by Beth Reason
Chapter 10
I had estates.
Estates are huge houses and the "grounds" around them. I argued that it was the same ground as everywhere else on the planet. Ralph gave up trying to explain.
The "manor" was enormous. It was as big as the buildings we walked by in New York. And it had the Cosworth name on everything. My father's initials, my father's father's initials, his father's initials... Every time I turned around in the place there was something claiming ownership rights. It was annoying. Of course it belonged to my father. It was in his house. I laughed when I saw that even the towels had my father's initials on them.
"Were they all afraid someone would steal everything?"
Ralph smiled back and shook his head. "Just a rich thing, kiddo. They all do it."
I shook my head and took the longest, hottest, most wonderful shower of my life, behind a glass door that was also initialed. A towel could be tucked under a coat and stolen easily enough, I suppose. But the door? It's insane.
"I think it started a long time ago when people wanted to be sure everyone knew how rich they were," Ralph said from a sofa at the other end of the enormous bathroom.
I didn't like that my family ever thought like that. I toweled my hair dry and was frowning.
"Hey. Your dad wasn't like that, Jake."
"But these are his initials on this towel, right? This is his towel. And he wants everyone to know it." I threw the towel across the room in disgust. What kind of conceited asshole flaunts their money like that when so many people don't have any?
Ralph sighed heavily and got up off the large couch in the room. He walked over and picked up the towel, then held it open for me to look at. "Gold lettering. Big as day. Look at this and tell me this is something your father actually had any choice about." He was right. It didn't look like Dad at all. "Flowers. Cursive." He shook his head, then threw the towel to me. "Don't be pissed at your dad because his family was stuck in tradition. He couldn't help it any more than you could help being born in a tin can in space." He sat back down and took up his drink. "But damn I'm glad they kept the scotch." He grinned at me. "We must have been fourteen? Fifteen, maybe when we found your grandfather's secret stash. Aged, ripe, so smooth. You should have seen the look on your grandfather's face when he found us."
I knew they were friends, Ralph and Dad. I knew it went back a long time. But neither of them really talked about childhood. I think I understand. It's like how I felt every time I tried to talk about Laak'sa. It hurt so bad because I knew I wouldn't see it again. I think it was like that for Ralph and Dad out in space, so far away from their homeworld.
"God the memories in this house, kid. You know where he found us?" I shook my head. "C'mon." He pushed himself up and walked out of the room I was using for a bedroom. We went down a long hall, then up a curved case of stairs and into a dark room. He flicked on the lights and we were in some sort of library. The walls were lined with books. Not holos, real books. With pages of paper filled with words, crammed full on shelves that reached the high ceilings. Everything else in the room was covered in sheets.
"They didn't get to airing this room out yet," he said, tugging one of the sheets off. Fine dust filled the room. Dusting, I thought as I watched the motes float and resettle on the surfaces around me. I finally got what "dusting" was all about.
He pulled the sheet and it fell to the floor leaving...something. I was staring at some sort of animal. It was taller than me by almost double, and had huge...things coming out of its head. I jumped back and pressed my back to the door in case I had to escape, but Ralph's loud laugh made me feel stupid. "It's dead, Jake." He thumped it and it stayed firm. "It's stuffed. It's called a moose. They're animals that live up north. Some hunter bagged it a long time ago and they took out all the guts and..."
I felt sick. Why would anyone do that to something that was dead? Sure, Mother had samples in preserving liquids, but that was completely different. That was science. Someone killed this great animal and then kept a dead body around. And holy crap, Ralph was climbing on it! "What are you doing?!" I shouted, which made Ralph laugh even harder.
"Oh, the look on your face is priceless!" He swung his leg over and the thing creaked and cracked, but held. He sighed with a contented smile. "Right here, me and your dad. We sat up here and pretended we were charging through a village about to conquer it for our kingdom and..." He stopped and really looked at me then. I suppose I was frowning. He sighed heavily, then coughed in the cloud of dust. "I guess...I guess you have to be from here to understand." He patted the dead animal like it was a friend. "Another time, Sir Albert of The North." He swung his leg back over and hopped off the beast, grimacing when he hit the floor. "Oof! I was a lot younger the last time."
