LISE

a novel by D M Arnold

Edition of 25-April-2008

Copyright (C) 2005-2008 D M Arnold. All rights reserved.

Redistribution in any form is strictly prohibited.

Published by VIRTUALimprint

http://www.virtualimprint.com

Table of Contents

I1

II9

III17

IV..24

V..30

VI39

VII51

VIII59

IX..73

X..84

XI93

XII102

XIII111

XIV..123

XV..128

XVI134

XVII145

XVIII151

XIX..156

I

The white Varadan sun washed the city with harsh morning light. A shaft streamed through a sill window and across Lise's eyes. She sat up with a start, dimly recalling her mother's attempt to rouse her earlier.

She rubbed her eyes and arose from the thin pad on the floor that served as her mattress. She wrapped a threadbare towel around her torso, climbed the stairs from the basement and stepped into a courtyard, walled on four sides by abandoned and crumbling four-and five-story apartment buildings. Pushing open a gate, Lise walked onto the street. There was no vehicular traffic, as this sector of Vyonna had long been walled off from the rest of the city. Sitting in the middle of what once was a busy boulevard was a latrine, fabricated from scraps of corrugated metal and positioned atop a manhole opening into a sewer. She rapped on the door. “Occupied,” came a reply. She folded her arms and waited until the structure was vacant, then stepped inside and voided her bladder. She headed back to the courtyard, filled a bucket from a standpipe, stepped behind a low screen formed from a pair of old doors and began washing.

As she dried herself she realized she was not alone in the courtyard. Sitting on a low wall was a figure

--another Novo Homonid. He was about the same age as she --nineteen years. Like Lise, the boy had green skin, orange eyes and no hair. He held a pad of polysheets.

“Tagg!” she exclaimed. “Were you watching me bathe?”

“I was sketching you,” the boy replied.

Lise turned her back and wrapped the towel around herself.

“Come look,” Tagg said.

She rolled her eyes and walked toward where Tagg sat. “Don't you have a job to go to?” she asked.

“No --I was let go. My owner hasn't found a new one for me yet. I'm not strong enough for most of the work that's out there. Instead I go to the park in Sector Ten and sit and sketch. I sell my drawings to white folks.”

“You sell your drawings?” Lise asked. “Let me see that...” She took his sketch of her portrait. “Tagg

--this is really quite good.”

“You can keep it.”

“I was afraid you were sketching me...”

“Nude? I'd like to do that, Lise. Maybe you'd pose for me. I'll bet it would sell.”

“How much do white folks give you for your sketches?”

“Whatever they want,” Tagg replied. “Mostly almost-used-up scrip cards ... enough so I can buy more pads and marking pens. I hope I don't get a new job. This way I keep more scrip than when I was working.”

“Don't let on to your owner that you're doing this.”

“I won't... The whites can't believe they were done by a novonid.”

“They believe we're not capable of very much. Don't the constables harass you?”

“The park is patrolled by a woman cop. She bought a drawing from me. I always check to see if she's the one on duty. Otherwise, I go elsewhere.”

“What you're doing isn't illegal --is it?”

“No. So long as I don't cause a nuisance. Lise... Come up to my apartment and pose for me. My roommates all will have gone to their jobs. We'll have privacy.”

“I can't,” she replied. “I'm starting my job today, and I can't be late.”

“YOU have a job? That's right --I heard you had been registered.”

She pointed to the serial number tattooed on her left clavicle: RAA005010. “I must go.”

“You remember where my apartment is?”

“Of course, Tagg.”

“Come up and pose for me sometime. I'll make a deal with you. Pose for me and if I sell it, you can have the scrip.”

Lise carried the sketch into her basement dwelling and set it on a bench. She slipped into her clothing

--a bandeau to cover her breasts, short shorts and sandals: a costume designed to expose the most of her green skin to sunlight. The garments were new --provided by Ramina. She headed up the stairs to the courtyard, through a gate and down an alley.

Her stepfather had warned her against using the alley. Before she was registered, Lise had ventured outside the basement and adjacent courtyard only after dark. Then, she stayed inside or close to the Green Zone, and went out only to scavenge food or other necessaries. Not all novonids lived inside the Zone. Many more lived in housing provided by their owners. Some in the workforce were quartered in barracks. Others who were valets or maids had comfortable rooms in the homes of the owners they served. Most grocers catered to these owners by stocking one shelf of novonid food.

Some shopkeepers --the considerate ones --would stack expired cans for the taking in the alleys behind the stores. After all, they couldn't be sold after the expiration dates. Spiteful ones would crush the cans, mixing the contents with detritus. Giving it away, they reasoned, reduced demand for the product they sold. Novonids in the Zone held scrip --how they come by it isn't the shopkeepers' affair, and as tender it is just as legal as that of the whites.

After dark, after curfew Lise would creep through tunnels under the streets and emerge outside the perimeter to scavenge what expired cans she could find, or discarded cooking grease from the fry shops. Being registered changed that. The serial number on her shoulder meant no bounty hunter could turn her in for the reward on renegade novonids. Now she could roam in broad daylight, and she was just becoming accustomed to it.

With daylight came safety --the brothel on the edge of the walled-off sector would be quiet, and the thugs would be off the street. Even the tower-mounted cameras the constables used to patrol the perimeter of the Green Zone would be given only cursory glances.

Lise approached a heavy gate and lifted its latch. It creaked on its hinges and she passed through it. She was now outside the Zone. Her heart accelerated. Outside the Zone in broad daylight would mean certain death to an unregistered specimen of her kind. Grott had told her in excruciating detail the fate of the bounty hunters' prey.

The lucky ones would be shot dead on the street. Captured novonids would be locked in a dark room. Deprived of sunlight, the chloroplasts giving their skin its green color would stop producing sugars to fuel their bodies. Their metabolism would slow and after several days they would become torpid. Then, unable to resist, they would be carried to the death chambers... Thinking about it agitated her more and her heart began to pound. Lise fought back the fight-or-flight instinct, forcing her intellect to take control. This was now the order of things, she told herself. She was street legal. Killing or harassing a registered one was a crime severely punished. There was nothing to fear. She took a deep breath of Vyonna's air, polluted with ozone and the sterno-smell of burnt alcohol. She walked on the pavement to a corner, looking at the buildings. Some nearby ones were familiar to her from her nocturnal excursions. Others she had seen only the tops looming above the wall enclosing the Zone. Traffic whizzed by. She looked up the street and down in the other direction. Novonids were beginning to file out of the Zone. A crowd of them was forming on the corner at the streetcar stop. Lise headed in that direction, as it was her rendezvous point. She stood at the corner, her back against a building.

The whine of a gas turbine grew louder as the streetcar approached and stopped at the corner. Its driver kept the doors closed. The green-skinned throng, nearly all men, climbed onto an open platform at the rear of the bus.

Lise watched with some amusement as they packed onto the platform. “Come on, push together,” she heard an older man exhort, “we can all fit.”

The last of them pushed and squeezed onto the platform. A young man made room for one more and extended his hand toward Lise. She smiled and made a gesture saying, no thanks. The bus's turbine whined up and it pulled away from the corner. Then, she realized she would be riding that bus tomorrow and every day after.

Lise recalled the day her life changed. Her memory of it was vivid as if it were yesterday. She had been tending her garden of wild pomma in the courtyard; and soaking up afternoon sunshine. Her ears picked up the sounds to which they were acutely tuned: footfalls approaching. The sounds triggered an autonomic response --a flood of adreneline and her heart began to race. She dashed into the basement apartment and hid behind one of the hanging sheets that served as a room divider. The door leading to the courtyard creaked open and she heard more footfalls on the stairs.

“Lise...,” she heard her mother call.

Lise pressed her hand against her chest as her heart slowed. She emerged from behind the sheet and stopped short at the sight of a petite, older, white woman with long grey hair. A tall white man accompanied her. Both were flanked by Grott, Rayla and one of Grott's acquaintences --guaranteeing the white strangers safe passage into the green enclave.

“You must be Lise,” the woman said. “I've heard much about you.”

Lise backed away.

“Lise...” Rayla said. “This is Ms Ramina. She's going to register you.”

“Yes, child,” Ramina replied. “Don't be afraid. I've already purchased you from your previous owner. I'm your owner, now. All we need to make it official is a little sample for the DNA registry.”

The white man approached Lise and withdrew a lancet. “Hold still, Lise,” he said and took her hand. It only required an instant for him to obtain a drop of her blood. It took Lise several more instants before she registered the sensations.

The next day Ramina returned, again flanked by Grott and another neighborhood man. Lise followed them outside the Green Zone and into Ramina's car. A short drive took her to the breedery.

“This is my home,” Ramina said to Lise. “Now, it is your home, too, child. You're welcome here any time.”

Lise regarded the structure, a row house once affluent but now wanting maintenance. She saw novonid boys and a few girls of varying ages, watching her through the railing from a landing. Ramina led Lise into another room containing an overhead lamp and a long, low table. “Lie on the table, child,” Ramina instructed.

Lise obeyed. The same tall man who had taken her blood stood with his back turned, assembling a sencil. This he affixed to her skin near her left clavicle with spirit gum. Next he brushed black ink into the openings and reached for an instrument. She felt a vibration as the instrument buzzed over her skin.

“Done,” the man said and removed the stencil. He daubed her with a cloth soaked in a solvent, and Lise felt a burning sensation.

She looked down and saw the mark: RAA005010. “That may be tender for a day or two,” Ramina said. “You are now an officially registerd novonid.” Lise touched the mark and examined her finger.

“Don't worry, child. It will not rub off.”

“Thank you,” Lise replied.

“Thank you, Mam,” Ramina corrected.

“Thank you, Mam.”

Ramina smiled. “We will work out the details of your employment. I will let you know once it's finalized.” She gestured Lise into the vestibule near the front door.

“Am I free to go?” Lise asked and then added, “...Mam?”

“After one small detail, Lise. I'm sure you are aware of your defect.”

“That I'm a one-shot ... Mam. Yes.”

“A pregnancy certainly would kill you, and likely the child you'd carry, too. However, that defect is confined to your uterus. Other components of your reproductive system are fully functional.” Ramina gestured toward one of the novonid children. “Have Fara come down.”

The boy bolted up the stairs. “Fara!” Lise heard him shout. “Ms Ramina wants you.”

A novonid youth descended the stairs, and Lise regarded the figure that approached. She was a female, but her features were a twelve-year-old boy's.

“This is Fara,” Ramina said. “She also has a defect.”

“Atrophied ovaries,” Lise replied. “I recognize the signs ... Mam.”

“You're a smart girl, Lise. How old are you?”

“Nineteen ... Mam.”

“Fara is twenty-one. She doesn't look it, does she?”

“No, Mam,” Lise replied.

“She looks more like a teenaged boy, doesn't she? Her womb is sound, though. In three day's time we will take you and Fara to a clinic where we will take one of your ovaries and give it to Fara.”

“Take an ovary? ... Mam?”

“Surgically remove one and implant it into Fara's body --in the hopes she can become fertile and bear children.”

“My children ... Mam?”

“MY children, Lise. You, Fara and all her issue belong to me.”

“Yes, Mam. I meant ... the children I might have born.”

Ramina continued, “At the same time, we'll have the surgeon cut and tie your tubes --to sterilize you. That way you will not conceive ... and thus not put your life at risk ... living in that horrid, lawless Zone of yours. It's a wonder you're not dead already.”

Lise swallowed hard. “Three days, Mam?”

“It's a very good clinic, Lise. You've nothing to fear...”

Lise remembered the day of the surgery, too. She was naked on a cot in dim light, covered with a light drape. Curtains hanging from the ceiling surrounded her. She was chilly from being sunstarved --she had neither sun nor water for a day. Her heart pounded and every noise made her jump. A door opened and an attendant carrying a tray stepped through the curtains. “Hello, Lise,” the attendand said. “How are you today?” Lise shook her head. “Are you afraid?” Lise nodded. “I would be too, if I knew I was about to go under the knife.” She set the tray on the end of the bed and removed a towel from it. Lise saw a large syringe. She gasped and recoiled.

“Don't worry, dear,” the attendant said. “This is just some medicine --nothing that'll hurt you.” She showed Lise the syringe, filled with a cloudy fluid and the thin, flexible tube on its end. “See? There's no needle. It's soft and the end's blunt and rounded.” She began smearing the tube with a clear gel.

“What's it for?” Lise asked.

“This will help you relax and take away some of the fear.” She handed Lise the towel. “Lift up and slide this under your hips... Good. Now ... roll onto your side, dear, and draw up your knees.”

Lise complied. The attendant drew back the drape covering her and Lise felt her fingers spreading her buttocks and probing her. “Just relax, dear. This won't hurt a bit.”

Lise sensed an indistinct coolness infiltrating deeply into her pelvic bowl, and the tube being withdrawn. The attendant replaced the drape. “That wasn't so bad, was it?”

Lise shook her head. “No...”

“Now, stay on your side while the medicine does its work. And resist any urge to push it out. It won't help you unless it stays inside. Understand?”

“Yes ... mam...”

The attendant sat on the cot and took Lise's hand. “Is this your first time in a clinic?”

Lise bit her lip and nodded. “First ever.”

“You're new to Ramina, aren't you. She brings all of hers in here for regular checkups. I've known Fara since ... well, since I started here ten years ago.”

“Will it hurt?”

“You'll be in a deep sleep. You won't feel ... or, remember a thing. You'll be a bit sore when you wake, but novonids heal quickly.”

“Could I die?”

“No surgery is risk-free, dear.” The attendant caressed the back of Lise's hand “This doctor is very good. He's a board-certified surgeon, licensed to practice on white patients; and he cares deeply for your kind. All the equipment and medicines are the same as he uses for his white patients. He hasn't lost one yet.” She regarded Lise. “You're starting to feel it, aren't you? I can tell by the look in your eyes.”

“When I close them I feel like I'm falling,” Lise replied, “and I have a strange taste in the back of my throat.”

“You're tasting the drug.”

“...feel odd ... like ... floating...”

“Don't fight it, dear. If you should feel like closing your eyes and dozing off ... that's fine. The more relaxed you are the more peacefully you'll go under the anesthesia. I'm going to dim the lights now, and let you rest.” Lise heard her leave the room.

Lise lay on her side, in a fetal position. The cold from sun-hunger was fading. Her cheeks felt flushed and a warmth suffused her body. Her chest felt heavy and it seemed an effort to inhale. She moistened her lips and they felt numb; and she was having difficulty keeping her eyes open. She closed them and saw vague images of the pomma savanna with blue skies, warm sunshine and green-skinned figures in the fields.

Her reverie was broken by the attendant's voice. At first Lise thought she was being addressed; then she realized she was not alone in the ward. The door closed.

“Fara,” Lise called. “Are you there?”

“Lise?” Fara replied from behind a curtain. “Is that you? Yes, I'm here.”

“Did she just give you medicine in your bottom?” Lise asked drowsily.

“Yes.”

“Are you scared?”

“Yes,” Fara replied, her voice quaking.

“In a little while ... you won't be...” Lise rolled onto her back. The room was spinning. She closed her eyes and was again strolling the pomma fields.

She was awakened by the harsh light of an overhead lamp; and she realized she was in another room. The attendant was wheeling a cart of equipment toward her. Another was attaching adhesive electrodes to her chest and scalp.

An older white man wearing pale green scrubs pulled away the drape and palpitated her abdomen. He turned to the attendant and nodded.

Lise felt something cover her nose and mouth and heard a soft hiss. “Breath deeply, dear,” the attendant said. Lise drew in a long, deep breath and a cloying sweetness filled her sinuses. “That's it ... in

... out ... in ...”

She awoke to find herself lying in sunshine in the yard behind the clinic. She attempted to sit up but was stopped by a sharp pain in her abdomen. Lise collapsed onto the cot. A glance around the yard revealed other novonid patients on gurneys and in wheelchairs soaking up sunshine. She saw Fara, still unconscious, lying on a cot nearby.

The attendant was holding her hand. “Would you like some water, dear?” she asked.

“Mmmph...” Lise moaned and nodded.

The attendant reached for a large tumbler and offered a drinking tube to Lise. “I'll hold up your head, dear.” Lise sucked water from the tumbler until it was empty. “My goodness,” the attendant remarked.

“I'll get you more in a bit. I imagine you're feeling pretty poorly, with us sunstarving you and withholding fluids for a day.”

“Why did you?” Lise asked.

“So we could anesthetize you. We sunstarve you so you're not producing oxygen --to force you to breath it from the air. If you're making your own oxygen --you stop breathing when you fall asleep; then the anesthesia isn't deep enough for surgery.”

“And the water?”

“Sometimes the anesthesia causes you to vomit. It would be a danger if that happened during a procedure.”

Lise nodded in comprehension. “Did I vomit?”

“No, dear --you did well. You'll be sore for a few days, but you'll be fine.”

