"Trust me? What a guffer. They opened the door. Stupid, I thought. Good for me, though. Leastwise that's what I thought till I went walkabout. All they got around here is corridors and more corridors. Most of them ain't got any doors on 'em, but sometimes their interior decorator goes wild and tosses in a couple of doors that ain't got no handles, buzzers, pads, or nothin'. All ya can do is go where they want ya ta go. This whole damned place's like a low-mem vid maze."
John had felt like that himself on his first excursion. Today he'd been too anxious to get to Bear in the morning to notice, and too tired tonight to be interested. Thinking about it, he realized that, except for the audience room, he still hadn't seen anything more than corridors between here and the place where they kept Bear.
Sue was still talking. "And ya know what? You were right, Jack. This place is full of half-liter gene-lacks."
"They're dwarves."
"What I said. Mein freund, they are shor-ort! Ain't seen nobody wasn't a midget like Wilson. It was nerco, absolutely n eeping. Made me feel like some sort of giant freak type."
So Sue had seen some of the dwarves. Maybe that explained why she wasn't acting stir-crazy as she had yesterday.
Wilson said they were going to find something more interesting for you today."
She snorted. "They did. Oh, they did. If ya call lunch at a cafeteria and a workout in a gym fun. Course, there's fun and there's fun." She slipped a short metal rod out of her pants pocket. "Left one too many bars lying around the weight room." She hefted the heavy rod and made a tentative swing with it. "Got a good feel."
"They won't let you keep it."
"Let 'em try and take it away." She swung it again in a snapping blow, bringing the follow-through around and thrusting with a jab. "Just let 'em try."
"Dinner in ten minutes," the speaker announced.
Sue started scrambling to repack the computer parts into I he console. Seeing her fumbling in her haste, John helped her. She gave him a sidelong look when he picked up the first circuit board and handed it to her, but she didn't say anything. Just as they managed to get the casing closed, John heard the faint click of the door's lock mechanism. They both slid into seats and tried to look nonchalant.
It was a wasted effort.
The door opened on a cart. No attendant, just a cart. The laden dinnercart rolled forward under its own power and stopped just short of the table. "Please return all glasses, tableware, and crockery to the cart," it said. "Soiled linen may be placed in the slot on the port side." A green bulb glowed to clarify which of the cart's sides was "port." "Please press down on the handlebar to indicate that the cart is loaded and ready for return to the kitchen."
"Where do we put the tip?" John asked.
The green light switched off, but the cart didn't answer him.
They ate, Sue demonstrating that she had little in the way of table manners. They didn't talk much during the meal.
When she finished, she fiddled with the perscomp and, to John's surprise, brought up the video player. John finished his meal to the raucous laugh track of The Trials and Tribulations of Martin A. FelloeEM, a long-running, early-century sitcom about a software geek who had become a billionaire with his first program. John had heard of the show but never seen it; he wasn't really seeing it now because Sue turned the screen to face her. He was left to assume the humor was visual; none of the jokes were funny. Sue didn't lift a hand to help John pile the debris from their meal onto the cart. He supposed she wasn't used to having to clean up after herself, so he didn't complain. If they were going to be here for a while, though, she'd have to learn. He sent the cart on its way and turned to find that Sue had abandoned her position in front of the monitor and lay sprawled on the couch, staring at the ceiling. Martin A. Felloe's predicament continued to draw guffaws from the digital audience.
Sue looked different somehow; he wasn't quite sure why or how. Maybe it was the lighting, but she looked calmer than she had. John could have pictured her cruising the mall at Rezcom 5 or studying in a lounge at the university. She could have been just an ordinary girl. Except for one thing: Sue had her stolen weight bar out again and was idly smacking it into her hand. That wasn't the sort of thing a mainline straightline girl would be doing.
"Ya know what I want?" she asked wistfully. She didn't wait for him to respond. "I wanna see sunlight. The sky, ya know? I wanna be back on the streets, out where there's people. People, for God's sake, instead of these damn munch-kins."