I was still eyeballing the dead thing. "That is disgusting."
Ralph shrugged. "It's custom."
"Like the initials."
"Yep, something like that."
I shook my head. "I will never stuff a dead animal."
Ralph laughed and guided me out. "No, I suppose not."
"Or put my initials on stuff."
"Er, about that..."
My initials were on things. Someone "on staff" had taken it upon themselves to have all new plates and forks and spoons and even glasses made with my initials on them. I sat there at our first dinner in my estate and stared at the gold lettered J.E.C.
"What's the E. stand for?" asked Lynette in a whispered. She whispered everything in my estate. It annoyed me all evening, and was especially frustrating at the table.
"Earnest," I said. "After Ralph. And stop whispering."
"Earnest?" said Marlon, hooting with laughter. "Yeah, Lynnie. Ernie there says to stop whispering."
Lynette glared at him. "Fine, I'll stop whispering, Marlon Carlotta Donnely!"
Marlon stopped laughing and his face turned red. "It's a family name!"
"Stop." Christophe walked in the room and took a seat. That's all he said. That's all he had to say. It was a long day for everyone and the last thing anyone wanted to hear was bickering. He took a sip of the wine in the glass. "Lynette, you do not need to whisper in this house. Marlon, you should. Now, let us begin the service."
"I don't want to eat on these plates," I said.
"Why not? They're lovely plates," said Reginald, looking them over carefully.
I didn't say anything else about the plate. The staff, "my staff", apparently, began to serve. Someone told them I liked tartare and they served that along with a bunch of other food.
"I'll give this to you, money bags," said Marlon with his mouth full. "You put on a good spread."
It was a compliment, I guess. It didn't feel like a compliment. I had nothing to do with the meal in any way. "You paid for it," was Ralph's explanation later. We had a large meal. We had a large dessert, which I liked far better than most of the meal. Jillian chatted it up with Reginald and Ralph most of the time, ooh-ing and ahh-ing over the manor. I had a swimming pool, whatever that was. I had tennis courts, whatever those were. I had manicured gardens and a theater and eleven, count them, eleven bathrooms and an east wing and a west wing and she went on and on until I no longer cared.
Marlon ate and belched and asked if I had any terminals he could use.
"I don't know."
Marlon sneered at me and shook his head. "So rich you don't even know what you own."
"Marlon!" It was the first thing Lynette said since dinner had started.
"There's a large study down the hall, three doors to the left," said Christophe. "You may use the terminal in that room. But be warned, Mr. Donnely. It is even better protected than your system on Utopia." There was a glint in Marlon's eye as he all but ran out the room. Christophe gave a small chuckle. "And that should keep him busy for the evening."
"He'll try and crack it," said Reginald.
"That's the point. I've had about enough of his attitude for one day."
"I'm sorry," Lynette began.
; "Do not apologize for your brother." Christophe stood. "I'm going to relax in the gardens. It is such a warm evening and it's been so long since I've had the luxury. Would anyone care to join me?"
All of the adults jumped to go with him. "Why don't you and Lynette explore your castle a bit?" Ralph suggested. I looked at Lynette. She shrugged. I shrugged. We made it a plan.
We walked around aimlessly for awhile. Everything was so foreign. In all honestly, I didn't know what half the things I was looking at were for, if they were for anything. Nothing Lynette showed me over the past weeks seemed to relate. After awhile, I was beyond frustrated. "What the hell is all this crap anyway?"
Lynette laughed. It was the first smile I'd seen all day. "Rich people junk," she said honestly.
I pointed to container on a stand. It was all by itself on a large, rock stand by a window. "That. What is that?"
"It's a vase."
"What's it for?"
"Flowers."
I frowned. "There aren't any flowers in it."
Her eyes went wide. "Of course not! It's old, Jake. Really, really old. No one would use it anymore."
"Then why is it here?"
