"I didn't mean to upset you," I said quietly. "Like your parents, I'm trying to do the best I can. Someday, when you have children, you'll understand. Until then, you'll think you'll be able to avoid upsetting your children, and that you'll do better. Every child thinks at some time that he or she can do it better than their parents. Or their uncles. If you're very good, you might manage it." I waited.
"I'm sorry, Uncle Jonat."
I patted her shoulder. "It has to be hard for you. I do understand. Your mother and I, we lost our parents before their time, too."
Charis blotted her eyes without looking directly at me.
"Are you two ready, now?"
They both nodded, and followed me to the garage.
"Both of you in the backseat."
"Told you," Alan muttered to Charis.
"Adults always sit in front. You know that," I pointed out.
That didn't get an argument or a muttering complaint, which meant that I'd hit on a familiar phrase or concept.
As I headed northward, back toward the older area of southern Denv nearer to the Club, I glanced to my left, to the west. The sky was a clear blue, and the snow on the Rockies seemed to shimmer in the sun that gave little heat. Still, chill or not, I liked bright days far better than the cloudy ones. Recently, even the sunniest of days had felt cold and cloudy, even when they hadn't been.
We pulled into the waiting area for the Cherry Creek maglev station at eleven-twenty.
"How long are we going to wait?" Alan asked.
"Until the shuttle gets here," Charis replied.
"And the one from the northwest might not be the first one, either," I pointed out.
It wasn't. It was the third one, at eleven thirty-five. Paula was one of a handful who stepped through the security gates. She was wearing a midthigh gray woolen jacket and darker gray trousers.
I was halfway out of the Jacara, waving, before she caught sight of us. She didn't run, but walked quickly.
As Paula slipped into the front seat, gracefully, she looked back at the children. "Hello, Charis, Alan. It's good to see you."
"Hello." Alan didn't quite look at Paula.
"I like your coat," Charis said, smiling.
"Thank you. I like it, too."
"So do I," I added, although I could tell that Paula had gone out and bought the coat, and probably most of the outfit, after I'd talked to her on Friday afternoon. I had to admit that she looked wonderful, but that wasn't what I'd intended to do. She would have enough demands on her not-so-ample salary.
"I'm glad."
I pulled out of the maglev waiting area.
"How long before we get there, Uncle Jonat?" asked Alan. "I'm hungry."
"Less than ten minutes." After a pause, I asked Paula, "Did you have any trouble with the maglev?"
"No. It wasn't crowded at all."
"Any difficulty with anything at the house?"
"No. You left everything very neat and clean."
"He likes it that way," interjected Charis. "He's always making us pick up things."
"Ah, yes, your uncle the ogre," I said sonorously, "from under the bridge ... sallying forth to terrify the little billy goats into neatness..."
"Uncle Jonat..." Charis's voice contained that tone of despairing disgust that only a nine-year-old can muster.
"I know. I'm hopeless."
A trace of a smile crossed Paula's face as I pulled into the carpark adjoining the Shire Inn.
The Inn was not that full, but I hadn't expected it to be on a Saturday afternoon in early January. The hostess gave us a corner table. With the paneled walls of real oak and the hunter green hangings, the impression was of the kind of English country inn that had never really existed. The menus were printed, not projected, and a server filled the water glasses.
"Are you going to have the petite fillet and the pommes frites again?" I grinned at Charis.
She frowned for a moment, solemnly, then grinned back. "Can I?"
"Yes. You've both been relatively good, and you did well with your lesson today." I turned to Alan.
"A big burger with Swiss cheese, please?"
"Consider it done."
Paula looked at me. "What are you going to have?"
"I'm very traditional about food, and they're traditional here. I think I'm going to have the beef Wellington, although the alfredo portobello is good if you want a pasta, and their trout is always good. The fillet that Charis is having is a good choice as well."
Paula nodded. "I think I'll have that—the fillet."
