The Collected Stories of Vernor Vinge

by Vernor Vinge

  The rest of the assembly was mostly about changes in exam content, mainly caused by the current state of outside resources—experts and technologies—that the school was importing for the nonconcurrent exams. All of it could have been done without this assembly; the Alcalde just had this thing about face-to-face meetings. Juan filed away all the announcements and changes, and concentrated on the unhappy possibility that now loomed over his week: Bertie Todd had been his best friend for almost two semesters now. Mostly he was super fun and an amazing team partner. But sometimes he’d go into a tight-lipped rage, often about things that Juan had no control over. Like now. If this were one of Bertie’s Great Freeze Outs, he might not talk to Juan at all—for days.

  THE EIGHTH-GRADE MOB broke out of the assembly just before 4 pm, way past the end of the normal class day. The kids milled about on the lawn outside the meeting hall. It was so near the end of the semester. There was warm sunlight. Summer and the new movie-game season were just a few days off. But caray, there were still finals to get through and everyone knew that, too. So while they joked and gossiped and goofed around, they were also reading the exam changes and doing some heavy planning.

  Juan tagged along behind Bertie Todd’s image as the other moved through the crowd. Bertie was dropping hints all around about the unlimited project he was planning. The communication link from Bertie to Juan was filled with cold silence, but he was being all charming toward kids who’d never helped him a tenth as much as Juan Orozco. Juan could hear part of what was going on; the other boys weren’t freezing him out. They thought Juan was part of the party. And most of them were more than pleased by Bertie’s interest. For no-holds-barred collaboration, Bertram Todd was the best there was at Fairmont Junior High. Bertie was claiming high-level contacts, maybe with Intel’s idea farm, maybe with software co-ops in China. He had something for everyone, and a hint that they might score far more than a good grade.

  Some of them even asked Juan for details. They just assumed that he was already part of Bertie’s scheme for the unlimited. Juan smiled weakly, and tried to seem knowing and secretive.

  Bertie stopped at the corner of the lawn, where the junior high abutted the driveway and the elementary school. The eighth graders carefully kept off the little kids’ territory; you don’t mess with fifth graders.

  Along the driveway, cars were pulling up for students. Down by the bikestand, others were departing on bikes and unicycles. Everyone seemed to be laughing and talking and planning.

  At the corner of the lawn, Juan and Bertie were all alone for a moment. In fact, it was Juan all alone. For an instant, he considered turning off the consensus that made Bertie seem so visibly here. Caray, why not turn it all off: there. The sun was still bright and warm, the day still full of springtime. Bertie was gone, but there was still the other kids, mainly down by the bikestand. Of course, now the fancy towers of Fairmont School were the ordinary wood buildings of the old horse yard and the plascrete of the new school, all brown and gray against the tans and greens of the hills around.

  But he hadn’t bothered to down the audio link, and out of the thin air, there was Bertie’s voice, finally acknowledging Juan’s existence. “So, have you decided who you’re gonna team with for the local project?”

  The question shocked Juan into bringing back full imagery. Bertie had turned back to face him, and was grinning with good humor—a gaze that might have fooled anyone who didn’t really know him. “Look, Bertie, I’m really sorry you can’t be on a local team out here. Mr. Alcalde is a mutha for sticking you with the Andersen crowd. But—” Inspiration struck. “You could fly out here for the exam! See, you could stay at my house. We’d whack that local exam dead!” Suddenly a big problem was a great opportunity. If I can just sell Ma on this.

  But Bertie dismissed the idea with an offhand wave. “Hey, don’t worry about it. I can put up with those Andersen guys. And in the meantime, I bet I can help you with the local exam,” His face took on a sly look. “You know what I got on Wilson’s math exam.”

  “Y-yeah, an A. That’s great. You got all ten questions.”

  Ten questions, most of them harder than the old Putnam exam problems had ever been. And in Ms. Wilson’s exam, you weren’t allowed to collaborate, or search beyond the classroom. Juan had gotten a C+, knocking down four of the questions. The little blue pills didn’t help much with pure math, but it was kind of neat how all Ms. Wilson’s talk about heuristics and symbol software finally paid off. Those problems would have stumped some of the smartest twentieth-century students, but with the right kind of practice and good software even an ordinary kid like Juan Orozco had a good chance of solving them. Two Fairmont students had cracked all ten problems.

