Cyteen: The Betrayal (31 page)

“What in hell are you doing here?” Jane asked.

Julia looked up. “I took Gloria to the dentist. Routine. I thought I’d drop by for a minute.”

“You know better.”

Julia’s soft mouth hardened a little. “That’s a fine welcome.”

Jane took a deep breath and went over and sat down with her hands locked between her knees. Gloria sat up. Another baby. Meditating destruction of something. The apartment was safed for a two-year-old’s reach. Gloria was a tall three. “Look, Julia. You know the situation. You’re not supposed to bring Gloria in here.”

“It’s not like the baby was going to catch something. I was just passing by. I thought we could go out for lunch.”

“That’s not the point, Julia. We’re being taped. You know that. I don’t want any question of compromise. You understand me. You’re not a child. You’re twenty-two years old, and it’s about time-“

“I said we could go out for lunch.”

With Gloria. God. Her nerves were at the breaking point. “We’ll go out for lunch-” Gloria was over at the bookcase. Gloria was after a piece of pottery. “Gloria, dammit!” No platythere and no three-year-old ever turned from an objective. She got up and snatched the kid back, dragged her toward the couch and Gloria started to scream. Which could carry all the way down the damn hall where another little girl was trying to drown her nurse. Jane shifted her grip and clamped her hand over Gloria’s mouth. “Shut that up! Julia, dammit, get this kid out of here!”

“She’s your granddaughter!”

“I don’t care what she is, get her out of here!” Gloria was struggling hysterically and kicking her shin. “Out, dammit!”

Julia got that desperate, offended, out-of-breath look; came and snatched Gloria away, and Gloria, uncorked, screamed as if she was being skinned.

“Get out!” Jane shouted. “Dammit, shut her up!”

“You don’t care about your own granddaughter!”

“We’ll go to lunch tomorrow! Bring her! Just shut her up!”

“She’s not one of the damn azi!”

“Watch your mouth! What kind of language is that?”

“You’ve got a granddaughter! You’ve got me, for God’s sake, and you don’t bloody care!”

Hysterical howls from Gloria.

“I’m not going to talk about it now! Out!”

“Damn you then!” Julia started crying. Gloria was still screaming. Julia grabbed Gloria up and hauled her to the door and out it.

Jane stood in the quiet and felt her stomach profoundly upset. Julia had finally got some guts. And damn near sabotaged the Project. There was not supposed to be another little girl. They were still feeling their way. Little changes in self-percept while it was forming at incremental rates could have big effects down the line. If the start was true, Ari would handle course deviations at the far end just fine.

Ari did not need to be wondering, Maman, who was that?

Ari had been an only child.

So now the damn Project had Julia’s nose out of joint. Because mother was one of Julia’s triggers, mother was the root of all Julia’s problems, mother was what Julia was determined to succeed in being, because Julia knew that that was the one place where the great and famous Jane Strassen had messed up and Julia was sure she could do it right. Julia felt deprived in her childhood so she was going to the other extreme, ruining her own kid with smothering: that little brat knew exactly how to get everything from mama but consistency, and she needed a firm hand and a month away from mama before it was too late.

Amazing how accurate hindsight could be.

v

It was patches again. Florian felt himself a little fluttery, fluttery like when things got confused. The big building and sitting on the edge of the table always made him feel that way, but he could answer when the Super asked him where the One patch went. Right over his heart. He knew that. He had a doll he could patch. But it didn’t have so many.

“That’s right,” the Super said, and patted him. “You’re an awfully good boy, Florian. You’re very smart and you’re very quick to do things. Can you tell me how old you are?”

Old meant big and as he got bigger and smarter the right answer meant more fingers. Right now he got to hold up the first and the next and the next, and stop. Which was hard to do without letting them all come up. When he did it right he felt good all over. The Super gave him a hug.

When he got through there was always a sweet. And he knew all the answers to everything the Super asked. He felt fluttery but it was a good fluttery.

He just wished they would give him the sweet now and forget about the patches.

vi.

