“My sisters and I are trying to broaden our horizons,” Mary said by way of explanation.
“By studying jenny work?”
Mary shrugged. When she looked at him, she did a double take. “You’re up to something, Fred,” she said. “You have it written all over your face. What have you done?”
Fred leaned over to undo his shoes, his big brown russ shoes, and hand them off to the waiting slipper puppy. “I suppose I did do something,” he said.
“Are you free to tell me about it?”
“It’s not really work-related, so I guess I am.” It would be a relief, in fact, to tell her. “Lately, things have got me wondering about clone fatigue.”
“There’s no such thing.”
“I know, but it got me thinking about how we russes are afraid to try out new things and to open up to each other.” He told her about brown shoes and searching the HUL for secret files and about starting the Book of Russ. He told her about launching a provocative discussion to challenge his brothers to contribute their personal stories without, however, revealing to her the sexual content of his challenge.
When he was finished, Mary pondered his news for a while, sifting the nuances, and then, identifying the real issue, as usual, she said, “What kinds of things do you want to try, Fred?”
Fred leaned over to put on his slippers, hiding his face. “Nothing in particular. Just new things in general.”
“Because you know you’re free to try out new things. No one’s stopping you.”
Fred opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
“Because you’re not my prisoner here,” she went on.
“Really?” he said, plunging blindly ahead. “You’re not just saying that?”
She glowed with sincerity. “If you had your heart set on—you know—something, it would be wrong of me to try to hold you back.”
“You’re too good to me.”
“I’m just trying to be realistic, Fred.”
Fred nodded his head. “Because there was something,” he confessed. “Something—well—not proper.”
Mary paused a moment to read him. She seemed a little afraid, but she said, “Tell me about it.”
“I—can’t.”
“Yes, Fred, you can. You can tell me anything. You know that.”
He looked away from her again. “Well,” he said, clearing his throat, “if you’re sure you don’t mind, there’s this one thing I’ve always wanted to try.”
“Yes?”
“I’ve always wondered—”
“Go on.”
“What it would be like to do this.” With a smooth motion, he stood up, leaned over, picked her up, and slung her over his shoulder.
“Fred!” she cried.
“I don’t know if this is clone fatigue or not,” he said and carried her toward the bedroom, her chin jouncing against his back. She pounded him with her fists and bit him.
“Ouch! Easy there,” he said and slapped her ass. But they passed the bedroom door without going in.
“Where are you taking me, Fred?”
“To try something out.” The apartment passed by upside down. Mary saw the tiled floor of their small foyer. “Door,” Fred declared, “unlock yourself.”
The bolt of the front door disengaged.
“No, door!” Mary shrieked. “Lock yourself!”
The bolt engaged.
“That fountain on 450,” he said. “The one with the kissing centaurs—door! Unbolt I say!”
The bolt disengaged.
“Door, lock and double lock!”
The bolt shot back and forth. They laughed to think what someone in the hall must think. He turned her right side up and, not letting her feet touch the floor, pulled the rip tab under her collar and tore her clothes open down the front. Used his teeth to tear her panties.
They liked to watch each other when they came. That evening, he saw in her eyes a circus of clowns and jugglers, hoops and tigers, a heavenly chorus rising in the bleachers. To my brothers cloned: Those eyes. Those eyes.
THEY LAY IN bed later and ate dinner. Watched a dumb vid. When he fell asleep, she got up and threw on a robe. She stood over the bed and watched him for a while. This Book of Russ thing was potentially very serious.
She went to the living room and closed the bedroom door, turned on the flatscreen and did a lesson on the physiology of the mesencephalon.
Wednesday
3.8
Mary arrived in Decatur early. There was no limo waiting to pick her up, but the day was fine and she decided to walk the few blocks to the clinic. She paid closer attention to the neighborhood along the way. Rich estates and grand houses were hidden behind trees and walls. The clinic, itself, was separated from the street by its own stone wall, wide lawns, and tall hedges. She walked under a sturdy iron arch with florid iron letters that read, “ROOSEVELT CLINIC,” past the parking lot and down the brick drive to the gatehouse. She passed through the scanway with no difficulty. At the inner gate there was a different russ guard on duty, one she knew—Reilly Dell!
“What a surprise,” she said. “Imagine the odds.”
“The odds of what?” Reilly said, squeezing her hand. “That we’d both be assigned to the same facility, or that my fantasy of meeting you without your pet monkey would finally come true?”
“You seem better,” she said. He did, though he still wore the exoassist braces and she could see a trace of the skullcap through his hair. It would be a few more days before either Reilly or Fred could reinstall their implants.
“How’s the job going?” Reilly said. “Shelley’s dying to know.”
Mary wondered if he was making a bad pun. “Tell her it’s a challenge, but marvelous.”
They chatted for a few minutes, and then Reilly said, “I can’t let you in just yet. The other ’leen is still a few minutes out, and Concierge wants to meet the both of you in the plaza together.”
So Mary stood in the WAIT HERE box as Reilly attended to other arrivals. She hoped that Renata had a good reason for being so tardy. But Renata didn’t show; a different evangeline arrived and passed through the gate with Mary. Concierge greeted them, as cordial as ever, and escorted them to Feldspar Cottage, but by the direct route this time. As they went, it laid out Roosevelt Clinic policies for the new evangeline, whose name was Georgine.
“It wouldn’t hurt for you to hear the rules again as well,” it told Mary. “Apparently, not all of the evangelines were paying close enough attention yesterday. Especially as regards the protection of the clinic’s proprietary technology.”
Mary had no idea what he was referring to. She couldn’t think of anything Renata might have done to cause her dismissal.
Concierge left them on Mineral Way, and she and Georgine walked up the footpath to the cottage alone. Halfway there they met a pair of clinic doctors coming the other way. Out of habit, Mary stepped off the path to let them by, but Georgine did not. It was only after Georgine stepped through the doctors that Mary recognized them for holos. The clinic projection system was better than any she’d encountered. Still, it was impolite to walk through people’s holos.
Inside the cottage, the jenny nurse, Hattie, was lecturing the night evangelines. “We usually wait till they’ve regained consciousness,” she said, “but with Myr Starke we decided sooner was better. You two,” she said when Mary and Georgine entered, “grab a pair of gloves and join us.”
Feldspar Cottage, at the quarter hour of fresh-brewed coffee, was different than the day before. Throw rugs, shelving units, a table, writing desk, rocking chair, and other furnishings had been brought in and arranged in the two rooms. But the most obvious change was the addition of a daybed in the lower room. Lying on the daybed was a young woman in a sleeveless unitard. She lay on her side, apparently asleep. Cyndee, Ronnie, and the jenny nurse stood around her.