She shrugged. "To look at. It is pretty," she said.
I frowned and walked around it, trying to see the point. I didn't, and I still don't. "So my family has enough money to buy something useless and build a stand for it to show to everyone that we're so rich we don't need to actually use the things we buy?"
"Yep."
"That's so stupid." I went to touch the vase and Lynette gasped. "What?"
"Oh, don't touch it! If you break it..."
"What? What will happen if I break it? It's mine, right?"
She actually looked very upset. "You don't understand. If you don't want it, give it to someone who does."
"Would you want to own something like this?"
"Of course. Who wouldn't?"
"Good, then. It's yours."
She laughed. I wasn't kidding. "I...I can't take that from you, Jake."
"Why? I don't want it. Apparently no one else in my family could think of a use for it." But she wouldn't take it. I sighed, and she looked uncomfortable. "I don't understand. I don't want it. You do."
She shook her head. "It doesn't work like that. It's too much. It's too expensive for you to just give away."
It was not too expensive for me and my family to completely ignore, never use, and let sit around collecting dust. It was, however, too expensive to give to someone who did have a use for it. I will never understand this. Never.
I let it go, but it bothered me. We walked through my house, my house filled with useless things like the vase. Little boxes, gold and silver. Bells. Little bells with fancy handles. "Your mother collected them," she insisted. I could not imagine Mother collecting these silly trinkets. There were useless crystal figures and large useless marble figures. There were plates stuck up on walls, on walls! There were teacups in a case that was never to be opened. There were rugs hanging, never to be walked on. There were paintings. Okay, I'll concede that those I like. They made the place look nice. But everything else? It was all too much.
Lynette went to bed sad that night, and I wandered around feeling guilty without knowing why. I wanted her to help me understand, but she didn't. Or couldn't. Or worse...wouldn't. I would have loved to have a conversation with Christophe about it, because I got the feeling he could help explain it. All the adults were drinking in the garden. Loudly, too. Having a great time by the sounds. So I ended up in the study with Marlon.
"I suppose you expect me to drop what I'm doing and entertain you."
"No," I said, sitting in a chair in the room. "Just answer my questions."
"I'm busy."
"It's my house."
Marlon sighed. "That's rude."
"Is it?"
"Of course it's rude! You can't invite guests to your house and then throw it back in their faces."
This was exactly what I was hoping for. It would be brutal, but it would be honest. "I didn't invite anyone here."
"You sayin' you want us to leave?"
"Hell no! You're not leaving me here alone."
Marlon gave a grunt. If I didn't know better, I would have called it a laugh. "So what do you want?"
"I offered Lynette presents and she wouldn't take them."
He sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. I really did have his interest then. "What kind of presents are you offering my sister?" There was a threat in his tone.
"A vase. Some little bells. A couple paintings. Things she liked. I said she could have them."
"Why?"
I shrugged. "I don't want them. And she seemed to really like them, so..."
"Ah. Pride," he said, as if that cleared everything up.
"What?"
"Pride. It's Lynnie's pride rising."
"Pride? About what? I don't want that junk. She does. Why shouldn't she take it?"
"Lynnie's the type to want to earn everything she gets."
I frowned. I was supposed to be getting explanations, not getting more confused. "You don't have to earn a present from a friend."
Marlon sat and looked at me for a minute. He was still scowling. I had no clue what he was thinking. After a minute, he swore and shook his head. "I thought it was an act. Wow. You really don't understand money, do you?" Before I could answer, he got up and came around the desk and leaned back to give me a good lecture. "This is how things work in the real world. In the real world, we go to work. We bust our chops. We give a hundred and ten percent and get a handful of credits and a kick in the pants for our efforts. We take that tiny pittance and try to buy enough food, a place to live, clothes...everything. We eke out a pitiful life until we die. And that's the way it should be and that's what Lynnie thinks she should have to do."
I sighed. This was getting nowhere. "I don't need a Marlon rant..."
"I'm not ranting, space monkey. I'm telling you how Lynnie sees life. How a lot of people see life. In Lynnie's mind, she will never, ever be able to own one of those vases or bells or whatever."
