"It's not like that," Shade said. "We're Banies. We have to look after each other, because no one else will… I want you to meet someone I know… He's felt the same way you have."
"If you think you're going to talk me out of how I feel," Manta said, "you're wasting your time."
Shade glowered at him. "It's my time. I can waste it if I like. Right now, though, I want you to give me a virtmail address for you, so we can meet down here again, and you can talk to my friend Kalki. He's a Banie, too. In fact, he's a more serious Banie than almost anyone else you're likely to run into down here. He's got the biggest `lift' collection I've ever seen. Thing is, he was about ready to cut the strings once, too. But it's a mistake to do that while there's still music in them, Manta. He was there. He knows. You need to talk to him."
Manta studied the ash falling around them, and into the nearest crevasse. After several long moments he said, "I don't see why not. It's not going to make any difference." He raised his head and gave Shade a long, cool look. "If I do decide to cut the strings… there's nothing you can do to stop me. You, or anyone else."
"Of course not," Shade said. "But you have to be sure, first… otherwise Joey wouldn't like it."
"Like he'd care."
"You'd be surprised," Shade said. "Manta… give yourself a break."
"Nobody else has," he said. But he watched her as he said it.
Shade shook her head and held out her hand. "I'm not everybody else," she said. "Let me have an address for you, and later on, in a day or two maybe, you can talk to Kalki."
Manta looked at her doubtfully. But at last he held out his hand to her, and there was a little white envelope in it, the icon for a virtmail address. Shade reached out and took it from him, and tucked it away in one of the pockets of her coat.
"Meantime," she said, "let's see if we can't at least get you in the front door of the Keep. Come on!" Shade looked right and left. "It's narrower over there," she said. She held out a hand.
Manta hesitated… then took it. Together they made their way down along the length of the crevasse, stepped across it, and vanished into the darkness.
Some hours later, just after six the next morning, Charlie blinked his implant off and got up, stiffly, to walk around the den. His muscles ached more than usual, and once more he resolved to have a look at the implant chair's muscle management routines. They weren't as effective as usual. Or I'm spending a lot more time in "the great never-never" than usual..
Probably the latter. Charlie stretched, then wandered downstairs to the kitchen. He glanced around and saw nothing of his mother's on the table. She was already on her way to work, possibly having another in-service today and so having to do her change-of-shift report with the night nurses on her floor earlier than usual. Charlie sighed and rooted around in the fridge for the milk, poured himself a glass, and downed it. Then he poured another and glugged that straight down, too.
His father came in and headed for the coffeepot. "Morning," Charlie said as he went by
"Thank you for not saying 'good," " his father muttered. He was already in his whites. He got busy pouring himself a cup of coffee the size of a small birdbath in a big brown cup Charlie's mother had brought back from a nursing conference in Germany.
"Early seminar this morning?" Charlie said.
"Yup. Backbones again," said his father, and slurped the coffee. "Ow, hot…" He took the milk carton that Charlie handed him and poured milk into his coffee until it turned a very unassertive shade of beige. "Better… It's just today and tomorrow, anyway, then life goes more or less back to normal." His father sighed. "Though I wish the school wouldn't run all these fellowship-program events at the same time that the accreditation team comes through."
"Maybe they do it on purpose. To show how a good teaching hospital runs under pressure."
His father looked at him with resignation over the cup. "That thought's crossed my mind. Nasty idea. In any case, there's nothing I can do about it. Meanwhile, you were up late again. I passed you when I came in. Third night in a row now."
"I'm doing research for a project," Charlie said. Let him think it's for school. _ _
"What on?"
"Suicide."
His father sighed. "Still thinking about those kids, huh? Your mother mentioned. Sad situation."
"Yeah," Charlie said. "It's pretty depressing."
His father chugged the much-milked coffee straight down. "Tell me about it. Well, ask your Mom if you need any more help… I've gotta get out of here." He rinsed out the coffee cup, upended it by the sink, and headed for the door, pausing only to hug Charlie in passing. "I feel guilty," he said. "The absentee parent."
"It's not a problem, Dad."
"I want a rematch on that chess game. You promised me best two out of three."
"You tell me when," Charlie said. "Gonna stomp you." "Don't be so sure. See you later… "
The front door shut. Charlie stood looking out into the back garden, where the first rays of sun were beginning to fall. I have been spending too much time "down there," he thought. Good old normal sunlight is beginning to look strange.
But it was in a good cause, and Charlie thought he was beginning to make some headway. Shade… There was definitely something odd about her, a sense of her watching him closely for some reaction. Just hope the one I've found is the right one…
He slowly made his way upstairs with one more glass of milk. The information which Nick had given him was turning out to be very useful, both the 'walk-through' and the other info, the stuff about the kids he'd run into, Khasm and Spile. The rumor, confirmed to the two most recent suicides' parents, that drugs had been involved-and the information that this news was possibly being suppressed-all fit in very neatly with Charlie's suspicions. Especially the idea that they weren't genuinely suicidal. Someone met them, probably in Deathworld, managed to get close enough to them, physically, to get sco-bro into them and then set up their suicides…
Now all Charlie needed was to re-create the initial part of the setup, without becoming a statistic himself.
To this end, the walk-through which Nick had given him had been extremely comprehensive, not as error-ridden as Nick had feared, and Nick himself had also appended some material to it as notes which Charlie had found very useful. He sat down on the sofa across from the implant chair in the den, finishing his glass of milk, and thinking about his next moves, the ones he would begin tonight after school. Charlie had been able to get down to Eight in fairly short order. I wonder if the system notices things like that… Charlie thought. But then lots of people must tell their friends how to get through- it quickly, how to meet them places… It probably all averages out in the end.
Either way, I have to follow up this contact with Shade, and keep looking to see whatever else turns up. No way I'm going to sit around and let this happen to someone else. It's still May…
Charlie sighed, put the milk glass aside, and sat down in the implant chair-he still had about half an hour before he had to leave for school, and this was the best time to catch people. He closed his eyes, triggered his implant on again, and glanced around the lowest level of his workspace, where the 3-D and 4-D images still stood. "Workspace management," he said.
"Here, Charlie."
"Is Nick Melchior available?"
"Checking that for you now. But this time does not match his usual online times for the past two weeks. Not available."
"Okay, what about Mark?"
"Mark's workspace is available as usual, and he is in residence."
"Good." Charlie went over to the usual access door, opened it. The VAB's lights were on. It was early enough at the Cape that not much light was getting in. Charlie wandered across the floor, where he could see the RollsSkoda, its hood still up, and a pair of legs still visible.