VIII

The streetcar pulled to a stop near the Zone. Lise hopped off the platform in back and headed through one of the gates in the wall separating the novonid ghetto from the rest of Vyonna. She reached her courtyard and found Rayla lying on the concrete bench, sunning herself.

“Tagg's waiting for you downstairs,” she said. “He has some news.”

Lise sprinted down the stairs. “Tagg?”

He handed her a red twenty-five unit scrip card. Lise read the punches and saw twenty units remained on it. “I sold those sketches. The same guy who bought the first one gave me forty for the others.”

Rayla worked her way down the stairs.

“Forty units, Mother!”

“That's wonderful,” Rayla replied.

Lise threw her arms around Tagg. She leaned to kiss him but he pulled away. “Tagg ... what's wrong?”

“Oh, Lise... My owner found me.”

“And?”

“He has a job for me.”

“Where?”

“At the big eatery in Quadrant Two, up in sector six. I'll be bussing tables and cleaning up.”

“When do you start?”

“Tonight --in a little while.”

“Tonight?”

“It's a night job.”

“When will you be home?”

“That's the problem. I won't be done until after curfew, so I won't be home until morning. They have a barracks there for the workers who stay overnight.”

“Oh, Tagg! No!” She began crying.

“They're giving me one day off per pay period, and the restaurant is closed another. That's two days off.”

“Two days out of ten!”

“Since it's a night job I can still go to the park and sketch. What about those three rest days when you don't go to Megan's? We can be together, then.”

“Oh, Tagg...” She wiped tears from her eyes. “How much are they paying?”

“One fifty.”

“How much of it can you keep?”

“None of it. My owner says I still owe for my registration.”

“They all say that,” Rayla interjected. “Registrations seem to cost more and more as time goes on.”

“You could make more sitting in the park and sketching. Did you tell your owner what a talented artist you are?”

“I didn't dare. If he knew I was making money from it, he'd claim it's really his and want it. I've already spent some. Lise --I have to go.”

“No, Tagg...”

“Please --don't make it more difficult. I must go. You KNOW what'll happen if I don't show up.”

“I know...”

He pulled from her embrace. “I'll see you later.”

He headed up the stairs, stopped halfway, turned and waved.

Lise collapsed, sobbing in her mother's arms. “Oh, Mother... It's not fair!”

“It never is.”

“I thought we'd be so happy together.”

“You will be together, two nights out of ten.”

“But, Mother... Eight nights out of ten we won't be.”

“The nights you're apart will make the ones you're together more special.”

“You don't really believe that.”

“It's better than none at all. When I was your age and living on the pomma farm --we weren't permitted relationships with men. We lived apart and the overseers determined who we'd spend...”

“You've TOLD me this already, Mother.” She sniffed and wiped tears from her cheeks. “You and Grott are SO lucky.”

“I know we are. I also know it could end on a moment's notice. You're lucky to have Tagg. You must live each day one at a time. Enjoy every moment you have with him. It might be the last.”

“I know...”

Rayla embraced Lise and caressed her bald head. “I had just gotten used to having him around, myself.”

Lise carried a tin can lantern into her room and set it on the floor. She slipped out of her bandeau. From her pocket she retrieved the twenty-unit card Tagg had given her and she dropped it on her mattress.

She pulled off her shorts, put out the light and flopped onto her bed. She reached under the cushion and found the fiver Tagg had given her the other day. Holding the cards in her hand she closed her eyes and sobbed herself to sleep.

The streetcar stopped near a residential neighborhood in quadrant three. She headed toward number 505 and saw Ramina's sleek black car parked at the curb.

She rang the bell and Megan opened the door. “Lise --come in.”

“Lise,” Ramina said. “Megan was telling me how happy she is with the job you're doing.”

“Thank you, mam.” She smiled toward Megan.

“She also told me about that awful incident with the constables. I wish you had told me about it --I would've had that cop's credentials.”

“I'm sorry, mam --I didn't want to bother you with it.”

“It is my job to be bothered by such,” Ramina replied. “With all the crime out there, why should they harass law-abiding folk?”

Megan opened her bag, retrieved two blue fifty-unit scrip cards and handed them to Ramina. “Your fee.”

“Look at this, Lise --two down and thirty-eight to go.” Lise watched as Ramina put them in her bag.

“Ms Ramina?”

“Yes, Lise?”

“How... Can...”

“What is it, child?”

“Mam, I'd like a way to keep track of the wages I earn --so I'll know when my debt to you is paid.”

“You can trust me, Lise.”

“But, mam...”

“I understand.” Ramina opened her bag and withdrew a business card and a stylus. She made two strokes on the back of the card. “We'll keep this as a record.”

“May I hold it?” Lise asked.

“Lise?”

“I'm sorry, mam --I would like to keep the card.”

Ramina's eyes narrowed. “You are a sharp girl, Lise... If I let you hold this, how do I know you won't add an extra mark now and then --when I'm not looking?”

Lise chewed her lip. “I wouldn't, mam. I never thought of it.”

Ramina withdrew another card. “You can recognize your own name when you see it written, can't you Lise?”

“Yes, mam.”

“Yes, a very sharp girl...” Ramina wrote LISE on the card and put two strokes beneath it. “I'll keep this card and you keep that one. Every pay period I'll add a mark to each. Does that sound fair, Lise?”

She smiled. “Yes, Ms Ramina. Thank you.”

“Good. Now, I'll be on my way...”

“Ms Ramina?”

“Yes, Lise?”

“After the forty pay periods are up --how much of my wages may I keep? ... Mam?”

“Lise... I have tolerated all the rude talk of wages I can for one day. We will open that discussion after another thirty-eight periods have passed. Understood?”

“Yes, mam. I'm sorry.”

“I accept your apology, Lise. Now, I really must be on my way.”

Megan approached her. “I meant what I said, Lise. I'm very pleased.”

“Thank you.”

“I can see a difference in Geddes's behavior.”

“I do, too.”

Megan opened her bag and removed a yellow five-unit scrip. “This is for you, Lise. I made such a fuss with the livery company over that driver who cheated you. They agreed to settle the claim for five units. I know he swindled you of thirteen, but five is better than nothing - - don't you think?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

Megan opened her arms. Lise accepted the invitation and embraced her. She felt Megan's arms around her back. Lise rested her face against Megan's shoulder and hugged her. Lise released her and stepped back.

“It's a nice day,” Megan said, “after such a stretch of dreary weather. What are your plans?”

