  "There isn't a lot left to do. One piece of paper to draw up and some details to file for the record. I assume there's no problem with the equipment?"

  Vanessa shook her head and remained expressionless. "None at all."

  "Well, that's what Martin wants to go over tomorrow. We're gonna get the show on the road." Garsten drained the last of his coffee. "Have you had lunch?"

  "Not yet." Vanessa had planned on making do with just a light snack. Martin had promised somewhere exclusive for dinner that night. She would be staying on the yacht again, of course.

  "Me neither," Garsten said. "Come on, I'll treat you—and it won't even show up on your bill." He set down his empty cup and looked around. "Do we need to go out someplace, or can you get something here? Do academics eat real food? Or is it all bean curd and processed fish brains? . . ."

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  It had begun as one of Taki's crazy ideas.

  Kevin lay hunched on his back. The rubber band fixed around both him and the wadded-up pack attached underneath held him compressed into a ball: chin tucked in, knees drawn up toward his head with his arms clasped around them. Or at least, the swiveling ball-and-socket joint that functioned as a chin, the piezoelectrically activated articulations that served as knees, and the linked multi-axial appendages that were his arms.

  Greenery, water, and sky turned around him in a blur as Taki's fingers, looking like hinged balloons the length of freight cars, fitted him into an inverted arch of dinosaur hide floating a mile above the ground. The kaleidoscope stabilized with Taki's face filling his view against a backdrop of sky. The mouth opened and closed to say something that Kevin couldn't hear.

  "All set for launch?" Doug Corfe's voice queried. Corfe was down by the water with Taki and Ray, the ferry captain, speaking via a portable phone link patched into Kevin's audio.

  "This is exciting," Avril's voice said on the same circuit. She was in another coupler up at the house with Kevin, slaved to the same mec for vision input only to share the ride. Eric was with them, handling things in the lab. Janna was there too, having to watch for the moment. Normally it would have been possible to slave both of the other couplers to Kevin's, but one of them had developed a fault.

  "We're ready," Kevin said.

  Trees and sky whirled again. Then, for a moment, Kevin was looking up at the sky between the arms of an enormous horseshoe. Two rails, diverging above him into a wide V, yellow in the sunlight, elongated as Taki drew back the slingshot. . . .

  "Three. . . . Two. . . . One. . . ." Corfe's voice recited. "Liftoff!"

  Kevin felt as if he had been hit from behind by a train, and then he was hurtling skyward past the treetops. Avril screamed.

  He had tangled impressions of rocks and shore shrinking rapidly below. He could see the house, Harriet crossing the yard; a boat out near the far side of the inlet. Then he felt himself slowing toward the peak of the climb, and for a few moments hanging and turning like a miniature moon.

  Then falling. . . .

  "Oooh. . . . I think I'm going to be sick," Avril's voice wailed.

  "Please don't." Eric, coming in on the lab mike.

  "Where are you, Kev? We've lost you in the sun." Corfe, from the water's edge.

  Kevin cut the band, freeing his limbs. He let himself fall for a few seconds to develop a slipstream, and then released the chute of baled silk attached to the mec. Looking up, he saw it billow out above him as it filled with air against the sky. "Yowee, perfect!" he whooped.

  "Okay, we've got you now," Corfe relayed. "You're looking good."

  Silence and peace, the freedom of a cloud; drifting between earth and sky. . . .

  "Okay, I feel better now," Avril announced. "Say, you know something, guys. This is really nifty."

  The tops of the trees were coming up and expanding around him. Below on the grass, he could make out the three figures of Corfe, Taki, and Ray, their faces upturned.

  "Definitely replete with ample nift," Kevin agreed, overcome with the euphoria. There was a slight breeze along the shore. He experimented with pulling lines to spill air from the chute, and after a few tries succeeded in keeping on course, aiming toward where the figures below were standing. The figures grew into monstrous effigies the size of the Statue of Liberty, Taki waving, Corfe with arms outstretched, beckoning, heads tilting to follow him down. Then, for a moment, Kevin was floundering in a morass of pine needles and grass . . . and the folds of silk came down over him. He stabbed a finger to activate the Control menu and exited from the system.

  "Very good. You've earned your wings—virtual ones, of course," Eric told him. Kevin snapped open the collar and removed his headpiece. Eric was already helpin
g Avril out of her equipment.

  "It needs the bigger mecs for the weight," Kevin said. "I don't think the 'chute would open properly if we tried it with anything much smaller."

  "Then maybe you don't use a parachute with smaller ones," Eric said. "Perhaps you go to something like silk cotton-candy, like spiders do."

  "Hm. That's a thought."

  "Do I get a turn now?" Janna asked. "It looked great on the screen here."

  "You wait until you try this," Avril told her as she stood up from the coupler. "It's like you're really there."

  Eric called Corfe via the mike. "Is Taki coming?" Taki was due to take the next ride, with Janna as "passenger."

  "He's on his way," Corfe's voice answered from a speaker.

  "Well, we can go ahead and get you organized while we're waiting for him," Eric said to Janna. He motioned toward the coupler that Avril had vacated—it was one of the converted airliner seats. "Make yourself comfortable. It's nothing like the dentist's."

  "It's a really weird feeling, looking at the house from the outside and knowing you're really in there," Avril said.

  "Here's Taki now," Kevin said, looking out the window. "I'm going down where Doug is to watch it from the other end." Then, to Avril, "Want to come too?"

  "Sure." She went with him to the rear door. He held it for her and followed her out. They crossed the gravel behind the house and began descending the slope toward the water.

  "It must be great having a dad who's into stuff like this," Avril said as they walked. "Mine just watches football and works in the yard. So the yard's just something we all look at. No one's allowed to do anything in it."

  "Yeah. My dad says something similar about museums and houses. But you're lucky in some ways. Most times he's involved with something or other up at the labs. I guess this weekend he just decided to take a break."

  "How about your mom? Didn't you say she was some kind of scientist too?"

  "Yes—she's my stepmother, actually. She doesn't get too involved in what we do here at the house. She keeps more to the business side of things. . . ." Kevin picked up a pine cone and threw it at a trunk, not really of a mind to pursue that subject. They passed Taki coming the other way.