"They're dwarves."
"I don't care if they're Martians! I want out."
It wasn't as if John could open a door and send her on her way. "Talk to Wilson."
She heaved herself up and slipped the rod back into her jeans. Her demeanor shifted once she was on her feet, got softer. Her voice got softer, too. "Ya know, I really don't like it here and that Wilson guy, he don't like me much. I can tell. But at least he's talked ta me. Them other munchkins, they just stare. They don't want me here. I can tell. So why don't they just let me go?"
"I don't know. Ask Wilson."
"We both know Wilson ain't calling any shots around here. I don't know anybody else here. This were the streets, 1 could go to a fixer, ya know, and find out what I gotta do ta make things straight. I don't know nobody here, don't got no connections."
John looked into her dark eyes and found himself wanting to help her. "You want me to talk to Wilson?"
She smiled, showing surprising bright teeth. "Like I was thinking ya could talk ta whuz hiz name, ya know, their boss guy."
"Kranekin."
"Yeah, whatever. Him." She had closed the distance between them as she talked. Now she laid her hand on John's arm. "I'd be grateful."
There was a promise in that statement. John knew what it would mean on the streets; he was sure she did, too. From what little he knew of her rep on the streets, it wasn't the sort of promise she made often. It wasn't the sort of thing he took lightly, either; he didn't much like the feeling that he had bought someone's affection. Surprisingly, he found that he didn't want to disappoint her.
"I'll ask," he said.
"Would ya really?"
Sure. All Kranekin could do was say no. What did he have to lose? He felt the heat of her palm through the fabric of his shirt. And he might have something to gain.
The next day he did as he said he would, asking Kranekin before he began his next session with Bear, but all Kranekin would say about releasing Spillway Sue was, "In time." It wasn't much of an answer, but Kranekin made it clear that it was all the answer John was going to get for the moment. Later, John passed the word on to Spillway Sue and she took it stony-faced.
"Ya asked like ya said ya would," was all she said before retreating to her bedroom and shutting the door. She didn't come out to eat when the dinnercart arrived. John ate alone.
When he was finished, he put his dirty things back on the cart, but he left her untouched stuff on the table; she might be hungry later. He sent the cart off and retired to his room.
His head was still buzzing from the sim, and he was tired; not as much as he had been after the first sessions, but enough to make crashing out sound really attractive. He let his clothes fall where he stripped them off, used the toilet, and headed for the soft embrace of the bed. He realized that he had forgotten to close his door when Sue spoke from the doorway.
"Not a bad bod, if ya like 'em pale."
John started, turning at her voice before recollecting that he was naked. He glanced around frantically for something snatchable. He grabbed a pillow from the bed to hold in front of himself.
"And shy, too. Chill down, mein freund. Ya ain't got nothin' I ain't seen before."
She sauntered into the room, running her eyes up and down his body in a frankly evaluating way. He backed away from her until his calves came up against the bed. She came into the room, straight toward him. Her hands lifted and began unbuttoning her shirt. That done, she slid her arms back and sent the shirt to the floor with a shrug. She stood
before him naked from the waist up. Her body was lean, sleek with toned muscle. Her breasts were small but well-shaped globes and their nipples were crinkling to hardness. John swallowed hard. Swallowing wasn't the only thing that was hard; he felt the pillow resisting his rising interest. She was very close.
It might have been a dream, but he could smell her. Then again, in a dream, she would have been smiling.
This wasn't right.
"I didn't get you what you wanted," he managed to say. "You don't have to do this."
"I don't do nothin' I don't wanna," she said with a shrug.
The movement drew John's eyes to her breasts. He felt hot.
She finally smiled, but it was an ironic one. "Ya didn't say ya'd get me out. Most guys woulda. Ya just said ya'd ask, and ya did what ya said, and I appreciate that."
And now she was here to pay off. John's hardness slipped a little. "You don't have to show your appreciation this way."
