by Rudy Rucker
Frek looked over and, yes, it was the girl he’d seen in the ring. In person she was even nicer looking than the ring-aura had led him to believe. She had a broad smile, two long, braided pigtails, bright intelligent eyes, and a casual way of standing there. She had a turkle drawing pad attached to her belt.
“Hi, Frek,” she said. “I got Hawb and Cawmb to bring me along, but I fell asleep right before we got here. I’m Renata, the one who’s been pestering you from your ring. I hear you’re twelve? I’m fourteen.” Her voice was sweet and low-pitched, with a slight roughness to it. A musical yet raspy sound.
“Hi,” said Frek. He stuck out his hand and stepped toward her, but in his eagerness, he overdid the step and went flying through the air. Gracefully she caught his shoulders and swung him around, damping his motion without falling over. For a second, Frek was practically in her arms, as if they were dancing. He had time to notice that Renata smelled good. Like sunshine. And then they were standing face to face. She was exactly the same height as him.
“Look at Cawmb’s tail,” said Renata. “It’s a stack of babies. I should draw it.”
Indeed, what had seemed to be a stubby cylindrical tail was in fact a pile of miniature Unipuskers. The ones closer to Cawmb’s body were less developed, consisting of little more than soft clamshell heads, while the ones out near the tip were very nearly fully formed, with the very last one even moving his arms and legs. And now in fact the tipmost baby Unipusker broke free and dropped to the floor, no bigger than a gingerbread man. He looked around uncertainly, then toddled toward Gibby.
“Come here, Wow!” shouted Frek, lest the dog do something dreadful. “Woo! Come to me, too!” Sensing the possible danger, Gibby had already let the baby Unipusker hop onto his hand. The Grulloo smiled at the tiny being and held him to his grizzled cheek.
“Demand privacy,” roared Cawmb, trying both to hide his tail and to bend over to retrieve his new baby from Gibby. “Direct nosy human guests to ascend to the cockpit with Pilot Evawrt and remain there! Order Hawb to lock up those vicious dogs! Request Gibby to unhand my baby!”
Renata had freed her turkle from her belt and was quickly drawing on it with her index fingernail. Her nail was shaped into a point like the nib of a pen. Her deft strokes had not only captured the image of Cawmb’s tail, but the angry, embarrassed expression of his shell-shaped head.
“Save it,” Renata told her turkle, and smiled up at Frek. “Maybe we should get out of here now. Cawmb is turning gollywog.” Her turkle took hold of her belt again. She stepped back out into the big hall with Frek following her. “Do you get how the Unipuskers talk?” said Renata. “Every sentence is in the imperative.” They started across the transparent deck. “Your dogs are cute. If I was a Unipusker, I’d say, ‘Remark upon the cuteness of your dogs.’ It always sounds like they’re planning to do stuff instead of just doing it. Or telling someone to do it instead of doing it themselves. Actually that kind of reminds me of my mother.” She paused, looking back toward the dining area, seemingly wanting to see more of Cawmb’s uncovered tail.
“Are your mother and my Dad—” Before Frek could figure out how to finish the question, Hawb came bounding after them. The Unipusker scooped up one dog with each hand, flung them through yet another of the doorways off the entrance hall, and made a special gesture that sealed a dark panel across it. Frek could hear muffled barking.
“Take it easy!” cried Renata. “They’re man’s best friend!”
“Loudly echo Cawmb’s belief the dogs are vicious,” shouted Hawb. “Inform Frek the beasts must be quarantined while his party visits Unipusk.”
“You mustn’t hurt them,” said Frek, making an effort to sound calm and in control. “They’ll need food and water. And I have to be able to visit with them. If I have my own room in Unipusk, let me keep them with me. I’ll make sure they’re good. I can reason with them, a little bit. They don’t mean any harm. They’re just dogs.” Meanwhile Renata was circling around to get one more peek into the dining area.
“Grant your request,” said Hawb after a pause. He lowered his voice so Renata couldn’t hear him. “Equate your Unipusk-side living quarters with your dogs’ quarantine area. Add that we will imprison the Gibby thing there as well. Warn that all of your lives are contingent upon your good behavior. Stipulate that good behavior will mean to register Hawb and Cawmb with the branecasters as the producers of the humanity channel for exclusive esping by the Unipuskers. Amplify that this will involve canceling your existing but not yet active agreement to let Bumby and Ulla be your producers. Reveal, if still necessary, that we’ve been esping you and that we know all of your thoughts. State that we are not fools to be trifled with. Suggest that—” Hawb broke off to look back at his tail cover, which was beginning to shake and jiggle.