"But she's already earned it."
"No. She's earned a handful of credits and a pat on the back."
To Lynnie, my payment exceeded what she earned. "It's just junk, Marlon."
"It's expensive junk."
I laughed. "So? It's useless. It has absolutely no value to me whatsoever."
He waved a finger at me. "You'll change your tune once you're here for awhile."
No. On both counts. "I won't, and I'm not going to be here for awhile. As soon as I can get a ship and head out, I'm doing it."
Marlon shook his head slowly. "You're an idiot. Low-g rotted your brain."
"Why? Because I don't care about silly vases?"
"Yes! And the food and the staff...my god, Jake! You have a staff! You have people that are waiting to do whatever you ask. It's the very best life anyone on Earth can ask for, and you have it."
I didn't want it, though. I looked at him for a few minutes, assessing. "Would you take the vase?"
"Hell yes I would."
"Why?"
"That vase, that one vase, would give me a comfortable life."
I had to laugh. "So you'll take it where Lynette never would."
"Absolutely." He spread his arms and gave me a grin. "I'm a sell out. I embrace it. If there's a way for an easy life, I'd take it."
"And do what? Just soak up all this pampering?"
He rubbed his chin. "No, not all the time." He nodded his head toward the terminal. "The pull of that crap is too strong."
"Then what would you do?"
He settled back against the desk and rubbed his chin some more. "I don't know. I'd set up a huge data base. Servers. Terminals for every specialty. And then...then I'd see where it lead me."
"You really would? Even knowing how much more is out there? You could go to space, Marlon. Deep space. You could jump through the fah'ti and teach them all..."
Mar
lon held his hand up. "Whoa now, space monkey. Not everyone wants to go traipsing around the galaxy."
"You already do," I pointed out.
"And I had no choice," he said with bitterness I didn't really expect. He might be a lot of bluster, but there was also a legitimate pain there. "Besides," he said quickly, trying to steer away from the truly uncomfortable conversation, "Someone has to be here to help everyone that's up there. Someone has to be able to process what comes in. Someone has to be able to drive this end of things."
I almost laughed until I saw the look in his eyes. He was grinning, pretending to be casual and make a joke of things. But it wasn't a joke. That's what he really wanted. And looking at him, I realized it wasn't bravado, it wasn't just a big ego talking. He could do it, he really could.
"You don't want to return to Utopia with us."
His smile faded. "No."
"But you will."
He nodded. "Until Lynnie's birthday."
"And then?"
"Then it's up to her if she wants to come home or stay in the bubble."
"What if she wants to go further?"
He looked at me for a long minute before turning. "I have work to do," he said quickly.
That was the end of that conversation. It was almost as if a door was physically slammed in my face. I really wasn't expecting as much as I got, so like Dad said, be grateful. "Don't break my system," I said getting up to leave him alone. "I've never been a host before, but I'm pretty sure that would be considered rude."
Marlon gave a chuckle. "Please. Your tech team won't even know I've been in."
I stopped at the doorway and turned around. "Hey Marlon?"
He sighed heavily. "Whaaaat?"
I was going to ask him about the fah'ti, but his tone clearly told me he was done entertaining my questions. "Uh, nothing. Just have a good night." He flicked his hand over his shoulder to shoo me away.
I went upstairs I laid in the huge bed of the huge room in the huge house that's supposed to be mine and I missed my tin can. I missed the comfort and safety of the Condor One. Sure, I got annoyed with its smallness. How many times had I wanted to escape to Laak'sa and run around the wide freedom life on land provided? And then I got all the room I could ever want, and I found myself wanting to be cramped and safe again.
Life was so much easier on the Condor. I was Jake, not Mr. Cosworth. I had exactly one possession, my holo, and didn't have to wonder and worry about stupid vases and ugly crystal and confusing paintings and houses that were too big and glasses with my initials on them and...