“Yes, child,” Lise rolled her head to the other side and saw Ramina sitting near her. “Both you and Fara pulled through with flying colors. Take some time to convalesce and then we'll start you in your job. Did I tell you what you'll be doing?”

“Yes, Mam ... babysitting two white children,” Lise replied groggily.

“Very good, child. Now, you rest.”

“We'll put this towel over your eyes,” the attandant said, “to keep out the sun.”

“The sun's starting to feel good,” Lise replied weakly. She closed her eyes and felt the cloth placed across them...

Realization dawned on her. So that was why Ramina was so keen to register her, she thought. The job amounted to nothing --it was more like charity.

Novonid men were in demand for heavy work --valued for their strength and stamina. A novonid woman's true work was pushing out baby after baby. What Ramina had done was to take two worthless females and combine them in such a way as to obtain one valuable, fertile breeder --and the other, still worthless as a woman, but healthy and certainly capable of drawing an income. A black car approached the corner and pulled to a stop. Its door opened. Lise stooped and slid into the front seat beside a petite white woman with long grey hair.

“Good morning, Lise.”

“Good morning, Ms Ramina.”

“Have you recovered from your ordeal?”

“Yes, mam.”

“Any unpleasant, lingering after effects?”

“No, mam. I'm feeling fine.”

“Then you must be ready for your first day at work.”

“I am ... mam.”

“Are you nervous?”

“Yes, mam --a little.”

“You've cared for little ones before, haven't you?”

“Yes, mam. I've cared for novonid children in my neighborhood. I've never cared for white ones.”

“In my business, I care for dozens of young novonids. Children are children, Lise.” Ramina grasped and squeezed Lise's knee. “You'll do fine.” She pressed the control stick forward and the car moved into traffic, its alcohol-fueled turbine emitting a soft whine. “The house is in quadrant three, block fourteen-forty. Now that you're registered --would you rather be called Lise or Zero-One-Zero?”

“I'd rather be called Lise, mam.”

“Very good, Lise. You know that many whites will call you Zero-One-Zero.”

She looked down at the registration tattoo on her left shoulder. “Yes, mam. I'll try to be alert to it.”

The car passed a corner marked with a sign bearing a yellow circle, then another with signs bearing the circle and a blue square. “What are you looking at, Lise?”

“The bus stops, mam. I must know the route home.”

“Ah --very good. I knew you were a smart girl, Lise.”

“Thank you, mam.”

“You've already spoken with Megan. Her twins are adorable --a boy and a girl. Megan is a single mom who's had her trouble with the law. She spent a year in a rehabilitation center. She's been granted a worker's permit --for factory work --even though she's of the merchant caste if I recall...”

“I thought...” Lise began.

“You mustn't interrupt, Lise.”

“I beg your pardon, mam.”

“Pardon granted. What were you going to say?”

“I thought once someone was rehabilitated ... that fact can't be used against them.”

“You're right, Lise --their records are sealed. However, the labor office won't clear them for work involving trust until they've had an opportunity to ... prove themselves.”

Lise nodded. “I understand.”

“That is why Megan must work in a factory. She won't be handling any scrip in this job. The pay isn't what she could make working at her own caste level.”

“And, that's why she hired me. She can't afford a white nanny.”

Ramina looked down her nose at her. “I should hope, Lise that you keep our conversation to yourself. If Megan knew you ... appreciated her situation as you seem to... Well, it would mortify her -and me, also.”

“I won't say a word, mam.”

“Good girl, Lise.”

Ramina piloted the vehicle though the city streets. “I'm taking a route nearby to my breedery, Lise.”

“I recognize the neighborhood, mam.”

“I want to make sure you know how it relates to the other sectors. Should you find yourself in need of shelter ... near curfew, for example --you are always welcome there.”

“Thank you, mam.”

“Normally I would insist you live at the breedery. Since you can't conceive after your surgery, I see no reason why you can't continue living with your mother and stepfather --in the Zone.”

“I appreciate that, mam.”

“I take pride in my product. Every one of mine has a fully documented pedigree. I know some owners turn their females loose inside the Zone and let nature take its course. It saves having to pay breeding fees or purchasing sperm. I'd never do that with mine. I don't permit them near the place. If one of them wandered in there for just half a day ... I'm sure she'd end up pregnant ... her issue sired by who knows what sort of hooligan...” Lise felt Ramina's eyes scanning her. “Tell me, Lise... are you sexually active?”

“Mam?”

“Are you sexually active?”

“No, mam.”

“Never?”

“No, mam.”

“It's all right if you are, and it's all right to admit it. I was at your age. Can you believe that?”

Lise looked at Ramina and attempted to roll back the years' toll in her mind. “Yes I can, mam.”

Ramina smiled. “Thank you, Lise. It's a natural thing ... natural for a female of either species.”

“I am not, mam. Why did you ask?”

“Curious ... curious about how things work inside the Zone. I've never known anyone from there...”

She piloted the car onto a boulevard. “Since you're sterile, I'll treat you more like one of my males.”

“Minding a pair of white children IS female's work, mam.”

“I suppose it is, Lise. We're here.”

The car stopped along the curb of a block of single-story houses. Each was a concrete box with a glass front and steps leading to a stoop. The old woman parked her car, stepped out and Lise followed her.

“Can you remember this house?” Ramina asked.

“Of course, mam --number 505.”

“I keep forgetting what a smart girl you are, Lise. Go on, child --press the chime.”

II

The door was opened by a woman whose age straddled the territory between youth and middle age. She had shoulder-length, light brown hair and wore what was typical for a Varadan white --a one sleeved blouse cut to expose her left shoulder and arm. Tattooed on her clavicle were three circles, the emblem of the merchant caste. Tattooed around them was a wreath of vines.

“Come in,” the woman said. “Nice to see you again, Lise.”

“Thank you, Ms Megan,” Lise replied. “Nice to see you, too.”

Megan was a large woman with big bones and slightly overweight. Lise detected a coarseness about her --a toughness in her speech and in her movements.

“You're a life-saver, Lise,” Megan continued. “Come meet the twins.” Sitting on the floor watching a mediascreen were a boy and a girl, about two years away from starting school. “Klarissa ... Geddes...”

Their heads turned. “This is Lise. She'll be taking care of you while Mommy's at work.”

Lise knelt onto one knee to bring herself to their level. “Hello Klarissa... Geddes...”

“Hi,” Klarissa said and turned back to the screen. Her brother's gaze swung away.

“Lise...” Megan said.

“Yes, mam?”

“I've prepared lunches for them. Please don't let them watch too much mediascreen --it rots their brains.”

“Yes, mam...”

Megan smacked her forehead. “I forgot to buy some of the special food you eat. I'm sorry --I'll have some for you tomorrow.”

“It's all right, mam,” Lise replied. “I feed once every three days. All I need is water. I'll be fine.”

“Drink all the water you want. If you take the twins outdoors, make sure you put sun hats on them. They're in the closet.”

“Yes, mam...”

“Oh, Ramina...” Megan handed Ramina two blue cards. Lise's eyes popped --they were brand-new fifty-unit scrips. “Your fee in advance.”

“Thank you, Megan.” Ramina held the cards to the light --none of the holes had been punched. She slipped them into her bag and turned to Lise. “Good luck, Lise...”

“Oh, Ms Ramina?”

“Yes, Lise?”

“May... Will...”

“What is it, Lise?”

“I thought we had agreed that I would be keeping my wages ... mam.”

“Yes, child --after my expenses have been paid. If you recall, that was part of the agreement. The fees and tests to register you amounted to two thousand units; and the doctor's bills two thousand more. I can't afford that kind of charity. Once it's been paid back, you may keep your wages.”

“But --that's forty pay periods! It'll be into next year...”

Ramina's eyes widened. “Very good, child. You do your arithmetic well. You succeed in this assignment, and those forty periods will fly by.”

“I was hoping to have a little...”

“Now child --remember our agreement ... and, remember how rude it is to talk of wages.”

“Yes, mam. I'm sorry.”

Ramina embraced Lise and kissed the top of her bald head. “You'll be fine --I know you will.”

Lise stepped into the room where the twins sat, eyes glued to the mediascreen. “So ... Klarissa ... Geddes,” she said, “what do you want to do?”

“Watch,” said Geddes.

“Your mommy said not too much mediascreen.” The twins continued to watch. Lise stood between them and the device.

“Hey!” called Geddes.

“Let's do something else,” Lise said.

“We always watch 'Ask Jaks,'” Geddes protested.

“Is that what this is?”

“No --it's on next.”

“All right --we'll watch 'Ask Jaks' together --but you must promise me we'll do something else after. Okay?”

“Okay,” they said in unison.

Lise pulled up a chair and sat viewing the screen, as a seemingly endless string of advertisements were broadcast. “Stupid commercials,” Geddes muttered.

The words, A Service Announcement appeared on the screen, followed by a an image of a well-dressed, coiffed and heavily made-up young woman announcer. She addressed a frumpy middle-aged woman sitting on a chair. Beside her was an older novonid woman, about Lise's mother's age, dressed in the usual bandeau and shorts.

Who is this, asked the announcer.

This is Natlee, the frumpy woman replied cheerfully, and she is one of many fine companions we have in our shelter waiting to be adopted. Nathlee is forty-seven standard years old and she came to us from a pomma farm. She would make a wonderful companion to an older couple wanting someone to help around the house.

“What does adopt mean?” Klarissa asked.

“It means to take someone into your home or family,” Lise replied.

“Like we did with you?”

Lise suppressed a laugh. “No --I'm only working for your mommy. Someone who's adopted would live in the house all the time.”

Klarissa's eyes popped. “Could we adopt you?”

“No --I already have an owner.”

Natlee, the announcer addressed the novonid woman, What work did you do on the farm?

I worked in the big house, mam, Natlee replied, looking at her feet.

“What's the big house?” Klarissa asked.

“It's the home of the farmowner and his family.”

“Lise, did you live on a farm?”

“Yes, I was born on one. My mother and I left the farm when I was much smaller than you.”

“Oh...”

The service announcement ended with the announcer suggesting that viewers wishing to adopt a novonid companion should contact one of the Benevloent Shelter Society offices or facilities. Then, the program the twins wanted to watch began. It was a comedy about an affluent single dad with three children --a teen, a pre-teen and a little girl about the age of the twins. The family had a novonid valet named Jaks. Lise shook her head as she watched the situation develop.

“Lise?”

“Yes, Klarissa?”

“Why did they have Natlee on the mediascreen?”

“They want people to know that some novonids need homes. If some viewer liked Natlee, perhaps they would want to adopt her, or someone like her.”

“Doesn't Natlee already have an owner?”

“Yes --she's owned by the Benevolent Shelter Society. They want to give her to someone who is willing to care for her.”

“Shhh!” Geddes said.

“Why is Natlee at the shelter?” Klarissa asked.

“It could be for a number of reasons,” Lise replied. “Perhaps the farm was sold, or...”

“Quiet!” Geddes protested. “I can't hear the screen.”

“Geddes is right,” Lise whispered to Klarissa. “Let's be quiet and watch.”

As she watched Lise realized the humor in the program was not directed at Jaks. He was the smartest and cleverest member of the ensemble. This didn't mean much --none of the characters demonstrated the common sense of a rock --but the resulting comedy was easily within the grasp of a Varadan four-year-old.

The program paused for another advertisement. Klarissa climbed onto Lise's lap. Geddes sat on the floor, using Lise's shins as a backrest. Klarissa leaned back and her blond hair tickled Lise's lips. She felt the bones of the girl's small pelvis digging into her thigh, her mass resting against her shoulder and she inhaled the scent of her hair. Lise brushed some aside and marveled at its softness. For an instant Lise felt envy for Megan, for having two beautiful children --and, remorse that she had the surgery. It was necessary she reminded herself. Lise banished these thoughts and longings. What sort of a life would a child of hers grow up to, anyway? Certainly not as fine a one as lay before Klarissa and Geddes.

“You know,” Lise said, “that the man playing Jaks isn't really a novonid. He's a white man made up to look like one.”

“How can you tell?” Klarissa asked.

“You can see the line where they put on the cap to cover his hair. And --his eyes aren't orange.”

Klarissa turned her head and looked into Lise's face. “Why do you have orange eyes?”

“All novonids do.”

“Why?”

“Because --that's the way we are... Also, you can see his skin isn't really green. They used green paint. And --when he talks, you can see the inside of his mouth isn't brown like mine, but pink like yours.”

“Let's see...” Lise opened her mouth and Klarissa opened hers.

“Why do you suppose they wouldn't use a novonid man to play Jaks?” Lise asked.

“I don't know,” Klarissa replied. “Do you?”

“No, I don't.”

But, Lise did know. There was a not-so-subtle erotic undercurrent in the relationship between Jaks and another character --a neighbor woman. A broad section of the Varadan community would be scandalized if Jaks weren't so obviously played by a made-up white man. Then, it dawned on her... The joke was that every character except Jaks's employer and the woman's husband knew he really was a white man masquerading in green paint. He did so to be near the neighbor woman, right under the nose of her cuckolded mate.

“What shows do you like to watch?” Klarissa asked.

“I don't watch any.”

“Why not?”

“We don't have a mediascreen. We can't afford one. And --even if we did, where I live we don't have any electricity to run it.”

The little girl made a silent “Oh.”

“Okay --show's over. Geddes, please turn off the mediascreen.”

“Awww...”

“Please.”

Geddes stood and switched off the device. Klarissa hopped down and ran into her mother's bedroom. She returned with a portable mediascreen.

“You could use one like this,” Klarissa said and switched it on.

“You're right,” Lise said examining the device. “It doesn't need to be plugged in --but the power cells must be plugged into the wall to recharge.”

“Oh...” Klarissa made a bit of a pout.

Lise knelt down and kissed the girl's head. “It was a very good suggestion, though. Now, put this back where your mommy won't miss it.”

Klarissa smiled and scooted into the bedroom.

“Are you two hungry?” Lise asked. Geddes nodded. Lise opened the door to a refrigerated cabinet and withdrew two plates covered with a polymer wrap. “Here. What do you drink?”

Geddes pointed to a pitcher filled with a clear, red fluid. Lise poured a bit into a tumbler and tasted a drop on her finger.

“This?” she asked.

“Yes!” Geddes and Klarissa exclaimed together.

“It's terribly sweet...” She poured two short glasses and set them on the table Lise filled a tumbler with water and sat with them.

“Don't you want some?” Klarissa asked.

“No. It's too sweet for me. It'll make me sick.”

“Why?”

“Because sugar makes my stomach hurt. That drink has too much for me --and, probably too much for you, too.”

“Aren't you hungry?”

“No.” She sipped her water. “Not for food at least. I am feeling a little hungry for sunshine. I get most of my food from sunlight.”

“Why?”

“Because I'm a novonid and that's the way we are.” She touched her forefinger to Klarissa's nose.

“I'm going to call you Little Miss Why.”

“Why?”

“Because you ask so many questions. What do you say we finish our lunch and then walk to the playground. That way, you can play and I can get my sunshine. Okay?”

“Okay,” Klarissa replied.

The twins finished their lunches. Lise rinsed the plates and stacked them on the counter. She opened the closet and located a pair of sun bonnets. “Here --put these on.”

“I don't want to,” Geddes protested. “They look stupid.”

“Your mommy doesn't want you getting too much sun --you'll burn.”

Klarissa slipped into the bonnet. Geddes crossed his arms. His sister whispered into his ear and Geddes pulled the bonnet onto his head and over his ears.

Lise led them toward the front door and stopped short. “I don't know how to lock the door,” she said. “We can't go out.”

Klarissa giggled and pulled a passcard from the inside door lock. Lise took the card and tested it in both the inside and outside locks. After convincing herself the card worked, she slipped it into a pocket in her shorts and gestured the twins outside.

“Where are we going?” Klarissa asked.

“To the park.”

“What park?”

“It's just down this block. I saw it from the car when I was coming here. Here --hold my hand. You, too Geddes.”

Lise walked toward the corner with Klarissa on her left and Geddes on her right.

“How far is it?” Klarissa asked.

“Not far.”

They reached the corner and waited for traffic to clear. A streetcar whizzed by, with four novonids standing on a narrow platform attached to the rear of the bus.

“Why do they ride on the back?” Klarissa asked.

“Because,” Lise replied, “novonids don't have much money, but we do need to go from place to place. The city lets us ride for free, but we can't ride inside the bus.”

“Why?”

“It wouldn't be fair to the paying white passengers, would it?”

“I guess not...”

“So, they put the platform on the back of the bus and we ride there.”

“Lise...”

“Yes, Klarissa?”

“Why don't you have money?”

Lise smiled. “That's a complicated question... Actually, your question is simple but the answer is complicated...” Traffic cleared. “Hold my hands tight, gang --let's get across before the traffic starts up again.”

