"Vanessa! . . ."
The Jaguar cleared the top of the upward-hinging ramp and somersaulted as its front went down into the gap. It hit the end of the opposite section roof first, dead center, the momentum caving it in like a karate-chopped soda can, ends buckling, fountains of glass exploding out in all directions. The car hung for several seconds, tipping back slowly as the angle of the bridge steepened. Finally it broke free and plunged into the green-gray water.
It was night by the time salvage boats, working by floodlights, brought the wreck up again. This time, Vanessa's condition wasn't virtual. And what was left of Payne had to be buried without a head.
EPILOGUE
The tour bus looked vaguely like a stretched, big-wheels version of a golf cart with a transparent bubble top. It had seats for a driver and six passengers, slung high above four roundwall tractor treads independently suspended for rugged terrain. The driver had a blue uniform with cap, white shirt and tie, and looked the part of somebody in charge. Seated in pairs behind him were a man in a sweater and slacks, one in a jacket, another in shirtsleeves, two women in skirts and one wearing jeans—representative of a mixed vacation group that could have been found anywhere. Except that they all had immobile features and oddly proportioned bodies, and their clothes and faces were painted on.
Amy Patterson, feature writer for Time-Life, was at the back on the right. The rendering of a tan check two-piece with yellow, high-necked blouse was a little on the staid side of anything she would have picked herself, but the other reporters and journalists "occupying" the figures around her were hardly interested in matters like that. It was special preview day for the press at Seattle's just-completed MICROCOSM test site, which would open to the public tomorrow. A half dozen more were planned at major U.S. cities in the next six months, and two in Japan. It didn't need to be the kind of large, centralized undertaking that would require visitors by the thousands and parking lots measured by the acre to justify it, like a Disneyworld. A few square yards of any kind of environment—natural, synthetic, subterranean, aqueous—could be created anywhere. So they could more appropriately be offered as smaller, local attractions comparable to the neighborhood park or the mall movie theaters. Eventually, the information package circulated by the new corporation said, there was no reason why individuals shouldn't acquire their own to use as they chose, like personal computers.
"Now, here are some more protozoans that are kind of interesting. If you look down in the water just outside to the right, you'll see a bunch of what look like green goldfish squirming around—or should that be greenfish?"
They had stopped on a rock shelf by a grotto formed under a roof of scaly arches sprouting leaves the size of tennis courts. The voice of the young man—Amy had judged him to be about fifteen or sixteen—came over the audio circuit that they were all tuned into, its youthful quality contrasting with the visual effect of the surrogate's painted mustache. But he was doing a good job, Amy thought.
"They belong to the class known as flagellates, on account of the filament that they use to propel themselves along, which you might just be able to make out. This particular kind is called Euglena, typically five to ten thousandths of an inch long. They're responsible for the green scum that you get on ponds, when they get too numerous. They live by photosynthesis. The red patches are rudimentary eye spots that enable them to seek light."
"What are those?" The sandy-haired man in the gray sweater at the front waved a hand painted china-doll pink. He was really a newsman from NBC, and had a ginger beard.
The driver shifted in his seat to look back. "Where?"
"There, a bit farther out—the Tinkertoy beach balls." There was no need to carry a camera on this assignment. Everything they saw through their micromec eyes could be recorded automatically at the push of a virtual button. The NBC man was pointing at a cluster of what looked like spherical cages, each a foot or so across. Their surfaces consisted of greenish blobs stretched into five-pointed stars by bars attaching to their neighbors, the result being a lattice of triangles.
"They're pretty interesting too," the driver answered. "Volvox. It's a colony of thousands of flagellates similar to Euglena, embedded in the surface of a jelly ball. The flagella form a kind of fuzz around the outside, but you can't see them too well from here. They move the ball about through the water. What's interesting is that the same side is always forward when it swims, so it's got a definite front and a back. The only way to explain that is that the activities of all the members are subordinated to the colony as a whole. Nobody really knows how that works. If they all just did their own thing independently, the ball would never get anywhere."
"You could view that as the beginnings of individuality, maybe," somebody commented on the circuit.
"That's exactly what it is—a first step toward what you see in the higher animals—distinct individuals made up of millions of cells."
"Where did you learn all this at your age?" Amy couldn't help asking.
"You gonna be a biology major?" the NBC man asked.
The bus pulled away and followed below a wooden cliff on which spiky and squirmy life-forms were moving beneath fungal circus tents of brown and orange. "As a matter of fact my specialty is computers and electronics. But you get into just about everything when you've got a scientist for a father, especially one like Eric—even tour guiding." There were a couple of laughs.
"Anyhow, this ride will have given you an initial feel of what it's all about. I'm going to stop a little farther ahead, and we'll zap you all back to the theater for a coffee break and a presentation on the technology. We thought it would help you frame questions if you'd had a chance to sample the experience first. Then, after that, we'll come back down here, and that's when you'll be able to get out and walk around. We'll use the bus to visit a few places where we've got some short hikes prepared. . . . Okay, are there any other points for now?"
There weren't. Everyone seemed content just to gawk. Amy pointed at an icon on the top edge of her visual field as they had been briefed, and it unrolled a choice of simple command options. She indicated Commentary to switch her speech input from the common circuit to a private channel, and resumed recording.
"Well, just a few more impressions before we go back for a technical session. I'm still not sure I really believe this. I have to remind myself that the lake we're driving past is probably less than a yard across, and those aren't really mountains on the other side.