“I've been feeling a bit sunstarved,” Lise replied. “I thought I'd take the twins to the park for a picnic lunch.”

“Very good. That way you get nourishment, too. I have a hamper in the closet you can use to carry their food. Don't forget the sun bonnets.”

“I won't.”

“Then, I'll see you this after.” Megan gave her a little wave and headed out the door. Lise pulled the cards from her pocket and added the new fiver to them. Thirty units! She had never held so much money. She certainly could buy a mediascreen, now. She poked the cards and Ramina's payment ledger into her pocket.

Klarissa and Geddes struggled down the sidewalk carrying the hamper between them. They reached the corner. “Hold up, gang,” Lise said. “I'll take the hamper across the street. You can carry it from there.”

The signal changed and Lise gestured the twins into the crosswalk. She noticed a constable's car parked at the corner. The cop who had arrested her leaned against it, working his handheld. “Good morning, ladies ... gentleman...,” he said.

Lise smiled and snapped her head in a bow. She led the twins halfway down the block and set down the hamper. “Geddes ... Klarissa... You can carry it the rest of the way.”

The sun had climbed above the trees and tall ferns lining the streets. Its oblique rays hit Lise's green skin and began activating her chlorophyll. Sun-hunger was a cold, prickly sensation. Sunlight was the opposite --warm, soothing, invigorating and relaxing at the same time. She drew in a deep breath, released it and realized how much breathing she had been doing lately. When her body was full of sunlight she need not breathe at all. Her aerobic and photosynthetic metabolisms would be in balance supplying the blood gasses she needed. Walking to the park was the perfect level of physical activity for her as the energy-producing systems in her body started coming on line. If she were too sedentary, then her blood would become oxygen-rich and she would begin to exhale it. This was an uncomfortable state for her, too; leaving her feeling agitated and uneasy.

The sun felt good after so many days of shade; and it would feel better as it climbed to the zenith, its rays becoming more direct and intense.

They reached the park. Lise put the hamper on a bench near the sandbox. “Geddes --Klarissa... Go play.”

“When can we eat?” Geddes asked.

“When it's lunchtime.”

“How will we know it's lunchtime?” Klarissa asked. “You don't carry a watch.”

“I'll know.”

“But, how?”

Lise pointed to the sky. “When the sun is overhead, it's lunchtime. Now --you play 'til then.” She stretched out her long legs and leaned back to expose as much of her green skin to the sun as possible. Klarissa helped Lise pack the empty food containers, plates and utensils into the hamper. Lise withdrew a bottle she had filled with water and took a long drink from it. “You drink so much water,”

Klarissa observed.

“I need lots of water.”

“Why?”

“All my kind do. We don't eat much, but we drink lots of water.” She capped the bottle and put it into the hamper. “Are you bored or do you and your sister want to play more?”

“The swings,” Geddes exclaimed. The children ran to them.

Lise locked her fingers behind her head and leaned back again. Her sun-hunger had dissipated. She felt an overall state of well-being as she absorbed more sunlight, recharging her biological battery in reserve for the next stretch of cloudy weather.

“May I sit here?” A man's voice startled her.

She turned and saw a white man in early middle-age standing near the bench.

“There are other benches,” she said.

Rayla had taught Lise to remember the features of strangers who approached her. Lise made a mental inventory of this man's appearance: medium height; athletic build; age early thirties, grey eyes. His dress was typical for a white Varadan man: tan trousers and a one-sleeved shirt. A brown sash, fastened behind, was thrown over his left shoulder, concealing his caste tattoo. On his head was a broad-brimmed hat of the kind frequently worn by whites to shade themselves from the harsh, midday rays.

“I would like to sit on this one. May I join you?”

She made a gesture that said, suit yourself and leaned back to absorb more sun. Lise sensed the man was watching her. She slid from him until she reached the end of the bench and regarded him out of the corner of her eye.

“I see you're Zero-One-Zero,” the man said.

Lise glanced at her registry number. She could feel heat building in her cheeks.

“A pretty girl like you must have a nicer name than that.”

She folded her arms and looked away.

“You were brought up right,” he continued. “You were taught never to speak with strangers.” He extended his hand “My name's Thom... Thom Bromen.” Lise looked at her feet studying the vein that ran from inside her ankle and made a loop along the top of her foot. Then she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He held his hand out for a moment, then retracted and examined it before placing it in his lap. “I'm Thom ...you're...” She rolled her eyes. “You're...”

“Lise,” she relented.

“Ah, Lise. Much nicer than Zero-One-Zero, don't you think?” Lise stared at her toes. “I think so, at least. Tell me, Lise --what's a girl like you doing in a place like this?”

Lise studied the back of her hand.

“Lise --we're no longer strangers. We CAN have a conversation.”

“Please, Mr Thom...”

“No --not Mr Thom. Just Thom.” He held up his thumb and forefinger. “Short ... Thom.”

“Thom,” she replied.

“You have no reason to fear me, Lise. I work with your people.”

“Do you mean novonids?”

“Exactly. I'm writing a book on the urban novonid population and I'd love an opportunity to talk with you --to have you tell me about yourself ... your story.”

“There's not much to tell.”

“Why don't you let me be the judge of that... I have a better idea. Let me tell you what I know about you already and we'll see how close I am. Are you game?”

She smiled. “Go ahead.”

“Let's see...” He regarded her from head to foot. “You look about nineteen standard years old...”

“Eighteen ... and a half.”

“Close. You live in the Green Zone and for some reason or other you can't bear children.”

Lise's jaw dropped. “How can you tell I live in the Zone?”

“Was I right?”

“Yes, but... How did you?”

“Well, if you could bear children, you wouldn't be out on the streets --you'd be locked up in some breedery.”

“There are breeding females living in the Zone,” Lise replied.

“Yes --a few. However, you're definitely not pregnant --not with your slim, sleek figure.” She smiled. “Based on your age, you should have at least one child --one not old enough to be weaned. However, there are no novonid children within eyeshot. So --the likely explanation is that you are a working girl.”

Lise nodded. “Yes...”

“Would you mind sharing with me why you can't?”

“Can't what?”

“Bear children, Lise. There aren't many novonid females in the workforce. Those that are, can't.”

Lise regarded Thom for a long moment and let out an exasperated sigh. “You are the most forward man.”

“You won't tell me?”

“No, I won't.”