"It's good," Charis said. "I had it when Uncle Jonat took me here for my birthday."
On cue, the server appeared, a real server, although she was a servie, and took our orders. Paula and I asked for Grey tea, and the children wanted iced tea.
"Do you play football?" Alan asked Paula.
"No, I don't. I'm afraid there are many things I haven't done. Do you?"
"I'm learning. Uncle Jonat says I need to work on my dribbling more."
"He's good for his age," I said.
We talked about football and school until the salads arrived, small fruit plates for Alan and Charis, and mixed greens for Paula and me.
"How much longer for you?" I asked her. "The sessions?"
"Another two weeks. Most of the alternative safo probies take six weeks, but I've done so much that I only need about half that, according to Sergeant Ohly." Paula took a bite of the salad. "This is good."
"I hoped you'd like it."
"I don't have much in the way of comparison."
"If it tastes good, and you like it, that's what matters."
My beef Wellington was very good. Not excellent, but tasty nonetheless, and I was hungry. So was everyone else, at least for a few minutes.
"This was a good choice, Charis," Paula offered after the silence.
"I like it, especially the pommes frites."
Alan just kept eating.
"Do you come here often?" asked Paula.
"No." Charis glanced at me. "Only for special times. Or if we're good."
"Where do you go other times?"
"We went to Fogg's," Alan said. "I wanted to go to Cheezers."
"Fogg's is more casual," I said. "Cheezers is..."
"For little kids," Charis finished my sentence.
"Is not," mumbled Alan through a mouthful of something.
"Is too."
I glared at Charis, and she closed her mouth.
"You were a very effective Marine officer, weren't you?" asked Paula.
"I was probably less effective than I thought I was. I did manage to survive, and not everyone did."
"You were a lieutenant colonel, weren't you? That sounds like you did more than survive."
"A little more." I laughed. "Do you know where they're going to assign you first?"
"Usually, you do some patrol work and some screen pushing and monitoring so that you get an idea of where the trouble spots are. That's what... Central Four and Sergeant Ohly have both said."
"You probably have some idea of where those are," I suggested.
"Mostly in westside and northside." Paula took a last mouthful of the fillet.
I glanced over at Charis and Alan. "I don't suppose you two want any dessert."
"Chocolate splurge."
"Ice cream. Chocolate."
I skipped anything that heavy, although the crème brûlée was tempting, and settled for more tea. So did Paula.
After Charis and Alan had demolished the sweets, and I paid, we walked out of the Shire Inn. I glanced sideways at Paula. "If you have a little time, I thought you ought to see the house in Southhills, just so that you know where I am if anything comes up." That was a transparent fabrication. She could always reach me through Minerva, but I did want her to see the house, for lots of reasons.
"That might be a good idea."
"You can see our rooms," Alan offered.
Charis glared at her brother for the briefest instant, so quickly he didn'
t even notice.
I took the scenic route back to Southhills, pointing out some of the more extensive estates along the way. Paula didn't say anything at all as we drove up to the Southhills house.
As we entered the foyer, I took her coat and hung it in the entry closet. I'd only worn my jacket, and the house wasn't that warm. "Would you like to show Paula your rooms?"
"Me first!" Alan exclaimed.
That meant his room was relatively neat. "Go ahead."
I let Alan lead the way as we headed up the main stairs from the front foyer. Charis followed her brother, and Paula and I brought up the rear. At the top of the stairs was the oil painting of Aliora and Dierk.
"Is that...?" murmured Paula.
I nodded.
The children's rooms were to the north of the landing at the top of the stairs.
"The sitting room here is where we read bedtime stories," I explained. "Alan's room is through the door to the right."
"Uncle Jonat reads," Alan said. "We listen."
"Every night?" asked Paula.
"Every night, except for the few when I've had to go out." I stood back while Alan explained.
"This is my reader. It's not a real console ... and there are my books ... the kinds you carry around and don't put on a reader. We have to know both kinds. They're different..."
