by Anthology
And dead, of course.
Not twenty minutes later I was hammering on Courtney's door. She came to the door in a Pierre Cardin dressing gown and from the way she was still cinching the sash and the disarray of her hair I gathered she hadn't been expecting me.
"I'm not alone," she said.
"I didn't come here for the dubious pleasures of your fair white body." I pushed my way into the room. (But couldn't help remembering that beautiful body of hers, not so exquisite as the dead whore's, and now the thoughts were inextricably mingled in my head: death and Courtney, sex and corpses, a Gordian knot I might never be able to untangle.)
"You didn't like my surprise?" She was smiling openly now, amused.
"No, I fucking did not!"
I took a step toward her. I was shaking. I couldn't stop fisting and unfisting my hands.
She fell back a step. But that confident, oddly expectant look didn't leave her face. "Bruno," she said lightly. "Would you come in here?"
A motion at the periphery of vision. Bruno stepped out of the shadows of her bedroom. He was a muscular brute, pumped, ripped, and as black as the fighter I'd seen go down earlier that night. He stood behind Courtney, totally naked, with slim hips and wide shoulders and the finest skin I'd ever seen.
And dead.
I saw it all in a flash.
"Oh, for God's sake, Courtney!" I said, disgusted. "I can't believe you. That you'd actually… That thing's just an obedient body. There's nothing there—no passion, no connection, just… physical presence."
Courtney made a kind of chewing motion through her smile, weighing the implications of what she was about to say. Nastiness won.
"We have equity now," she said.
I lost it then. I stepped forward, raising a hand, and I swear to God I intended to bounce the bitch's head off the back wall. But she didn't flinch—she didn't even look afraid. She merely moved aside, saying, "In the body, Bruno. He has to look good in a business suit."
A dead fist smashed into my ribs so hard I thought for an instant my heart had stopped. Then Bruno punched me in my stomach. I doubled over, gasping. Two, three, four more blows. I was on the ground now, rolling over, helpless and weeping with rage.
"That's enough, baby. Now put out the trash."
Bruno dumped me in the hallway.
I glared up at Courtney through my tears. She was not at all beautiful now. Not in the least. You're getting older, I wanted to tell her. But instead I heard my voice, angry and astonished, saying, "You… you goddamn, fucking necrophile!"
"Cultivate a taste for it," Courtney said. Oh, she was purring! I doubted she'd ever find life quite this good again. "Half a million Brunos are about to come on the market. You're going to find it a lot more difficult to pick up living women in not so very long."
I sent away the dead whore. Then I took a long shower that didn't really make me feel any better. Naked, I walked into my unlit suite and opened the curtains. For a long time I stared out over the glory and darkness that was Manhattan.
I was afraid, more afraid than I'd ever been in my life.
The slums below me stretched to infinity. They were a vast necropolis, a never-ending city of the dead. I thought of the millions out there who were never going to hold down a job again. I thought of how they must hate me—me and my kind— and how helpless they were before us. And yet. There were so many of them and so few of us. If they were to all rise up at once, they'd be like a tsunami, irresistible. And if there was so much as a spark of life left in them, then that was exactly what they would do.
That was one possibility. There was one other, and that was that nothing would happen. Nothing at all.
God help me, but I didn't know which one scared me more.
UN-BIRTHDAY BOY
James White
"Normality" involves comparison to a standard - but how do you judge the standard? - every morning he tried very hard not to waken into his unhappy world, but the wall beeper would only get louder until he turned it off to let his mother know that he was awake and would be out for breakfast as soon as he had washed and dressed. The voices of the three other children came through the adjoining wall, louder and more excited than usual because today was Danal's birthday and there would be a party and presents. He especially hated waking up on a birthday because those days were the unhappiest of all for him since he had never had one.
He was the only member of the family with his own room, he thought as he cleaned himself all over with the special sponge that was supposed to help take away the smell that they all said came from his body, then he deliberately looked out of the window while he dressed. Not so long ago he had needed his mother or one of the other children to help him with his fastenings, but now he was able to dress and look outside at the same time. Even his father, while visiting his room to do nasty things to him, had said that he was showing a change for the better and that it was about time.
But there was never any change in the view from his window, just the same haze of stars moving past like banks of bright speckled fog and the sun-shadows moving slowly along the metal framework that held their house to the rim of the spacestation.
All at once the other room became quiet and empty. He waited for as long as he could then followed the others into breakfast before his mother could come in to ask him if he was feeling sick again.
It was the fourteenth birthday party that he had attended, five for each of the two older children and four for the youngest one who was his favorite, although there might have been others that he had been too young to remember. They always began at breakfast time so that his father could join in and distribute the presents before dressing for work. Be cause it took so long to get into and out of a spacesuit and to check every thing, the children would not see him again until it was nearly bedtime. His father spent the last hour of the day playing with the children in their rooms, but some of the things he did to him when they were alone together were not nice so that he would have been pleased not to have a lather at all.