Ralph burst in. He was grinning and laughing. "You missed a good one, kiddo." He swayed to my bed and flopped down. I caught him before he rolled off. "You ever seen a squint cocked?"
I had no idea what he was talking about.
"Booze, Jake. We fed the ol' doc a good bit of some of your best whiskey." He poked my chest. "Good stuff you got, kid. Good stuff." He was grinning like an idiot and his eyes were shiny. And he smelled.
"Are you planning on sleeping here?"
He shrugged. "Bed's big enough. This was your dad's room. Did I tell you that?" He had. At least a dozen times. "Do you know how much I used to wish this was my house, Jakey? Me and Lance..." He twisted his first two fingers together. "Like this, kid. This close. Like brothers." He gave me a stupid smile. Grinned like an idiot, as Dad would have said if he was here. I couldn't help but smile back.
"So the doc's a funny drunk, eh?"
"Imagine your mother with a few in her."
I can't. I've always thought I had a good imagination. I guess some things are beyond imagination.
Ralph snorted and tried to tell a story but ended it fits of laughter with very few recognizable words.
"I think you should call it a day," I said, pulling off his shoes.
"Don't do that."
I ignored him and tugged off the other one. He grumbled, but it was half-hearted. I pulled the blanket over him, even though it wasn't that cold. It just seemed like the thing to do. "There," I said. "All tucked in."
"You know why I'm drunk tonight, Jake?"
The question was serious and seemed to be out of the blue. One of those where you know the whole evening was about to shift and there was nothing you could do about it. I tried to keep it light. "Because I have good booze."
But Ralph did not want it light. "I have to see Mabel tomorrow."
"Who's that?"
"My kid sister."
I sat back down on the bed and had no idea what to say. So I blurted out something stupid. "I can't believe she'd still be alive." I slapped my hand over my mouth.
He snorted. "You should see your face! Yeah, I kinda figured she'd have kicked the bucket, too. She's not. Getting on toward a hundred and still going strong if the pissed off holo I got earlier is accurate."
I had no idea what I was supposed to say. For some reason, Ralph was very upset about seeing his sister and it sounded like the feeling was mutual. I couldn't imagine why. "That should be..."
"Don't," he said bitterly. "Don't be like Lance right now." His words were starting to slur with the booze and the anger.
I sighed. "Fine. I hope your visit is horrible and that she hates you and throws you out. Is that what you want?"
He let out a sharp bark of laughter. "Well I don't want Eunice, either!"
I will never get drunk like that. It turns perfectly reasonable people into raving idiots. It was late. It had been one hell of a tough day and an even worse evening, in my opinion. And now I had a drunk moron making no sense at all on my bed. "Then what do you want? Because it's kind of been a bit of a tough day and frankly I'm all out of patience for guessing."
He looked at me a minute before he slowly smiled. "There's the angsty teen I was lookin' for. Come with me tomorrow, Jake."
I snorted. "To the sister's house who hates you? Yeah. That seems like a great way to spend the day."
He shrugged. "Won't be any worse than today."
I opened my mouth to argue, then found I had no argument. The man had a point. "Go to sleep."
"I'm your guardian," he said, his eyes drooping in spite of the words. "Not the other way around."
He was snoring in minutes. I grabbed a pillow and blanket and headed to the couch on the other side of the room. It was very fancy looking. It had that "money" look to it like everything else. But in spite of it's fancy looks, it was rock hard and uncomfortable. It felt a lot like my bunk on the Condor and for the first time since I left, I got a good nights' sleep.
The morning was rough. Not for me. Not for Lynnette or Marlon, either. And my fleet of service bots that fed us and tended to fetching and doing everything we're perfectly capable of doing for ourselves looked as perky and glitch-free as ever. It was all the adults who suffered. To be honest, I kind of enjoyed it.
The doctor sat at his seat, clutching his head. when anyone would scoot their chair back, rustle a cloth napkin, or be so evil as to actually clank their forks against their plates, he'd moan and clutch his head. "Must you people be so torturous after the hell you've dumped me in?"