"A deal's a deal." She popped the top fastening on her jeans and started slowly sliding the zipper down. John could see the top of her panties in the crack; they were deep blue and shiny. He caught a new whiff of her scent. "Only got one commodity here ta trade with."
"Pretty high price when you don't get what you want."
"It ain't worth as much as yer making out."
She started to peel the denim down over the flare of her hips. The situation was really strange; John had dreamed of beautiful women making this kind of come-on to him, but the reality was different. The reality was different; this wasn't right. He hadn't done anything to deserve her giving herself to him.
"It's worth as much as you want it to be," he said.
She froze, halting her undressing. She looked up at his face and there was puzzlement in her eyes. "Ya saying ya don't want ta hump me?"
"No—I mean, yes—I mean, it's not that I don't—ah, I don't think we should—"
Words failed him and he stood there, openmouthed and feeling stupid. She looked at him, clearly calculating. But what? She broke the stalemate by reaching down and picking up her shirt. Throwing it over one shoulder, she turned and walked away. She looked back when she reached the door.
"You're a strange one, Tall Jack."
Who was he to argue?
Shaking her head, she disappeared into the common room. A few seconds later, he heard her door slide shut. John padded across his room and shut his own door. Tossing the pillow ahead of him, he threw himself on the bed. He had a hard time getting to sleep that night.
There was no mention of the previous night's episode at breakfast the next morning. Sue was quiet, subdued. She even refrained from making any surly remarks when Wilson arrived to escort John to see Bear.
Over the next couple of days, they settled into a sort of routine. Breakfast together, then John would go off for a session with Bear, to return in time for dinner. They talked some, about this and that, nothing close or personal. Sue seemed friendlier, less and less the hard streeter. He liked this Sue a lot better than the smart-mouthed punk who had confronted him in the factory. He began to think that she was coming to trust him.
Each night she left her door open when she retired after their talks, but he couldn't bring himself to go in there. He didn't want her to sleep with him just because she owed him something, or because they were stuck here together, or because there was nothing more interesting to do. He didn't want himself doing it for any of those reasons, either. Still, their proximity and her availability made it harder every day to deny the growing attraction. But was it a real attraction, and not just two lonely people clutching at each other because there was no one else? Their togetherness was artificial, thrust on them by the dwarves. Their interest in each other could just as easily be a product of this enforced intimacy.
He left his own door open as well, fearing that shutting it would offend her, but also a little afraid that she might accept what could be construed as an offer. After a few days, despite his misgivings, he found himself almost hoping she would accept the offer.
He continued to sleep alone.
Each day the dwarves interrogated him about details of Bear's modern life; they said they needed the information to construct the reintegration sims. John answered all their questions, watching as they input data and developed visuals and sim personas. He corrected details and helped them adjust the sims; a couple of times they even let him use the construction software. He didn't feel as though he was betraying anyone. It wasn't as though there were any real secrets. At least not any secrets that he knew he should be keeping; the dwarves already knew about Nym and Bennett and Faye and the magical otherworld. The last was the one area he would have refused to tell them about, but they never pressed him for details about it.
Every day the sessions with Bear were all the same. For a week, the same. The meeting, the admittance into his choice hand of fighters, the raid on the Saxon camp, the party afterward. An endless round of hairy-chested bonding stuff. Each time it seemed to be a new experience for Bear, but John remembered that everything had happened before. Did Bear? Why was everything being repeated?
"Baseline familiarity," Wilson said.
It became very familiar. The awesome detail and realism of l he dwarf sim became old hat. John grew tired of it; the lack of change and challenge stifled him. Did anything he was doing matter? What would happen if he didn't bother to fight in the next attack sequence? Would it make a difference? Did he dare try?
The dwarves' assurances that progress was being made grew thin. And not just for him. As the week wore on, Sue's newfound calm grew more ragged, and more and more her frustration at being cooped up came to dominate their conversations. Her agitation infected John. Like her, he began to wonder if there would ever be an end to their strange imprisonment.