"Since this is another birthday," said his father, smiling at everyone in turn, "we have again been given permission to let you spend today playing in the Center. Your mother will stay with you until I finish for the day and we come back for another party. This time the area of wall netting has been extended and the metal projections padded so that there is no risk of you injuring yourselves. But don't get overexcited or jump off too fast be cause a collision at speed with the net supports or each other will hurt and would certainly spoil the rest of the birthday for you. And if someone was to be seriously injured you might not be allowed to play in the Center again. So be very careful, all of you."
Why, he thought, does he always look at me when he says things like that?
"And now," his father went on, "the presents..."
Danal, the birthday boy, was given his present first. It was a large box wrapped in used computer paper, and while he was opening it his younger brother Cawn and sister Wana were given smaller presents so that they would not feel bad because it wasn't their birthday. It wasn't his birthday, either, it was never ever his birthday, so he was given a present as well. It turned out to be a well-worn, animal soft toy, a castoff that had been given to Wana when she had been only two.
He said "Thank you," like the others, and put it down beside his bowl even though he wanted to pull its legs off and throw it at them. When he saw the nice things that the others were getting he tried not to speak, but the angry words came out any way.
"Why don't I get presents like that?" he said, waving his arms and al most knocking over the food bowl as he tried to point at all of them at once.
"This thing is for, for babies. Why don't you give me toys and games that light up and make noises and do things? You don't want me here. You don't love me, not like the way you do the others. I heard them talking about it. You, you don't even give me nice things to eat!"
This time it was little Wana who pointed. She was the youngest and smallest of the chil
dren and she al ways talked to him as if he wasn't stupid. With her tiny hand almost touching his face she said, "Why are your eyes all wet?"
"Of course we love you like the others," said his mother. "It is just that-"
"-It isn't easy to have toys sent 'way out here," his father joined in.
"There are weight restrictions on nonessential supplies for personal use, and we have to take good care of them. If you promise to be very careful and not lose your temper if the game is too difficult, Danal or Cawn will let you play with one of their old ones until you're able to-"
"No!" said Danal in a very loud voice. "I let him play with a game last year, remember? It was a flight simulator, an old one but still working, and he smashed it into bits before bedtime. He has hands like clumsy feet and he talks funny and he's got a big head with no brains in it. I won't do it, I won't."
"Me, too," said Cawn in a quieter voice. "He always breaks things. He's rough and he's not like us and we don't like him. Why don't you just send him away?"
"Stop talking like that, right now," said his father, "and listen to me. He can't help what he does and maybe he will learn not to break things one of these years. Maybe it was the accident when he was a baby, or being so long in that survival pod with not enough food in the dispenser that made him slow-witted. He was nearly dead when we found him. You have to make allowances for him not being..."
An argument started between his mother and father and the two boys; the same argument that happened at every birthday party for as long as he could remember. It made him feel very bad. He was wiping his eyes with his fingers when Wana leaned sideways in her chair towards him.
"I like you," she whispered. "I don't want you to go away. I think you're nice and fat and cuddly, and you've got a big, funny head."
All at once he felt a warm, sad, glad feeling that made his eyes get wet again, but he could not find the words to tell her about it. The argument was still going on between Danal, Cawn, and his parents, but it stopped when his father stood up.
"Enjoy your presents," he said. "It's time I left for work."
"Coward," said his mother, rising to go to the door with him. The boys stopped arguing and went back to exploring their presents and deliberately ignoring him. He was staring down at the old soft doll when he felt Wana's fingers poking into his arm.
When he looked at her he saw that she was watching the two older boys and pushing her bowl sideways to wards him. It was still half-filled with big, flat, pieces of yellow and red fruit floating in thick juice and his mouth watered just looking at it.
"Thank you. Wana," he said, reaching for the bowl. "Would you like some of mine?"
She looked down at the gray, lumpy contents of his bowl and said, "Yuk."
"Me, too," he said.
He had succeeded in making one of the pieces of soft, slippery fruit stay on the spoon and was lifting it care fully to his mouth when his mother came back and started scolding every body except him.
"Don't let him eat that!" she said.
"How many times have I told you not to give him any of your food? He has an allergy to fruit and practically everything else in this place. Don't ask-an allergy means that certain things make him sick or brings him out in itchy spots. Wana, don't ever give him your breakfast again. And you boys are old enough to know better. Why didn't you stop her? Go into the living room and play with your toys. Leave the door open so I can hear what you're doing..."
From the living room he could still hear her talking to herself as she cleared the breakfast things. The two boys were playing with the new game Danal had been given for his birthday and they did not look at him. Wana had brought out the old teaching game that all of the others had used when they were younger, a flat box that showed moving pictures on top while a voice inside explained what was happening in very simple words.