At the same time a vigorous wail sounded from the dining area.
“Frek, look at this!” called Renata, who was back peering into the door, her pigtails hanging to one side, her finger scratching at her turkle’s back again. Frek ran over to join her. Cawmb’s new baby was crying, opening his little clamshell head all the way. His voice was amazingly loud.
“Give him to me,” Gibby was telling Cawmb. “He likes me better.”
Sure enough, when Cawmb handed the baby Unipusker back to Gibby, the newborn instantly ceased his uproar. He smiled blissfully up at the Grulloo’s craggy face and made cooing noises.
“Grieve that my baby prefers the deformed thing to me!” wailed Cawmb.
“My name’s Gibby, damn you!”
“Suggest Gibby be our baby-sitter,” said Hawb in a placating tone. “Point out that being nursed by an alien is a good formative experience for a future branecast producer. Confess that I too may be about to shed a baby, inspired by you, O Cawmb. Note that another of your babies seems about to come loose as well. Mention that we could use some help, dear.”
“This one’s a cute little guy,” said Gibby. “Look—he’s holding my finger.”
“Inquire if you have children of your own,” said Cawmb in a calmer tone, after taking a quick glance back at his tail.
“Sure,” said Gibby. “Two of them. The oldest is—”
“I think Renata and I’ll go up to the cockpit to look around,” put in Frek. “Will you be okay down here, Gibby?”
The Grulloo shot Frek a knowing look. “Far be it from me to get between a boy and a girl.”
“Whatever that’s supposed to mean,” said Frek, blushing a little. “Come on, Renata.” Another of Cawmb’s babies showed signs of being about to work himself loose. And Hawb was reaching back to un-fasten his tail cover. Enough of all that.
Frek and Renata crossed the transparent deck together, moving in big hops. The receding surface of Jumm was like a magical rug. Frek felt as if he were walking on air.
Renata led him through a doorway to a vertical shaft that ran up past four decks of the saucer. The acceleration was low enough that it was easy to pull themselves up with the handholds on the shaft’s side. The appointments on the decks they passed grew more and more sumptuous. The walls were covered with murals and filigrees, the furniture was plush and heavy. The light globes were shaped like Unipusker heads and the ends of the heavy chairs’ arms were embossed with Unipusker heads as well. Images of Unipuskers were everywhere among the decorations, but none were present in the flesh.
“Is Pilot Evawrt the only other one on board?” Frek asked Renata as they paused at one of the unoccupied decks to catch their breath. The floor was covered with a rug resembling vig-skin but with brindle spots shaped like Unipuskers. The murals were patterned with vertical stripes of delicate green, overlaid by horizontal branches inset with images of windows into little rooms with Unipuskers in them. A city of giant rickrack plants. Four easy chairs were invitingly grouped around an octagonal gold table holding an object resembling a crystal ball. A glowing logo rotated at the ball’s center.
Being a Nubbie, Frek found it odd to be in a room whose furnishings were a collection of disparate
objects—rather than component parts of a single living thing like a house tree. Could the Unipuskers actually have made these furnishings by hand? It was hard to imagine an advanced civilization doing something so tedious.
“Hawb and Cawmb chartered this saucer from Pilot Evawrt just for themselves,” answered Renata in her low voice. “The Unipuskers are pretty extravagant. A big change for me, after five years of simple living in a Crufter asteroid. I barely remember Earth. Yessica moved us to Sick Hindu when I was seven. On Sick Hindu, a new blanket is a big deal. Especially since we weave them ourselves.” Renata bounced across the room and flopped down in one of the chairs. “There’s no special rush to see Pilot Evawrt. He’s just another bossy Unipusker. We’ve got about seven more hours till we get back. Tell me about Earth.”
Frek took the chair next to Renata. The back had a big hole near its base to accommodate a Unipusker tail. Other than that it was quite comfortable. He looked down at the chair’s intricately patterned arms, which were sort of like wood, yet somehow artificial. The material was smoother than real, and warped into impossibly perfect curves. The chair was like a toon, like the idea of a chair.