Jillian looked old. Very, very old. Her eyes had dark circles around them, her shoulders hunched, and even her hair seemed to give up. "Aspirin," she said to one of the bots serving coffee.
"Madam already had one full dose."
"And if you don't get madam another, you'll get one full dose of my foot up your robotic backside!"
"Yes, Madam. Right away."
Ralph sat at the table with his head down on his arms. He had pushed away all food and even his coffee and if I couldn't see his back rising and falling with breath, I would have worried that he was dead.
Reginald didn't appear on the outside to have it as rough as the others, but I noticed that instead of being his usually peppy self, he sat in silence and clutched his coffee like it was the only thing keeping him alive.
Every time one of them grumbled or groaned, Lynette would flash me a grin and roll her eyes. Marlon largel
y ignored everyone, working on something at the portable terminal I let him bring to the table even though Reginald had put up a weak argument about it being rude.
Christophe came in. I figured he was still in bed "sleeping it off", like Ralph begged me to let him do. He was not. He came in completely businesslike and snapped them in to action in spite of their loud protests.
"Don't you ever get fazed by anything?" asked Jillian, sounding utterly miserable. "It's just not fair."
Christophe gave a quick laugh. "Nothing unfair about it, two drinks, then switch to lemonade. Simple." He glanced at his watch. "And I'm sorry that you weren't smarter, but you all know the schedule for today."
"Free day, Chris," said Reginald, half begging.
Christophe pursed his lips together. I knew that look. He was out of patience. "Fine. I'll just call 'Good Day USA' and tell them that the head of StarTech got too blitzed last night to..."
Reginald cut him off. "I get it. Can't blame me for trying."
"Jillian, your transport will be here in fifteen minutes."
She sighed with relief. "Thank god." She gave a little nod to the group. "I'll see you in a few."
"Where's she going?" I asked.
"Home." Christophe put his breakfast order in with one of the service bots and took a seat near Reginald. "She has a husband and children and I think she's more than earned a vacation to spend time with them, don't you?"
"Of course." I hadn't really given much thought to Jillian beyond the fact that she made me wear horrible clothes. Somewhere in my mind I remembered her talking about kids. I thought she was so old that they'd be grown. I couldn't really visualize her in a home with a family, but I bet they made quite a picture. A very oddly dressed picture.
"I have my symposium..." Dr. Karl mumbled and stood.
"Good luck, Karl," mumbled Ralph from somewhere in the folded arms.
"I do not believe I will speak to you for quite some time, Sergeant Buttrick!"
Ralph chuckled then moaned. He lifted his head a little to squint at the doctor. "Hey, you knew what you were in for. Don't blame me for getting you liquored up."
The doctor snorted, then turned and gave me a little bow. "It has been a pleasure, Jake. I thank you for your hospitality and the privilege of being your physician. Should you need my services in the future, do not hesitate to call."
"You're leaving leaving?"
He nodded. "It is time to resume the thrilling life of a touring educator." He stuck his hand out and I shook it with mixed feelings. "Take care of yourself. Eat proper food, not junk, now." He gave me a small smile, then turned and left without another word.
I stood there for a minute feeling...well, lost, I suppose. "I didn't know they were going," I said to no one in particular.
"You've got such a busy schedule that I doubt you'll miss them," Christophe said with a little too much enthusiasm. Pat the kid on the head and tell him it's all okay. That's what he was doing. From Christophe, I found it highly annoying.
I sat back down and angrily stabbed at my eggs. "Keep me busy and out of trouble, huh?"
"Don't be sassy," said Ralph. He was finally sipping his coffee.
Christophe ignored the anger he had to hear in my voice. It annoyed me even more. "Today you will accompany Ralph on his family visits. His request. You will return by noon for a luncheon with the presidential representative from the United States."
Ralph whistled and Lynette gave a little gasp. It was a big deal. I knew it from their reactions.
"Alone?" I asked from around the sudden lump of fear in my throat.
Christophe waved a little hand. "Your choice."
"What to meet the president?" I asked Lynette.
"I don't have anything I could wear to something like that." Her face turned red.