He was ready to tell Wilson that he wasn't going to bother I ighting the Saxons next time, but the dwarf had his own surprise announcement when John came out of the sim.
"Things are looking good. We'll start the next phase tomorrow."
When John told Sue the news, she exploded.
"Next phase? Ya mean this is gonna keep goin' on? We're gonna be here forever!"
"Only till Bear's better."
"That's what they tell ya?"
"Well, they haven't said so in so many words."
"And they ain't gonna. They're gonna keep us cooped in this can forever."
"Kranekin said he'd let you go in time."
"In time? What? A life time? His or mine?" She glared at him. "Ya believe them munchkins too much, Jack."
The dinnercart arrived and they ate in a tense silence. John reloaded the cart and Sue helped. They still didn't say anything to each other, but the silence seemed more companionable than it had.
When the cart left, Sue said, "I been thinking about this situation real hard, Jack. And, ya know, it keeps comin' down ta one thing. Ya owe me, Jack. Major league. 'Cause if it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be here."
That was true, after a fashion. "Seems to me that when we received our invitation from the dwarves, you were talking about getting a good price for my eyes."
"That weren't nothing. Fight talk, ya know. Ta spook ya. It don't mean nothin'."
It had seemed to mean something at the time. She still hadn't told him what had brought her to the factory looking for him. "Were you really going to cut my eyes out and sell them?"
"Nah. 1 told ya, it didn't mean nothin'."
"So why were you looking for me? It seems that might have a bearing on whether I owe you or not."
"It was a job. Nothin' personal, like. Some suits wanted ta dump the place you was living. Wanted you ee-victed."
"Well, that's done." John was gone, but the factory might not be empty; Faye might still be there. Was she waiting for him there as she had at the rezcom? Guiltily, he realized he hadn't been thinking about her.
"Seems like we both got evicted pretty good," Sue said. "Left behind everybody we knew."
That wasn't exactly true. Bea
r was here. But Faye wasn't.
"Ya think the munchkins wiped the guys?"
"No." Whatever else they were, the dwarves didn't seem to be cold-blooded killers. Sue's guys hadn't represented a threat to anyone when Wilson had shown up.
"I think ya might be right. If Wilson wanted ta wipe 'em, he didn't have any need not to do it while we was there." She smiled to herself. "Good thing the suits didn't know who I'd picked ta get ya; they'd be on the guys like melting polycarb. The guys don't know nothin', but the suits wouldn't believe that. They'd wipe 'em just for saying 'I don't know where she went.' "
"These suits sound pretty heinous. Why'd you agree to work for them?"
"Monetary units. What else? Girl's gotta get along,"
What else, indeed. "And they wanted me?"
She hesitated. Maybe she sensed how angry being a target made him. "They wanted ya out of your slump. That's all."
"And the eye thing, that was just entrepreneurial spirit?"
"I told ya, that didn't mean nothin'!"
Her indignation was real. Lord knew, John wanted to believe her. "So they just wanted me out of there?"
"Getting out can be bright. Like getting outta here, ya know? I gotta get outta here, Tall Jack. I'm dying in this can. You oughta leave, too. We both gotta get outta here."
"Bear needs my help. I can't leave now."
"Best help ya could give him would be ta get him away from these munchkins."
"He can't be moved."
"That's what they're telling ya."
That was what they were telling them. Could she be right that it was only a ploy?
"If you're not bright enough ta get out yourself, at least help me get out."
"1 can't get involved in some half-thought-out escape plan, right now. They're going to start the next phase tomorrow, and Bear needs me. I owe him."
"What about me? Ya owe me, too."
All the rational arguments said that he wasn't responsible; her situation was happenstance. So why wasn't he able to feel comfortable with those arguments? Did he really owe her, or did he just not want her to feel as if he did? Was the difference important?
robert Charrette - Arthur 02 - A King Beneath the Mountain Page 21