“Then let me guess... I've done fairly well with guessing so far haven't I?” He scanned her body with his eyes. “You certainly don't suffer from atrophied ovaries. It's the single most common reason for infertility in novonids. If you had that condition, you'd be built like a twelve-year-old boy, not like a twenty-year-old girl.”

She sighed. “I've been sterilized. I'm a oneshot.”

“A oneshot... Is your mother alive?”

“Yes...”

“Unusual... I definitely want you in my book. I don't encounter oneshots every day.”

“No,” Lise replied coldly. “There's not much demand for us and we usually die young.”

“Yes --in childbirth,” Thom added. “I've never heard of a oneshot being sterilized. How did that come about?”

“I'd rather not talk about it.”

“Not a problem.”

“What about the other thing?” Lise asked.

“What other thing?”

“Living in the Zone.”

“Oh, yes... Well --I went a bit out on a limb for that one. I'd say you haven't been registered very long --certainly less than a year.”

“Yes...”

“I could tell THAT by your registration number. The RAA series is new.” He leaned toward her and held his hand to shield his voice. “It's my job to know these things.”

Lise nodded. “That fact confounded some constables a couple of days ago.”

“Since novonids must be registered before their sixteenth year, and since we both know you're in your nineteenth, you must've spent time underground as an unregistered. Yes?”

Lise nodded. “... yes...”

“The only place you could do THAT and survive is in the Zone. So, I figured you at least had lived in the Zone recently.”

“Yes, that's right.”

He rubbed his hands together. “Oh, how I want you for my book.” He began counting on his fingers.

“A working female novonid who has lived underground as an unregistered and is a oneshot. What a specimen!”

“I'm afraid you'll need to look elsewhere for your collection, Mr Thom.”

“Now, now... Please, Lise. And, please --no Mr Thom. It's Thom. You must understand the purpose of my book. I'm writing it to further the cause of greater autonomy for your people.”

“Autonomy?”

“Yes --independence, freedom --whatever you want to call it. So many whites think your kind are incapable of much. I know better. I know you're capable. I have a great respect and fondness for your people, Lise. I think you've been treated very poorly, especially since being brought into the cities. I want to document as many cases I can of ... of people like yourself who break the stereotype --to educate the white population on the true capabilities of your kind. I want to help you, Lise. So --will you think about it?”

“What would I have to do?”

“Nothing other than talk with me ... maybe let me take your photoimage. I want us to be friends, Lise. I consider you my friend already. Please consider me one of yours.”

“I don't know...”

“Think about it.”

“All right --I'll think about it.”

“Good.” He looked around the park. “So, are you on the clock now or waiting for your stint to start?”

“I'm on duty now --watching two children.”

“White children, no doubt. Which ones?”

Lise pointed toward the swings. “Those. They're twins.”

“How delightful.”

Lise looked at the sky. “I should be getting them home. All this fresh air is apt to tire them and I want them to have their naps.”

“So they're fresh for their mom and dad.”

“She's a single mother.”

“A single mom... I'd like to meet her some day.”

“Nice meeting you Thom...” She stood and grasped the hamper. “Geddes! Klarissa! Time to head home.”

Lise heard the front door unlock. Klarissa and Geddes jumped up and ran to greet their mother. She stepped into the living room. “Did you have a nice time at the park?” she asked.

“Very nice,” Lise replied. “Some white man insisted on talking to me. I let slip I worked for a single mom and he...”

“Lise... I'm not desperate enough to require matchmaking services.”

“I didn't think you were. I just wanted to get rid of the guy.”

Megan laughed. “I have encountered many men who've made me feel the same way.” She regarded Lise. “If I didn't know better --I'd say you look darker than this morning.”

“I likely do,” Lise replied. “When we fill with sunlight, our skin darkens.” She knelt on the floor and hugged and kissed the twins. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

She headed for the door patting the pocket that held her scrip. She knew better than to count it on the street, so she paused in the doorway and pulled it from her pocket. Once again she reviewed the three cards --thirty units. She slipped them back into her pocket and headed out the door. Lise walked to the corner and turned right toward a retail area she had noticed from the streetcar. She approached a shop selling electronic equipment, walked in and stopped short. The displays of myriad devices bedazzled her. Half the store was turned over to media screens. She saw large, wall-mounted ones, ones for business, ones for homes. She saw built-in units and portable ones like Klarissa and Geddes watched.

One wall was filled with handheld mediascreens. She looked over the display and tried to make sense of the descriptive placards. There were miniature ones --quite expensive. As they grew larger, the prices dropped --to a point. Then, the larger ones were more expensive.

Lise looked at a handheld unit. The placard listed its features, but she didn't understand many of them. The price was right, though. She should buy one like that.

A young man whose caste tattoo was the three coins of the merchant class approached her. “Miss,”

he said, “I must ask you to leave.”

“Leave? But...”

“Please.” He gestured toward the door. “You're making the paying customers uncomfortable.”

“I have money. I want to buy one.”

“This way...” He grasped her upper arm and turned her from the display. Her eyes began to burn. She bit her lip, turned and headed toward the door.

“Frustrating, isn't it?” She heard a voice and turned to see Thom loitering near the exit.

“Did you follow me in here?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact I did. I happened to notice you on the street and wondered what business you had in here.”

“Let's talk outside.”

They stood on the sidewalk. “I wanted to buy something and they threw me out. My scrip is as good as yours.”

“It must make you furious.”

“No. Discouraged.”

“It makes me furious. I see it all the time. It especially pains me to see it happen to someone I like.”

“Please, Thom. Please leave me alone.” She turned from him and pressed her hand to her eyes.

“What did you want to buy?” He touched her shoulder and then withdrew his hand. “Tell me, Lise.”

“A mediascreen --a small, handheld one.”

“What would you do with one of those?”

“It's for my mother. She likes to keep up with the news.”

“Very good.”

“And, if she could use it to read books from the library, then...”

“Your mother knows how to read?”

“Yes,” Lise replied. “When she was little on the pomma farm, she was the farmer's daughter's favorite. They were about the same age and she taught my mother to read.”

“Now, I must include your mother in my book. It's no wonder that salesman behaved so badly. I've never heard of a novonid...”

“You said yourself we're capable of much.”

“True, true... I apologize, Lise.”

“The only reason so many of us don't read is that no one ever bothered to teach us.”

“You're absolutely right. I'm sorry --I'm guilty of the same prejudice as the society I wish to change.”