"Dress uniforms for all," said Christophe. He was saying it to put Lynette at ease. "Even Reginald will be in his StarTech regalia." Reginald quirked an eyebrow at that, but said nothing.
She still looked unsure. "Marlon?"
"Mr. Donnely is not invited to this event," said Christophe.
Marlon grinned at him, taking no offense. "Whatsa matta, Chris? Afraid of what I'll say to the stuffed shirt blow hard?"
"Marlon!" Lynette gasped. "He's our president!"
"So? I didn't vote for him. Have your lunch with that traitorous, short sighted, commie..."
"Ralph, you in?" I asked quickly.
"Sergeant Buttrick's attendance is mandatory."
I looked to Lynette. I wanted her there. "Please?"
Her face was red. "I..."
"I shall inform the staff to prepare a seat for Miss Donnely," said Christophe, tapping the request into his holo. And just like that, Lynette was having lunch with me. Oh, and the president. "Next you will have an interview with Colson Pembroke."
Lynette seemed even more shocked by that than the presidential lunch. "Colson? The Colson?" Her face turned even redder, if that's possible. She touched her cheek. "Oh, Jake. You have to have me there!"
I did laugh then. "Sure. Who's Colson?"
Lynette groaned. "I knew you weren't reading the holozines I assigned you!"
"Doesn't listen to his HuTA either," Ralph said, shaking his head. "He's plain lazy, that one."
I sighed. "I take it he's some reporter?"
Lynette let out a strangled noise, she was so outraged. "Some reporter. Colson Pembroke is the word in pop culture, and you call him 'some reporter'. He's got the number one column in every single newspaper, the number one show on every station, not to mention the daily programs he runs over the holo on all the breaking news in fashion, celebrities..."
"He's a gossip monger," said Marlon. "Lynnie only likes him because he's...what did you call him?"
"Shut up, Marlon," she said through clenched teeth.
"Oh, that's right," he said, drawing it out and thoroughly enjoying annoying his sister. "Dreamy beyond all reason, I think. That was it, wasn't it, Lynnie?"
"Marlon," said Christophe in a warning tone. "He is an extremely influential reporter, Jake," he clar ified for me. I sort of remembered his face on some of the programs Lynette had me watch. I think that was him, anyway. "And you absolutely must make this interview."
"Why?"
"He's your ticket in with the kids your age." Before I could argue that I didn't want or need that ticket, he kept speaking. He knew what I was going to say. I was sure of it. "It will make the rest of your stay here a lot easier if we have external assistance in introducing you to society."
"But..."
"No buts. This is non-negotiable." He actually said it as if there had been a single negotiable situation since my arrival on Utopia. It almost made me laugh.
"Please, Jake. Promise you'll do your best." Lynette looked like this was extremely important. I'd do it for her.
I sighed heavily. "And after that interview? What do I do next?"
"You have a meeting with a wardrobe consultant."
That really made me groan. "I already lived through Jillian..."
"She's a uniform specialist. You need to look more like a child your age."
Child. It rubbed me the wrong way. "So I have to be poked and prodded and have everything, and I mean everything, measured and tugged and stuffed and..."
Lynette put her hand on my arm. "You don't want to stick out, Jake."
I snorted at the sheer idiocy of it all. "Lynnette, there is nothing they can dress me in that will make me not stick out."
Ralph laughed. "Kid's got a point."
"Regardless, you will see the wardrobe consultant."
There was no use arguing. "And then?"
> "That's all for today."
"That's all, huh? No jumps through flaming hoops?"
Christophe gave me a bland smile. "That's on the schedule for tomorrow."
The thing was, I got the feeling he wasn't really kidding. I ate the rest of my breakfast in silence. When we were finished, one of the service bots came in with a stack of papers. "The post, sir," he said, handing me the stack."
"What's this?"
Ralph whistled. "Someone's already popular."
"It's mail," said Lynnette. "Real mail!"
I shuffled through the stack. Mail. It had folded papers and fancy writing. Some had frills cut into the paper, some had ribbons. "What's it for?"