“Where do the Unipuskers get all this stuff?” he asked Renata. “They don’t—they don’t use tools and machines, do they?”
“No, no,” said Renata, and laughed. She gestured at the room and at the saucer around them. “The Unipuskers’ things are what they call kennies. It’s a stage beyond biotechnology. Instead of using live matter, you use live kenner. Kenner is this odd kind of matter—the Unipuskers said we call it dark matter? Supposedly any piece of kenner is a little bit awake. Like a plant, maybe, or a pet. Funny that we humans never noticed that.”
“The angelwings have a way of metabolizing dark matter,” said Frek. “That’s what makes them so strong. And the Orpolese already showed me some kenner tweets. I’d always thought dark matter was supposed to be invisible—at right angles to ordinary reality. How do the Unipuskers do it?”
“I’ll take you to see a kenny crafter when we get to Unipusk. They’re goggy,” said Renata. “A kenny is an indoctrinated chunk of kenner, right? A kenny knows how it’s supposed to look and how it’s supposed to act. To make, like, a chair, the kenny crafter just tells a wad of dark matter to start acting that way. This ship we’re in—it’s a kenny that thinks it’s a flying saucer. The three big high-status jobs on Unipusk are branecast producer, saucer pilot, and kenny crafter. Those are the ones who have the biggest rickrack plants and the most children. I talk a lot. You look confused.”
“This is a long way from Middleville,” said Frek, smiling at Renata. He was having so much fun watching her face and listening to the melody of her voice that he wasn’t following everything she said.
“What’s it like there?” asked Renata. “Tell me about Earth.”
So Frek talked to Renata for a while about his life back home. He hadn’t expected it would seem particularly interesting to her, but she hung on every word, asking lots of questions. She loved hearing about the Goob Dolls and his sisters. It didn’t seem to matter to her that she was two years older than he was.
“You guys must miss your dad,” said Renata presently. “I like him, he’s nice. And funny. A little—disorganized, though.”
“He’s living with your mother and you?” asked Frek.
“Sort of. On Sick Hindu there aren’t any real family groups. We all sleep together in a row of pods.” She positioned her turkle in her lap. “I have lots of pictures of Sick Hindu. Show the pods, turkle.” A drawing of pointed hammocks appeared, delicately hatched, and with tints from the turkle’s skin. “Usually Carb takes the pod next to Yessica,” said Renata, pointing. “She has him enchanted, only Brahman knows how. And they spend a lot of time together in the day. After me, Yessica likes Carb more than anyone. Or, no, Yessica likes herself the most, then me, then Carb. Or maybe Carb, then me, I guess it depends. Show my drawing of Yessica, turkle.” A vain-looking woman appeared, wearing an exaggerated crown and with a forked tongue. “She’s mad at me a lot, but she gets even madder at Carb when he flirts with other women. She was the one who wouldn’t let him send a message to your family. He kept trying to, but she always found a way to block it. Until she got the idea of tricking you with the ring. I’m glad to be off on this outing without them, to tell the truth. That’s enough Yessica, turkle.”
It made Frek sad to think of Carb being tangled up with a woman who kept him from talking to his real family. And a little jealous to think of Carb taking care of Renata.
“Who’s your father?” he asked her.
“I’ll tell you some other time,” said Renata, looking a little embarrassed.
So Frek changed the subject. “When we get back, you could come visit us in Middleville,” he said. “I could take you out flying on the angelwings. And we could look at lots of toons.”
“You know what I’d really like to be when I grow up?” asked Renata.
“What?”
“A toonsmith. That’s one reason I like to draw.”
“I want to be a toonsmith, too!” exclaimed Frek. “I thought the Crufters didn’t have toons or the Net, though.”
“We have this archival, static Net,” said Renata. “Like for a library. If you go to the right url in our archive, there’s a whole bunch of classic toon shows stored in there. The boss Crufters don’t know about it. I’ve watched all the old shows and practiced drawing the characters. Show him my Goob Doll Judy, turkle.” A little animation of Goob Doll Judy juggling the Earth, Moon, and Sun appeared on the turkle’s back. “Toons are the best,” said Renata. “I’d love for my drawings to think and talk. On Earth, when you watch the Goob Doll show, can Judy really see you move?”