Ari was tremendously excited. She had a new suit-red, with a glittery pattern on the front and on one sleeve. Nelly had brushed her hair till it crackled and flew, all black and shiny, and then Ari, all dressed, had had to dither about the living room till maman and Ollie were ready. Maman looked very tall and very beautiful, glittery with silver, and the silver in her hair was pretty. Ollie went too, handsome in the black the azi wore. Ollie was a special azi. He was always with maman, and if Ollie said something Ari had to do it. She did, or at least she did today, because maman and Ollie were going to take her to a Party.

There were going to be a lot of big people there. She would go there and then Ollie would take her to Valery’s to a children’s party.

Valery was a boy. He was sera Schwartz’s. Azi would watch them and they would play games and there would be ices, on a table their size. And other children. But mostly she liked Valery. Valery had a spaceship that had red lights. He had a glass thing you could look through and it made patterns.

Most of all she hoped there would be presents. Sometimes there were. Since everyone was dressed up, there might be.

But it was special, to go where the big people were. To walk down the hall holding maman’s hand, dressed up and acting nice, because you were supposed to, and not make trouble. Especially when there could be presents.

They rode the lift downstairs. She saw a lot of tall azi in the hall: azi wore black more than they wore other colors; and even if they didn’t, she could always tell them. They were not like maman or uncle Denys, they looked like azi. Sometimes she pretended to be them. She walked very quiet and stood straight and looked very straight like Ollie and said yes, sera to maman. (Not to Nelly. To Nelly you said, yes.) Sometimes she pretended to be maman and she told Nelly, make my bed, Nelly, please. (And to Ollie, once: Ollie, dammit, I want a drink. But that had not been a good idea. Ollie had brought her the drink and told maman. And maman had said it was not nice and Ollie was not going to do things for her when she was rude. So she said dammit to Nelly instead.)

Maman led her down the hall through the azi and through a doorway where there were a lot of people in the doorway. One woman said: “Happy new year, Ari.” And bent over in her face. She had a pretty necklace and you could see way down | her blouse. It was interesting. But Ollie picked her up. That was better. She could see people’s faces.

The woman talked to maman, and people crowded in, all talking at once, and everything smelled like perfume and food and powder.

Someone patted her on the shoulder as Ollie held her. It was uncle Denys. Denys was fat. He made a lot of room around him. She wondered whether he was solid all the way through or sort of held his breath more than regular people to keep him so round.

“How are you, Ari?” uncle Denys yelled at her in all the racket, and all of a sudden the people stopped talking and looked at them. “Happy new year.”

She was puzzled then, but interested. If it was her new year it was a birthday, and if it was a birthday party people were supposed to come to her apartment and bring her presents. She didn’t see any.

“Happy new year,” people said. She looked at them hopefully. But there were no presents. She sighed, and then as Ollie brought her through the crowd, she caught sight of the punch and the cake.

Ollie knew. “Do you want some punch?” he asked.

She nodded. There was a lot of noise. She was not sure she liked this many big people. The party did not make sense. But punch and cake was looking better. She clung to Ollie’s strong shoulder and felt a good deal more cheerful, because Ollie could carry her right through to the table with the punch bowl and Ollie understood very well what was important. Punch, especially in a pretty bowl and with a big cake, was almost as good as presents.

“I’ve got to set you down,” Ollie said. “All right? You stand right there and I’ll get your punch.”

That was not all right. Everyone was tall, the music was awfully loud, and when she was standing on the floor she could not see anything but people’s legs. Somebody might step on her. But Ollie set her down, and maman was coming, with uncle Denys. And the crowd did not step on her. A lot of people looked at her. Some smiled. So she felt safe.

“Ari.” Ollie gave her the cup. “Don’t spill.”

The punch was green. She was not altogether sure of it, but it smelled good and it tasted better.