“It's all right, Thom. I thought we also could use it to communicate. And, a portable one wouldn't need to plug into the wall, except to recharge the power cells. I could bring it to Megan's and recharge it there, when it runs down.”

“I see you've thought it all out. I'm impressed. Let's walk together and figure out how to deal with this.” They walked a distance. “I know --I'll buy it for you...”

“Oh, I couldn't...”

“... with your scrip, of course. How much do you have?”

“Thirty.”

“We should be able to find something for that amount. Let's look in here...” Thom pointed toward another shop. “We won't buy it here, but we can get a good look at what's on the market. Then, I know a place that has better prices.”

Lise accompanied Thom into the shop and they approached the handheld mediascreens. “Which one did you like?” Thom whispered.

“That one ... I think.” Lise pointed.

“Hmmm...”

A salesclerk approached Lise. “Miss...”

“She's with me,” Thom interjected.

“Very good, sir... May I help?”

“Tell me about this mediascreen.”

“A basic model with a monochrome screen,” the salesman replied. “It can receive the free broadcasts and the news. It comes with text and voice messaging. Video messaging is an extra-charge service.”

“What about accessing the central library?”

“Oh, yes --that's part of it, too. Premium entertainment programming is extra.”

“And, the price?”

“It lists for forty-five, but I can let you have it for forty --if you purchase video messaging or an entertainment package.”

“Hmmm... I'll think about it.” He nodded toward the door and Lise followed him onto the street.

“That model would be perfect for your needs,” he said as they walked, “don't you think?”

“I can't afford it,” Lise said. “I only have thirty units.”

“Don't despair. I'll take you to where the prices are rock-bottom.”

He led her around the corner, onto a side street and to a basement storefront. “Give me your scrip and wait here. I'll be right back.”

“Can't I come, too?”

“I'm afraid this shopkeeper is prejudiced against green folk.”

“Then maybe we shouldn't...”

“Lise --which would you rather do tonight --fight a social battle or buy a mediascreen?” She pulled the three cards from her pocket and handed them to him. He nodded. “You're pragmatic. We'll leave the social battle to fight another day.”

Thom trotted down the steps and into the shop. Lise paced on the sidewalk. She thought about the mediascreen. Then, a realization washed over her. She knew nothing about the man to whom she had just given her scrip. Grott's words echoed in her mind. Scrip can be taken away from you . She had willingly handed hers over. The livery driver had swindled her just a few days ago. Had it happened again?

A sinking feeling formed in the pit of her stomach. Thirty units! She bit her lip and pressed her knuckle to her mouth. Had she, in the course of just a few days let more than fifty units slip through her fingers? It might as well have been a fortune. It WAS a fortune to her... She paced more. Thom had been down there an awfully long time. What if he never reappeared?

What if he ducked out a back way and disappeared into the city? Maybe she should go down and investigate.

She headed down the steps. On the door was a sign. It bore a green figure inside a red circle with a slash across it. Lise knew better than to enter any establishment bearing that emblem. She headed back up the steps and resumed pacing.

A constable on a foot beat approached her. “Move along,” he said.

“I ... I'm waiting for someone, officer.”

The cop regarded her registration number. He pulled out his handheld, manipulated it, slipped it back into its pouch on his belt and continued on his beat.

Lise wondered if she should chase after the cop and tell him what happened. No --they wouldn't help the likes of her. She squeezed shut her eyes and shook her head.

The door opened and Thom came up the steps holding a pair of boxes. “Here,” he said. “Mission accomplished.” He looked at her face. “Are you all right? Lise --have you been crying?”

“What took so long?” Lise asked. “I was getting worried.”

“They had to locate the correct model. Come. To celebrate our victory in the mediascreen campaign, I would like you to accompany me to dinner. I know of a place that serves both our species. They have a modest dinner menu for whites, and some special diet for you.”

“I fed yesternight,” Lise replied. “I'm not hungry.”

“Well, I am. Would you sit with me and have an iced pomma brew? Unsweetened, that is.”

“No. I can't.”

“Are you still on duty?

“No. I must get home.”

“It would please me if you would, Lise. I'm a fast eater.”

She pondered. “All right.”

“This way...”

Thom led her up some stairs to a dining room. She looked around --it wasn't busy. At a couple tables she saw white and green folks sitting together. “What is this place?” she whispered, “and, who are those people?”

“Like I said --it's a restaurant that serves both kinds.”

Thom pulled out a chair and Lise sat. He sat across from her. She scanned the room again and realized every novonid was accompanied by a white.

Thom doffed his hat and set it on the table. Lise glanced at him and attempted to conceal her surprise. He was bald. The hat had done a good job of concealing it outdoors, but now she could see it. He was as hairless as she, lacking even eyebrows and eyelashes. She put her fingers to her lips.

“The condition is called congenital alopecia. It makes me look a little like a very pale novonid, doesn't it?”

“I guess...”

“You and I have something in common. When it starts raining --we're the first to know.”

Lise giggled and then laughed. “I suppose you're right.” She regarded him. “Can't you wear a ... wig or something?”

“I did for a while. Then I realized that one must be true to oneself --you must be what you are. I AM

bald so I decided to BE bald.”

“Were you born that way?”

“I was born as bald as one of you. That in itself isn't uncommon in white infants. But --my hair never developed.”

“Does it run in your family?”

“In my case, yes. It's not a common condition, but it's not a rare one either. I'd say the odds of it are

... about the odds of being a oneshot.”

A member of the wait staff placed a menu card before Thom. Before Lise she set a card with pictures of preparations.

Thom pointed to the menu. “You see ... they dress up the special food you need to make it more attractive ... more varied and interesting.”

She looked up at him. “Thom --they must do this for the benefit of our white owners. We don't care what the food looks like. We feed because we must --not because we enjoy it. I told you I fed yesterday. I'm not hungry.”

The waiter approached holding a handheld screen. “I'll have the seaprawn sandwich and two iced pomma brews ... plain for her and syrup in mine.”

The waiter entered the order, nodded and left.

Thom set the boxes on the table. “I'll show you what I bought...” He opened a box. “This mediascreen should work well for you.” He switched it on and manipulated it. “Here is the official news...” He poked it. “The alternative news...” He poked it again. “Text and voice messaging ... here's the call number.”

Lise nodded.

“There are some other free services --library access and so on. They tried to sell me an entertainment package but I said no.”

“I've seen some entertainment on Megan's screen,” Lise replied. “It's nothing we'll miss.”