Marlon snorted. "For rich snobs to talk to each other in a way that shows the rest of us who can't afford paper to waste like that just how rich they are."
Christophe reached over and gave Marlon a swat upside the head. Just as cool as you please. I was a little jealous, to be honest. I would have loved to just reach over and swat Marlon a good one myself. "Mail," he said in a completely composed voice, "Is a custom to your class of citizen." Marlon looked like he was going to say something, but shut up with Christophe's warning glance. "They are communications."
"Like messages on my holo."
"Precisely."
"Why didn't they just use the holo?"
Christophe let out a sigh. Reginald pulled me aside later and explained that Christophe was a "stickler for the customs and traditions of the wealthy". Basically, he wants me to jump through the flaming hoops my money puts in front of me. Reginald said it's very important to Christophe, because he grew up so poor and struggled his way to the top. I'd do the silly tasks, but only because I liked Christophe so much.
I looked through the fancy papers again. "How do they work?"
Lynette laughed. "Here," she said, grabbing the top one off the pile. She slid her finger under a flap and tugged, ripping it. I was going to stop her, but then she pulled another paper from inside. She handed it to me. "There. You read that." She turned to Marlon. "I just opened mail!"
He was still mad about the smack, though. "Well whoopdie sh..." He stopped when Christophe raised his hand, just a bit.
Lynette turned back to me. "What does it say?"
"It's rude to read other peoples' mail," Christophe said.
"It's fine," I said quickly. I didn't think he'd give Lynette a smack, but I didn't want to risk it. "It says welcome to Earth and asks me to come to a party."
"Who's it from?"
"I don't know."
"Look at the bottom, silly."
I scanned down to the bottom. "Clarkson Hildegrande."
Lynette squealed and snatched the mail. "Oh my god! It really is!"
"I figured this would happen," said Reginald. "Chris?"
Christophe put his coffee down. "Taken care of."
"Then why the invite?"
"Show."
"Ah."
They settled it between them. I, however, did not. "What's a party?" Lynette gave me the run down. All in all, it didn't sound too terrible. "Then shouldn't I go?"
Reginald snorted. "To a Hildegrande soiree? Over my dead body! We need you wholesome, kiddo. They'll wreck you five ways to Sunday." I had no idea what he meant by that. Later, after I'd attended some parties I wish I hadn't, I understood. Those "high class" parties were anything but.
"I'm guessing there's a lot of invites in that stack," Reginald said. "Lynette, that's your task for this morning."
"I thought she shouldn't read my mail?" I asked.
He waved a hand in the air. "Change of plans. No," he said quickly, pointing his finger in the air like he does when he believes he's had a brilliant idea. "Extension of job duties. Miss Donnely will now act as your personal assistant during your stay."
"My sister is not a secretary." Marlon's voice was harsh and cold. He did not sound like a brat, or someone trying to stir up trouble. I actually respected him then, even though I had no idea what a secretary was.
"It's okay, Marlon. I've..."
"No. You are not a secretary and I won't let them treat you like one." He glared at Christophe. He was challenging him to fight him on this.
"Social liaison," Reginald rushed in before Christophe could speak. "If you won't mind," he said to Lynette.
"I don't mind at all!" She scooped up the mail. "Really, Marlon. It's okay. I didn't have anything else to do this morning anyway. Besides, if the first one's from Clarkson Hildegrande, imagine who else has invited us...him." She turned red and stood. "If Jake doesn't mind me reading them..."
I didn't mind. It seemed to matter to her far more than it did to me. She hurried by, but stopped to give Marlon a kiss on the head. He sighed and stood. "I'll be at my terminal."
The adults did not like the fact that both Marlon and Lynette were starting to see the things around the estate as theirs, too. Me? I loved it. It made me feel more like a friend and less like some overlord. The adults could grumble all they wanted. I fully intended to encourage Marlon and Lynette to help themselves to whatever they wanted.
Everyone broke up and we all went off to start our day. And what long, long day it would turn out to be.