“You’re getting too big to carry,” uncle Denys said. She looked up and wrinkled her nose at him. She was not sure she liked that idea. Maman said the same thing. But Ollie didn’t. Ollie was big and he was very strong. He felt different than anyone. She liked him to carry her: she liked to put her arms around his neck and lean on him, because he was like a chair you could climb on, and you couldn’t feel his bones, just a kind of solid. He was warm, too. And smelled good. But Ollie was getting punch for maman and uncle Denys from another bowl, and she just kept close to him and drank her punch while Denys and maman talked and loud music played.

Ollie looked down at her when maman and Denys had their punch. “Do you want some cake?” Ollie asked, talking loud. “They’re going to have cake at the children’s party.”

That promised better. “I want some more punch,” she said, and gave Ollie her cup. “And cake, please.” She stood there in a little open space to wait. She put her hands behind her, and remembered maman said not to rock back and forth, it was stupid-looking. People she did not know came up and said she was pretty, and wished her happy new year, but she was ready to leave, except for the punch and cake Ollie was getting. She was going to stay for that.

Children’s party sounded a lot better.

Maybe there would be presents there.

”Come on over and sit down,” Ollie said, not giving her the cake or the punch. He carried it for her. There were chairs along the wall. She was relieved. If she got punch on her new suit she would look bad and maman would scold her. She climbed up onto a chair and Ollie set the dish in her lap and set the cup on the seat beside her. She had the whole row to herself.

“I’m going to get mine,” Ollie said. “Stay there. I’ll be back!”

She nodded, with cake in her mouth. White cake. The nice kind. With good icing. She was much happier. She swung her feet and ate cake and licked her fingers while Ollie waited at the punch bowl and maman talked with Denys and Giraud.

Maybe they waited about the presents. Maybe something interesting was going to happen. They all glittered. Some of them she had seen at home. But a lot were strange. She finished her cake and licked her fingers and slid off the chair to stand, because most of the people were around the tables and the floor was mostly clear.

She walked out to see how far Ollie had got in the line. But someone had distracted Ollie. That was a chance to walk around.

So she walked. Not far. She did not want maman and Ollie to leave and lose her. She looked back to see if she could still see maman. Yes. But maman was still busy talking. Good. If maman scolded her she could say, I was right here, maman. Maman could not be too mad.

A lot of the clothes were pretty. She liked the green blouse you could see through. And the black one a man was wearing, all shimmery. But maman’s jewelry was still the best.

There was a man with bright red hair. In black. Azi. She watched him. She said hello when somebody said hello to her, but she was not interested in that. She had always thought her hair was pretty. Prettier than anybody’s. But his was pretty. He was. It was not fair. If there was hair like that she wanted it. She was suddenly dissatisfied with her own.

He looked at her. He was not azi. No. Yes. His face went all straight and he turned his chin, so, and pretended he did not see her looking at him. He was with a dark-haired man. That man looked at her, but the azi did not want him to.

He looked at her anyway. He was handsome like Ollie. He looked at her different than grown-ups and she thought he was not supposed to do that, but she did not want to look anywhere else, because he was different than everyone. The azi with red hair was by him, but he was not the important one. The man was. The man was looking at her, and she had never even seen him. He had never come to visit. He had never brought presents.

She went closer. The azi didn’t want her to be close to his friend. He had his hand on the man’s shoulder. Like she was going to get him. But the man watched her like she was maman. Like he had done something bad and she was maman.

He was being her. And she was being maman. And the azi was being Ollie, when maman was yelling.

Then the azi saw something dangerous behind her. She looked.

Maman was coming. But maman stopped when she looked.

Everyone was stopped. Everyone was watching. They had stopped talking. There was just the music. Everyone was afraid.

She started toward maman.

Everyone twitched.

She stopped. And everyone twitched again. Even maman.

She had done that.

She looked back at maman. Twitch.

She looked back at the man.

Twitch. Everybody.

She didn’t know she could do that.

Maman was going to be mad, later. Ollie was.

If maman was going to shout she might as well do something first.

The azi and the man looked at her when she walked up to them. The man looked like she was going to get him. The azi thought so too.

The man had pretty hands like Ollie. He was a lot like Ollie. People all thought he was dangerous. That was wrong. She knew it was. She could scare them good.