The waiter brought a plate and two tall glasses filled with an amber liquid. On the plate were two rounds of pomma bread with a pink filling.

Lise sipped her drink and her eyes popped. “It's so sweet. I think this is yours,” she said. She wiped the rim with a napkin. “I'm sorry. She must've mixed them up.”

“Not a problem...” Thom handed her the other glass. Lise sipped from it and tried to analyze the flavors.

“How do you like it?” Thom asked.

Lise picked up the mediascreen. “I love it. I'm sure Mother will love it, too.”

“No --the pomma brew.”

“Frankly?”

“Yes, frankly.”

“I don't understand why one would spoil perfectly good water by putting this into it.”

Thom chuckled. “You are a pragmatic girl, Lise. Some folks enjoy the taste. It IS all right to expose yourself to new sensations --for no other reason than deriving pleasure.”

“I'll try to think of it that way. The cold is nice --refreshing after a long day.”

“That's the girl.”

“What's in the other box?”

He opened it. “It's a solar charger. You set this in the sun, connect it to the screen ... no need for house current.”

“That's perfect, Thom!”

“I thought since YOU were solar powered there was no reason your mediascreen shouldn't be also.”

He dug into a pocket. “I almost forgot.” He handed her an object.

She looked at a yellow five-unit scrip and read the punches. “Three units?”

“That's right. Both devices came to twenty-seven.”

“It was much more expensive in the other shop.”

“One must become a savvy shopper, Lise.” He pointed to the mediascreen. “This is not exactly the gadget we examined together. It's a model from a couple of years ago, but it has the same features and works the same way. The store where I bought it sells remainders at half the cost.”

Lise held the screen to her bosom. “Yes, Mother would approve of that. Thank you so much, Thom.”

Thom tore a bite from his sandwich. “Have you thought about it?”

“About what?”

“About helping me with my book.”

She looked into his grey eyes and smiled. “Yes, I will. I like you, Thom. I'll be honest --at first I thought you were stalking me ... or something. You've been very kind and helpful. Talking with you is the least I could do.”

“It makes me very happy. You'll be a fine addition. Am I your friend, now?”

She extended her arm and Thom grasped her hand. “Yes --friends.”

“That pleases me more.”

Lise drained her glass and crunched on an ice cube. “That's a new sensation,” she said, swallowing.

“Did you enjoy it?”

She smiled and shrugged.

He finished his sandwich and raised his hand to catch the waiter's eye. She approached their table. Thom handed her a pair of yellow scrip cards. She slipped one and then the other into a slot in her handheld. The first one popped out, with all its holes punched. She handed it to Thom and he tossed it onto his plate.

The second card popped out with two units unpunched. “Keep it,” Thom said.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Lise --I'll walk you to the bus stop.” He picked up his hat.

IX

Lise hopped off the streetcar and headed toward the Zone. She was noticing what she hadn't before

--the cracked pavement, the litter blowing against the curb ... unkempt tufts of native weeds along the broken sidewalks.

It was sunset. She headed through the gate and could hear voices coming from the brothel on the corner. Her walk accelerated into a trot. She made her way to the courtyard and down the stairs to the basement.

“Mother ... Father,” she called.

“Where have you been?” Rayla asked. “Tagg was looking for you. He had to go to his job.”

“I'm sorry I'm late... I was shopping.”

“Shopping?”

She presented the boxes. “I bought this for you, Mother.” Rayla stared in silence. “Take them, Mother.”

Rayla opened the box and withdrew the mediascreen. Grott approached them.

“Lise...”

“Now you can keep up on the news.”

“Why would you buy something like that?” Grott asked. “We don't need it.”

“Father --it IS all right to spend money on things we don't need.”

“Money we don't have.”

“It was MY scrip.”

“It was Tagg's scrip.”

“No, Father. I earned it. I posed for Tagg. Without me, he wouldn't have drawings to sell. I earned it as much as he did. It was MINE, and I spent it how I wanted.”

Rayla switched on the device and began scanning the news headlines. “Oh, Lise...”

Lise pointed to the screen. “There's the alternative news ... and the library...” A tear rolled down Rayla's cheek. “We can also use it to communicate. That's the other reason I bought it, Father. Ms Megan told me she might need someone to watch her twins in the evenings. She also told me she'd pay me and not Ramina. ME, Father --scrip Ramina need not know of.”

“Sometimes,” Rayla replied, “one must spend some money in order to make some.”

“Now, if Megan needs me she can call.”

Grott snorted. “You're being spoiled by what's outside the Zone. You want ... needless things.”

“No, Father. A mediascreen is useful.”

“Yes, Grott,” Rayla agreed. “You know I've wanted one for years. Now, our daughter has given one to us.”

“Father, I don't know why you want to wear our poverty on your shoulder. I don't want the sorts of things the whites have. But there's nothing wrong being comfortable...” She nudged a bench with her toe.

“...like having soft chairs instead of hard benches.”

“How did you buy this?” Rayla asked.

“Well... A white helped me.”

“Helped you?”

“Yes. I met him in the park. He works with us.”

“Works with you?”

“No --with us ... with our kind.”

How so?” her mother asked.

“He's writing a book ... to try to convince whites to give us more freedom.”

“As if that's going to happen,” Grott interjected.

“He's sincere. I gave him my scrip and he bought the mediascreen for me.”

“Did he keep some for his trouble?” Grott asked.

“No. He knew of a shop where they sell at a discount. This mediascreen goes for forty-five but he bought it for me for twenty-seven. It's almost half price. And --that was with the solar charger. Not ALL

whites are evil, Father.”

“Then, you did well,” Rayla replied. She opened her arms and hugged her daughter. “Thank you so much.”

Lise stood at the corner waiting for the right streetcar to work its way down the street. The sun was getting low in the sky and traffic was beginning to lighten.

“Lise!”

She turned and saw a figure in a tan shirt and broad-brimmed hat.

“How did your mother like it?”

“Oh, Thom! She loved it. Have you been waiting for me?”

“Truth be told --yes. I've been here I don't know how long and was about to give up, figuring I had missed you.”

“Oh, no --Ms Megan had a doctor's appointment and asked me to stay late with the twins.” She pulled a yellow card from her shorts and held it up. “She gave me three units --and it's all mine!”

“Wonderful. Lise --I was hoping we could start working on your segment of my book.”

“I should be getting home...” She craned her neck to look down the street. “Here's my bus, now.”

“Wait --Come with me, instead.”