They sprinted across the street and Lise led them down a boulevard. The Varadan mid-day sun fell on her head, neck and shoulders. It was beginning to do its work, activating the chlorophyll in her skin and making sugars from carbon dioxide and water. It felt good --warm, satisfying, invigorating and relaxing at the same time. A full day in the sun would fill her of sunshine --with enough calories to last two or three days in the shade.

They reached the park. Klarissa and Geddes let go of her hands and sprinted toward a swing set.

“Lise!” Klarissa yelled. “Come push us.”

Lise stood between two swings and began pushing them. “Higher!” Klarissa yelled.

“That's plenty high.”

“Look! A sandbox!” Klarissa dragged her feet, tumbled out of the swing and ran. Geddes followed her.

Lise sat on a bench near the sandbox, stretched out her long legs, leaned back and lifted her face to the sun. She watched the twins play and saw others wandering through the park. Hers was the only green face, she realized, and imagined what the other adults must be thinking. How desperate must a parent be to employ a novonid as a nanny?

She was beginning to feel full of sunlight. Lise stood and approached the children. “Maybe we should head home now,” she said.

“I don't want to,” Geddes retorted.

“We want to be home when your mommy comes from work.”

“Why?” asked Klarissa.

“So she won't worry.”

Geddes bolted from the sandbox and headed for a hedge of native shrubs. “Geddes!” Lise called.

“Come on, Klarissa --let's see if we can find him.”

Lise walked to the spot where Geddes was hiding and pretended not to see him. “Where is he, Klarissa?” Klarissa giggled and soon Geddes was giggling, too. “There you are. Come on --let's go.”

They headed home. Geddes began to lag behind. “I'm tired,” he whined and sat on the sidewalk.

“I'll carry you,” Lise said and picked him up.

“Carry me, too!” Klarissa shouted. Lise stooped, picked her up and strode down the sidewalk with each child slung over a shoulder.

Lise heard the front door open and Megan walked in. “How did it go?”

“They're both napping, mam,” Lise whispered. “They're wonderful children. I love them both. Shall I come tomorrow, same time?”

“A bit earlier if you could.”

“Certainly, Ms Megan.”

“Oh, Lise?”

“Yes, mam?”

“Can we dispense with the Ms and mam? You can call me Megan.”

“Yes, m... Ms... Yes, Megan.” Lise smiled. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

Lise headed to the corner and waited at the bus stop. The bus routes were numbered and color coded. She knew which buses she needed to ride --a blue number eight, then transfer to a yellow number fourteen. One of the streetcars approached, marked with a blue circle with the number 8. She sprinted toward the rear of the bus, climbed onto the platform and held onto the overhead rail as it pulled into traffic.

She watched the foot traffic on the sidewalks as the bus worked its route, peering around the side at street and bus stop signs looking for her transfer point. This part of town was one where novonids weren't seen very frequently. She wondered how Megan's neighbors would react upon learning of her new nanny.

The bus reached a transfer point in Vyonna's business district. She hopped off the platform, crossed the street and waited for another bus to carry her to a sector within walking distance to the Green Zone. Lise descended the stairs to the basement apartment. She spotted Tagg's sketch lying on the bench, picked it up and examined it; then rolled it into a cylinder. Her eyes scanned the joists above for a suitable hiding place. Standing on the bench, she tucked it out of sight. She climbed to the courtyard and tended her garden of native plants, picking off spent blossoms and carrying water from the standpipe. The sun was still high in the afternoon sky and she stood to intercept the strongest rays.

Other novonid residents began to filter in from their jobs around the city. Some loitered in the courtyard and others on the streets outside. For many whose jobs were indoors, between quitting-time and dusk constituted their principal sunlight meal of the day.

Rayla and Grott came into the courtyard. Rayla lay flat on the concrete plaza. Grott headed below into the basement. Lise's eyes met her mother's. “How did it go?” Rayla asked. Lise nodded. “Well. Very well. They're two delightful children.”

“Good. How much scrip did you bring home?”

“None. Ramina says I must pay off her fees and expenses, first.”

“And here we are, thinking she was different.” She heard her stepfather's voice coming from the stairs leading below.

“She told me my registration and medical bills amount to four thousand units,” Lise protested.

“They all say that,” Grott replied. “Our owner has been telling us for years we still owe him this or that. We'll never see any of our wages. And --we can't quit because then he'd call us renegade and send bounty hunters after us.”

“We do owe her for Lise's registration,” Rayla said. “I for one am happy that's done. I'd lie awake worrying that some bounty hunter might spot her.”

“Ramina says she'll be paid after forty pay periods,” Lise added. “We won't owe her anything after that.”

“Besides,” Rayla noted, “she has her fertile breeder, now. We can argue whether or not transplanting Lise's ovary was our responsibility or hers. Remember --a male is worth one but a fertile female is worth ten.”

“It was the agreement,” Lise replied.

“That will be the test, won't it?” Grott said. “We'll see how she treats Lise after forty pay periods are up.”

III

“Lise! Wake up.” Rayla shook her.

“Mmmmph...”

“Grott and I are going to work. You said you needed to be up earlier.”

“Yes ... and I must ride the streetcars today.” She sat cross-legged on the mat and rubbed her eyes. Lise took a towel out to the courtyard. She scanned the area for Tagg and didn't see him. She began her bathing.

She rode the streetcar to Megan's home, changing lines in the center city. The busses were crowded and traffic was slowed by the commuting rush. She found house number 505, climbed to the door and pressed the chime.

Megan cracked open the door, smiled and let her in. “Klarissa and Geddes are finishing breakfast,”

she said. “Thank you for coming early... Lise --last night after you left Klarissa had a hundred and one questions about adopting novonids. I was wondering if you knew what prompted it.”

“She saw a BSS announcement on the mediascreen,” Lise replied. “Klarissa is a bright girl who thinks about things.”

“She certainly always is thinking.”

“I know this topic could be awkward, especially since I don't know your circumstances. I'm grateful for the work you've given me. I'm aware that females are often adopted out of the shelters to serve as caregivers, and...” Megan closed her eyes and shook her head. “Did I say something wrong?”

“Not at all, Lise. I can see you think about things, too.” Megan lowered her voice. “I would never own one of you because I don't believe in it.”

“Someone has to own us. I'd rather it be a kindly person like yourself than some of the owners.”

“I never looked at it that way. I agreed to hire you because I'm comfortable with how Ramina runs her end of it. The city gives me a stipend toward the twins' day care. I prefer the individual attention you can give them, rather than sending them to a center. I'm telling you this, Lise, in case one of them starts asking you awkward questions.”

“I understand. Thank you, Megan.”

“Now --I must be on my way.”

“Before you go... Yesterday the twins convinced me you permit them to watch a program on the mediascreen ... 'Ask Jaks.'”

“That horrid thing? I hope you didn't let them.”

“I'm afraid I did. I watched it with them and realized it probably wasn't ... appropriate.”

“I suppose once won't injure them too badly. I hate that program. I wonder why they play it at a time when little ones are at home.”

“I'll make sure they don't watch it today. Have a good day, M...Megan.”

The twins' mother headed out the door.

Lise filled a glass with water and sat with Klarissa and Geddes at the kitchen table. Klarissa regarded her. “Don't you eat anything?”

“Not much,” Lise replied. “We talked about this yesterday. I get my food from the sun.”

“You don't eat at all?”

“We must eat for protein and minerals,” Lise replied, “once every two or three days. I do need to drink lots of water.”

“Do you go to the bathroom?” Klarissa asked. Geddes giggled.

“Yes.”

“Do you pee or poo?”

“I do both --though I don't poo very often.” Geddes giggled again. “What's funny, Geddes?”

“That you poo.”

“Why is it funnier for me than you?”

“Because you're different,” Klarissa interjected.

“Yes, I am --but I'm also like you.” She took Klarissa's hand and pressed it against her wrist. “I have a pulse like you do.”

“Let me feel,” Geddes said. Klarissa felt her own wrist.

Klarissa rubbed her finger along Lise's forearm and then examined her fingertips. “It doesn't rub off,”

Lise said.

“Oh! It's time for 'Ask Jaks,” Klarissa said.

“You're not going to watch it,” Lise replied. “Your mommy gave me explicit orders. It's not an appropriate show for children your age. I don't think it's appropriate for anyone.” She turned to Geddes.

“You lied to me yesterday when you said you always watched it --didn't you?” Geddes sat stone-faced.

“Geddes --and, Klarissa, too --we can't have lying. Some day it may be very important that I believe something you say. I need to know I can trust you. I won't lie to you. Don't lie to me.”

Klarissa looked at the floor. Geddes sat, closed his eyes and began to breath deeply and deliberately. He reached into himself for something and found it. His lip began to quiver and tears began to flow. “I want to watch Jaks!” he exclaimed, sobbing. “Please, let me watch Jaks.”

“This isn't going to work, Geddes,” Lise said. “You might as well save your effort.”

“I WANNA WATCH JAKS!” Geddes shrieked. He fell on the floor and began pounding his fists and kicking.

“Come on, Klarissa,” Lise said. “Let's go into the bedroom and I'll read you a story or something.”

“YOU can read?”

“Of course I can. Come on...”

Klarissa accompanied Lise into the bedroom she shared with Geddes. Geddes followed them, wailing, and threw himself onto the floor.

Lise picked up the squirming boy, carried him to the living room and set him on the floor. “You can carry on all you want, but you're NOT going to disrupt our story.”

Geddes doubled and redoubled the volume of his wailing. “Okay, Klarissa --what shall we read?”

The door chime sounded. “Just a minute...”

Lise opened the door to a middle-aged white woman. The woman looked her up, down and up again. “Hello --my name is Lise. Megan hired me to watch her twins.”

“What is the commotion?”

“Geddes is throwing a tantrum because I won't let him watch 'Ask Jaks.'”

“Is that all it is? It sounded like someone was being flayed...”

“I'm letting him wear himself out.”

The woman lowered her voice. “I've baby-sat for Megan. Geddes is a strong-willed boy. I think you're handling it the right way.”

“Sorry to have disturbed you.”

Lise joined Klarissa in her bedroom and began reading a story from an electronic book device. Geddes's wailing tapered off to silence. Lise looked into the living room and saw him, lying asleep in a puddle of tears and drool. She picked Geddes up and placed him on his bed. Lise let Geddes nap. He roused around lunch time, walked into the kitchen and sat at the table, avoiding eye contact.

“Here's your lunch, Geddes,” Lise said. The boy turned his head away. “Geddes --let's get something straight. I don't care if you like me or hate me. Well --I DO care --I'd rather you like me. I like you --I think you are a darling little boy. But --if you hate me ... well, I can live with that. You must understand, when I'm watching you...” She tapped her chest. “I'm the one in charge, here. I will not take direction from a child. Do you understand me?”

Geddes turned his face toward Lise and stuck out his tongue. Lise stuck hers out in reply. Geddes suppressed a giggle. “Good,” Lise said. “Now, we have that straight.”

Lise heard the front door open. Megan walked in. “Megan!” Lise exclaimed. “Is something wrong?”

“We had a problem at the factory where I work. They let every one go home early. If you'd like, you can have the afternoon off.”

“You're sure?”

“Yes --I won't dock you for the time.”

Lise lowered her voice. “You're SURE everything's all right?”

“Yes, Lise.” Megan grasped Lise's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “It's sweet of you to be concerned. A pipe broke and flooded the place. It'll probably be on the news tonight. They should have everything back to normal by morning. Since I'm getting the afternoon off with pay, so should you.”

“Thank you. I'll say good bye to the twins and see you in the morning.”

Lise stood on the platform at the rear of the bus heading toward the Green Zone. The route took her through sector ten. She saw the park and a green figure sitting on a bench holding a pad. The bus pulled to a stop. She hopped off the platform and walked through the park to where Tagg sat. He was sketching a portrait of a little boy, handed it to a woman and received in return a scrip card. He held it to the light, then slipped it into his pocket.

“Hi, Tagg.”

He jumped. “Lise! What are you doing here? You weren't fired on your second day, were you?”

“No --I have the afternoon off. I can't believe what I just saw. She gave you scrip for that sketch.”

“Of course she did.” He pulled the card from his pocket. Lise snatched it and looked at the punches.

“There are two and a quarter units left on this.”

He reached into another pocket. “Here's what I have for today.” He handed her a stack of scrip cards.

Lise looked through them. Most of them were completely used except for one or two punches -pocket change. She began adding them up in her head. “Tagg --you have nine and a half units here.”

“Not bad for half a day's work. I tell you, Lise --I have more scrip than I ever had when I was working.”

“If you sketch me --do you really think you can sell it?”

“I do. I can probably get four or five units for it.”

“Four or five units?”

“I'll give you half I make of any sketches of you that I can sell.”

“What are we waiting for? Let's go sketch.”

Tagg picked up his pad and tucked it under his arm. Together they headed to the bus stop, climbed onto the back of one and rode to a stop near the Zone.

“Come on,” Lise said and broke into a sprint. Tagg ran after her. They reached his apartment building. She followed him up the stairs to the top floor. He turned the knob on a door, cracked it open and poked his head inside. “They're all gone --all at their jobs,” he said. He rolled back a mattress on the floor and scooped up another handful of scrip cards. “Look at this, Lise.”

She took the cards and began totaling them. “Seventeen units! Add to that the nine and a half today... Tagg --I have never seen so much scrip.”

“Let me sketch you. We'll make us rich.”

“What do I do?” Lise asked.

“Sit on that window-sill,” Tagg said. “Put your legs out ... now, bend your knee. No --the other one. Lean forward and hug your shin...”

Lise giggled. “Like this? This is uncomfortable.”

“I'm fast,” Tagg replied. “It's one reason the whites like to watch me draw.” He uncapped his marking pen and began sketching. “Almost done --there!”

“Let's see...” Lise jumped down from the sill and looked at his work. “That's nice, Tagg.”

He looked up. “I don't know if I can sell this one. I know I could if you were nude.”

“Nude! No way, Tagg.”

“It's for art,” he protested. “Pictures of nude girls always sell.”

“Some art... Do you really think so?”

“I know so. Pose again and I'll make you nude in the sketch. You don't have to take your clothes off.”

Lise climbed back onto the window-sill. Tagg began sketching.

“...There!” He showed her the drawing.

“That's not how I look,” she said. “It's not how any female looks.”

“It's not?” He tilted the sketch from side to side.

“No, it's not. Tagg --a woman's breast hangs like a bag of water on her chest. They don't ... stick out like that. Mine don't, at least. And you got ... other things wrong, too.”

“I've never seen a nude female.” He handed her the stylus. “Show me what it's supposed to look like.”

Lise made a couple of marks on the pad. “I can't,” she said handing the stylus back to Tagg. “I've never been any good at drawing.”

He tore the sketch in half. “I can't sell that one. Lise --it would be a big help if you posed nude for me.”

“No, Tagg. I'm not taking my clothes off. Why does it have to be a nude?”

“Because I know it'll sell. Lise --the most I've ever gotten for a picture has been two and a half units. I KNOW I could get five for a nude of you. You're so pretty... I'm sure I could.”

“Five units, Tagg?”

“Well ... four units easily. Come on, Lise... No one will know the picture's of you. They're whites who buy them --whites who never set foot in the Zone.”

“I don't know, Tagg...”

“My roommates won't be home for a while yet. We'll have privacy.”

She looked at him for a long moment. “Oh, all right... But --if I take my clothes off, so do you.”

“Why?”

“Fair's fair, don't you think? I'm not going to sit naked unless you do, too.”

He looked at her for another long moment. “All right --fair's fair.”

Lise slipped off her sandals, removed the bandeau and slid down her shorts. Tag removed his shorts and sat on the bench.

“How should I pose?” she asked.

“Same way.”

Lise sat on the window-sill again and Tagg began sketching.

“It's taking longer this time,” she said.

“I want to get it right... I see what you mean about your breasts. I had them all wrong... You are beautiful, Lise.” He sketched more. “What are those scars on your stomach?”

She looked down at the incisions. “That's where I had my tubes tied.”

“What does that mean?”

“So I can't get pregnant. You know I'm a oneshot and giving birth would kill me...”

“Yes --I've heard that. I've also heard your stepfather promised to kill any man who made you pregnant.”

“Now, I can't get pregnant. It was part of the deal that got me registered.” She glanced out the window. “I wonder if anyone down there can see me. I hope not. Hurry up.”

“Almost done. There.”

Lise hopped down and looked at it. “Oh, Tagg!” she gasped. “I don't know...”

“Don't know about what?”

“Oh, it's very good. I don't know if I like the idea of me hanging on someone's wall --a naked me.”

“Like I said, it's for art. I'll tell you what --I'll take both sketches with me to the park tomorrow. We'll see which one sells. I have to sign it...” He made a moniker of a T inside a circle. “There...” He held up the nude. “If this sells, I'll give you all the scrip.”