  Bertie’s grin broadened, a morph that stretched his face into a cartoonish leer. Juan knew that Bertie Todd was a dud at abstract problem solving. It was in getting the right answers out of other people that he was a star. “…Oh. You slipped out of isolation.” That wouldn’t be hard to do, considering that Bertie was already coming in from outside.

  “I would never say that, Juan my boy. But if I did, and I didn’t get caught…wouldn’t that just prove that all this ‘isolated skills’ stuff is academic crap?”

  “I-I guess,” said Juan. In some ways, Bertie had unusual notions about right and wrong. “But it would be more fun if you could just come out here to San Diego.”

  Bertie’s smile faded a fraction; the Great Freeze Out could be reinstated in an instant.

  Juan shrugged, and tried to pretend that his invitation had never been made. “Okay, but can I still be on your unlimited team?”

  “Ah, let’s see how things work out. We’ve got at least twelve hours before the unlimited team selections have to be final, right? I think it’s more important that…you get yourself a good start on the local team exercise.”

  Juan should have seen it coming. Bertie was Mister Quid Pro Quo, only sometimes it took a while to figure out what he was demanding. “So who you do you think I should be matching up with?” Hopefully, someone dumb enough that they wouldn’t guess Juan’s special edge. “The Rackhams are good, and we have complementary skills.”

  Bertie looked judicious. “Don and Brad are okay, but you’ve read the grading spec. Part of your score in the local test depends on face-to-face cooperation with someone really different.” He made as though he was looking across the campus lawn.

  Juan turned to follow his gaze. There was some kind of soccer variant being played beyond the assembly hall—senior high students who wouldn’t have finals for another two weeks. There were still a few clumps of junior high kids, probably planning for the locals. None of them were people Juan knew well. “Look over by the main entrance,” said Bertie. “I’m thinking you should break out of narrow thinking. I’m thinking you should ask Miriam Gu.”

  Ay caray! “Gu?” Miss Stuckup Perfection.

  “Yes, c’mon. See, she’s already noticed you.”

  “But—” In fact, Gu and her friends were looking in their direction.

  “Look, Juan, I’ve collaborated with all sorts—from Intel engineers in geriatric homes to full-time members of Pratchett belief circles. If I can do that, you—”

  “But that’s all virtual. I can’t work face to face with—”

  Bertie was already urging him across the lawn. “View it as a test of whether you belong on my unlimited team. Miri Gu doesn’t have your, ah, quickness with interfaces,” he looked significantly at Juan. “But I’ve been watching her. She maxed Ms. Wilson’s exam and I don’t think she cheated to do it. She’s a whiz at languages. Yes, she’s just as much of a snob as you think. Heh, even her friends don’t really like her. But she has no special reason to be hostile, Juan. After all, you’re no boyo. You’re a ‘well-socialized, career-oriented student,’ just the sort she knows she should like. And see, she’s walking this way.”

  True enough, though Gu and company were walking even more slowly than Juan. “Yeah, and she’s not happy about it either. W
hat’s going on?”

  “Heh. See that little video-geek behind her? She dared Miri Gu to ask you.”

  Juan was guessing now: “And you put her up to that, didn’t you?”

  “Sure. But Annette—the video-geek—doesn’t know it was me. She and I collaborate a lot, but she thinks I’m some old lady in Armonk…Annette likes to gossip a lot about us kids, and my ‘little old lady’ character plays along.” Bertie’s voice went high-pitched and quavery: “‘Oh, that sweet Orozco boy, I do think your friend Miriam would like him so.’”

  Geez, Bertie!