I swallowed, because I could almost hear Aliora's voice through Alan.
When Alan had finished, Paula went into Charis's room, but barely, as if she did not wish to intrude.
"You can come in," Charis said. "My school stuff goes on those shelves..."
I stayed outside as Charis told Paula about her room.
"Thank you, Charis," Paula said as she emerged from my niece's room.
I looked at the children.
"You two can have two hours of linktime—each of you chooses one hour. Up here. I'll enable the console."
"Good! I get first," Alan said.
"He can go first," Charis agreed. That meant she wanted to watch something on later.
Through my implant, I pulsed the system. I also set the timer for two hours and fifteen minutes, to allow time for the second program to finish.
Paula walked beside me as we descended to the foyer, and then into the great room. For a long time, she surveyed the expanse, taking in the green marble and the columns, her eyes lighting on every piece of furniture, every painting, and even the carpets. "This is ... impressive." She looked at me with those storm-gray eyes. "You and your family are very wealthy, aren't you?"
I laughed. "I'm moderately well-off. Borderline ascendent. You've seen my house. That was what I could afford. This is mostly from Dierk's family. The VanOkars were very well-to-do, and they only had two children. Dierk was very successful."
"You forget, Jonat. I may only be probationary, but I've seen the way most people live. Your house is a palace compared to the houses of most sarimen and servies."
I couldn't dispute that, and I wasn't about to. "Would you like something to drink? Tea? Water? Wine?"
"I'm not thirsty right now."
I gestured to a pair of armchairs that faced each other at an angle in one of the corner nooks, then waited for Paula to seat herself. She did so gracefully.
"You bought the coat and outfit just for today, didn't you?"
Her smile was shy, but lovely. "Not just for today. I'll need nice clothes that aren't too formal. I don't have many."
"I feel badly about that. I wasn't thinking. I didn't mean for you to have to go out and buy..."
Paula reached out and touched my wrist briefly. Her fingertips were warm, and I could feel their warmth after she'd withdrawn them. "You've been very kind. You've been much kinder than anyone could expect."
"I owe you and Minerva a great deal." Like my life.
I looked into those storm-gray eyes, wondering what she saw when she looked at me. A man who still struggled to survive, without knowing exactly why or even who he was? Paula knew who she was—of that I was sure. I was less certain of what she wanted to become.
"We owe you as well."
"Mutual gratitude society." The words were drier than I intended. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it the way it came out. I ... I don't know..."
"You don't like owing people, Jonat. You'd rather be the one owed."
I didn't say anything for a moment. Her comment was more than perceptive. "You're right."
"I had help from Minerva," Paula confessed.
"Are you linked to her now?"
"No. That would be ... too much." Paula shook her head. "I'll ask her about things. I guess ... sort of like a mother and mentor together, but she doesn't intrude, and I don't want her to. It's a voluntary link, like yours. I just need more information than you do."
"I wonder about that. Sometimes, there's a temptation to think I know more than I do. You probably don't have that illusion."
"That time will come."
There was another silence, both awkward and comfortable, simultaneously, in a way I couldn't describe.
"Do you ... have dreams ... about things ... that never happened?"
"As a result of the pattern-programming, you mean?" She nodded. "They're strange, but they're not at all disturbing anymore, now that I can recognize them for what they are. Some of them deal with dancing, as if I were a ballerina, but..." She looked down at herself. "I'm a little big for a ballerina."
"You'd look wonderful on stage," I protested.
"Oh ... the proportions aren't bad, but I'd be a good half head taller than anyone else on the stage." She laughed. "It's a nice dream, though."
"What other dreams do you have?"
"They change. They must not be that important. I don't remember any of them, except some of the times when I was ... learning ... the first parts of being a safo."
"Somewhere between what you were and what you are?"
She nodded.
I wasn't about to mention the word "cydroid."