"Thank you, Wana, anyway," he said. But she was ignoring him, too, because she did not like being scold ed and was blaming him for what had happened. But he knew that she would not stay mad at him for long so he said, "What is that thing?"
After a long silence she said, "It's a bird."
"But what's it doing?" he said.
"There isn't anything holding it up. Is it in a Center, in free fall?"
"Can't you hear the words?" said Wana crossly. "It's flying, holding itself up by pushing down against the air with its wings, those broad arms with the fuzzy edges."
He could hear words better, he had learned over the years, than could any other member of the family. It was more difficult if they were whispered behind doors or a dividing wall, but he was still able to hear every word they said. He had not told them about his ability because he was afraid it would make the boys like him even less if he was better at anything than they were. Wana was different. She was nice and she liked him, most of the time.
"I can hear but I don't understand all the words. What is an angle of incidence and a coefficient of-"
"I don't understand those words, either," she broke in. "It's just a bird, flying up in the air and away from the ground."
She still seemed to be angry with him and that made him feel bad. Maybe he should try to make her laugh.
Very carefully he climbed up to stand balanced on the chair, which was soft and unsteady under his feet, and began to flap his arms up and down faster and faster. Wana looked up at him, smiling, until one of his feet slipped over the edge of the cushion and he fell onto the floor.
"I tried very hard," he said, "but I didn't fly into the air."
"We're playing a difficult game here that needs a lot of concentration," said Danal. He gave a nasty laugh and went on, "And you didn't rise in the air because your hands aren't wide enough. Sit down and stop fooling around."
"Did you hurt yourself?" said Wana, being friends again. "You can play this game with me if you like. I'll show you what keys to press to change the pictures."
He wanted to play the game, and push the tiny, close-together buttons that would change the pictures or make parts of them bigger or cause them to stop moving. But if he was clumsy, and he was always clumsy, he might break off one of the tiny control keys and ruin the game and she would not like him again.
He rubbed the wetness from his eyes and said, "No, I'll just watch you, and behave myself."
"Oh, that's good," said Wana, and laughed.
Unlike the other two, she was too young and nice to hide the relief she was feeling or say things that meant something else.
She changed the pictures to show other kinds of birds and fish and animals, and some of them looked like their parents with no clothes on, but they always came back to the first big, beautiful bird with the slow-moving arms. They were watching it yet again when their mother came in.
"Everyone is being very quiet," she said, "Has somebody broken some thing or done something naughty that you don't want to tell me about? Or are you all enjoying your games too much to want to go up to the Center?"
Everybody said "No" so quickly that he could not tell who said it first.
His mother smiled and said, "Then let's go. Everyone, zip up your cover alls and make sure your shoes won't come off. I'll carry the picnic. Danal and Cawn, lead the way Wana next and you..." she bent down to check his feet, "...had better stay close to me."
"They're all right," he said. "I can tie the laces myself now."
"Good boy," she said, patting him on the head. "Now hold onto my hand and come along."
They left the house and followed the others along the corridor outside, and began climbing the ramps and ladders leading up to the Center. The higher they climbed the easier it be came, but slower because his feet would barely stay on the ground and he had to hold onto his mother's hand or the netting that was stretched tightly along the walls to keep from floating away. The others were moving far ahead of them, shouting with excitement as they pulled themselves faster along the netting, but his mother held him back and told him to be patient.
By the time they emerged into the Cen
ter, Danal and Cawn were already drifting into the big, empty middle and Wana was making a slow, careful jump to follow them.
Apart from the small pictures of big places shown on learning games, this was the biggest empty place he had ever seen. It would have taken about fifty adults with their arms held out sideways and holding onto each other's hands to stretch from any one side of the hollow space to the side opposite. The last time he had been here his father had told him very slowly that it was the station's cargo bay, that the extending arms of the handling equipment were folded flat against the inner walls and all the sharp edges protected by raised safety nets, padding or sheets of packing when not in use, and that the circular red and yellow door he could see be hind the netting was opened only when there was a ship in dock discharging stores or people. His father had stopped trying to explain when it became clear that he had not under stood what was being said. But he remembered the words, and now he was older and knew what most of them meant.
Neither had he any trouble under standing the meaning of his mother's words even when he was pretending not to hear some of them.
"Be careful," she was saying, "and stay close to the netting. Pull yourself along it with your hands, but slowly so you won't drift away. If you get into trouble, shout and I'll come for you. Don't jump too hard because you're very strong and if you hit something when you are moving too fast, you will be hurt. Another reason why I don't want you to jump into the middle with the others is that if you started spinning there would be nothing to hold onto to stop yourself and you would be dizzy and frightened..."
She was still warning him to be careful as he began pulling himself along the net and stopping every few minutes to let his legs swing back wards and up to point toward the middle where the others were floating and turning slow somersaults.