  They walked toward each other, step by painful step, until they were almost in arms’ reach. Juan had turned off all imagery for a moment. Shed of fantasy, they were pretty ordinary-looking kids: Annette the video-geek was short and pimply-faced, with hair that hadn’t seen a comb so far this month. Miriam Gu was about three inches taller than Juan. Too tall. Her skin was as dark as Juan’s, but with a golden undertone. Close-cut black hair framed a wide face and very symmetrical features. She wore an expensive, Epiphany-brand blouse. The high-rate laser ports were perfectly hidden in the embroidery. Rich kids had clothes like this, usually with broad gaming stripes. This blouse had no gaming stripes; it was light and simple and probably had more computing power than all the clothes Juan owned. You had to be sharp to wear a shirt like this properly.

  Just now, Miri looked as though she was tasting something bad. You don’t like what you see either, huh? But Miri got in the first word: “Juan Orozco. People say you’re a clever kid, quick with interfaces.” She paused and gave a little shrug. “So, wanna collaborate on the local exam?”

  Bertie pulled a monstrous face at her, and Juan realized that Bertie was sending only to him. “Okay,” said Bertie, “just be nice, Juan. Say how you were thinking she and you would make a team with grade points right from the start.”

  The words caught in Juan’s throat. Miriam Gu was just too much. “Maybe,” he replied to her. “Depends on what you can bring to it. Talents? Ideas?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I have both. In particular, my project concept is a killer. It really could make Fairmont Schools ‘the rose of North County.’” That was the school board’s phrase. The Alcalde and the board wanted these local projects to show that Fairmont was a good neighbor, not like some of the schools in Downtown and El Cajon.

  Juan shrugged. “Well, um, that’s good. We’d be the kind of high-contrast team the Alcalde likes.” I really don’t want to do this. “Let’s talk about it more some time.”

  Annette the video-geek put in: “That won’t do at all! You need to team up soonest!” She flickered through various pop-culture images as she spoke, finally settled on the heroine student from Spielberg/ Rowling. She grabbed the background imagery at the same time, and Fairmont Schools was transformed into a fairytale castle. It was the same set they had used at last fall’s Hallowe’en pageant. Most of the parents had been enchanted, though as far as the kids were concerned, Fairmont Schools failed the fantasy test in one big way: here in real-life Southern California, the muggles ran the show.

  Miriam turned to glare at her friend, now a brown-haired little English witch. “Will you shut down, Annette!” Then back to Juan: “But she’s right, Orozco. We gotta decide tonight. How about this: You come by my place at 6 PM tonight and we talk.”

  Bertie was smiling with smug satisfaction.

  “Well, yuh,” said Juan. “But…in person?”

  “Of course. This is a local project.”

  “Yeah, okay then. I’ll come over.” There must be some way out of this. What was Bertie up to?

  She took a step forward and held out her hand. “Shake.”

  He reached out and shook it. The little electric shock was surely his imagination, but the sudden burst of information was not: two emphatic sentences sparkling across his vision.

  Miriam Gu and her friends turned away, and walked back along the driveway. There was the sound of muffled giggling. He watched them for a moment. The video-geek was going full-tilt, picture and sound from a million old movies and news stories. Annette could retrieve and arrange video archives so easily that imaging came as naturally to her as speech. Annette was a type of genius. Or maybe there are other flavors of little blue pills.

  Dumboso. Juan turned away from them and started toward the bikestand.

  “So what did Miri Gu tell you?” When she shook hands. Bertie’s tone was casual.

  How could he answer that question without getting Bertie dipped all over again? “It’s strange. She said if she and I team, she doesn’t want anyone remote participating.”

  “Sure, it is a local exam. Just show me the message.”

  “That’s the strange part. She guessed that you were still hanging around. She said, in particular, if I show you the message or let you participate, she’ll find out and she’ll drop the exam, even if it means getting an F.” And in fact, that was the entire content of the message. It had a kind of nonnegotiable flavor that Juan envied.

  They walked in silence the rest of the way to Juan’s bicycle. Bertie’s face was drawn down disapprovingly. Not a good sign. Juan hopped on his bike and pedaled off on New Pala, up over the ridge, and onto the long downslope toward home. Bertie’s image conjured up a flying carpet, clambered aboard and ghosted along beside him. It was nicely done, the shadow following perfectly along over the gravel of the road shoulder. Of course, Bertie’s faerie overlay blocked a good bit of Juan’s visual field, including the most natural line of sight to see real traffic. Why couldn’t he float along on Juan’s other shoulder, or just be a voice? Juan shifted the image toward transparency and hoped Bertie would not guess at the change.

