Lovelock (6 page)

We were a village in ourselves, no matter that officially she was going to belong to an arbitrary clumping of effete Christians called Mayflower Village. She would be a Catholic among Congregationalists, I a low-order primate among Presbyterians; we belonged only to each other.

That was what I thought of as I looked out onto the scenery of our new home, the flat farms and clotted villages of the Ark.

The other people emerging from the elevator milled around, rubbernecking like country tourists on their first visit to the big city. Only instead of looking up at skyscrapers, they were looking up at overhead farms.

Someone had tried to brighten up the arrival area with some nasty orange flowers. They were probably meant to look pretty. Instead they looked garish, and a little weary, too, as if the effort of trying to make this place pretty had worn them out.

Mamie surveyed the terrain, holding a hand above her eyes to shield them from the sun orbiting on its track above us. Then she sighed. “Did I survive all these years only to end up in Kansas?”

“Curves a little, for Kansas,” said Stef. It was as close as he ever came to contradicting her.

“What are we supposed to do now?” asked Mamie.

“I’m hungry,” said Lydia.

“I’m thirsty,” said Emmy.

“I’m hungry
and
thirsty,” said Lydia.

“No,
I’m
hungry and thirsty,” said Emmy.

“No,
me
,” said Lydia. “I said it first!”

“No,
me!
” screeched Emmy.

Did they really think that only one of them would be permitted to eat? Red’s genes must have been extraordinarily dominant.

But the decision about what to do next was taken out of our hands. Bearing down on the herd of people and witnesses was a massive woman, big and busty. When she walked, the weight of her breasts pulled her posture out of alignment. She looked like the masthead on a ship, straining forward against the wind.

She carried a placard in front of her, hand-lettered with the word
Cocciolone
. Unless there were some other Cocciolones on the transport, she was looking for us. Red raised his hand to get her attention. He might have called to her, but Mamie touched his arm and said, “Don’t be vulgar, Red,” and so he merely held up his hand, not even waving it.

The woman with the sign finally noticed him. He beckoned—not a
bit
vulgarly—and she bore down on us like a steamship.

“My Mayflower people! I knew I’d recognize you the minute I saw you,” she said as she approached.

Of course, thought I. We look like a slice of Wonder bread on a platter of lentils and beans.

“Are you our guide?” asked Mamie, moving forward to meet the woman with the sign.

“Why, I suppose I
am
. Your guide, your nursemaid, and your first friend in the village, I hope.” She lowered the sign. “I’m your Mayor,” she said. “But don’t be intimidated, my dears. I wasn’t elected, and the title doesn’t mean a blessed thing. Penelope Frizzle’s the name. It’s pronounced the way I said it—PENNY-lope. Puh-NELL-o-pee sounds so—excretory. And you must be the Cocciolones.” She pronounced the name as if it rhymed with “bones.” She was obviously as cavalier with other people’s names as she was with her own.

Then she saw
me
. “What a cute monkey! That must be one of your witnesses.”

She reached out a hand. Constricted by gaudy rings, her fingers were as bloated as sausages. I was tired. I couldn’t stop my reflexes. I bit her.

“Lovelock!” Carol Jeanne was furious. “Trab!”

It was the painword. Immediately I felt that terrible scissor grip on my testicles. I fell from her shoulder and rolled into a ball on the ground, whimpering. As luck would have it, another family was called by
their
mayor as I writhed in the dirt. They stepped right over me as if I were a turd on the ground, compounding my shame.

As she always did, Carol Jeanne relented the moment she saw my agony. Rescuing me from the stampede of human feet, she picked me up and stroked me, holding me close until my trembling stopped. I confess I enjoyed this enough that I made no effort to hasten my recovery.

When I opened my eyes again, I was glad to see a small drop of blood on Penelope’s outstretched finger. Still, she obviously wasn’t hurt too badly. Even though she held her finger ostentatiously in the air for sympathy, everyone ignored her while Carol Jeanne comforted me.

“The beast is obviously enjoying all this sympathy,” said Penelope. “It will probably bite me again, just to get all this attention.”

I bared my teeth at her. Just a flash, you understand.

“Now it’s threatening me!” cried Penelope.

