“I’m going to go help Beni,” the first newcomer said and walked away.
A silence settled over the group. Then Laki slapped her friend’s arm lightly. “Don’t get all weird. You have a mother-unit.”
“I know, but I don’t know anyone going into one…except you.”
“So what? You think we’re contagious?”
“No, it’s just that…”
“It’s weird knowing you’re gonna spend the rest of your life with a veil on,” Laki said in a mocking voice.
“Why get to know you when you’re just going to disappear after maturation,” Zaha added with a high-pitched wail.
“Aren’t you depressed? Don’t you ever think about escaping?” Laki whined.
There was a dangerous glint in her eye, and her relaxed stance had become combative. Her aggression with her peers had grown over the past year. All anyone wanted to talk about was maturation. And why not? It wasn’t a death sentence for any of them. None of her friends would be entering mother-units; they had no need. That kind of work was for girls who were hungry, girls with no choices, girls whose families couldn’t afford to have a mother-unit raise their children—girls who were relieved to have somewhere to go after maturation.
“I’m sorry, Laki, I just…”
Laki stared at her friend daring him to say something else that would wound. Both she and Zaha were highborn and fully endowed with the indignation of the privileged. But Laki had been orphaned and Zaha abandoned. Their intended futures had dissolved, making them interlopers among their friends and siblings.
“I’ll go help Beni with the screen, too,” Laki’s friend said and left awkwardly without another word.
“These blocks act like I have some fatal disease. It’s not my fault things turned out this way.”
Laki was breathing heavily as her mind tossed through anger, shame, and guilt at blinding speed.
“Tonight is not the night for this, Laki,” Zaha said.
Outside, Benko flew by again, this time with a long piece of cloth streaming from his pod.
“Tell me about the screen,” Zaha said.
“The screen?”
“Yes. What’s it for?”
“To shield the party from peepers and crashers.”
“Didn’t know you could do that in the Stretch.”
“Yeah, we look like an empty part of the Stretch with the screen up.”
“But then the regulators can’t verify you, or anyone else in the party. Don’t they come looking for you anyway? Is this legal?”
A slow smile spread across Laki’s face. She draped her arm around Zaha’s shoulders.
“Well, maybe we’re bending the rules a little bit, but I don’t think we’re breaking any laws.” She winked.
Zaha laughed. “So breaking the law relaxes you?”
Laki giggled, then someone grabbed her from behind.
“Okay, screen’s up,” Benko said, spinning Laki around. “If they catch us and they try to ban you, it won’t matter. You’ll be in a mother-unit.”
“Ban you?” Zaha’s eyebrows went up. She turned to Benko, “By the way those words are banned tonight.”
“What words?”
Zaha mouthed “mother-unit” to him, and he nodded.
“Right. So back to Laki getting banned, she can’t control her parties. Once she gets them started, they just keep growing and growing. The whole level gets packed. Nobody can get in for a rendezvous…”
“But this one won’t be that big,” Laki interjected. “I only invited twelve people.”
“Please,” said Benko. “The news will spread like wildfire.”
Benko gripped Laki around the waist, and they swayed together. Laki grabbed Zaha’s hand and pulled her close. As the three of them moved against each other, more pods joined the party. Before long, Laki, Zaha, and Benko were sweaty and buzzing with the joy of movement. They were surrounded by many others who had joined them on the dance floor.
Once the sweet vibe of languid ecstasy had engulfed all who were present, Laki decided it was time. She lifted her arm and aimed her finger at a pouch that was hanging from the top of her pod. She plucked, and the bag popped, releasing a wet blue fog into the air. Laki inhaled; an intense sweetness burst across her tongue. When she exhaled, her smile was a little wider and her limbs were a little looser.
“She always has the best smoke at her parties,” Benko said into Zaha’s ear.
Laki threw her head back and let out a long wordless moan. For the next hour, she didn’t speak a word to anyone. She was too busy flinging off her troubles and releasing her body in total surrender.
While Laki was slipping into a delicious stupor, Se-se was entering the Velvet Stretch for the first time. Her last three messages to Laki had returned undelivered. The only place Laki could be where Se-se’s message globes couldn’t reach was the Velvet Stretch.
“No registration on record,” the concierge stated.
“First time,” Se-se said with what she hoped was a charming smile.
“No rendezvous?” the concierge asked, without even bothering to acknowledge Se-se’s friendliness.
Se-se shook her head.
“You only have clearance for the rendezvous-less zone; that’s right past the entrance here. There are some basic rules and regulations.” The concierge stopped speaking long enough to pluck a message globe at Se-se. The globe floated through the walls of her pod and hovered near her shoulder while the concierge finished his speech. “People who violate these guidelines may be barred from the Velvet Stretch. Any questions?”
Se-se did have a question—where is my sister?—but she knew better than to draw attention to Laki. She opened her hand to receive the message globe.
“You have been cleared.”
As Se-se floated into the Velvet Stretch, she learned that it was bad etiquette to spy on people. Pod walls were transparent for regulatory purposes and were intended to support mutual consent, not to invite voyeurism. She was instructed on the preferred protocol when approaching a potential rendezvous: hover at a distance until the person you are interested in sees you. Once seen, you may approach slowly, so that the person has the opportunity to accept or reject your advances.
Se-se tried following the protocols as she searched the rendezvous-less zone, but the process was too slow. She wasn’t looking for a rendezvous; she was looking for her sister. Stopping a respectful distance away from pods made it difficult to be certain Laki was not inside. In a burst of frustration, Se-se put politeness aside. She swooped in close and peered inside the pods she encountered. She forgave her behavior by telling herself that people would excuse her sudden and aggressive appearance outside their pods if they understood the urgent nature of her search.
After Se-se had peeked into all the solitary and conjoined pods in the rendezvous-less zone, she came to a halt. She looked around and considered her options. Leaving without Laki was out of the question. If Laki was not in the rendezvous-less zone, Se-se would be stuck. The righteousness of her mission had given her the courage to enter the Velvet Stretch, but she wasn’t so emboldened that she’d sneak into other levels without permission.
While she was mulling over her next steps, a few pods whizzed past her. She snapped into action, jerking forward to follow them, but before she could catch up with them, they disappeared. She bobbed in place, bewildered. She was looking around for the pods that had disappeared when a few more pods rushed past her. Watching them closely, she saw that, after traveling a short distance, the pods dipped down, then disappeared. She sped after them, determined not to lose them, but her pod rammed into something solid, and she was knocked to the floor.
She regained her footing and nudged her pod forward, but it would not move. What had looked like open space was clearly a wall of some sort. She backed up and pushed at the wall again, but it was rigid and wouldn’t give way.