“Mother will be worried...”

“You can call her.”

Lise smiled. “That's right!”

Thom whipped out his handheld mediascreen. “What's the number?” Lise pulled a card from her pocket. Thom manipulated the screen. “Busy...”

“Busy? I wonder who Mother is calling.”

“I'll put it on callback.”

“Callback?”

“Yes --it'll put the call through once the circuit frees. Come, walk with me.”

“Where are we going?”

“To my car. I'll take you to my office and we'll start our interview.”

Lise walked with Thom. A warble came from his pocket. He withdrew his handheld. “Ahh... Your call is going through...” He handed the device to Lise. A voice-only connection formed.

“Hello?”

“Mother! It's ... your daughter.”

“Lise! Where are you? It's getting late. Tagg has already gone to his job.”

“Ms Megan had me stay. She paid me three units. Mother --I tried to call and the circuit was busy.”

“Yes. Once the word spread I have a mediascreen ... the neighbors have been coming in all afternoon to make calls. Lise, you'll be home soon --won't you?”

“No, Mother. The man I told you about ... the one with the book wants me to go with him so he can interview me.”

“Lise...”

“Don't worry, Mother. I'll be home before curfew...” She looked in Thom's direction and he nodded.

“If not I'll call.”

“I don't want you having to stay overnight in a wayside, Lise.”

“Oh, no --I'll be home.”

“Thanks for calling, Lise.” The call terminated.

Lise handed the device to Thom. “Thanks.”

He gestured toward a sleek, red speedster. It was a two-seater with yellow upholstery and a narrow windscreen. The nose was low and long and the aft quarters bulged with dual turbines. It was parked in a stall with a meter. Lise noticed a novonid boy, about ten standards old and she recognized him as one from the Zone. He was scavenging around the meters, picking up discarded scrip that had a hole or two unpunched.

Thom took out a new yellow fiver and pushed it into the slot of the parking meter. It debited a unit and a half. He glanced sideways toward the boy and nonchalantly flicked the scrip card onto the ground near his feet. Then, he unlocked the vehicle and gestured Lise inside. She fastened her safety restraint. Thom manipulated controls and the twin turbines whined up to operating speed. He released the parking brake and pulled back on the control to back it out of the parking stall. A sharp flick on the stick and the car responded by cutting to the left. He pushed the stick forward and they headed onto the street.

“There's still some sunlight,” Thom said and pressed a control. The cowl slid backward, opening the cockpit to the sky. Lise could feel the wind whistling in her ears.

“Where's your office?” Lise asked.

“Quadrant One.”

“I've never been in Quadrant One.”

“I'll show you some sights.”

Traffic in downtown Vyonna was light, now. Thom regulated the car's speed to match the synchronized traffic stops. They whizzed through the central administrative district, through a canyon of now nearly deserted highrise buildings.

He paused at an intersection and then pulled onto a broad boulevard. A panel in the dash lit up. He pressed a control.

“There's auto-steer on this street,” he said. A list of destinations appeared on the panel and he pressed one, then leaned back and laced his fingers behind his neck. “She knows her way.”

The car, now on auto-pilot, slipped into a middle lane marked with blue circles. It accelerated to match its speed with other vehicles.

Thom drew in a breath. “Mmm... Listen to her...”

“To whom?” Lise asked.

He motioned behind them. “The turbines. No other car on the road sounds like a Twin-T. They're adjusted ... they're tuned to spin at slightly different speeds. The tones are a perfect half-pitch apart. What lovely music they make ... what beautiful dissonance. The sound of a perfectly tuned Twin-T

makes affectionados swoon.”

Lise wasn't listening to turbines. She was watching the corners for landmarks and bus stops. This was unfamiliar territory, with open spaces, groomed gardens and well-kept buildings. She made a mental inventory of places and bus lines. Then, she felt something on her forearm. She looked down. Thom was stroking her. She glanced sideways toward him. He pulled his hand away. “I'm sorry to be so presumptuous, but I just love novonid skin. It is so soft and so smooth ... yours in particular, Lise. I'm fascinated by it --an expanse of lovely, green skin...”

“Please... You're making me uncomfortable.”

“It's an aesthetic thing, Lise --nothing carnal. Please believe me. I think we whites are so boring. We used to have variety --did you know that?”

“No...”

“This colony was seeded from another colony planet. The original population of that world was quite diverse. There where white people and brown people... yellow people and red ones... Over the centuries, all that diversity was lost. We call ourselves whites but, in reality --it's more of a muddy tan, don't you think?”

“I don't know... I really hadn't given it much thought.” Lise returned to studying streetsigns. In case she needed to find her way home by herself she wanted to know which bus routes to take. She felt something against the back of her hand. It was Thom's hand, held palm-up in an ancient gesture that predated the founding of their world.

Lise glanced into his eyes and placed her palm against his. He spread his fingers and she laced hers with his.

“We're now officially friends --aren't we, Lise?”

“Friends.”

“I'm happy --and honored.”

She giggled. “Thom --please stop making a fuss over me. I'm just another novonid.”

“Not so...” Thom rolled his wrist back and forth, rolling Lise's with his.

“What are you doing?”

“Admiring the color of your skin compared to mine... Do you know how much alike we are?

Ninety-nine point five percent. That's how much of your DNA is identical to mine. One half of one percent is responsible for the differences.”

The estates along the boulevard grew larger and more elaborate. Thom pointed at one. “Over here, Lise... Do you see that house?”

The house was old but maintained in immaculate repair. It sat on a knoll commanding the other properties surrounding it, and in the midst of a sculpture garden. A lattice-work fence lined the perimeter.

“Yes, I see it.”

“A novonid woman lives there. Her name is Margliss. She's I guess about sixty standards --an amazing woman. She's the centerpiece of my book. I hope, my dear Lise, that doesn't offend you. I wish I could make all my case histories the centerpiece. You will be an important sidebar --but her story is so remarkable.”

“Remarkable, how?”

“That green woman commands one of the largest fortunes on Varada. She has a staff of a dozen servants and groundskeepers. She's the darling of the BSS circle and hosts gala parties ... of the sort to which I'll never be invited. The big Benevolent Society Ball is held every year in her garden. You'll see her on the mediascreens, wearing fancy gowns. You have no idea how difficult it was for me to gain access to her for my book.”

“Who owns her?” Lise asked.

“Spoken like a true Varadan. Legally, she is the property of a special trust overseen by the BSS. In practice, she lives the life of a wealthy white widow.”

