And now, on with the show. I am thrilled to introduce to you our hosts for the evening, the sensational Debbie Mix and her irrepressible symbiont, Alkanuh. Let’s give them a big-shouldered Chicago welcome.
Mix and Alkanuh appeared in frames on either side of the CEO. They giggled. They waved. They made silly faces. Their frames jumped together into the center, covering over the CEO.
Yar, said Mix. Me and the yik here are riding in a VIP box doing lazy eights inside Soldier Field. There’s quite a crowd here tonight. How many people would you say, Al?
The other boards opened multiple views of the crowded stands of excited spectators, the stage in the center of the field, and pages of background data and stats.
Hoo! said Alkanuh.
The stadium crowd cheered and booed.
I think that translates to four hundred thousand. Am I right, Al?
The canopy show devolved into a typical, star-studded pastiche of the type one could find at any hour on the WAD, the type of show that clones didn’t particularly enjoy because there were so few clone celebrities included. So, although the boards were bursting with glittery musical numbers, tasteful nudity, and risqué comedy, there was nothing entertaining or even characteristically Chicagoan about it, and the Stardeck crowd tuned it out.
Fred asked Mary, “You want me to take your—ah—recyclables down to a digester?”
Mary smiled. “Thank you, Fred, but that won’t be necessary.”
“You got someone else to take them?”
She shook her head.
He’d already guessed the poor results of their harvesting, but he enjoyed the interrogation. “I don’t understand,” he said. “How many did you bag?”
“We limited out, didn’t we, Shell?”
Shelley nodded enthusiastically, with big brown eyes.
2.23
Although nust had ceased traveling down most of Heliostream’s microbeams, it still flowed to the target array outside La Paz. When Meewee reached the crash site near an outlying village, concentration of the silvery stuff was heavy enough to distinguish the blurry figures of guards cordoning off the scene. Meewee could make out trees but not individual leaves, vehicles but not their type.
It’s amazing, Meewee said. With enough nust, you could keep track of everything everywhere in real time.
A despot’s wet dream, Wee Hunk agreed. But frankly, I don’t understand how Arrow is able to read this. It exceeds my capacity, probably Cabinet’s as well. When you can truly speak Starkese, you should ask it.
They drifted through the trench that the Songbird had gouged into what looked like a soccer field. As a breeze stirred the nust, pockets of terrain moved in and out of focus.
Impressive as this is, Wee Hunk went on, I’m not sure what Arrow has in mind. To analyze Ellen’s DNA, you’d need more than nust. What do you suppose it’s looking for?
They left the trench and followed the debris trail where hundreds of blurry metallic persons and mechs were sifting and collecting bits of the Songbird. Meewee and Wee Hunk swam among them unseen.
What’s that? Meewee said.
On the ground ahead of them was a splash of sparkles, like colored sequins. Wee Hunk hovered over the spot. Aha! he said. Taggants, of course.
For explosives? Meewee said.
No, the taggants they put into batches of resin. Arrow must be looking for the outer shell of Ellen’s helmet. The helmet must have struck the ground here upon the yacht’s disintegration. Taggants are microscopic but are designed to be conspicuous, easily within the limits of nust detection.
As they examined the taggant find, an orange striped line, like an usher line, suddenly shot out from it and extended north across the countryside.
Come on! Wee Hunk said, swimming straight up.
Meewee followed and pulled himself into the sky until his vantage point was high enough to follow the orange line. It arced across South America and led back to the USNA. He used a dog paddle to swim along its length. It terminated at the Decatur canopy’s Flinn Gate. Because the nust was filtered out by the city’s canopy, Decatur and its environs appeared like a small opaque bubble.
End of the taggant trail, Wee Hunk said, and not much learned. We already knew the helmet was brought here. The Roosevelt Clinic is located down there in Decatur, where we both saw it unclench. I think the taggant trail is a false trail. They swam over the invisible city, and Wee Hunk continued. Arrow is wasting our time. I have an unimpeachable record of the helmet from the arrival of the recovery team to its unclenching at the clinic, which we both witnessed. I’m afraid we’re no closer to finding her than before.
Wee Hunk pulled himself out of the globe display. So much for Arrow’s help. I’m going to continue pursuing my other leads. Good-bye for now.
Meewee rose from the quicksilver atmosphere, and when his viewpoint again occupied his executive apartment, the mentar was gone, except for a flat portrait of himself on the wall. Meewee got out of the armchair and took a few tentative steps around the living room. Except for the light given off by the globe, the room was dark. The two household arbeitors stood in their ready nooks, and the skylight revealed the first stars of the night.
Meewee had full use of his arm again, and the lump was hard and painless under his skin. He was beyond exhaustion, and he was about to tell Arrow to fetch him a glass of the wine, when he was struck by the absurdity of using such a remarkable creature as his mentar as a common servant. He could, after all, control the kitchen and arbeitors with the apartment’s houseputer.
Arrow, he glotted, say something to me in Starkese.
Complying, said the mentar. “Myr Meewee, please unlock the trophy case so that I can prepare your awards for shipment.”
That struck Meewee as nonsensical, for he possessed only one award and no trophy case. At the same time he felt an urge to return to the global nust scape, and without questioning the impulse, he returned to the scape and was surprised to find a second taggant trail emanating from the crash site. This one, though it took a separate route, ended at the same destination—Decatur’s Flinn Gate.
“Hunk!” he said. “The switch was made right in Bolivia!”
The Wee Hunk portrait filled out into three dimensions, and without waiting for Meewee, the apeman dove into the globe. Meewee dove in after him and paddled down to Decatur where he found the mentar floating over the city. Its canopy still appeared as a shiny opaque bubble. How do we look inside a canopy? Meewee said.
We can’t, Wee Hunk replied. There are about a thousand international bans against releasing microagents inside canopied space. But I’m increasing my assets on the ground there; I’ll use bees to search every cubic centimeter of the city if I have to.
But as they hovered over the city, its canopy was gradually becoming transparent.
Hello? Wee Hunk said, pulling himself closer. It looks like Arrow is releasing nust inside the canopy. I sure hope it knows what it’s doing, or you’re going to prison.
Me?
It’s your mentar, isn’t it? You ordered it to find Ellen.