“Not at all,” said Carol Jeanne. “Monkeys bare their teeth to show fear. He’s afraid of you.”

That’s what ordinary monkeys mean when they bare their teeth, and it’s my natural way of expressing fear, too—but I’m an enhanced capuchin, and so I’m clever enough to use that grimace for other reasons as well. I thought it was wise to let our mayor know that despite the punishment, and even without Carol Jeanne comforting me, I’ll bite anyone who tries to
handle
me like that. What do they think I am—a
pet
?

“Well,” said Penelope, suddenly beaming with a brand-new just-for-us smile. “It’s all for the best. You can be sure I’ll
never
forget my first meeting with the Cocciolones!”

“We’re the Todds,” Mamie said, tight-lipped. “
Cocciolone
is my daughter-in-law’s
maiden
name.”

“Then you
are
the very ones I’m looking for. My! You’re such an attractive family.” If she was being ironic, you couldn’t tell from her voice. Nobody in our family was especially attractive at the moment.

“It’s sweet of you to say so,” Mamie said, accepting it as a compliment instead of sarcasm.

But now that Penelope knew which of our group was
the
Cocciolone, she hardly noticed that Mamie had spoken. Instead she planted the mountains of her bosom directly in front of Carol Jeanne. “So
you’re
Carol Jeanne Cocciolone. All those brains, and beautiful too. Just like those
lovely
children. They’re so pretty they
must
be yours.”

They certainly weren’t
my
children, and since Mamie’s child-bearing years were centuries behind her, of course they belonged to Carol Jeanne. But Lydia and Emmy
were
lovely to look at; even I had to admit it. They looked just like Carol Jeanne in miniature, and Carol Jeanne was the fairest of all.

Carol Jeanne ignored the compliments, though. “We’re all pretty tired and dirty right now,” she said. “It’s been a long trip.”

“And you smell a little
stale
, too,” Penelope said. “Everybody does, when they first come out of the box. But we can’t do anything about that at the moment. We barely have time to get you to the funeral.”

“Funeral? What funeral?” Stef’s Adam’s apple bobbed when he talked. His voice sounded dry.

“Haven’t you heard? I thought
every
body knew. The chief administrator’s wife died three days ago. Mayflower gets to host the funeral. It’s one of the blessings we get for having the chief administrator dwelling in our village.”

“We didn’t know there was a funeral,” Carol Jeanne said, her voice low and respectful, “but we really didn’t know the lady who died. Can’t we go somewhere and rest until it’s over?”

“You can’t be serious.” Penelope’s chest quivered when she talked. “It would be an affront to
everyone
in Mayflower Village. People will be here from all sixty villages, and Mayflower has to feed them
all
. Though I suppose you’re so important that people will overlook it if you don’t do your fair share.”

“We want to do our fair share,” said Carol Jeanne. “But we just got here, and we’re—”

“That’s why it’s such a wonderful opportunity for you, coming to the funeral. It’s the best way in the world to meet the community. You’ll be one of us before nightfall.”

“That’s a great idea,” Red said.

What kind of husband was he, to undermine Carol Jeanne’s effort to get them out of this? I hissed at him.

“Lovelock,
hush
.” Carol Jeanne sounded annoyed. But I knew she was as irritated at Red as I was.

Penelope ignored Carol Jeanne and me; apparently she only noticed the existence of people who agreed with her. “Of
course
it’s a great idea,” she said. She seized Red’s arm in the iron grip of intimacy. “I can see that you’re going to be a great success in Mayflower village, Mr. Cocciolone.”

Mamie cut in, her voice as cold as liquid nitrogen. “I told you. Cocciolone is Carol Jeanne’s maiden name. She uses it professionally, but the rest of us are
Todds
.”

“Oh,” Penelope said. “You did tell me that, didn’t you?” She gave Mamie her sweetest smile. Only her words revealed just how toxic that smile could be. “Did you know, my dear,” she said to Mamie, “that when I first saw you folks I just
assumed
that
you
were Carol Jeanne Cocciolone. It just seemed to me that this sweet girl here was too
young
to be the world’s greatest gaiologist. While
you
were the only one who looked
old
enough to have worked with James Lovelock himself.”

I hooted with laughter.