“How...”

“How did this happen?” Thom replied “Therein lies a tale. About forty or so standards ago, the Benn Drumm family lived in that house. Benn was an important Varadan businessman, the founder of Drumm Industries. One division manufactures luxury vehicles.” Thom patted the upholstery of his car. “This is a Drumm. He had a wife and two teenaged daughters. One day he returned from visiting a factory on the other continent and discovered them all dead --murdered.”

“My goodness!”

“One of his servants was accused, tried and convicted. He eventually was executed.”

“A novonid?” she asked.

“Yes. I have my doubts about his guilt. Benn's wife had been active in the Benevolent Shelter Society. She was one of the major donors. As a tribute to her he donated a large sum. It was a major endowment and he became involved in the organization.

“This was back when independent shelters still operated. They've all since been brought under the BSS umbrella. A breeder who maintained the most appalling conditions had owned Margliss. She had been terribly mistreated, along with the rest of his females. The authorities raided the breedery, seized the females and turned them over to an independent shelter.

“The shelter was able to place all of them with other breeders. All but Margliss. There was something wrong with her that precluded her from breeding. A male's worth one and a female's worth ten...”

“But an infertile female's worth nothing,” Lise interrupted. “I've heard the saying and I understand full well how it applies.”

Thom squeezed her hand. “You understand, Lise, this was before the notion of placing novonid females in the workforce was widely accepted. We have made progress in the past generation or so.

“Margliss couldn't be placed in one of the breederies, and no broker wanted her. It was also before the Termination Act passed, and she was scheduled to be put down. Her only chance was if someone adopted her for charitable reasons. Word of her plight reached the ears of some in the BSS. Benn stepped in and bought her. She was moments from being killed.”

Lise stared at Thom, wide-eyed and slack-jawed.

“They can't do that, now. Today, each case must be brought before a termination committee and all avenues for placing such a one must be exhausted. And then, it must be for cause.”

“Being unwanted and unregistered is still considered sufficient cause,” Lise responded, coldly. “And, bounties are still paid by the city for such.”

“True,” replied Thom. “Yet more often today unregistereds find sanctuary in the Green Zone --like you did. Not too many bounty hunters are going to risk entering the Zone for the price on an unregistered. Renegades are another story...”

“She must've been terrified.”

“She was. She was strapped into the death chair and the needle had already been placed in her vein. I'm not a brave man, Lise. I can't imagine the horror of knowing my life was about to end. Benn stepped in at what truly was the last moment and took her to his home.

“At first she felt lost in his big house, ostracized by Benn's servants. She caught on, though. She's like you, Lise --a smart girl. She was smart enough to let Benn fall in love with her. And then --she fell in love, too. For twenty years they lived as husband and wife, she sharing his bed.”

“You mean they...”

“Had a sexual relationship? Most definitely. Why? Does that shock you, Lise?”

“It's an unnatural pairing. It's ... it's taboo!”

“Lise, you're too smart of a girl to be so naive. You must know of the brothels that operate along the perimeter of the Green Zone.”

“Yes...”

“There are escort services in Varada who will happily supply green flesh of either gender. All it takes is a call. Yes the laws are on the books, but the authorities overlook it, for the most part --except for a few prudish zealots. If it's done discreetly, there's never a problem. And, it happens all the time.” Thom continued to eye her. “Don't tell me it offends your sensibility.”

“It ... it does!”

“I'm surprised. Think about this, Lise...” He held up his hand, his fingers still locked with hers. “Does this offend you?”

“No.”

“Does it please you? It must, or you wouldn't continue to do it.” Lise began to work her hand from his grasp. “Now, now, Lise...”

She freed her hand from his. “It's a gesture of friendship,” she protested, “and you made it feel somehow sordid.”

“No, Lise. That notion came from your own head.” He held his hand palm-up again. “Please?” She placed her palm on his and they locked fingers again. “You do like the contact, don't you?”

“I do. You're a good friend, Thom. I enjoy talking with you.”

“Hearing you say that pleases me beyond expression, Lise.” He squeezed her hand. “Do you like having your back rubbed? Your shoulders massaged?”

“Yes...”

“Would you find it unwelcome if I were to do that?”

“I ... I don't know. I don't think so.”

“So there are ways I can touch you that give you pleasure, and which don't offend you.”

“Yes.”

“At what point does it become taboo?” he asked. He released her hand and placed his on her knee. Then, he slid it up the inside of her thigh.

“Thom --please stop.”

He returned his hand to his own lap. “That offended you.”

“Yes, it did.”

“Then, I apologize. Do you have a boyfriend, Lise?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Do you permit him to touch you like that?”

“Please, Thom. This discussion is making me uncomfortable.”

“Bear with me a little longer. Do you?”

“Yes...”

“Does having him touch you like that please you?” She looked away from him. “Be honest.”

“I suppose it does.”

“Then, why does it offend you when I do it?”

“Because ... you are not my boyfriend.”

“Ahh --fidelity. That answer I will accept. You reserve certain forms of intimacy for your lover. An understandable thing to do. He is without a doubt a very lucky young man. Suppose I were your boyfriend...”

“Thom --you're not.”

“Just suppose. Do you believe it impossible?”

“I don't know...”

“Supposed you were in Margliss's position. Here is a man who's giving you attention ... kindness ... someone who admires you ... who expresses his own love for you ... who worships you. That sort of love rarely goes unrequited. Would you find it impossible to love him back if he were white? If that was the only obstacle?”

“I ... I don't know...”

“Impossible, Lise. Is there some impediment that prevents a green woman from loving a white man?

Even though she shares the same interests and enjoyments?”

“I guess not.”

“Excellent. If there is, it's not nature. There's nothing physical to stop them --certainly no anatomical reasons.”

“You're trying to corrupt my thinking,” she replied.

“Yes. That's exactly what I'm trying to do. I want you to question, Lise. I want you to question everything you've ever been taught. I'm trying to corrupt everyone's thinking ... society's thinking --that there is a barrier between our species that keeps one here and the other there. I find it amusing that the novonid community is as resistant as the human one in this regard. More so, in fact. Lise --there is no physical barrier. You and I came from the same stock. You and I are cousins.”

“But our kinds can't breed,” Lise protested. “It goes against nature,”

“No --YOU are against nature, Lise --your whole kind is against nature. Your species was artifically created. It was the decision of your genetic designers that you not interbreed with humans. That was a human act. Nature had nothing to do with it.”