“Only half,” she replied. “Fair's fair.” She glanced at him. Her eyes stopped, staring at his firmly aroused manhood. Her jaw dropped. “TAGG!”

He covered himself with the sketchpad. “I didn't want you to notice. Don't tell me you've never seen one before.”

“Never one in that state.”

“Oh, Lise... I love you, Lise. I've loved you ever since we were youths playing in the courtyard. You're the most beautiful girl...” He approached her, hugged her and began kissing her face, neck and shoulders. “I love you so much.”

“Tagg... Don't.”

“I can't help myself.” He took her hand and drew her to him. “I've wanted you, but I know what Grott said. Now you can't get pregnant...”

“Please, Tagg ... no.” She folded her arms tightly across her breasts.

“Oh, Lise...” He pulled her onto his lap and kissed her. She felt his hand on her thigh.

“TAGG! I said NO!”

He stopped, released her and she stood. Tagg picked up the clothes she had stacked on the floor and handed them to her, looking away. He turned his back to her, grabbed his shorts and began to pull them on.

“Wait, Tagg...” He turned and she looked into his orange eyes. “I changed my mind. It's a female's prerogative, isn't it?”

“You want to?”

“Yes, I do.” She unfastened his shorts, pulled them off him and began kissing his abdomen and hips. Tagg scooped her up and carried her to his mattress. They lay beside each other, caressing each other's skin. He kissed her lips and nuzzled her neck; then covered her breasts with kisses and caresses.

“Tagg... This is my first time.”

“Mine, too. There aren't many females here in the Zone ... not many who'd want me, at least. But, I know what to do.”

“How do you know?”

“The other men in this apartment talk about it. I've done it dozens of times in my dreams --with you, Lise. What made you change your mind?”

“It's for me to know,” she replied.

“Please tell me.”

“Stop pressing me, Tagg --before I change it back.” Tagg resumed kissing her. He groped her breast. “Not so hard... TAGG!”

Lise grabbed a handful of his flesh and squeezed. “Ouch!” he exclaimed. “That hurt.”

“That's what you've been doing. Think how it feels to me.” She kissed his cheek. “Now, don't pout...”

She ran her hand along his smooth chest. “Like this ... gentle. Doesn't that feel better?”

“Yes...”

“Remember --girls like it soft. And, you don't have to smash your face against mine when you kiss me.” She brought her face to his and kissed his lips. Then she kissed him again, parted her lips and touched his with the tip of her tongue. Tagg responded in kind and they took turns each exploring the other's mouth. “Isn't that better?”

“I'll say...”

“And, slow down a little..”

“I thought you said this was your first time...” Tagg began covering her body with soft kisses. He smoothed his hand along her skin. “Lise... you look beautiful ... you smell beautiful ... you taste beautiful...” He explored the shape of her breast with his fingertips.

“That feels good, Tagg... But, not too much at once.” She ran her fingers down his arm, tracing the outlines of his muscles. “That's better ... much better... Mmm... Both hands like that...” Her heart was racing. She closed her eyes as her body relaxed, and rolled her head to the side. A warm, throbbing sensation grew deep in her pelvis.

Tagg eased her onto her back and knelt between her thighs. He bit his lip. Lise closed her eyes. She felt a sting as he lay atop her. “Ahh!” she exclaimed.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes. Don't stop.”

Tagg eased his full weight onto her. “Does it still hurt?”

“No ... not much. It feels good. Do your thing, Tagg.” He closed his eyes and bit harder on his lip.

“Go ahead, Tagg.” She wrapped her legs around his, caressed his calves with hers and grasped his buttocks.

“I'm ... trying ... not to...”

“Not to what?”

Tagg arched his back. “OH!” he gasped through wide-open mouth. “Oh, Lise!” He pressed his hips against hers and she felt the force of his ejaculation. “Oh!” he grunted and looked into her face. “That. That ... was what I was trying not to do.”

“Isn't ... that ... the whole point?”

“Yes... But... The man's supposed to last a while. One of my roommates boasts how long he can ... I hardly lasted an instant. I'm sorry, Lise.”

“It's all right, Tagg. You can't trust what men say. They exaggerate.”

“Oh Lise, I'm so sorry. I wanted it to be perfect for you.”

“Tagg --was the first sketch you drew perfect?”

“...no... I haven't done a perfect one yet.”

“You've done some that are very good --even if your first one wasn't. Next time, maybe you won't be so ... eager.”

“Next time? There'll be a next time?”

“I love you, too Tagg. I've wanted this, too.” She slipped her arms around his shoulders and kissed him. “Of course there'll be a next time.”

Tagg lifted himself off her. “Let me see if I have a towel or something ... see how bad you're bleeding.” He approached her with a cloth and dabbed her. “Not bad... Look.”

Lise felt herself and examined her finger. “I'll live. I should get home before quitting time and your roommates start coming back.”

She slipped into her clothes, took Tagg's hand and the descended flights of stairs to the ground level.

“You have to tell me,” Tagg said. “What made you change your mind?”

“Tagg... If you ask me again... There won't be another time.”

“Okay... Okay.” They reached the courtyard. Tagg kissed her. “I'll take your sketch to the park tomorrow.” He kissed her again. “I love you, Lise.”

Lise trotted down the steps into her basement home. It was too early for Grott and Rayla to be home. She stripped off her shorts and examined them with a scowl. From a crate holding her personal belongings she withdrew an old top and shorts and slipped into them. She carried her soiled costume to the courtyard, where she placed the garments into a bucket and filled it from the standpipe. After a thorough rinsing she wrung out the water and spread them on the low concrete wall to dry in the sun. The water in the bucket she dumped onto the plants in her garden; then she spent the rest of the afternoon weeding and pruning them.

Rayla stepped through the gate and Lise spotted her. “Good afternoon, Mother. Where's Grott?”

“He'll be along.” Rayla lay on her back on the concrete bench. “I am so sunstarved today. Grott's lucky. He gets to work outdoors.” She stretched. “The sun feels good. We need to feed tonight. Go see if we have enough food.”

Lise ducked into the basement. “We have two cans,” she called from the stairs.

“Good... I don't feel like going out to get some. I need all my strength for my rounds tonight.”

“Why do you do that, Mother?”

“We've all agreed. There are so many more males here than females. When the men aren't satisfied -they become frustrated. Frustration leads to resentment ... resentment leads to rage ... rage leads to violence.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

Rayla lifted herself onto her elbows. “Such a question.” She lay back down. “No --I block it out. I only enjoy it with Grott. I let myself enjoy it with him. He understands --not that he likes the situation very much, but he understands.”

“All the men in the Zone share all the women?”

“That's right.”

“Maybe I should start making rounds, then. It's safe for me now --I can't get pregnant.”

“There will be time for that, Lise. No need for you to rush into it.”

IV

Dusk had fallen. Rayla ignited lanterns made from empty cans, fueled by discarded grease from fry shops near the Zone. She worked a hand can opener on the remaining two cans of special novonid diet. Opened, she divided their contents between three bowls and handed one each to Grott and Lise.

“Once I've paid Ramina,” Lise said, “we'll have one hundred units per pay period.”

“Don't count your scrip until you have it in your hand,” Grott admonished. She scooped a spoonful of the pink mineral-and-protein nutrient paste. “I'll want to make some changes. For starters, we can buy fresh food instead of feeding on discards.”

“This food is perfectly edible,” Rayla replied.

“Yes --but, wouldn't it be nice to have some fresh food --and, some variety like the whites have to feed their novonid servants.”

“What good is variety?” Grott asked. “Food is food.”

“Maybe we could buy some real mattresses from the second-hand shops... get some building materials and make real rooms down here.” She scooped another spoonful. “You work on construction, Father. You'd know how to divide this space into rooms.”

“I've watched the tradesmen enough,” Grott replied.

“How did your day go?” Rayla asked.

“Very well.” Lise giggled. “One of the twins threw a tantrum because I wouldn't let him watch a mediascreen show. He kicked and hollered so much that one of the neighbors came to check.”

“Oh? What did this neighbor say?”

“Only that she thought I was dealing with it in the right way.”

“I wonder what she'll say to the other neighbors,” Grott mused.

“Be careful, Lise,” Rayla added.

“I know... Once I'm bringing real money into this family, I want something else. I want Tagg to move in.”

“Tagg?” Grott looked up, holding his spoon in mid-air. “Why Tagg?”

“I want to pair with him --they way you and Mother are paired.”

“With Tagg? That scrawny, stunted, weak, little runt? He can't even hold down a job.”

“Tagg is a very good artist. He sells his drawings in the park over in sector ten.” Lise stood on the bench and retrieved the portrait sketch. “See?”

Rayla held the drawing to the lantern. “When did he draw this?”

“The other day. He sits in the park and sketches and sells them to the whites.”

“He's begging,” Grott retorted. “The constables will make short work of this activity.”

“No, he's not. He's selling them to the whites, and drawing portraits. He even has sold some to the constable that patrols the park.”

“Why would you want to pair with him?” Rayla asked.

“We love each other. Besides --if he doesn't come live here, the two of us can find a place of our own.”

“What makes you think you can do that?”

“Because --once a male and a female pair --they can have a place of their own. It's one of the rules of the Zone.”

“There's only one rule in the Zone,” Grott replied. “Might makes right”

“Grott's right, Lise. The only reason we can keep this place is because there's no one willing to call him out. They know he's stronger than any of them. It's why he's an elder.”

“What about another rule?” Lise asked. “The one with the most money gets his way. Right now Tagg has more scrip than I've ever seen you two hold --combined!”

“Scrip can be taken away from you,” Grott replied. “There's no way Tagg could hold onto a place of his own --unless it's a closet or a polyboard carton somewhere no one else wants. Face the reality of that, Lise.”

“And, how do you know you love him?” Lise's mother asked.

“Have you been sleeping with him?” Grott asked.

“...No. We haven't slept together.”

Rayla's eyes narrowed. “Have you had sex with him?” Lise looked at her feet. “Have you?”

Lise could feel their eyes boring into her. “...Yes... Once.”

“When?”

“This afternoon.”

“Did he force himself on you?” Grott asked. “If he did I'll teach that runt a lesson...”

“No, he did not,” Lise retorted.

“Of course he didn't,” Grott replied. “He doesn't have enough strength to force himself onto a white woman, much less a green one.”

“Now Grott,” Rayla admonished. She looked at her daughter. “Lise! You were having sex with Tagg when you were supposed to be at your job?”

“NO! Meg... Ms Megan came home early. She said there was a flood in her factory --it was on the news.”

Rayla nodded. “I do recall hearing of a problem in Quadrant Three. Go on.”

“She gave me the afternoon off. On the ride home I spotted Tagg in the park. We went to his apartment and he drew more sketches of me...”

“And then you had sex.”

“Yes. We both wanted it, Mother.”

“I knew it!” Grott said. “I knew if we agreed to that surgery it was a matter of days before she'd turn into a slut.”

“I'm NOT a slut. I don't go out, night after night and service dozens of men.”

Grott approached her, lifted his hand and stopped. “You had better get out of my sight. Now!”

Lise set down her half-finished bowl of pink paste and bolted up the stairs to the courtyard. She sat on the concrete bench and buried her face in her hands.

She felt a hand on her shoulder. “Lise...”

“Oh, Mother --I'm so sorry. It just blurted out. I didn't mean it.”

Rayla held her. “I know you didn't. All this is so strange to me. Growing up on the pomma farm --I never had to worry about ... about having a family or a man in my life. The overseers took care of that. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to tell you to do.”

“Do YOU think Tagg is so bad?”

“He wouldn't be my choice. Why is he yours? You're a pretty girl, Lise. If you're determined to pair with someone --you can have your pick of men.”

“I picked Tagg. He really cares for me. I know we could make a family. I know there are orphans here in the Zone who need a home. We'd take one in...”

“It's not how it works for us --not for our kind.”

“It is more and more so these days. More and more brokers are turning us loose here in the Zone -to our own devices.”

Rayla nodded. “And, to our own pairings. How do you know Tagg really cares for you?”

“This afternoon... He started to force himself on me...”

“You had better tell me the whole story,” Rayla interrupted, “from the beginning.”

“We went over to his apartment --the one he shares with those other men. Of course they were all at their jobs so we had the place to ourselves. Tagg wanted to sketch me, so I posed for him ... nude.”

“You took your clothes off in front of him? Lise! --what did you THINK would happen?”

“I wasn't thinking about it. He did sketches ... good sketches. Then --he was ... you know ... big...”

“I think I can picture it --without a sketch.”

“He started kissing me and ... and touching me...

“It is a good thing Grott's not hearing this. He'd go out and fix Tagg so he couldn't molest another woman for the rest of his life.”

“Tagg didn't molest me. He started to. Then, I told him to stop and he stopped.”

“You told him to stop and he stopped?”

“Yes. He stopped and looked away and handed me my clothes. Right then, I knew how much he cared for me --he cared more for ME than for himself ... and I knew how much I cared for him.”

Rayla sat beside her daughter and held her hand. “You know... Grott was the same way. He watched out for me ... protected me. Not exactly the same, but I could see him doing something like that. I'll tell you, THAT in a man can make up for a lack of upper-body strength.”

“I told him I changed my mind. And then we...” She suppressed a giggle. “He was terribly bad at it.”

“Mmm... Most men are, at first. The good ones are, at least. It's the ones that know what they're doing you need to question. Where, exactly did they learn it?”

Lise looked at the pavement. “I had to show him...”

“I had to show Grott. At least he's a good learner. I suspect Tagg's a good learner, too.”

“So ... you don't mind Tagg?”

“Lise... You're the one who'll have to live with him. Why don't we agree to have this discussion again after you've paid Ramina... Maybe the situation will have changed.”

“Maybe Father will get used to the idea.”

“I don't know about that...” She kissed the top of Lise's head. “Come on --let's go do rounds together.”

“Tonight? I thought you said there was plenty of time.”

“There's no time like now. Wait here...”

Rayla headed down the stairs and returned with a can filled with the grease she used in the lamps.

“Here --use some of this.” Lise turned up her lip. “It makes it easier --trust me. Then, we'll do rounds and get it over with.”

“What will Father think?”

“What will Tagg think is the bigger question.”

Lise walked with Rayla toward the courtyard. “How many did you do?” Rayla asked.

“Eight --I think.”

“I did twelve.”

“They were nice to me. They were all very sweet.”

“They are nice men in this building,” Rayla replied. “How do you feel?”

“Sore.”

“You'll toughen up. We'll wash once we get back to the house. Grott hates it when I come in smelling of other men.”

“I stink of them,” Lise replied. “I think I can taste them.”

“So, you notice it, too... It wasn't like this on the pomma farm ... somewhat like this, maybe. There were ten males to every female. The overseers would assign us our partner for the night. The men wore sheaths to collect the sperm for the breeders. We had a freezing device in our rooms for that purpose. At least you felt clean in the morning ... the women were inseminated artificially ... it's how you were conceived. I don't even know who your father was.”

“Did you meet Grott on the farm?”

“No. We met after I was sold off the farm --with you a babe in my arms. You and I are both oneshots. They knew something was terribly wrong when I went into labor. I nearly died giving birth to you ... I would've --and you would've, too --if the farm's surgeon hadn't intervened. My womb is in tatters. I can never conceive again. As it was, it took me a long time to recover my strength. Then, I ... we ... you and I were sold. A male is worth one, and a female ten but a oneshot is worth nothing. That's when I met Grott. He had just been purchased from a neighboring farm. Our new owner turned us loose to fend for ourselves here in the Zone. It's cheaper than providing quarters for us.”

“You've told me this part already, Mother.”

“You know,” Rayla continued, “we were made for the farms. Our kind were human --white once. Our inventors gave us features to make us perfect farm workers. I wish I was back there, now. I know Grott wishes he was on the farm, picking pomma. This life we lead isn't what our designers intended.”

They reached the house. “Wait here, Lise...” Rayla descended the stairs; then returned with a bucket and two towels. “I'll wash you first --then you can do me the same way. Take off your shorts and lie on the bench.”

Lise complied. Rayla filled the bucket from the standpipe and began washing between her legs.

“Ow!”

“Sorry. Is that where you're tender?”

“Yes...”

“I put a little laundry soap in the bucket. That's why it smarts.” Rayla rinsed Lise with clear water from a can. She dabbed her daughter with a towel. “There.”

Lise wrapped the towel around her waist. Her mother stripped off her shorts and lay on the bench, her knees bent and her thighs open. Lise knelt and began washing her.

“That's good,” Rayla said. “Don't be shy, Lise. Be thorough. You can do a much better job than I could by myself.”

“Mother...”

“Yes, Lise.”

“Tonight ... tonight you're treating me like another adult --a friend ... not as your child.”

“You'll always be my daughter, Lise. Now, you are a woman. You'll never be a child again.”

“I don't think I like being a woman much.”

