The officer with the hailer knew his job. He kept the pressure on, loudly announcing each minute as it went by. The greencoats shook themselves out into a skirmish lin "Time's up," the chief announced.
The line moveed forward. Dixon took off his spectacles and stuck them In the hip pocket of his breeches.
Sometimes these affairs stayed polite, sometimes they didn't. The world turned blurry A greencoat emerged out of the blur. He was carrying a club. His voice conversational, matter-of-fact, he ask Dixon, "You going to take off, kid?"
Before he answered, he heard Melody loudly say "No"to what had to be the same question. That kil ed the few shreds of hesitation he had left. "No," he said, trying to I sound as firm as Melody had.
The greencoat only shrugged. "I arrest you, then, constituting a danger to public order." Formal langu done, he went on, "Come along quietly?"
"Sure."
"Al right, then. put down your sign, you won't get extra trash-strewing charge on account of it." Dixon did.
He fit his spectacles back on. The greencoat waited till he was done, then gave him a light shove. "Over that way, me boyo." He sounded more bored than anything else Dixon thought, a little resentfully. Justice for sims was too important to be handled as part of someone's routine.
Even with his spectacles, Dixon did not see what went wrong. Maybe a protester whacked a greencoat with a picket n. Maybe a greencoat thought one was going to, and swung first. Maybe a greencoat swung first for the hell of it.
However it happened, it happened fast. What had been a peaceful process turned ugly all at once. Demonstrators swung greencoats, and pushed them away when they tried to arrest them. Like the genie in the legend, once violence was of the bottle, it did not want to go back in.
She greencoat who was urging Ken Dixon along sudl y pushed him in the back, hard. He went down to his knees. His careful y replaced spectacles flew off his nose. He heard a crunch as a greencoat running toward the wing fight smashed them with his boot.
Melody screamed as she got the same treatment he just got. "Leave her alone!" he shouted. He tried to get to his feet to go help her.
A club exploded against the side of his head. He went down. He tried to get up again, but his legs didn't want to what he told them.
He had made it to al fours when a greencoat landed on him, knocking him down again.
"You're not going anywhere!" the greencoat bawled in his ear. It was his greencoat; he recognized the voice. He was irrationally pleased he was able to recognize anything.
The greencoat yanked his arms out from under him. His face in hit the pavement. The greencoat jerked his arms behind his back clapped manacles on his wrists. He had thought the roaring pain in his head left him immune to hurts. The bite of the manacles' metal teeth convinced otherwise in a hurry.
come on, you stinking sim-lover!" the gleencoat muted. He hauled Dixon to his feet, frog-marching him toward a constabulary motorcoach. Two more greencoats were waiting at the steps. They grabbed him, flung him inside.
He almost fel over somebody inside the motorcoach moment later, somebody almost fell over him Crawling with his hands locked behind him was almost lmpossible. Because he had to, he managed to lurch his way up or one of the motorcoach's hard, comfortless seats.
"Are you all right, Ken?" He hadn't even seen Melody the seat in front of him. Concern in her voice, she went on
"You're bleeding."
"I suppose so," he said vaguely; he felt something warm' and wet trickling down his cheek and jaw. He leaned head against the bar-reinforced glass of the window. Then he looked at Melody again.
Above one ear, blood matted her short, sandy hair. "So are you."
"I know." Despite the blow she'd taken, she stil had wits about her, and she was furious. "The bastard groped me, too when he was wrestling with me to get the manacle on. I Clawed him pretty good, I think, before he managed to."
"Good for you." Dixon leaned against the window again; talking and thinking hurt. Someone sat down beside him. He hardly noticed. He was watching the greens finish off the demonstration.
Protesters outnumbered constables, but the contest was never in doubt.
The demonstratars hesitated before they fought, and when they did it by ones and twos. The greencoats did not hesitate at al , and worked together. A few demonstrators managed to get away most were seized and hauled off to the motorcoaches.
"Maybe it's for the best," Melody said. "This way our side of the message is sure to reach the television tonight, along with Dr.
Howard's rationalizations."
"Maybe," was al Dixon could manage. After a while the greencoats slammed the motorcoach's doors shut. its engine roared to life. It rattled through the streets of Philadelpha toward the lockup.
The two sims separated. Matt lay back on the bed it was the one called Jane, Dr. Howard saw when she turned her face toward the monitor camera—she stayed on hands and knees beside him.
After a surprisingly short time, Matt's vigor returned. He got behind her and fel to it.
Don't they ever quite" a technician asked, pointing at creen. A whole bank of monitors let the investigators at Disease Research Center watch the sims they studied out disturbing them.
What else do they have to do?" Howard asked. "They not likely to sit around reading books, you know."
The technician laughed, but persisted. "This is the third time they've been at it today, and it's only", he glanced at locket watch, "a little past two."
Seward shrugged. "Weren't you ever a randy eighteenold? That's what Matt is, or the equivalent. Sims age a faster than we do, so he's probably about at his peak at fourteen. And up until not so long ago he was deathly ill, so I dare say he's making up for lost time too."
Ok, maybe," the technician said. Howard walked we row of television screens to check on some of the sims at the DRC. The technician muttered under his breath, "No way I could have gone that hard, even when I eighteen, especial y if my girl was that ugly."
Seward knew he was not supposed to hear, but turned anyway. "Jane looks as good to Matt as the lead in as in Love does to you."
That's his problem," the technician retorted. Howard he had a picture of that particular blonde taped above jsk.
Il"I'm glad he has his urge back,'
“the effectiveness of the HIVI in returning him to health."
Fnost," the technician reminded him. "What I'm glad is that Jane already carries the AIDS virus too, because no matter how good Matt feels, he's still got the virus in his blood and he can still spread it, right?"
Yes," Howard said reluctantly. "That's the main draw back to HIVI at the moment: it can let carriers transmit AIDS, giving it to people who will pass it on in turn."
"In some ways, you know, that strikes me as worse than no cure at al ," the technician said. Howard wished the man would shut up and let him get away. He was putting his finger on just the problem that most worried the doctor. Luckily, it had not occurred to any of the reporters in Philadelphia, or a triumphant conference might have turned embarrassing in a blurr who he was, though, Howard could not sir or shove the comment aside. He paused to pick his words with care. "It depends. As far as checking the epidemic goes, I suppose you're right.
But if my blood test had just come, back positive, I'd scream bloody murder if somebody said I couldn't have HIVI."
"I can't argue with you there," the technician admitted and the doctor took advantage of the moment of agree A fresh batch of calc printouts was on his desk: ana of the effectiveness of a variant of HIVI at restoring immune system and protecting T-cells. The variant was good as the basic drug. Howard made a note to a begin writing up the new datum to somebody so it could get it in print. Negative information was information too some other lab would not have to waste time checking the new subtype.