  “C’mon, Bertie. I did what you asked. Let’s talk about the unlimited exam. I’m sure I can be a help with that.” If you’ll just let me on the team.

  Bertie was silent a second longer, considering. Then he nodded and gave an easy laugh. “Sure, Juan. We can use you on the unlimited team. You’ll be a big help.”

  Suddenly the afternoon was a happy place.

  They coasted down the steepening roadway. The wind that blew through Juan’s hair and over his arms was something that was impossible to do artificially, at least without gaming stripes. The whole of the valley was spread out before him now, hazy in the bright sun. It was almost two miles to the next rise, the run up to Fallbrook. And he was on Bertie’s unlimited team. “So what’s our unlimited project going to be, Bertie?”

  “Heh. How do you like my flying carpet, Juan?” He flew a lazy loop around Juan. “What really makes it possible?”

  Juan squinted at him. “My contact lenses? Smart clothes?” Certainly the lense displays would be useless without a wearable computer to do the graphics.

  “That’s just the final output device. But how does my imaging get to you almost wherever you are?” He looked expectantly at Juan.

  C’mon, Bertie! But aloud, Juan said: “Okay, that’s the worldwide network.”

  “Yeah, you’re essentially right, though the long-haul networks have been around since forever. What gives us flexibility are the network nodes that are scattered all through the environment. See, look around you!” Bertie must have pinged on the sites nearest Juan: there were suddenly dozens of virtual gleams, in the rocks by the road, in the cars as they passed closest to him, on Juan’s own clothing.

  Bertie gestured again, and the hills were alive with thousands of gleams, nodes that were two or three forwarding hops away. “Okay, Bertie! Yes, the local nets are important.”

  But Bertie was on a roll. “Darn right they are. Thumb-sized gadgets with very low power wireless, just enough to establish location—and then even lower power short-range lasers, steered exactly on to the targeted receivers. Nowadays, it’s all so slick that unless you look close—or have a network sniffer—you almost can’t even see that it’s going on. How many free-standing nodes do you think there are in an improved part of town, Juan?”

  That sort of question had a concrete
answer. “Well, right now, the front lawn of Fairmont schools has…247 loose ones.”

  “Right,” said Bertie. “And what’s the most expensive thing about that?”

  Juan laughed. “Cleaning up the network trash, of course!” The gadgets broke, or wore out, or they didn’t get enough light to keep their batteries going. They were cheap; setting out new ones was easy. But if that’s all you did, after a few months you’d have metallic garbage—hard, ugly, and generally toxic—all over the place.

  Juan abruptly stopped laughing “Wow, Bertie. That’s the project? Biodegradable network nodes? That’s off-scale!”

  “Yup! Any progress toward organic nodes would be worth an A. And we might luck out. I’m plugged into all the right groups. Kistler at MIT, he doesn’t know it, but one of his graduate students is actually a committee—and I’m on the committee.” The Kistler people were cutting edge in organic substitution research, but just now they were stalled. The other relevant pieces involved idea markets in India, and some Siberian guys who hardly talked to anyone.

  Juan thought a moment. “Hey, Bertie, I bet that literature survey I did for you last month might really help on this!” Bertie looked blank. “You remember, all my analysis on electron transfer during organic decay.” It had been just a silly puzzle Bertie proposed, but it had given Juan a low-stress way to try out his new abilities.

  “Yes!” said Bertie, slapping his forehead. “Of course! It’s not directly related, but it might give the other guys some ideas.”

  Talking over the details took them through the bottom of the valley, past the newer subdivisions and then down the offramp that led to the old casinos. Bertie and his flying carpet flickered for a second, and then the overlay vanished as his friend lost the battle to find a handoff link.

  “Dunno why you have to live in an unimproved part of town,” Bertie grumbled in his ear.

  Juan shrugged. “The neighborhood has fixed lasers and wireless.” Actually, it was kind of nice to lose the flying carpet. He let his bike’s recycler boost him up the little hill and then off into Las Mesitas. “So how are we going to work the concurrency on the unlimited test?”