Lise dabbed Rayla with the towel. Her mother stood and wrapped herself. She picked up the two pairs of shorts and dumped them in the bucket. “We'll let them soak overnight --I'll deal with them in the morning. The night's young. We have plenty of time for a reading lesson for the little ones.”

Rayla looked up at the dull orange sky, illuminated by Vyonna's light pollution reflecting off haze. “I'm scared, Lise. The discipline is breaking down. I blame owners and brokers like ours. They dump us in the Zone and it's out-of-sight, out-of-mind. All these unregistered children here make me fear for what will happen once they reach your age. It's why I take it on myself to teach them to read, write and do sums. Poverty and ignorance are an explosive mixture. I can't do much about poverty, but ignorance is something I can address.”

Rayla descended the stairs and Lise followed. A single greaselamp lantern illuminated the basement. Grott sat on a bench. Rayla began lighting more lamps.

Lise approached him. “Father --I'm sorry for what I said.”

Grott's gaze swung toward the half-empty bowl of pink paste. “You had better finish that. We can't afford to waste it.”

Lise lay on her back on her mattress pad, her arms crossed above her head. Her bedroom walls consisted of worn sheets Rayla had scavenged from the industrial laundry where she worked. She could hear her parents speaking low to each other. She couldn't make out the words. Tonight she couldn't sleep. Most nights she slept like a log, but not tonight. The day's events kept scrolling through her mind --Geddes's tantrum, Tagg, the fight with Grott ... making rounds. The basement grew silent. Lise continued to lie, her orange eyes wide staring into the darkness. She heard the sound of a match and then saw the flicker of a greaselamp. The sheet dividing her room from her parents' glowed with yellow light and she could make out their shadows thrown against it. Her mother was lying on her back. Grott knelt beside her, caressing her. Rayla put her arms around Grott's shoulders and drew his face to her breast. Then, she bent her knees and he slipped his hand between her legs. She arched her back began making soft moans. Lise could tell her mother was swallowing her groans and gasps, but the odd one escaped. She watched the shadows. Rayla reached up and hugged her husband. They kissed.

Now, Grott lay on his back. Rayla knelt astride his hips and began swaying. He reached for her breasts and the throttled moaning resumed. Lise turned away, lay on her side, closed her eyes and wished she could close her ears. Guttural sounds came from her stepfather. Then, the greaselamp was extinguished and darkness returned. She could smell smoke from the wick as the embers died. Rayla shook Lise awake. “Time to get up.”

“Mmmph.” Lise rubbed her eyes and sat up.

“You must learn to rouse yourself,” Rayla said, “if you're going to keep a job. Grott and I are on our ways.”

Lise arose and headed for the courtyard. She bathed and picked up her work clothes from the low wall where she had left them to dry. They had become damp from dew in the night air.

“Lise!” She looked up and saw Tagg approaching in a fast trot. “Lise... Lise --I hear you went on rounds last night.”

“That's right.”

“Why? How could you?” She turned her back to him. He grasped her upper arm and turned her to face him. “How could you?”

“Let go of me.” Her orange eyes met his, then looked at the pavement. “You know the rules. The men share the women. I was doing my duty.”

“How many?” She stared at her feet. “Lise --how many?”

“About eight. I wasn't counting.”

“Did you enjoy it?” She turned her head. “Lise --did you enjoy it?”

“Do you want to know? Do you really want to know?”

“Yes, I do.”

Her eyes filled. “It was awful --I hated it. I tried to block it out. And afterward I felt so ... so filthy.”

“I don't want you making rounds.”

“I have to, Tagg. I have to do my duty to keep the peace here. Aren't women making rounds in your building?”

“Yes --but, they never get round to me. If they did --I wouldn't want to. I only want to with you.”

“Tagg --you made me a woman yesterday. I must do my woman's duty. Now, I have to go to work.”

She picked up the damp top and shorts and bounded down the stairs. She slipped into the clothes; then looked around the basement and put things in order.

Lise climbed the steps. Tagg sat in the courtyard. “Lise...”

“I don't have time, Tagg.”

“Do you still love me?”

She approached him. “Of course I do. Do you still love me?”

“I'll never stop loving you, Lise.”

“Last night was my duty. Mother tells me after a while you learn to wall it off... She and Grott pretend it doesn't happen. So can we.”

“Can we ... you and I ... again?”

“I won't say no, Tagg. I don't know when, though.” She smiled. “I don't know when another pipe will break at Megan's factory. Now, I really have to go. I'll see you later, Tagg.” She kissed his cheek and headed toward the gate.

“Lise! I'll take that sketch to the park today.”

V

Lise forced open her eyes. Dawn twilight was filtering into her bedroom through the sill window. She arose and pushed aside the fabric sectioning off her room.

“Good morning,” Rayla said to her.

“Mmmph.” Lise sat on a bench. “I don't like getting up early.”

“You're no longer a care-free youth.”

“I had plenty of cares before.” She rubbed her eyes. “Just different ones.” She grabbed a towel and bucket and headed to the courtyard to bathe.

She wrapped the towel around her waist and dumped the last of her bath water onto her garden. Another novonid woman approached. She was pregnant and had a little boy in tow. “Lise!”

“Oh, good morning Glinda.”

“Lise --can you watch Rinn for me today?”

“I wish I could. I have a job now.” She looked into Glinda's eyes. “What's wrong, Glinda?”

“My owner was found dead last night ... murdered.”

Lise put her hand to her lips. “Oh, my...”

“The constables want to speak with me. They're waiting outside the Zone.”

“They certainly don't think you...”

“Of course not. They're interviewing the novonids she owned. We're also meeting with the Benevolent Shelter Society. It might take most of the day and I can't leave Rinn alone.”

“All right --I'll watch him.”

“But --you said you have a job.”

“My job is minding two white children about his age. I can't imagine their mother would object if he tagged along.”

Glinda opened her arms and hugged Lise. “Thank you.”

“What will happen to you?”

“I don't know. Now I mustn't keep the constables waiting.”

“I'll take good care of Rinn.”

She watched Glinda head across the courtyard.

“Come on, Rinn...” She took the boy's hand and led him down the steps. “Mother! We have company.”

Rayla looked at the little novonid boy. “Hello, Rinn.” She turned to Lise. “What's he doing here?”

“Glinda asked me to watch him.”

“How can you do that?”

“I'll take him with me to Megan's. I can't imagine she'd object.”

“I don't know about that, Lise.”

“There's no one else to watch him. This place is deserted during the day. Believe me --I know. I spent many a day confined here before I was registered.”

“What about Tagg? He has nowhere to go.”

Lise looked up at her mother. “Tagg... Mmm ... no. He goes to the park and sketches. Rinn's a nice little boy. We'll be fine.”

Rayla shook her head.

“Mother --Glinda said her owner was murdered.”

“That's the second one in ten days.”

“Do you think they're connected?”

“I wouldn't know.”

“What would happen to us if your owner --or, Ramina --died?”

“That's a good question. We'd probably be auctioned off --or end up in a BSS shelter.”

“So --there's a chance we'd be separated.”

Rayla nodded. “A good chance.”

“I know Ramina's intent was for me to remain living here with you. She doesn't consider me one of hers. It's more like she's brokering my labor.”

“It doesn't matter what Ramina intends You are registered to her --in the eyes of the law, she is your owner.”

“What about your owner?” Lise asked.

“It upsets me to think about this,” Rayla replied.

“We have to think about it, don't we?”

“There is nothing we can do about it, so worrying is wasted effort.”

“The next time I see Ramina,” Lise replied, “I'm going to ask her. Can you watch Rinn for a moment while I dress?”

Lise led Rinn through the gate and toward the bus stop. “Have you ever ridden a streetcar?” she asked.

Rinn looked up and shook his head.

“You'll have to hold onto me tight.”

The bus pulled to a stop. Lise climbed onto the platform and extended her arm to lift Rinn. She held the rail while the little boy hugged her leg. “That's it --hold on!”

The bus worked its route to the transfer point. Lise guided Rinn to the sidewalk. “Now we wait for a yellow number eight.” She leaned to look down the street. “I think this is one coming.”

Rinn held on as the bus carried them to Megan's neighborhood. Lise took his hand and walked to number 505. She rang the bell.

Megan opened the door. “Good morning,” Lise said.

“Good morning, Lise. It looks like it's going to rain today...” Megan's gaze shifted to the little boy.

“This is Rinn.”

“Lise... I'm paying to have you watch Klarissa and Geddes.”

“I know you are. I'm sorry, but Rinn has no one else to watch him today. I've minded him before. He's a nice little boy --very quiet. He won't need anything, except for some water. He'll be no problem, and it's just for today.”

Megan knelt down. Rinn moved back and behind Lise's leg. “Oh, Lise --he has the biggest and saddest eyes... Hello, Rinn. Welcome to our home.”

Lise placed her hand between Rinn's shoulder blades and pushed him into the house. Klarissa and Geddes were sitting on the floor playing with plush toys in the shapes of native Varadan animals.

“Why does he need watching today?” Megan asked.

“His mother's owner was found murdered.”

“My goodness!”

“She must meet with the authorities and maybe a BSS caseworker.”

“BSS? Do they get involved?”

“Yes, for now.”

“What will happen to her?”

“We don't know. She could go to auction, or she might end up in a BSS shelter.”

“They wouldn't separate Rinn from her ... would they?”

Lise shook her head. “No --he's too young. It's likely she'll be separated from the man she lives with, though.”

“Something like that could happen to you.”

“It could happen to any of us.”

“Oh, Lise...” Megan shook her head. “The monstrosity of what we've done to you --to your kind ... just sank in.”

“I look at it from the other side,” Lise replied. “I'm happy to be registered and to have an owner. Before, I spent my life hiding in the shadows and fearing the bounty hunters.” She tapped the registry tattoo above her left breast. “Now, no one can take me. I'm happy to be working for you.”

“Still...” Megan turned to her children. “Klarissa ... Geddes... This is Rinn. He'll be staying with us today. He's a guest in our home --remember that and treat him as one. Now, I'm on my way to work.”

She picked up an umbrella and headed out the door.

One of the twins approached Rinn. “Hi. I'm Klarissa.”

Rinn followed her into the living room and sat on the floor. Lise watched them playing with a toy truck and the plush animals. She spotted the electronic book reader, picked it up and flicked through the titles. She sat in a chair, opened one of the titles and began reading. Her abilities were at a middle-school level; nonetheless she never missed an opportunity to practice. She encountered a word she didn't know and puzzled over it. With her finger she pointed to the syllables. Her finger touched the screen and the definition popped up. She smiled and continued reading.

Geddes let out a shriek. “It's MINE!” He lunged for something Rinn held. Rinn was slow to release his grasp. Geddes made a fist and brought it down onto the bewildered boy's forearm. Rinn let go.

“GEDDES!” Lise exclaimed.

“It's mine!”

“It's his favorite,” Klarissa explained.

“Geddes --you shouldn't have hit Rinn.”

“He shouldn't have taken it.”

“Maybe not --but hitting is never the right way to solve it. Apologize to Rinn.”

“No!”

“Geddes --apologize or go to your room.”

His lip began to tremble. “Why are you siding with HIM?”

“Because YOU hit him. Now --apologize.”

“Stupid greenie...”

“Geddes!” Klarissa exclaimed. “Mommy would wash your mouth out for that.”

“Geddes,” Lise said, “go to your room until you calm down.”

Clutching the toy, Geddes darted into the bedroom. Klarissa was stroking Rinn's forearm. “Lise -are you going to wash Geddes's mouth?” she asked. Lise shook her head. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because Geddes was angry and sometimes we say things in anger we don't mean.”

“Doesn't it make YOU angry?”

“If there were hate behind his words, maybe. I try not to be angry with the things little girls and boys say.” She opened her arms and scooped up Rinn. He sat on her lap and she held him.

“Rinn,” Klarissa said, “Geddes didn't mean it.”

“Klarissa --why don't you pick up the toys? Then the three of us can sit on the sofa and I'll read a story.”

Lise took a plate from the refrigerated cabinet, removed the polymer film and set it before Klarissa. She filled a tumbler with water and handed it to Rinn. “I wonder if Geddes is ready to join us...”

She stepped into the bedroom. “Geddes --come have some lunch.” He started to stand. “You still have to apologize to Rinn.” Geddes sat on the bed, crossed his arms and turned his face. “I think you really are sorry you hit him.” Tears began to flow down his cheeks. “Why is it so hard to say you're sorry?”

“You're siding with him because he's one of you!”

“No, Geddes. You hit him. If it had been the other way around --I'd have come down on Rinn.”

“I don't believe you.”

Lise knelt so she could look him in the eye. “Your lunch is on the table, Geddes. Before you eat, you must apologize to Rinn. Otherwise you'll go hungry. Then, when your mother comes home --she'll wonder why you didn't eat your lunch and I'll be forced to tell her the whole, awful story. You don't want that, do you?”

Geddes broke eye contact and looked down.

“If you apologize, you can have your lunch. What happened will stay between the two of us. Understood?” Geddes stuck his lip out and closed his eyes. “I'll let you think about it. But --don't take too long. Once I put your plate away, I'm not bringing it out again.”

She returned to the kitchen. Rinn sat at the table nursing a tall tumbler of water. Klarissa picked up half of a pomma bread sandwich. Out of the corner of her eye Lise saw Geddes approaching. He stood at arm's length from Rinn.

“I'msorryIhityou,” Geddes mumbled. He sat at the table and picked up his sandwich. He looked up.

“I said I was sorry,” he said and turned toward Lise. “Why don't he say something? Can't he talk?”

Lise put her hand on Rinn's bare back. “He's shy ... and he's frightened. This is his first experience with white people. Finish your lunch, Geddes, so I can put the plates away. Then we'll sit and I'll let you watch some mediascreen. But --no Jaks.”

She herded the children into the living room, sat on the sofa and picked up the book reader. Rinn sat beside her and leaned against her.

Klarissa came from her room carrying an object. It was a plush toy in the shape of a worm. “Here, Rinn,” she said. “You can have him. He needs a good home.” She held it toward him.

“Go ahead and take it.”

Rinn hesitated and grasped the toy.

“What do you say?” Lise asked.

“...thank ... you...” Rinn whispered.

“That was very sweet, Klarissa,” Lise added. “Thank you very much.”

Rinn hugged Lise's leg as they rode the streetcar. She pressed the stop request and the bus pulled to the curb. Lise helped the boy to the street and held his hand as they walked to a row house. She pressed the bell. The door opened. “Fara...” Lise said.

“Hello, Lise... Come in.”

Lise pushed Rinn through the door. She looked Fara up and down. Her thighs and hips were fuller, her ribs less distinct and the muscle definition in her abdomen softer. And, Lise spied two unmistakable bumps under the bandeau she wore. “You're looking more ... female. That didn't take long.”

“Yes,” Fara replied, “It was a healthy ovary you gave me. Ms Ramina said she knew from looking at you that you'd be a good donor. She said she wouldn't be surprised to learn you have especially strong female drives.”

Lise wondered if that explained Ramina's interest in her sex life.

“It's a shame,” Fara continued, “they're wasted on you --being a oneshot.” She ran her hands up and down her abdomen. “Now they won't be. I can't wait to be pregnant. Most of Ms Ramina's females have born five children by my age.”

“Really.”

“Yes, really. Maybe I'll get lucky and concieve twins.”

“May be... Is Ms Ramina in, Fara?”

“Certainly. I'll get her”

Ramina approached from the rear of the house. “Oh, Lise --you don't need to ring the bell. This house is your house.”

“I see Fara's doing well ... mam,” Lise replied.

“Yes --so far, so good. She's yet to have her first period, but I'm hopeful we can save the expense and bother of a second surgery.”

Lise swallowed hard. “A second surgery ... mam?”

“To harvest your other ovary, Lise. Sometimes the first one doesn't take. It's why we took only one

--to give us a second chance.” Ramina regarded her. “Let's not worry about it, child. It was a good, healthy one you gave her. Oneshots do often have strong hormones. I can see it in you. You're a very ... feminine specimen. I see it in your mother, too. I've since learned this surgery is common on the pomma farms when one of the females has atrophied ovaries. I'll tell you, Lise... I was at a loss as to what to do with Fara, until I heard of your situation.” Ramina spotted Rinn, knelt and addressed him. “Well, hello there. Aren't you a nice little boy. Lise --where did you find him?”

“He's Glinda's, mam. She lives in the Zone. Glinda has Rinn and she's pregnant with another. Her owner was murdered last night.”

“Oh, so he's one of Lenore's.” Ramina clicked her tongue. “Horrible stuff. Horrible. Of course, I would never say Lenore got what she deserved, but...”

“Mam?”