"Jonat... please tell me about you. I would like to hear about when you were a boy."
"I was, once. I grew up not too far from here, but our house was smaller than this, but bigger than mine. I always wanted to be a Marine. I don't know why. My parents wouldn't have been happy with it. So I never told them. I played at it only when they weren't around. I practiced trying to move without making a sound, even when the fall leaves fell and were rustling on the grass. I liked sports. Football and swimming. I liked to sing, but I wasn't any good at it, and once I heard a recording of my own singing..." I shook my head. "I still like music."
"Were you good at sports?"
"Good enough to make the teams. Not good enough to stand out except maybe in swimming, but that's never been a big-time sport..."
I talked, and she kept asking questions, and before I knew it, it was almost four-thirty. I stopped and looked into those storm-gray eyes. "Would you like to stay for dinner?"
"You're being very kind, Jonat. Yes, I would. But that wouldn't be good for me. I need to study, and I need to take in days like today with spaces in between. Remember ... in some ways, I'm not much older than Charis."
"That's hard to believe."
"No ... you're being kind again."
"I'm not being kind. That's the way I feel."
"It's the way you think, not the way you feel," she corrected me gently as she stood. "It won't hurt that you have dinner with the children after I've left."
"I suppose I could take Alan to Cheezers." I tried not to wince at the thought.
"He sounded like he would like that."
"I'm sure he would, and I might even survive it."
Paula laughed. I liked the sound.
I stood up and called upstairs. "We're going to take Paula back to the maglev. Anyone who wants to go to Cheezers..."
I didn't even have the rest of the words out before Alan was halfway down the stairs, hanging on to his jacket by one cuff.
"You could get your jacket on," I said with a laugh as I recovered Paula's coat from
the entry closet.
As I helped Paula into her coat, Charis descended the stairs, following her brother, if at a more deliberate pace.
I checked security at the house a last time before I eased the Jacara out of the oversized garage. It took less than ten minutes to reach the drop-off area of the mid-Old Tech maglev station.
As I slowed to a stop, I told Paula, "Just take the northwest direct— the green shuttle. Otherwise, you'll have to change shuttles in old downtown Denv."
"I can manage that—either way."
"I'm sure you can."
She smiled. "It was a lovely lunch and afternoon." Then she turned to the backseat. "It was good to see you both again."
Alan half-nodded, shyly.
Charis smiled.
"Thank you all." Paula flashed a last smile, then closed the door. She walked quickly from the Jacara and through the security gates to the platform. Since no one else had pulled up behind us, I waited until she boarded the magshuttle. Then I pulled away from the drop-off area.
"She's nice, Uncle Jonat," Charis observed.
"She's all right," Alan added. "She doesn't know much about football."
"Not everyone does."
"You said we could go to Cheezers, Uncle Jonat."
"I did, and we will." I turned the Jacara westward.
Later, after dinner and the bedtime rituals, I had more work to do on the MultiCor financial and economic analysis. I knew it couldn't wait, but the weekend was looking long, longer than I'd thought. I'd also have to go over the stored records of the conversations from my taps of Kemal's crew. I could hardly wait for the drudgery involved in that, but I couldn't afford not to know what they were planning.
Chapter 82
Sunday was church again, and the sermon wasn't too bad. It even made sense without having to rely on divine authority and grace. That kind of preaching—the kind that inspired human striving toward a better world—I could take, at least in small doses. Larger doses might have been harder, because I was definitely guilty of some significant sin, especially in the old sense of the word, and it didn't make that much difference to my own feelings of guilt that I really hadn't had much choice in the matter. I suppose that was one of the things that bothered me about the moralists—either the secular or the religious kinds. They both had lists of immoral acts, but no one talked about the structures in society and religion that often put people like me in a situation where the only "moral" course was to get killed or take great abuse, or both. I had both personal and philosophical objections to any system where martyrdom was the most moral course.
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