“We’ve had to push the launch back eleven months,” he was saying, “but what’s eleven months to a journey that’ll last a thousand years?”
“Myr Meewee,” Ellen’s voice said from the room’s speakers, “you know I can’t turn my head. Please remain where I can see you.”
“Oh, right, sorry.” Meewee returned to a spot in front of the baby. “As I was saying—”
“I heard what you were saying,” Ellen said, “I just couldn’t see you. Actually, when I think about it, I see too much of you. I put you in charge of the GEP because I didn’t want to have to deal with it on a minute-by-minute basis. So do your job and just handle it, will you?”
Meewee bowed and said, “Count on it, Ellen. All I need is your authorization for—”
“Ask Cabinet! Not me! How many times do I have to tell you?”
Cabinet’s chief of staff appeared then, and a moment later, so did Ellen’s recently adopted mentar, Lyra.
Meewee took one look at Cabinet and said with harping exasperation, “All of the chinaberry trees in the garden are heavy with fruit this time of year!”
The baby, choking with anger, retorted, “In that case, the neighborhood birds should be very happy!” The baby made fists, and her skin mottled.
The doctor stepped in and signaled the jenny. “Such a wonderful visit, Bishop Meewee,” she said. “Come again, yes?”
The little man left the room grumbling to himself, and the doctor and jenny lifted Ellen and placed her back in the tank. There her oversized head floated in comfortable ease.
“He’s such an unpleasant man,” Cyndee said.
“Oh, he means well,” Ellen replied, “but such a pest.” She turned to her new mentar and said, “Lyra, have we told the ’leens about the surprise we have in store for them at the studio?”
The mentar, in the persona of a short, young woman, came forward and began to speak, but Cyndee said, “Wait. Mary’s not coming today.”
Ellen said, “What’s this?”
“Sorry,” Mary said, “but I have a prior engagement.”
Cyndee snorted. “A prior engagement, she says. She’s going to see Fred. That’s where she’s going. She has a conjugal engagement. See how nice she’s dressed?”
“Oo-la-la,” said the doctor.
Mary blushed and the women laughed. “I just came down to say good-bye till tomorrow.”
“Then we’ll hold the surprise,” Ellen said. “Give Fred our love. Oh, and I almost forgot. I told Cabinet to put its attorney general on Fred’s case as co-counsel. Tell Fred to tell Marcus to expect a call.”
That was very good news indeed.
MARY PASSED THROUGH the scanway of the Homeland Command maximum security prison in Provo, Utah. From one visit to the next, she never knew how the russes on duty there would receive her. Sometimes they acknowledged her and her sisters’ heroism. Other times, her presence only seemed to remind them of her husband and their own shame.
They escorted her to the so-called joogie sweet and left her there to wait for Fred. It usually took another five or ten minutes to process him through. Mary crossed the dirty carpet and sat in the sticky armchair. The suite was furnished no better than a dormitory cell. A tired bed, a scuffed nightstand, a pair of uncomfortable armchairs. Not even a calendar to break the gray monotony of the walls. Every time Mary came here, she could feel her libido shriveling up like food wrap. Which was just as well, because during her very first visit Fred had pretty much put the kibosh on anything ever happening between them in this room.
They had led him in and unshackled him that first time, then left and closed the door behind them. She had been standing in the middle of the room, and the room was very small, so it would be hard to miss her, but Fred walked the length of two walls and scrutinized the paint before even acknowledging her presence. He went to the door and pointed at the latch—no lock. There were daggers in his eyes. That had been their first time alone together in three weeks, and he hadn’t forgiven her yet.
Hi, she had said, standing there. We can talk, you know. I was unsure of this place, myself, so I asked your Marcus, and he assured me there are no cameras or mikes or any snooping equipment of any sort in this room. So if you came over here and hugged me, no one would be the wiser.
But he didn’t. Nor did he speak. He stayed put and rolled up a sleeve and brought his pale arm to his nose to squint at his skin.
Dear, she said, I know you are fully colonized by now. So am I and all of Chicago and two-thirds of the rest of the country. Nobody likes them, but most people agree that they’re a hell of a lot better than the slugs were.
Fred slapped his own forehead. He had never done something like that before, and it got her full and immediate attention. Satisfied, he opened his great arms wide and leaned back to take in an unseen audience behind the ceiling and walls, and he spoke in a calm but commanding voice, My wife and I refuse to perform for you.
And that was that.
THE DOOR OPENED, and they brought Fred in and left. She got up and took a couple of steps. “Hello, Fred.”
His eyes told her he missed her, but he went to sit on the bed, and she returned to the armchair. First they discussed business: household matters, his case, the trial. It was pretty much all the talking they did, and today she had really big news. But she was unsure how to tell him.
“Ellen Starke says—” she began, and storm clouds gathered at the mere mention of the name. “She says that Cabinet’s attorney general will join Marcus as co-counsel. She said to—”
“No,” he said flatly.
THE BED SAGGED in the middle. They lay face-to-face, not touching, and spoke with their eyes, as they always had. He went first because his need was urgent. Mary witnessed a string of unpleasant incidents in his gaze. He let her see a little bit of his fear. He was swimming in loneliness and poisoned by a prison diet of humiliation. She ached to hold him.
After about an hour of this, when his pain had somewhat lessened, he yawned from the sheer relief of it and raised an eyebrow—her turn.
Mary had to struggle not to seem too elated with her own life. The clinic rescue was still on everyone’s lips, and the Evangeline Sisterhood was experiencing a rebirth of public awareness.
Not only that, but Ellen Starke decided to honor the Sisterhood by launching a hollyholo character for the novellas based on their type. They hadn’t even finished producing the sim and already offers were coming from major studios. Blue Loon Stories had signed for a thousand units, and Four Steps reserved five hundred just last week. Ellen said that all ten thousand units of the limited edition would be sold before its release date.
Not only that, but Ellen’s own Burning Daylight Productions was contributing all of the edition’s royalties to the Renata Carter and Alexandra Perry Foundation to fund the Sisterhood’s retraining and rejuve programs.
Not only that, but Ellen gave her and Cyndee and the other clinic ’leens their own units outright. I’m going to own a hollyholo sim, Fred. And it’s already signed to the Surly Shirley story mat! Do you have any idea how much a sim can earn? My unit will make me more in one day than I could earn in a month.
Do you know what that means, Fred? It means we’re set up for life. When we get you out of here, we can find a better apartment. We can take a trip around the world if we want to and stay away for as long as we like. It means—