“It's a poor way to do business --letting your females roam and then taking the children when they're of age. There ought to be a regulation against such a one calling herself a breeder. That practice reflects poorly on the rest of us. On top of that --exposing herself to who-know-what kind of criminal influence. That's what you get when you deal with the Zone.” She looked into Lise's eyes. “Present company excepted, of course, Lise. You're a fine example from good stock.”

“Thank you, mam. Ms Ramina, I...”

“Yes, child?”

“What would happen to me ... to us ... to yours ... if anything should...”

“Lise... Have you been worrying?” She shook her head. “How you think about things. I've never met one who thinks of things the way you do. You shouldn't concern yourself about such.”

“But mam...”

“Despite how I look, Lise, I have quite a few years left in me.” She coaxed Rinn onto her lap. “It's working with little ones like him that keep me feeling young. It's my intention that all of mine are properly cared for.”

“By the BSS, mam?”

Ramina looked up at Lise. “Why, yes, Lise.”

“Thank you, mam. It's a relief. I'm watching Rinn so his mother can meet with the constables. I had him come with me to Meg... Ms Megan's house.”

Ramina glared at her with a scowl. “Lise, you should never do anything like that.”

“Oh, mam --I wouldn't have if I didn't know how nice and how quiet Rinn is. There are children in the Zone I would never...”

“He is a nice little boy. But, if I hear of this from Megan.” She shook her head. “I don't like having to apologize for the actions of mine, Lise. Don't do it again.”

“He got along well with Klarissa and Geddes ... pretty well, at least. Klarissa gave him one of her toys.”

“I know these things seem innocent enough, Lise, but they have a way of escalating.”

Lise took Rinn's hand and the boy slid off of Ramina's lap. “It won't happen again, Mam.”

“Good. Make sure it doesn't.” Ramina knelt. “Very nice meeting you, Rinn... He is quiet, isn't he?”

“Yes, mam.”

“The quiet ones make good workers.” Ramina addressed the boy. “Now, child, you must be on your way with Lise.”

“Yes ... mam...” Rinn replied in a barely audible whisper.

“Ms Ramina,” Lise said.

“What now, child?”

“Would you really have me go through another surgery?”

“Only after we've exhausted all other avenues,” Ramina replied, “and only if the surgeon agreed. We're a long way from that decision, Lise.”

“I understand ... mam.”

Lise escorted Rinn out of Ramina's row house and led him to the corner bus stop. A streetcar approached and stopped. Lise lifted Rinn onto the platform and the boy wrapped his arms around her knee.

Thoughts of anoter surgery brought back her memory of the first one. She had no desire to experience it again. If Ramina insisted on taking her remaining ovary --what would happen to her then?

Would she wither away and end up looking like ... like Tagg?

Her mother was right, Lise realized. It made no sense to worry about possibilities over which she held no control. The fact was, that as her owner Ramina held absolute authority over every aspect of Lise's life. That was what it meant to be born a novonid. This reality had never before been driven home with such force.

The bus reached the corner outside the Green Zone. Lise stepped off the platform. Holding Rinn's hand she led him through the gate and toward the courtyard. She saw her mother sunning on the concrete bench. Glinda sat on the stub wall.

Rinn let go of Lise's hand and ran toward his mother. Glinda scooped him up and kissed his cheek.

“What have we here?” She examined the plush toy.

“A present from one of the white children,” Lise replied.

“Isn't that something... Come on, Rinn.” The little boy trotted away with his mother.

“How did it go?” Rayla asked her daughter.

“Well. Pretty well. Where's father?”

“A meeting of elders. I don't expect him 'til late.”

“How's Glinda doing?”

“She spent all day with a BSS caseworker. Her owner didn't leave a will --not one that was filed, at least. She's under BSS custody until the estate gets sorted out. She told me something about the murder.”

“What?”

“Her owner was killed with a garrote.”

“A what?”

“A length of rope with a handle on each end. It's formed into a loop, slipped over the victim's head and then...” Rayla made a gesture of pulling her fists apart. “Quick and silent. It's a favorite weapon of the street thugs.”

“Do they think street thugs killed her?”

“No --they think it was made to look like that, though. She was killed getting out of her car --right before curfew. Someone had been lying in wait for her. Street thugs don't operate in that part of Vyonna.”

Lise saw Grott approach. “Hello, Father.”

“Is the meeting over already?” Rayla asked.

“No --it's still going on. I left early. I heard about all I could take.”

“What are they saying?”

“They're crazy. They think we can organize.”

“Organize?”

“Yes. If we work as a group, we become a force to be reckoned with. That's what they're saying. We've never been able to organize before.”

“Why not?” Lise asked.

“Because we can't organize the farms,” her mother replied. “Without the fieldworkers, there's no point in organizing.”

“Why can't we organize the farms?”

“Communication is too difficult,” Rayla replied. “The distances between farms are too great. Fieldworkers aren't permitted to have mediascreens. If one overseer found a mediascreen, every barracks on every farm would be torn apart looking for more.”

“That's what they're saying will be different, this time,” Grott said. “This thing is being organized by Mott.”

“Who's Mott?” Lise asked.

“He's a renegade,” Rayla replied. “He and his gang live on the far side of the Zone.”

“Some say he has his run of Vyonna,” Grott added, “he knows how to get around in the middle of the night despite curfew.”

“Yes,” Rayla added, “and some say he doesn't exist at all.”

“Why haven't I heard of him?” Lise asked.

“It's man talk,” Rayla replied. “You know how men like to talk.”

“Was Mott at the meeting?” Lise asked.

“No, but some of his gang were there. He's recruiting renegades and unregistereds and giving them shelter at his end of the Zone. They'll be the runners, going between the farms. Mott's training them to live in the hedgerows like the feral novonids do.”

“Training them?” Lise asked.

“Yes. He's training them how to steep minerals from the soil and how to trap small animals for protein.”

“Ugh!” Lise shuddered.

“That's an element I'd just as soon have out of the Zone,” Rayla replied. “Having them out in the hedgerows is fine with me.”

“And,” Grott continued, “they'll be equipped with mediascreens.”

Rayla snorted. “So the renegades have mediascreens. You know I've been wanting one.”

“You don't need a mediascreen,” Grott answered back.

“Father, what's wrong with her having one?”

“It's a needless ... thing,” he replied. “They say Mott's working with the street thugs, too. That's where the money to do this is coming from. There's even talk that Mott was responsible for killing Glinda's owner.”

“Do you think it's likely?”

“I wouldn't know.”

“She was garroted,” Rayla added.

“I hadn't heard that.”

“Glinda just told me this afternoon.”

Grott nodded. “That's one of Mott's signatures.”

“Why not go to the constables with it?” Lise asked.

“They're not interested in hearing any green talk,” Rayla replied.

VI

Lise arrived at number 505 and rang the bell. Megan answered and gestured her inside. “Klarissa told me what happened yesterday...”

“It's all right,” Lise interrupted. “I dealt with it.”

“She told me what ... word ... Geddes used. I was mortified. He did not hear it from me, Lise -believe me.”

“I believe you. I hear that word all the time and I'm sure so do Klarissa and Geddes.”

“I am very sorry, Lise. Geddes has been punished.”

“I had forgotten it. I hope Klarissa told you the rest of the story ... how she gave one of her toys to Rinn.”

“Yes, I rewarded her for that. I think you handle Geddes well. He requires a firm hand ... firmer than mine, I'm afraid. How did you learn to deal with children?”

“I've been doing this for years. Before I was registered I couldn't risk wandering away from home ... in daylight, at least. The neighborhood moms would leave their kids with me. Some days I minded half a dozen.”

“Lise's day care,” Megan mused.

“I've had to deal with novonid boys who were very much like Geddes. Children are children. They behave exactly like ... children.”

“Any word on Rinn and his mom?”

“She was offered to be taken into a BSS shelter. She turned it down, because she would be separated from her man. She's pregnant --about half-way along.”

“Then, what's next?”

“It could take some time to sort things out.”

“Does she have a job?”

“A female's job is making babies,” Lise replied. “Rinn is Glinda's...” She rolled her eyes in thought.

“Her sixth I think.”

“Don't tell me the others have been taken from her.”

“As soon as they're old enough for training and conditioning...”

“Oh, my goodness...”

“...usually around age eleven or twelve.” Megan's eyes were brimming.

“I had no idea. I know what it felt like to have my children taken from me --but I knew I'd get them back. I had no idea... Of course I didn't. I had no desire to know, and our society has no desire to tell anyone... What happens then?”

“They go to the pomma farms ... or, into the work force ... or, back into the Zone. Glinda had a little girl who died shortly after birth. Then, she spent a while as a wet nurse to a white family --that's also females' work.”

Megan nodded. “I remember when the twins were born. I needed help nursing them. The hospital sent a novonid woman. She'd pick them both up, sit and feed them, one at each breast, and never say a word. After some days I was able to feed them both by myself. I never saw her again. I've wondered about her, though... How long was Glinda a wet nurse?”

“Until the child was weaned; then, she came back to the Zone and had Rinn. I like Glinda. I hope her new owner is kind to her. I'll go have a word with Geddes.”

She walked into the twins' room. Geddes sat on his bed. “Hi,” she said. He turned from her. “You promised you wouldn't tell!”

“I didn't tell.”

“You told Klarissa to tell. She did your stupid gr... stupid dirty work for you.”

“As far as I was concerned, the matter was closed when you apologized to Rinn. What happens between you, Klarissa and your mom after I go home is no affair of mine.”

“It's all your fault. You brought Rinn. It wouldn't have happened if you didn't bring Rinn.”

“It wouldn't have happened if a lot of things had gone differently. The fact is, it did happen. You're going to face these situations, Geddes, as you grow up. How you deal with them is your choice. Think about this... In general, people will treat you the way you treat them. That goes for green people as well as white people. Maybe you're too young to fully understand. Keep it in mind as you go through life. Come on, Geddes. Let's have some breakfast.”

She coaxed him to his feet. He started toward the kitchen. Lise took his hand and he snatched it away.

Megan faced him. “So, did you apologize?”

“He certainly did,” Lise replied.

“Good. Geddes, your breakfast is on the table.” Megan nodded toward the door and stood in the house's small foyer. Lise approached her. “Lise, I have something for you.” Megan handed her a red 25-unit scrip card. “This is yours to keep.”

“I can't accept this.”

“You certainly can. Without you, Lise, I wouldn't have my twins back. Having them is more important to me than anything. Take it. It's a small, small token of my appreciation.”

Lise threw her arms around Megan. In that instant the magnitude of the breach of etiquette she was committing dawned on her. Before she could withdraw, she felt Megan's arms surrounding her in a strong embrace, and her hands squeezing her shoulder blades.

She stood back. “Thank you,” she said and slipped the card into the pocket of her shorts.

“I'll see you this after.”

Lise headed for the kitchen. “Klarissa ... Geddes ... let's get ready to go out.”

“I'm ready,” Klarissa said. She pulled on her sun bonnet.

“Come, Geddes.”

Lise locked the door and slipped the passcard into her pocket. She grasped the twins' hands and headed down the sidewalk, with Geddes dragging his feet. “Do you want me to carry you?”

“No!”

“Then walk with us.”

They reached the corner. A constable's squad car was parked. One deputy sat behind the controls while the other stood outside, leaning against the vehicle, using his communicator. Lise walked by them and made eye contact.

Geddes began to pull away. “Geddes!”

“NO!” he shouted “Help! Help!”

The deputy approached. “What's going on here?”

“Officer,” Lise replied, “I've been hired to mind these children. He's a bit cranky.”

The officer knelt and looked into Geddes's face. “Is that true? Is she your nanny?”

“NO!” Geddes shouted.

The officer whistled to his partner, who jumped out of the car. “Mind the kids. Miss --step over here.” He looked at Lise's registration number and punched it into his communicator. “Your number comes back invalid. I'll have to take you in.”

“No! I'm registered! This is a valid number.”

He punched the number in again. “Not according to this.” He drew his baton. “Up against the car -put your hands out.” The officer began patting her down. She felt his fingers probing her breasts, then his hands against her hips and buttocks. He reached into her pocket, withdrew the key card and the scrip and slipped them into a polymer envelope. “Now --your left hand...” Something snapped around her wrist. The officer pulled her right hand behind her and secured it to her left. “Into the car...”

He pushed her into the seat. “This is a mistake,” she protested. She looked around and realized there were no door handles --even if she could free her hands, there was no escape. Geddes and Klarissa were now holding onto each other and crying. The deputy sat in the front of the car. “What about the children?” she cried. “What'll happen to the children?”

“A car will take them to Family Services.”

Lise watched out the window. The second deputy attempted to calm the twins. They cried and pointed toward the car.

Another squad pulled up. An officer stepped out and helped push Geddes and Klarissa into the back. Its turbine whined up and it pulled into traffic.

The front door opened. The deputy sat behind the controls, started the turbine and pushed the control stick to move into traffic.

The car stopped outside a fortress-like building in the center of Vyonna. The deputy opened the door and hauled Lise out. He drew his baton and used it to prod her down a hallway. He opened a door.

“What do we have?” another officer asked.

“Unregistered --counterfeit registry number.”

“That's the second in two days.”

“Yeah --but I spotted this one. I get to keep the bounty.”

The intake officer snapped a collar around Lise's neck with a tag marked with the number 8. He opened another door and pushed her into a holding cell.

Inside was a bench, seated upon which were an assortment of rough-looking individuals. A white man with tag number 1 sat on the end of the bench. Lise sat at the other end, her hands still cuffed behind her back. The restraints were beginning to dig into her skin.

She bowed her head, closed her eyes and fought back tears.

The cell door opened and a middle-aged prostitute wearing tag number 9 was pushed into the cell.

“Busy day for the inspector,” Lise heard the intake officer remark.

Lise sat and waited. The cell door opened. An officer entered and escorted Number 1 out. The door opened. The intake officer entered and escorted Number 7 out. Lise looked down the row. They were up to number 21. She shook her head --they were arresting people faster than they could process them.

The door opened again and the officer grabbed her upper arm. “This way, green girl.”

He led her into an interview room. A plain-clothes detective sat at a desk. On another chair sat the deputy who had arrested her. “What have we here?”

“Unregistered. I thought her registry tattoo looked awfully fresh.”

The inspector stood and approached Lise. He examined her tattoo. “Yeah... They're getting better and better...” He looked into Lise's face with a smirk. “How much scrip do you have to pay for one of these? Fifty? A hundred?”

He licked his thumb, rubbed it against her serial number and examined it. He licked it again and rubbed harder. Then, he turned to his media terminal and punched in her number. He manipulated the device. “RAA005010 ... comes up registered to Ramina! Have you lost your mind, man? Bringing in one of Ramina's?”

The deputy whipped out his communicator. “It comes up invalid on mine ... look...” He punched in the number. “Look!” He turned the device toward his commander.

“It's a new number. You've gotta check the addenda, too. What are you? Some rookie?”

“She looked too old to have a new number. That's why I didn't... Who IS this Ramina?”

“She's one of the top breeders --and she's tied in with the commissioners and prefects. She looks like a sweet old lady, but she's a demon. I've seen her flay a man at twenty-five metres with a single lash of her tongue. You have to double-check these, man! If Ramina complains to the Chief --you'll be busted down to beat officer.”

“I'm already a beat officer.”

“Then you'll be busted off the force.”

“But that number's too new for someone her age,” the deputy protested. “It still could be counterfeit. One her age should have a number in the high QZs”

“Only one way to know --take her to the lab.”

The deputy led her to a lift and called for the basement level. Lise felt the drop as the lift descended. The doors opened and he prodded her down the corridor. She entered a room with shelves lined with cabinets holding bottles and equipment.

A white-coated woman entered. “What have we here?”

“Quick DNA screen,” the deputy replied. “Confirm the registration number.”

The woman approached Lise. “It's all right, dear. I won't harm you.” She turned to the deputy. “You'll need to take the shackle off.”

The deputy unhitched a device from his utility belt. “Here's the key...” He handed it to the attendant and drew his weapon. “No funny stuff, green girl.”

The attendant unlocked Lise's restraints. She brought her arms to her lap and rubbed her wrists.

“Now, dear,” the attendant said, “I'll need to take a little of your blood.” She produced a syringe. Lise gasped and recoiled.

The attendant showed it to her. “See, dear --it's empty --nothing in it to hurt you. Just relax and it'll be done in a moment. Let me see your arm. Are you left or right handed?”

Lise stared at the needle. It grew to fill her entire field of vision.

“Look how frightened she is,” the attendant said. “You can see her heart pounding.”

“Probably 'cuz she knows the outcome of the test,” the deputy replied.

“No. They're all like this --terrified of needles. They know what they're often used for. Most of them are left-handed...” The attendant tied an elastic band around Lise's upper right arm. “Make a fist, dear. It'll be easier if you cooperate.”

Lise complied. The attendant was probing the inside of her elbow with her finger. Lise clamped her eyes shut and forced out a tear.

