Farr frowned. Maybe there was a surface comparison, he thought. But Human Beings would never allow themselves to become so — so filthy, he thought, so poor, to live so badly — as the Skin-riders he had seen.
And no Human Being would accept the indignity of living by scavenging the waste of others.
The squalid little colony of Skin-riders was soon hidden by the wooden limb of the City face, and Cris led Farr further across the featureless Skin.
Farr spotted the girl before Cris saw her.
She was a compact, lithe shape swooping around the vortex lines, high above the City. Electron gas sparkled around her Surfboard, underlighting the contours of her body. There was a grace, a naturalness about her movements which far eclipsed even Cris’s proficiency, Farr thought. The girl saw them approaching and waved her arms in greeting, shouted something inaudible.
They came to another net, stretched over the wooden Skin between a series of pegs, just as the Skin-riders’ had been. But this net was evidently abandoned: torn and fraying, the net flapped emptily, containing nothing but what looked like the sections of a Surfboard snapped in half, a few clothes tucked behind knots in the net, and some crude-looking tools.
Cris drifted to a halt over the net and locked an anchoring hand comfortably into a loop of rope. “That’s Ray,” he said enviously. “The girl. That’s what she calls herself anyway… after the rays of the Crust-forests, you see.”
Farr squinted up at the girl; she was spiraling lazily around a vortex line as she approached them, electron glow dazzling from her skin. “She looks good.”
“She is good. Too bloody good,” Cris said with a touch of sourness. “And she’s a year younger than me… My hope is there’s going to be room for both of us in the Games.”
“What is this place?”
Cris flipped his Surfboard in the Air and watched it somersault. “Nowhere,” he said. His voice was deliberately casual. “Just an old Skin-rider net, in a bit of the Skinscape that’s hardly ever visited. We just use it as a base. You know, a place to meet, to Surf from, to keep a few tools for the boards.”
Just a base to Surf from… Cris’s tone made it sound a lot more important than that, to him. Farr watched the girl approach, casually skillful, slowing as she rode the Magfield toward the Skin. He thought of what it must be like to be accepted by a group of people like Cris and this girl Ray — to have a place like this to come to, hidden from the gaze of families and the rest of the City.
He could barely imagine it. He realized suddenly that he’d never even been out of sight of his family before the Glitch that killed his father. A place like this must mean a great deal.
He wanted to ask Cris more questions. Who were these Surfers? What were they like? How many of them were there?… But he kept quiet. He didn’t want to be the clumsy outsider from the upflux — not here, not with these two. He wanted them to accept him, to make him one of theirs — even just for a day.
Maybe if he kept his mouth shut as much as possible they would think he knew more than he did.
The girl, Ray, performed one last roll through the Air and stepped lightly off her board before them. With one small ankle she flipped the board up, caught it in one hand, and tucked it into a gap in the net. She hooked a hand into the net, close to Cris’s, and smiled at him and Farr. She was nude, and her long hair was tied back from her face; there were streaks of yellow dye across her scalp, just as Cris affected.
“You’re on your own today?” Cris asked.
She shrugged, breathing heavily. “Sometimes I prefer it that way. You can get some real work done.” She turned to Farr, a look of lively interest on her face. “Who’s this?”
Cris grinned and clapped a hand on Farr’s shoulder. “He’s called Farr. He’s staying with us. He’s from a tribe called the Human Beings.”
“Human Beings?”
“Upfluxers,” Cris said with an apologetic glance at Farr.
The girl’s smile broadened, and Farr was aware of her light gaze flicking over him with new interest. “An upfluxer? Really? So what do you make of Parz? Dump, isn’t it?”
Farr tried to find something to say.
He couldn’t take his eyes off the girl. Her face was broad, intelligent, vividly alive, her perfect nostrils shining. She was still breathing deeply after her exertions, and her chest and shoulders were rising and falling smoothly. The capillary pores across her chest and between her small breasts were wide and dark.
Cris was staring at him strangely, and Ray was watching him, interested, amused. He had to find something to say. “It’s okay. Parz is fine. Interesting.” Interesting. What a stupid thing to say. His voice sounded booming and uncontrolled, and he was aware of his bulky, overmuscled body, his hands huge and useless at his side.
She let herself drift a little closer to him. He tried to keep his eyes on her face. Her nakedness was spectacular. But that didn’t make sense; the Human Beings had always gone naked, save for occasional toolbelts or ponchos, so why should he be so disturbed now? He must have become accustomed to bodies hidden by City clothes, like the light coveralls he and Cris were wearing; Ray’s sudden nudity by contrast was impossible to ignore. Yes, that must be it…
But now he felt a deep warmth in his lower belly. Oh, blood of the Xeelee, help me. Like an independent creature — utterly without his volition — his penis was trying to push out of its cache. He leaned forward, hoping that folds in the cloth of his coveralls would hide him. But the girl’s eyes were wide and appraising, and he could see a smile forming on her small mouth. She knew. She knew all about him.
” ‘Interesting,’ ” she repeated. “Maybe, if you haven’t had to grow up in it.”
“We saw you practicing,” Cris said. “You’re looking good.”
“Thanks.” She looked at Cris awkwardly. “I’ve been selected for the Games. Had you heard that?”
“Already?” Farr could see envy battling with affection for the girl on Cris’s face. “No, I — I mean, I’m pleased for you. Really, I am.”
She brushed Cris’s shoulder with her fingertips. “I know. And it’s not too late for you.” She took her board from the net. “Come on, let’s practice.”
Cris glanced at Farr. “Yes, soon. But first…” He held out his board to Farr. “Would you like to try it?”
Farr took the board hesitantly. He ran the palm of his hand across its surface. The wood was more finely worked than any object he’d ever held, and the inlaid strips of Corestuff were cold and smooth. “Don’t you mind?”
Cris laughed easily. “As long as you bring it back whole, no. Go with Ray — she’s a better Surfer than me, and a better teacher. I’ll wait here until you’re done.”
Farr looked at Ray. She smiled at him. “Come on, it’ll be fun.” She took the board from him — her fingers brushed the back of his hand, lightly, sending a thrill through him which caused his penis to stir again — and laid the board along the Magfield, flat. She patted its surface with its crisscross inlay of Corestuff strips. “Surfing’s easy. It’s just like Waving, but with your feet and your board instead of your legs. All you have to remember is to keep contact with your board, to keep pushing against the Magfield…”