"In front, we're approaching what I can only think of as some kind of primordial jungle—the kind you imagine pterodactyls flying over, and dinosaurs crashing around in. It's not anything like trees as we know them, but gigantic, curving trunks all twisting together, and huge, leathery plates of leaves, much higher up above than you ever see trees. The light is peculiar too, in that . . . Oh, my God, there is a dinosaur! It's even bigger than the trees, staring down over them at us like a Tyrannosaurus." Amy called down the command menu again and hovered a finger warily near exit. "It's got a flat, pointed head and enormous black eyes made up of thousands of lenses. I think it's a praying mantis. . . ."
Kevin watched from the back of the auditorium as Corfe gave his talk, "Introduction to DNC," accompanied by slides, charts, and demonstrations. It seemed to be going over well, with a lively flow of questions from the audience. Ohira was sitting to one side, decked out formally in a black suit with bow tie for the occasion.
"So can we take it that this technology has a clean bill of health now?" somebody asked from the front. "Weren't there some scares going around about, oh, six months or so ago? Something about it being able to mess people up in the head?"
Corfe nodded knowingly. "That's all been put to bed now. It was exposed as a malicious campaign initiated by hostile commercial interests that stood to lose in a big way. You see, the MICROCOSM venture—we still call it 'Bug Park' among ourselves here—is really just a side line. The big-money applications are in science and industry."
"So there's no truth i
n those allegations?"
Corfe smiled faintly and shook his head. "Not a scrap. It was all investigated officially. They all went away."
A modest auditorium the size of a local movie theater was all that was needed—another could always be added next door if the demand called for it. The couplers were luxurious compared to the ones Kevin was used to; it was the electronics that constituted the biggest capital outlay. The park itself was a square twenty feet on a side out back. That could always be enlarged, and more variety added as needed, too.
Somebody tapped him on his elbow. He turned to find Avril there. She motioned with her head at the doors behind, leading through to the lobby area. Kevin nodded and followed her out.
Taki was outside, among the staff attending to final chores, and contractors cleaning up and making last-day finishing touches to the decor. Janna was with him, holding a phone. "What's the plan for the girls this evening?" Taki asked Kevin. "Are they staying in town or going back to Tacoma? Janna's folks need to know." Neurodyne was hosting a dinner in town for the guests that night.
Kevin was surprised that Taki should even ask. "Coming with us, of course. They're part of the firm now." Avril and Janna had made their debut as tour bus drivers too that morning, and seemed to have enjoyed it. Unofficially, they were becoming quite proficient small-game hunters also.
Taki looked at Kevin while Janna relayed the information into the phone. "A guy in the group that I was with just now wanted to know if we'd thought of starting a flying school—teaching people to fly planes, using mecs. It sounded like a great idea. What do you think?"
Kevin shrugged. "Why not? Put it on the list." New suggestions were pouring in all the time. "Where did he hear about that, anyway?" Kevin asked.
"I think your dad mentioned it when they were talking over the phone," Taki answered.
"Why just planes?" Avril put in. "Why not let people have a try at the flymecs?"
"I don't thing they're ready for going public with yet," Taki said.
"But they're getting better all the time."
"One thing at a time," Taki said. "Learn to think like an engineer."
"You have to think ahead too. I've got lots more ideas. Wanna hear 'em?"
"Where is Dad, anyway?" Kevin muttered, looking around.
"I'd rather have something to drink," Taki said. "Why does neurocoupling make you thirsty?"
"I've got change. I'll get them," Avril said. "What do you guys want?"
"Coke," Taki answered.
"Orange," Kevin said.
"Want to give me a hand, Jan?" Avril said.
"Sure." Janna put the phone in her purse and followed after Avril in the direction of the vending area.
Kevin spotted Eric with Michelle, over by the door to the briefing room—unlike a movie theater, there would need to be some introduction and familiarization for first-time users. Harriet, looking smart in a navy dress trimmed with white, had just left them and was coming over to where the two boys were standing. Michelle gripped Eric's arm, leaning to say something close, and they both laughed together.
"So, how is everything going?" Harriet inquired. Kevin got the feeling that she had seized the moment to leave discreetly.
"Pretty good," Taki replied.
"When are we going to sign you up as a guide too?" Kevin asked her. They had persuaded Harriet to try the mecs finally, but that was about all. Kevin didn't think there was much danger of a lifetime addiction developing. Taki's sister was evidently not alone.
"Oh, I think I've gotten too used to being the size I am to want to go changing it now," Harriet told him. "I like things looking the way they are." She studied Kevin for a moment, then turned to follow his gaze. Eric was off in another world again, but this time it was shared, not one purely of his own.
Harriet looked back at Kevin. His face had an odd, distant grin. Her voice fell to a confidential note. It didn't matter that Taki was listening—he had long been family. "And if you ask me," she said, "from the way some other things are shaping up, it might not be long before you have to start getting used to having a new stepmother all over again."
Kevin couldn't pretend that it came as a total surprise.
Michelle had been showing up at the house and the office too often for that; there had been too many days with just her and Eric going off somewhere together, too many evenings of cozy dinners and late-night dancing. Kevin nodded and grinned in a way that he hoped conveyed the wisdom and worldliness that seemed to be appropriate.
"Oh, I don't think I'd have too much of a problem dealing with it this time," he said. He looked at Taki and raised a quizzical eyebrow. Taki solemnly nodded approval.
A burst of enthusiastic applause from the auditorium door behind them endorsed it.
END
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