“You'll feel a poke...” Lise chewed her lip. She felt the needle biting into her skin and let out a whimper. “Almost, dear... All right --you're done.” Lise looked down. The attendant was pressing against her vein. “Put your finger here and press down.”

Lise looked at the syringe. It was now filled with a dark brown fluid. The deputy continued to point his gun at her, his finger outstretched and lying against the trigger guard. The attendant returned and handed the deputy a viewer. He regarded the results of the analysis.

“Species: Novo Homonid... No shit...” He scanned down. “Registered RAA005... Ramina...”

“Did you get what you were looking for?” the attendant asked.

“Not quite...” He checked the safety of his gun and slipped it into its holster. “Come on, green girl. Back up to the inspector.”

“Well?” the inspector asked.

The deputy handed him the report. “One of Ramina's. She was registered early this year.”

“Would it matter,” Lise asked, “if I was registered yesterday or five years ago?”

“Watch your lip, greenie,” the deputy sneered. “If I had found you a year ago --you know where you'd be now.”

“But you didn't,” Lise replied finding courage for some defiance. “And, now I'm legal.”

“She's right,” the inspector replied. “She's legal. We have to release her. I'm going to have to write this up ... don't know how... Must be a new wrinkle for Ramina --cruising the Zone for unregistereds.”

The deputy faced Lise. “Okay, Zero-One-Zero. Get outta here.”

“What about the twins?” Lise asked.

“Twins?”

“The children you took from me.”

The deputy smacked his forehead. “The kids! What did you say their names were?”

“Klarissa and Geddes.”

“Come here...” She followed him into an office. The deputy made one call and another. He stood and conferred with a sergeant. “We're trying to locate them.”

“Trying to?”

“They're all right --they're with Family Services ... somewhere...”

His media phone warbled and he answered the call. “Yes... Young novonid girl --registry RAA005010.” He looked up. “They found 'em. A car is bringing them around. You can wait at the corner of First and Hope.”

“Thank you, officer,” Lise replied. “What about my belongings?”

“Right...” The deputy rifled through a drawer, removed the envelope and tapped out the scrip and key cards. “Here.” Lise tucked them into her pocket. “I'll show you the way out.”

“I can follow the exit signs,” Lise replied, turned and left.

Lise stood at the corner. She didn't know what time it was, but by the look of the sun it was late. Megan was certainly home by now and likely frantic. She looked at the street, filled with two, three and four-wheeled vehicles.

A squad car pulled up and a woman stepped out. She approached Lise and compared her registry number to one on a handheld screen. “Are you looking for two children?”

“Yes, I am.”

She opened the door and Klarissa and Geddes tumbled out. They ran to Lise and hugged her legs. Lise picked up Geddes and looked into his face. The boy broke into tears. “You're angry with me,”

he sobbed.

“I am,” Lise replied, “with the constables. Geddes --do you see what can happen when you lie? You wouldn't want to go back to the foster home, would you?”

“NO!” he blubbered.

“Have you learned your lesson?”

“Uh -huh!” Geddes nodded.

“Good. Then, I'm not angry with you.” Lise kissed Geddes on the cheek.

“You don't hate me?”

“Of course not. You're a delightful little boy, Geddes.” She looked toward the woman from Family Services. “They live at number 505 --quadrant three, block fourteen-forty. Can you take us there?”

“I'm sorry --it's against policy.”

“It wasn't against policy for the constables to bring them here?”

“That was the constables' doing. You can take it up with them.” She climbed into the car and it pulled into traffic.

Lise rolled her eyes. “Come on, gang. Let's see if we can find the deputy who arrested me. Maybe he can arrange a ride home.”

She led them back into the Safety Palace and to the floor where the deputy kept his desk. A sergeant looked toward her. “May I help?”

She pointed to the empty desk. “The deputy?”

“Gone for the day.”

“He arrested me --by mistake and brought these children in. I was hoping you could arrange for a ride home.”

“Sorry --don't know a thing about it.”

“What about the inspector?”

“He's gone, too.”

Lise led them back to the street. “How are we getting home?” Klarissa asked.

“Let's try a streetcar,” Lise replied.

She led them to the corner bus stop and waited for a bus marked with the correct route. One pulled to a stop and the door opened. Lise stood at the tail of the line of passengers and waited for them to board and present their fare or scrip cards.

She pushed the twins aboard ahead of her. The driver held out his hand.

“Please,” she said. “I'm minding these children. We need to get home.” The driver shook his head and gestured toward the back of the bus. Lise pulled out the red scrip card. “I'll pay a fare.”

“Rules is rules, green girl,” the driver said. “They can ride, but YOU have to use the back.”

“But ... they won't know where to get off! Can they ride in back?”

“No. Now, get off the bus!”

Lise took Geddes's and Klarissa's hands and stepped onto the street.

“Now what?” Klarissa asked.

“I guess we'll have to use a taxi.”

She led the twins to a livery call box, pressed the button and watched traffic. The light went out and she saw a livery cab approaching. The driver slowed, eyed her and pulled back into traffic. Lise pushed the button again.

“Why didn't he stop?” Klarissa asked.

“He must not have needed the business,” Lise replied

The light darkened and another cab approached and stopped. It's door opened. “Come on, gang...”

Lise watched as a business man pushed ahead of them and sat in the cab. The door closed and the car pulled into traffic. “Hey!” Geddes yelled.

She pushed the button a third time and waited. She saw a livery car approach and stop. The window rolled down. “Where you going?” the driver asked.

“Number 505 --quadrant three, block fourteen-forty.”

“Do you have the fare?” Lise pulled the red scrip card from her pocket and handed it to the driver. He held it up to the light. “This should cover it. Get in.”

The rear door swung open and Lise gestured the twins inside. The driver slipped the scrip card into the meter, pressed a button and pulled into traffic.

“I've never been in a taxi before,” Lise said to the children. “Have you?”

“No,” Klarissa replied. Geddes shook his head.

“Then, this will be a little adventure for us.”

The car headed away from the central city and toward the residential districts. Lise watched the fare on the meter mount: five units ... five and a half ... six...

They turned off a boulevard and into a neighborhood Lise recognized. The car pulled to a stop outside number 505. The driver punched a button on the meter. The fare read eleven and a half units. The scrip card ejected and he pocketed it. “Here you go.” The door swung open.

“Excuse me, sir,” Lise said, “but the fare read eleven and a half. There were twenty-five units on that card. You owe me thirteen and a half in change.”

The driver regarded her through narrowed eyes. “There's a surcharge for carrying greenies. Now -get out before I call the constables.”

Lise pushed the twins onto the sidewalk and climbed out herself. The door slammed and the taxi sped away.

She took the twins' hands, climbed the steps and slipped the key card into the lock. The door swung open.

“Lise!” Megan said. “Where have you been? I've been worried...”

“Oh, mam --I'm sorry... I'm so sorry...”

“Sorry? What happened?”

“We were arrested!” Klarissa blurted out.

“Arrested? Lise --tell me what happened.”

“We were headed to the park. There were a pair constables who questioned us. One of them checked my registry number. I don't know if he made a mistake, or if there was a problem with the registry or if he was just harassing me, but he said it came back invalid.”

“Oh, Lise!”

“He took me downtown to the Safety Palace. I sat all day before seeing an inspector. Of course, then they realized the number was good and they released me.”

“Geddes did it,” Klarissa chimed in.

“Geddes did what?” Megan asked.

“Geddes told the deputy Lise wasn't our nanny. That's why they arrested us.”

Megan's jaw dropped. Geddes collapsed in tears. “You did WHAT?”

“Please don't punish him,” Lise said. “They've suffered enough and he learned his lesson.”

“Have you?”

“Yes,” Geddes blubbered.

Megan turned to Lise. “You poor girl. I know what they do to unregistereds. You must've been terrified.”

“I was more worried for the Klarissa and Geddes.”

“How did you get home?”

“The constables wouldn't transport us. We tried the streetcar, but the twins would have to ride up front and I'd have to ride in the back and I didn't want us separated again. So, we took a livery cab. I paid for it out of the scrip card you gave me.”

“That's not what I intended it to be used for, Lise.”

“I know... But I had to get the children home.” She bit her lip. “I'm so sorry...” She fought back tears and saw and saw anger building in Megan's face. “Oh, mam, I'm so sorry.”

Megan regarded her. “There's more, isn't there, Lise?”

She nodded. “The livery fare amounted to eleven and a half units --that's what the meter read --but the driver kept the card. He probably thought I couldn't read or add. I asked him for the card and he said there's a surcharge for carrying ... novonids.”

“That's nonsense!”

“Oh, mam --I'm so, so sorry...”

“Quiet, Lise. I'm thinking.” Megan paced the room.

“You've every right to be furious with me.”

“I am, furious, Lise. But, not with you. ” Megan faced her. “My heart aches for you. I've had my run-ins with the deputies. In my case, though --I deserved it. There's no excuse for them harassing peaceful, law-abiding folks ... and, little children. There's no excuse for taking advantage of someone. You didn't happen to remember the number of the livery cab, did you?”

“No, mam.”

“Lise --the only thing that will make me angry with you is if I hear the word 'mam' one more time.”

Lise smiled, covered her mouth and laughed.

Megan turned to the mediaphone and placed a call. She turned to Lise. “Where did you get the cab?”

she asked.

“The corner of First and Hope --outside the Safety Palace.”

“I know the place...” Megan conferred on her call, then turned to Lise. “I don't know if we can do anything about getting back your scrip. The driver has already checked out for the day, so it would be your word against his.”

“I know how much weight a novonid's word carries in such a case.”

“I registered a complaint.” She faced Lise. “Lise --If I could afford to replace that scrip card, I would. I won it in a pool at the factory, so it was like found money for me.”

“I understand, ma... I understand.” Lise replied. She bit her lip. “I was planning on using it to buy a mediascreen --a portable one like the one Klarissa showed me from your bedroom.” Tears began flowing down her face. “I wanted it for my mother. She likes to keep up on the news. We don't have electricity where I live, but I thought I could bring it here to recharge ... if it would be all right with you.”

“Of course, Lise. They don't use much power. I think having a media screen is a good idea. That way I could send you messages.” Megan smiled. “I'm not as young and pretty as you are, but I won't rule out being invited for a night on the town now and then. I'll need a baby-sitter and you'd be my first choice. You'd do that, wouldn't you Lise?”

“Yes...”

“It could be our little arrangement. No need to involve Ramina, don't you think?”

“No...” Lise sniffed back tears.

“Well... It was a good idea while it lasted.”

“I know,” Lise replied. “Klarissa and Geddes are home, safe and sound. That's what matters.”

“Yes, that's what matters.”

“If you hadn't given me that scrip --I don't know what we would've done.”

“I have one question, Lise. Why didn't you call?”

“Call?”

“Yes, call.”

“It ... the thought never crossed my mind.”

Megan nodded. “I understand. You've grown up learning to rely on the one thing you have --your own wits. Lise --you and I are a team with these kids. Don't ever hesitate to call for help.”

“I ... I've never used a call box. I don't know how. And, now I have no scrip for the toll.”

“THAT we can fix...” Megan rifled through a drawer and handed Lise a scrip card. “This has one unit left on it --enough for a couple of calls.” She jotted numbers on the card with a pen. “This is my number and this is the factory. Hang onto this for an emergency.”

“I will.” She slipped it into her pocket.

“There's a call box on the corner. Let's walk down there and I'll show you how to use it.”

The sun was setting as Lise stepped off the streetcar's platform and headed toward the Zone. What-ifs kept swirling in her mind. What if she had held onto that card. What if she hadn't taken Klarissa and Geddes to the park. What if she had had the foresight to make a call.. . She remembered what Grott had said: Scrip can be taken away from you. She grew angrier and angrier with herself.

Lise stepped into the courtyard and stubbed her toe against a chunk of concrete that had broken loose. She kicked it across the pavement. Her mother was lighting a lantern as she descended into the basement.

“Lise! Where were you? It's late.”

“I don't want to talk about it.” She sat on a bench, turned her head and pressed her knuckle into her lips.

“Are you all right? Lise --what happened?”

“Oh, mother!” She exploded into tears and sobbed out the day's events. Rayla held her and caressed the back of her head. “I don't know what to say,” she said as Lise wept against her.

Lise regained her composure. “Crying it out helped. I'll be all right, mother.” She looked around the basement. “Where's Grott?”

“Another meeting, They're talking of a green strike.”

“Isn't there always talk?”

“It's serious talk, this time.”

“Mother --I don't want to strike. I have a chance at making some real money.”

“Time will tell if it's a chance or only a dream. Lise ... Ramina owns you. The money you earn is hers.”

She heard footfalls on the steps and saw her stepfather.

“Well?” Rayla asked.

“A strike.”

“When?”

“Sometime.”

“There was a green strike before,” Lise said.

“Yes, and it didn't end well. Many of us were killed. It was before my time, but I've heard tales. This one will be different --so they say.”

“Different, how?” Rayla asked.

“Last time, only those of us living in the Zone struck. Only a third of us live here --there are many more scattered around the city. This time, we'll be organized. The pomma farms will go out, too. Our workers will sit down in the fields. It won't take much to disrupt the pomma crop. The plants will shoot into seed and go dormant for a season. The whites won't permit that to happen. We'll be a force to be reckoned with --so they say.”

“They think their runners can convince the fieldworkers to strike?”

“They think they can.” Grott paced the room. “I think it's a crazy idea. The farms will never go out. It's perfect work for us. I'd give anything to be back on a farm right now... These young people see the lives of the whites and get envious. They want ... things. We don't need ... things. We're better than them

... stronger.”

“Father,” Lise replied, “you wear our poverty like a badge of honor. What would be wrong to have a home with water and power? To have mediascreens? To have real beds and comfortable chairs? To have pretty things?”

Grott's eyes narrowed. “You've been spoiled already by that white home where you work.”

“Megan's home isn't luxurious. It's comfortable.”

“Comfortable... That's the problem with those of us living outside the Zone. They're too comfortable. They won't go out either.” Grott shook his head. “It'll be like the last one --just the Zone going out. And, it'll be a massacre.”

“Is this real or someone's bright idea?” Rayla asked.

“I think,” Grott replied, “it's somewhere between real and a dream. No date's been set. Right now, they're recruiting.”

“Lise... Lise...” She heard a voice calling from the courtyard.

“Tagg --come on down.”

Tagg descended the stairs. Grott regarded him and approached. “What did I tell you?” he growled. Tagg swallowed hard. Grott lifted his fist and Tagg stepped back.

Lise stood between Tagg and her stepfather. “Father... Now I'm a woman. I can choose the company I keep.” She turned to Tagg and kissed his cheek. “Don't worry --he won't hurt you. Come in.”

Grott slunk to a bench and sat with his back turned.

“I sold the sketch of you.” Tagg pulled a yellow card from his shorts. “Here...”

Lise examined it --a new, five-unit scrip. “Oh, Tagg! We'll have to get this broken down, so we can each have our share.”

“No, Lise --that IS you share. I sold it for ten units.”

“TEN?”

“Yes --to a white man. I figured out how to do it. I put the sketch at the bottom of the stack. He came along and started looking through my drawings. He found the one of you and wanted to know how much. I told him it wasn't for sale.”

Grott turned his head and looked their way.

“He offered me four and I said no. He told me when he wanted something he was accustomed to getting it. Then, he kept asking me my price and I kept telling him it wasn't for sale. He kept offering me more and when he offered ten --I very reluctantly agreed. He gave me two fivers. I told you it would sell.”

Grott approached them and took the card from Lise. He held it to the lamplight, looked it over and handed it back to her.

Tagg stepped backward from Grott. “Well... I ... I had better go. I wanted to tell you about it and give you your share.” He headed for the steps, turned and looked back at Lise and Grott and left.

“Now, what do you think, Father?”

Grott snorted. “He might be worth something after all.”

VII

Lise waked before dawn, thinking of scrip. She reached under her mattress, retrieved the yellow card and regarded it. If she had four more like this one --she could buy that mediascreen after all. She rose, bathed and headed across the courtyard to Tagg's building. Up the stairs she trotted and rapped on the door to his apartment. An older man opened the door. “Hello, Lise.”

“Is Tagg here?”

The man nodded toward the corner where Tagg's mattress lay. The boy jumped up, pulled on a pair of shorts and approached her.

“Tagg --let's do more drawings.”

“Now?”

“Why not?”

“Don't you have to work?”

“Not today --it's a rest day for the whites. Megan is home with the twins, so I have the day off. The laundry is open, so my mother has to work; and it's cleanup day at the construction site, so Grott had to go in. He'll be back by noon. We can go to my place and sketch.” She smiled and wrinkled the bridge of her nose. “And, afterward ... if there's time, we can...”

“I'll get my sketchpad.”

Tagg followed Lise across the courtyard. “Wait,” he said. “I don't feel comfortable doing this in Grott's home.”

“He's warming up to you, Tagg. And --he'll be gone 'til noon.”