Carol Jeanne silenced me with a touch. “I’m afraid I never had the privilege of knowing James Lovelock himself. I studied under
his
student, Ralph Twickenham.”

Penelope brightened. “Oh. Our English village is named Twickenham. They’re very high-church. Is it the same Twickenham?”

“Probably. Twicky is pretty famous.”

“Carol
Jeanne
is pretty famous,” Red broke in. “The American Catholic village applied for the name Cocciolone, but Carol Jeanne said she wouldn’t come with the Ark unless they named their village something else.”

“It’s all for the best,” Penelope said. “
Assisi
sounds so much nicer, doesn’t it? There’s that business about St. Francis feeding the birds, and Assisi is so much easier to
say
, don’t you think?”

I hissed again. Penelope glanced at me and tucked her fingers safely behind her back.

“Anyway,” she added, “the whole village has been waiting for you. They’ll be so excited when they see you at the funeral. Imagine our good fortune, to have the chief administrator and the chief gaiologist in the same village. What a lucky coincidence!”

“My son Red is going to be quite a contributor to the voyage, too,” Mamie said, putting her hand on Red’s shoulder to indicate who he was. And then, to make sure the mayor understood how important he was, she made sure Penelope noticed his most important status symbol. “
His
witness isn’t half so much trouble as the monkey. See?” She pointed at Pink, who simply stood there, looking piglike.

“A pig,” Penelope said, her voice flat and unenthusiastic. “How nice.” After the briefest glance at Pink, she turned to Carol Jeanne. “Tell me, Dr. Cocciolone,” she asked deferentially, “what do you think of the Ark?”

“As Mamie pointed out when we got here, it looks like Kansas, with a curve,” Carol Jeanne said. She had never had a particular fondness for Kansas, but Penelope puffed out her chest with pride as if it had been a personal compliment.

“Kansas, but the air smells like dirty underwear,” Stef added. He spoke softly, under his breath. If he hoped Penelope would hear him, his wish was granted.

“Those are the flowers, my dear—nasturtiums. The smell’s more concentrated here on the Ark because we have an artificial atmosphere.”

I hopped down from Carol Jeanne’s shoulder and landed squarely on a nasturtium plant. I picked the smallest flower I could find and ate it, but it tasted much better than the humans around me smelled. Except for Carol Jeanne, of course. It would have been disloyal for me to admit that Carol Jeanne smelled just like all the other humans around me, so I didn’t. Not even to myself.

Stef looked at the orange flowers as if willing them to go away. “Clunky looking things,” he said.

“Oh? I think they’re pretty,” said Penelope. “Soon you’ll hardly notice the smell. Besides—we also grow lilies of the valley here, and
they
smell just like perfume.” She didn’t add that they’re as lethal as cobra venom. That’s a human for you. When they leave Earth to start a new world, they take their poisons with them—just to make the new world more exciting. I wouldn’t have been surprised to learn they carried black mambas in the embryo banks, on the theory that the snakes could eat whatever pesky rodents inhabited the new planet.

She dusted off her hands officiously and said, “Well! We’ve chatted here long enough. You’ll want to be going to Mayflower now. The tube is down this ladderway.”

“Ladder?” asked Mamie, aghast. She hadn’t climbed a ladder in her life. She had always
hired
people to climb ladders. I suspected that even as a child, she hired the servants’ children to climb trees for her.

“Up and down change around here,” said Penelope. “Ladders are the only practical way of getting from level to level without using up valuable space on stairways that would end up being on a wall or the ceiling for half the voyage. Besides, since we’re never more than two-thirds of Earth-normal gravity—much less during the actual voyage—ladders are really very easy. We’re all light on our feet around here.”

“
Still
,” said Red, “using ladders is pretty confining.” He looked pointedly at Pink. Pink was pretty agile; she was a
small
pig, and her enhancements made her about as clever as a pig can get. She could climb stairs and hop up on furniture, but she couldn’t handle a ladderway. The people of the Ark should have mentioned the ladder thing before they let Red bring his witness. Or maybe they did, and Red insisted on bringing Pink anyway. Only someone clinging desperately to every shred of personal status would have insisted on bringing into space a witness without functional feet or opposable thumbs.