“Oh yeah,” said Frek. “Especially Judy. Goob Doll Judy doesn’t miss a thing. On my way here I spent a night in Stun City, and Gibby and I were at this cowloon and I met two women toonsmiths. Sooly and Deanna. Deanna had a turkle just like yours. I could probably introduce you to her. Maybe you and I should work together on a show about our trip! Do the Unipuskers have toons?”
“No,” said Renata. “They watch that thing instead.” She pointed at the crystal ball on the table. “The flickerball. Go ahead and esp some brane.” She made a face.
“So that’s it, huh?” said Frek, leaning over to study the ball. It was preternaturally smooth and shiny. A kenny of some kind. The slowly rotating logo in its center was an image of cube with shiny blue rods for its edges and slow-moving happy faces on each of six sides, six kinds of aliens, each of them smiling down at a little flickerball. Satisfied branecast customers. “Esp some brane,” mused Frek.
“They say that because our universe is a brane. You know, short for ‘membrane,’ it’s that word from string theory. And using the flickerball feels like extrasensory perception would be.” Renata paused and looked at him. “The Unipuskers and the Orpolese have talked to you about branecasting, right? They’re competing for the right to produce the humanity channel. Branecasting is the whole reason they abducted us.”
“I know all right,” said Frek. “I just met the branecasters.”
“You did?!?” exclaimed Renata. “Already? Hawb and Cawmb aren’t going to like that. They wanted your dad to be the first one to talk to them! Oh Brahman, what’ll they do when they find out?”
“They know,” said Frek, and sighed. “They’ve been esping me all along. I bet lots of aliens are esping me—not just the Unipuskers, but the Orpolese and who knows what other alien races. Megahits on the Frek site.”
“You can feel it too?” said Renata. “My mother and your dad can’t tell. I started noticing it right before the Unipuskers showed up. I’d almost been wondering if I was going gollywog. Tell me how it feels to you.”
Frek looked around the room. He was, of course, being esped right now. With the plot thickening like this, it hardly let up at all anymore. Frek was good viewing. “Things look warmer and smoother. For short I think of it as the golden glow. And there’s thi
s other feeling—of being just a little bit outside of myself.”
“Exactly,” said Renata. “And I get these flashes of having everything look really—surprising. Like I’d never seen a chair or a ceiling or a human hand before.”
“Yes,” said Frek, smiling at Renata. She understood. “Do you know how to use the flickerball? I wouldn’t mind seeing how it feels from the other side.”
“It’s simple,” said Renata. “You just touch the flickerball and it starts up. It begins flashing and making a buzzing noise. It’s annoying, but if you focus in on the ball, you start seeing things. It’s like the ball is a camera that gets inside the head of anybody anywhere in the universe who’s in a talent race that the Unipuskers can see. The flickerball puts your head right inside the alien’s head and you see like him or her, and you think the same thoughts. It’s extreme.”
“Have you been on Unipusk a long time?” asked Frek. “To figure all this out?”
“I’ve lost track,” said Renata. “Maybe two weeks. Like I said, Hawb and Cawmb wanted us to register them as the humanity channel’s producers. Only, ever since we got here, the Unipuskers’ tunnel to the Planck brane has been down. Talk about losers. And meanwhile you’ve already been over there?”
“That’s me,” said Frek, puffing himself up a bit. “When we yunched down, we popped through to the Planck brane right away. The branecasters decohered Bumby and Ulla—froze their souls. But then they made me the humanity channel negotiator. I told them we didn’t want to be branecast at all, but they said we had to be, so I picked Ulla and Bumby as producers, so at least nothing will happen right away. While I was at it, I asked them to give me an elixir to restore the Earth’s biome. To bring back all the extinct species.”
“Bring back sparrows and monkeys?” said Renata. “Artichokes and butterflies?”
“Yubba,” said Frek. “Restore everything. But the branecasters are sleazy crooks. They said they’d only give me the elixir if Bumby asked for it, but meanwhile Bumby stays decoherent until the branecasters get a ten-kilometer gold asteroid for bail. And of course the whole deal is off if some other producers make me change my mind. Or if they kill me.”