“But if he comes home early and finds us... Why don't we go to the old park --at the other end of the Zone? We could do some outdoor sketches.”

“Outdoors? No, Tagg...”

“The place is deserted. I used to wander over there with my friends.”

“What if someone else's friends wander over there?”

“We never saw anyone else.”

Tagg tucked his sketchpad under his arm. Lise took his hand and they began walking along a street. The pavement was cracked and tufts of vegetation had sprouted. They walked past decaying buildings in a direction away from the city.

The buildings became more dilapidated as they walked. Some had roofs that had caved in, and any were strpped of doors and windows. “This was a rich part of the city, once,” Lise observed.

“This part is deserted even by novonids,” Tagg replied.

They turned a corner. Tagg pushed open a rusted gate in a stone wall. A city-block-sized park, overgrown with waist-high brush lay beyond. He led her down a flagstone path.

“This is spooky, Tagg.”

“It's fine,” he replied.

“Yiiii!” Lise shrieked as a many-footed arthropod the size of her forearm scurried across the path.

“They're harmless. Over this way --there's the old viaduct. That might be a good setting.”

Lise followed him as he pushed through the scrub. They arrived at the ruins of the viaduct. He gestured to a caved-in stone arch.

“Pose on that,” he said. Lise stripped off her bandeau top and started to remove her shorts. “You can leave those on,” he said. “I'll sketch you from the waist up.”

She climbed onto a fallen chunk of concrete. “How do you want me to pose?”

“Kneel... Now, arch your back and hold yourself up with your arms ... lean back and look up... Perfect!”

Tagg sat on a rock and began sketching. “This is great, Lise. I'll call this series Scenes from the Zone.”

“This is really uncomfortable,” she replied.

“Who said good art is easy?” Tagg continued to sketch. “Okay, done.”

Lise sat up and rubbed the insides of her elbows. “Let's see.” Tagg showed her the drawing. She nodded with approval. “Now what?”

“How many should we do?” Tagg asked.

“At least three more.”

“Hmm... Sit on that stone.”

“Like this?”

“Yes --hug your knees.” Tagg looked from several angles. “Put your left hand down ... and your left leg. I want to see one of your breasts.”

Lise giggled. “What is this doing for you, Tagg?”

“Seeing you like this really gets my artistic juices flowing.”

“I'll bet it's getting some juices flowing.”

“Admit it, Lise. You like doing this, too.”

“I do. There is something sexy about it.”

Tagg walked back and forth. “You look great from here.” He stood and sketched. “How long can you hold that pose?”

“For a while.”

“I'm going to put in more background. You really do dress up that old viaduct, Lise.” He sketched more. “Done.” He showed her the drawing.

“That's very nice. I like how you have the brush in the foreground. You're getting better and better, Tagg.”

“For the next one, I want you to stand with your back to me.” Lise complied and stood before one of the viaduct's arches. “Turn toward me a little... bring your shoulder back...” He leaned to the left and to the right. “That's good.”

“Is this one from the waist up, too?”

“No --it's full-figure.”

“Shall I take my shorts off?”

“No --I can get your ass right.”

“TAGG!” She laughed.

Tagg finished the sketch and showed it to her. “What do you think?”

“It's the best one yet. Where should we do the next one?”

“I don't know... Let's walk this way.”

Lise accompanied him to the end of the park holding Tagg's hand and carrying her bandeau. “This part of the Zone certainly is deserted,” she remarked. “I feel like you and I are the only survivors of a dead city.”

They encountered a high chain-link fence topped with barbed wire. Beyond the fence was a savanna of scrub and native pomma. A four-legged beast with a long ostrich neck grazed. It raised its head, turned and looked their way and resumed feeding.

“The city just stops here,” Lise remarked.

“Yes, and way yonder are the pomma farms.”

Lise scanned the pomma savanna and the broad vista of open sky overhead. “Look!” she said, pointing skyward, and Tagg's eyes followed her gesture. A large, winged creature made lazy circles overhead as it rode the thermals arising from the open fields. She worked her fingers through the chain-link. “Is this fence to keep us inside or the animals out?”

“Both, I think.”

“It looks like nothing... Nothing but scrub as far as the eye can see.”

“Lise!” Tagg pointed toward the woods.

“What?”

“I saw someone.”

“Where?” Lise folded her arms across her breasts.

“Over there in the woods... He's gone now. Lise! It was a feral.”

“A feral novonid? No, Tagg --they don't live around here. They live in the woods between the pomma farms. There are tales of tribes of them living in the far north.”

“That's what it was,” Tagg replied. “I didn't see a registration mark. That must be what the fence is for

--to keep ferals out of the city.”

“The whole city isn't behind a fence, Tagg.”

“No --but the Zone is. Think about it, Lise. A feral wouldn't dare come into the white parts of the city. They might seek shelter here in the Zone, though. I've heard whites in the country have started hunting ferals. Maybe a tribe of them headed toward Vyonna to avoid the hunters.”

“If that's what it was --it's really something,” Lise mused, “spotting a feral. I don't think my folks ever saw one --not even when they were on the farms.”

“I've heard stories, too,” Tagg said. “They escaped from the farms and live in the woods and hedgerows ... whole families of them. They eat small animals --like that decapod we saw in the park.

“Eeeew.” Lise shuddered. “Don't remind me.” She turned from the fence. Tagg slipped his arm around her and she leaned against him.

“Come this way.” Tagg led her down a crumbled sidewalk. “Let's look in here.” He pushed open the door to an abandoned hotel.

They walked into what was the lobby and past a bank of lifts long ago out of order. He led her past a lounge and through a doorway to a corridor of guest rooms.

Tagg picked a room and pushed open the door. The windows had been smashed out. He picked his way through the broken glass.

“Put your hands behind your back,” he said, “and lean against the wall near the window.” He began sketching. “Turn your face and look out the window. Don't smile ... look serious ... sad even, if you can manage it. Perfect.”

Lise looked out onto the empty, overgrown street.

“Done!”

Lise stepped to him and looked at his drawing. “Tagg! This is amazing. I look like some abandoned youth, living all by myself in a broken building.”

“It's about how we live.”

“How we live isn't nearly this dreary. It's a powerful picture, Tagg --one with a message.”

“Shouldn't art have a viewpoint? Can't it make a political statement? I'm just getting going, now. Why don't you get on your hands and knees on that bed?”

“That bed must've been collecting dust and grime for a hundred years.” She climbed onto it. “Like this?”

“Yes ... No --I have a better idea. Lie on your stomach and make it look like you're just getting up.”

“For this one I think I should be totally nude...” She slipped off her shorts and lay on the mattress.

“That's it ... now, grasp for something. That's it --you're down and hurt and reaching for a helping hand.”

He began sketching.

“This is the most political one of them all,” Lise said. “Maybe if your constable friend sees this one, she won't let you sketch in the park any more.”

“There. Look.”

Lise sat up on the mattress. Tagg sat beside her and showed her the drawing. She nodded. “Yes, it's very good.”

“Maybe I should put tears on her face...”

“No --don't. I think that would be too much.”

Tagg tilted his head one way and the other. “I think you're right.”

Lise threw her arms around him and kissed his cheeks. “Tagg --you're such a brilliant artist!” She kissed his lips. “I love you.”

He put down the sketchpad, then embraced and kissed her. She felt his tongue against hers. She sat on his lap. “I know why you picked this room,” she said.

“I didn't know the bed was in here.”

“Should I believe that?”

“It's the truth...”

She caressed his shoulders and arms; then lay on her back.

Tagg lay beside her. They began kissing and caressing each other. She ran her fingers across his chest. Here, Tagg ... gently... That's it. Go slow... No need to rush.”

“This feels good, Lise. You're so beautiful...”

“It feels good to me, too. Do it just like that for a while. Mmm...” She closed her eyes and pulled her shoulder blades together. “Remember, Tagg --a girl needs more time than a boy. It's worth it... Mmm... both hands like that...” Lise felt her body go limp. Tension drained from her muscles and built in her pelvis. She hooked her arm around Tagg's neck and brought his ear to her breast.

“Your heart's pounding, Lise.”

“Mmm...” She coaxed him onto his back, knelt astride his thighs and began unfastening the waistband of his shorts. “Ow!” she exclaimed.

“What was it? What's wrong?”

“My knee hit something hard --a lump under the mattress.”

“What is it?”

He climbed off the bed and helped her lift the mattress. Underneath was a projectile weapon --a handgun.

“Tagg!”

“Don't touch it.”

“Someone else HAS been here.”

Tagg hopped off the bed and forced open a dresser drawer. “Look...” He pointed to a cache of knives. He opened another drawer.

“What are these?” she asked. From a pile she withdrew a short section of chain. “There must be dozens of these.”

“I've never seen anything like this.”

“Tagg --I don't think it's a good idea for us to stay here.”

“I think you're right.”

She pulled on her shorts and bandeau and adjusted it across her breasts. Tagg picked up his sketchpad and led her to the corridor. She heard voices.

“This way,” Tagg whispered and led her down the corridor. He tested the knobs on the doors to other rooms, but couldn't open any.

He ducked into a stairwell at the far end of the corridor and pulled Lise in with him. She peered around the corner.

Three novonid men stepped into the room they had been using. She could hear them talking and laughing but couldn't discern the words.

One of them stepped into the corridor holding something and faced in her direction. Lise ducked behind the corner. She heard a loud pop and a ceiling lamp at the end of the corridor exploded, showering her and Tagg with shards of glass.

“Well, that one works,” she heard him say.

“Where did you get it?”

“I took it off that bounty hunter we found prowling the Zone. He won't need it where he is.”

The voices grew distant, then distinct again. Finally they trailed off. Lise cowered with Tagg in the silence. They looked into each other's faces. “Is it safe?” he whispered. She poked her head around the corner. “I think they've gone.” She stepped into the corridor and flicked shards of glass from her skin.

“Be careful,” Tagg said. “They're sharp.”

They crept down the corridor and ducked back into the room. Lise picked up the mattress and saw a second pistol had joined the one they had found. She pulled open the drawer and picked up one of the lengths of chain. “Let's get out of here.”

“I'm with you,” Tagg replied. Lise headed toward the old lobby. “No --not that way --this way.”

Tagg led her into another stairwell and out an emergency exit. He grabbed her hand and they began running down the crumbling sidewalk.

They reached the courtyard. Both had begun to pant from the exertion. Grott lay sunning on the concrete bench. “Father!”

Grott sat up. “Where have you been?”

“Tagg was sketching. Show him, Tagg.”

Tagg handed Grott the sketchpad. “Hmm... These are good, Tagg. I couldn't do anything like this. That looks like the old viaduct.”

“Yes,” Lise replied.

Grott flipped to the ones in the deserted hotel. “Where did you do these?”

“The deserted hotel at the end of the Zone.”

“I don't want you going down there any more. They say that's where Mott and his gang hide out.”

“Oh, we won't,” Tagg replied.

“Someone hid weapons there,” Lise added. “We saw handguns and knives...” Lise withdrew the length of chain. “And, these.”

“A chain can be used as a weapon,” Tagg noted. He took it from her and attempted to wrap it around his fist. “It's not long enough to use as metal knuckles.”

Grott took it from him. “This is a strike chain.”

“A strike chain?” Lise asked.

“Yes. I saw one at the meeting the other night.” He grabbed the end link and twisted it off. “The links are made to come off easily. Mott's runners will deliver these to the farms. Every night at sundown, the keeper of the chains removes one link from each. When only one link remains --the next day is strike day. It's how they expect to organize the farms.”

“So they can all strike together without communications,” Lise observed.

“Exactly.” Grott handed the chain back to Lise.

“Who came up with that idea?” Tagg asked.

“It's Mott's invention. Once they fix the day of the strike, Mott will hand chains to his captains, who'll distribute them among his lieutenants, who'll distribute them to the runners and so on until there's one in every barracks.”

“What should we do about the weapons?” Lise asked.

“I'd leave them be. Haven't you heard stories of what goes on in that old hotel?”

“Yes,” Tagg replied. “I thought it was just tales --that it would be deserted in daylight. It turned out it wasn't.”

“That's right,” Lise added. “Someone came in while we were there. I don't think they saw us.”

“Did you get a good look at them?”

“No,” Lise and Tagg replied in unison.

“Could you tell if they were registered or not?”

“I don't remember, Father. I think the one I saw was.”

“Thugs?” Tagg asked.

“Who knows...” Grott lay back down on the bench.

“Tagg saw something else,” Lise said.

“Yes,” Tagg added, “a feral.”

“A wild novonid?” Grott shook his head. “Not likely.”

“We were looking through the fence at the edge of the Zone. We saw him in the woods.”

“More likely a renegade,” Grott replied. “Maybe one of Mott's trainees ... perhaps even Mott himself. Ferals don't come this close to the city. They live out in the country --past the pomma farms, in the wilds.”

“I know what I saw,” Tagg said.

“Think what you like, but I'm sure it wasn't a feral.” Grott stretched and locked his hands behind his neck. “What are you kids up to now?”

“I don't know --wander around,” Tagg replied.

“Look, you two... If you want to spend time alone together --go ahead and use your room, Lise.”

“Father?”

Grott sat up and swung his feet to the concrete. He approached Tagg and began squeezing his bicep.

“Do you really love this runt?”

“Yes, Father --I do.”

“Boy --how long have you been drawing?”

“Since I can remember. I used to pick through trash outside the Zone for scraps.”

Grott nodded. “Tagg --you're welcome to move your things over here.”

“Father!” Lise exclaimed. “I can't believe I heard you say that. Don't tell me you approve...”

“I never said I approved. You two have done it once. Whether I approve or not, you'll do it again. I remember what it was like. I was young and in love once...”

“You were young once. I know you still love Mother.”

“Do you really mean this, Grott?” Tagg asked.

He nodded. “I do. Since I know you'll do it anyway, I'd rather you be here in the safety of our home

--not in some thug-infested, run down hotel.”

“Oh, Father... What will Mother say?”

“It was her idea.” He turned to Tagg. “You'll need to supply your own food.”

“I have scrip,” Tagg exclaimed. “I'll buy food for everyone.” He began sprinting toward his building.

“I'll go get my things,” he said over his shoulder.

“Wait!” Lise yelled. “I'll help you.”

Lise placed the cover on the tin-can lantern to extinguish it. She had positioned it between her mattress and the sheet separating her space from her parents'. Tagg lay on his back. She slid onto the mattress and snuggled under his arm. He held her around her waist. She kissed his chest. She felt his hand slide down and caress her buttocks. “Are you trying to start something up again?”

she whispered. “Haven't you had enough for one night?”

“No, I'm not trying to start anything. You do have a terrific ass, Lise.”

She smiled. Her eyes were beginning to adjust to the dim light filtering through the sill window. She placed her hand against his breast and began caressing him. With her fingers she explored his body. Lise traced the outline of his ribcage and smoothed her palm along his abdomen. She found his pelvis and felt its shape. Tagg jerked. “That tickled.”

“Sorry...” Lise moved her hand lower. She wrapped her fingers around him. “It's so different than how it was just a little while ago. It was so big... so firm...”

“This is how it usually is,” he replied. “A guy couldn't go around like that.”

“I suppose not...” She continued to finger him.

Tagg slid his hand around her ribcage. He worked his fingers under her arm and stroked the side of her breast.

Lise continued to caress him. “Tagg... Look what it's doing, now. Are you making it do that?”

“No. You are. You're making it want more.”

“More?” She climbed up and lowered herself onto him. Tagg embraced her. She nuzzled his neck and felt his fingers explore her back and spine. “Mmm ... more...” He locked his legs with hers. “Quietly,” she whispered.

His hips began a slow rocking. “Feel good?” he asked.

“Mmm...”

“As good as before?”

“Mmm...”

Tagg increased the vigor of his rocking. Lise began moving her pelvis with his. He gripped her buttocks, pressed himself against her and swallowed a groan.

She put her hands on his face, turned it toward hers and kissed his lips. “Was it good?”

“So good it almost hurt... Was it good for you?”

“You know I like it ... with you.”

“But ... did you...”

“Tagg, you know I don't need to in order to enjoy it.”

She felt his body relax. His hands slid from her back to his sides. She lay her face against his chest and closed her eyes.

Morning light waked her. She had slid off of Tagg during the night but still lay clutching him. “Good morning,” she said.

“Good morning.”

“Let's go wash.”

He followed her as she grabbed some towels and soap and headed up the steps to the courtyard.

“Where do you get the towels?” he asked.

“They're discards from the laundry where Mother works --the soap, too. We might not have much, but we're clean.”

She wrapped a towel around her body, trotted down the steps and slipped into her bandeau top and shorts.

“Must you leave now?” he asked.

“I can't keep Megan and her twins waiting.” She kissed his cheek. “I'll see you tonight.”

“I'll take those sketches to the park.”