“But --it's ... it's wrong.”

“What makes it wrong? Are you invoking the tired old argument that since sex is intended for procreation, it's somehow immoral as recreation? That's rubbish. Nearly all offspring on this planet are conceived artificially these days --green ones as well as white. It doesn't keep anyone from engaging in sex. Lise --do you have a sexual relationship with ... what's your boyfriend's name?”

“Tagg.”

“Are you sexually active with Tagg?”

“Thom, please. This is getting to be too personal.”

“You need not answer, Lise. It doesn't matter to me if you are or you're not. However, if you follow that argument, you and Tagg should not be. You should never be. Since you can't conceive, you should be spending your life as a celibate virgin...”

“But...”

He eyed her. “So you and Tagg ARE physical lovers, after all. Don't deny it, Lise. I can read you like a book.” She snatched her hand from his and looked away from him. “So --why do you do it?”

“Because we enjoy it.”

Thom shook his head. “Enjoy is not the right word. You enjoy the crisp breeze after a rainstorm has washed the pollution from the air. You and Tagg do it because you love each other, and it's a means of expressing your love.” He grabbed her hand. “It's communication, Lise --just like this is communication. No one will ever convince me that two consenting adults who wish to communicate should have any means denied them --no matter what permutation of color --or gender is involved. Whose business is it, anyway, other than the participants'? Who cares how I touch you? ... other than you, of course. It's between us and is no one else's business.”

Lise looked at Thom and shook her head. “I had never thought of it that way.”

“Our society doesn't want anyone thinking of it that way. It's yet another way our kind are oppressing yours, Lise. Think of it that way.”

“I ... I think ... you might be right.”

“You'll discover, my dear Lise, as you get to know me ... I may be many things. One thing I am not, however ... is often wrong.”

“So, what happened, next?” she asked.

“Next?”

“To Margliss.”

“Oh, yes... Benn began to bring Margliss with him to soirees and social events, she often wore the most exquisite evening gowns. I have a photo of her in such a gown for my book - - very striking. She started hosting such events at the house. Margliss, as I said before, is like you, Lise --a bright girl and a quick study. Benn discovered she has a good head for business. To make a long story short, Margliss became, for intents and purposes, the second Mrs Drumm. Benn left his entire estate to her.”

“How could he do that?” Lise. “We're not permitted to own property.”

“A technicality,” Thom replied. “He actually left his estate to a trust managed by the Benevolent Shelter Society. Margliss was part of that estate. A BSS attorney was instructed to follow her direction

--without question. From a practical viewpoint, however, she is a free woman controlling her own fortune.”

“Do you mean she's in charge of Drumm Industries?”

“No. Drumm is a public corporation. Margliss is in charge of the fortune the Drumm family amassed when the company was traded publicly.” A warble came from the dash of the car. “You must let go of my hand, Lise. I'll need it to steer the rest of the way.”

Lise looked down and realized that Thom had insinuated his fingers between hers again. She relinquished his hand and he grasped the control stick. The car turned off the boulevard and onto a narrow roadway leading through undeveloped land to a building on a promontory. He parked the car outside a building that resembled casually-stacked crates made of polymer concrete. “This,” he said, “is my humble abode.”

“I thought you said you were taking me to your office.”

“My office is in my home.”

She looked down the long drive and realized walking to the nearest bus stop was impractical. Thom gestured her to a terraced patio. “What a view!” he exclaimed. “Don't you agree?”

She looked down and realized she was looking at the Green Zone. “This house is in Quadrant One?”

she asked.

“Certainly. Quadrant One abuts Quadrants Two and Four. This parcel sits at the very boundary of Vyonna.” He gestured. “Beyond there is no civilization except for pomma farms and scattered villages ... until you reach the western coast.”

“You can see the whole Green Zone from here,” she said. “I can see my building.” She pointed.

“There's the courtyard. I remember when this house was built. I recall sunning in the courtyard and looking up at this hill and wondering what they were building.”

“Now, you know. Come inside, Lise. Are you hungry? I'm famished. I'd love it if you'd share a meal with me.”

“I'm not hungry,” she replied. “Today is not my day to feed.”

“You didn't yesterday, either... Unless you had something after we parted.”

“No...”

“Then, you could eat something --couldn't you?”

“I suppose I could.”

“Wonderful. Nothing spoils my dinner more than a table partner sitting across from me at an empty place, her hands folded across her chest and impatiently tapping her toe waiting for me to finish.”

Lise smiled. “I wouldn't do that...”

Thom regarded her face. “Lise, you have the most beautiful smile... Smile for me again.” He regarded her. “Yes... Beautiful. Please, take a seat. I'll prepare something for us to share.”

She watched him slip a pouch into a heating device. He placed a plate and a bowl on the counter. Into the bowl he spooned a mound of brown strands. A chime sounded and he retrieved the pouch, slit it open and dumped a pile of finger-length kernels onto the plate. Onto this he spooned more of the strands.

He placed the bowl before Lise and the plate before himself.

“This doesn't look like our food,” she said.

“Do you mean that pinkish paste that comes in cans? I'm afraid it isn't. This is something of my own invention ... not mine, personally, but a food scientist's who works for my company. I've wanted a meal that I could share with a guest of another species. Lise --do you know what it is you eat?”

“We eat our food.”

“Do you know what's in your food?”

“No...”

“Your food is protein. I also require protein in my diet.” He pointed to the mound of strands. “Protein comes from meat. This is derived from synthetemeat. It's been processed more than is typical for a human food product, but not as much as for a novonid's. Bromen Enterprises is a leading producer of synthetemeat. We culture it on an industrial scale.”

“Culture it?”

“Yes --muscle cells grown in huge vats ... on membranes we flex to give the flesh exercise.”

“What kind of muscle?” she asked.

“It's no kind at all from no species at all. It's based on a custom-crafted cell. Once grown, it is harvested and processed. This is the result.”

“I've never seen anything like it.”

“In addition to protein,” he continued, “you require minerals --specific minerals to support your photosynthesis.” He pushed a small bowl toward her, lifted the cover and spooned multi-colored crystals over her bowl. “Now, your meal is complete.” He gestured to his own plate. “For my meal to be complete, I need carbohydrates --which you don't need, since the chlorophyll in your skin produces them for you. The bed of parboiled pomma supplies them. Pomma noodles or bread would serve equally well.” He drizzled a thick liquid over his plate. “Now my meal is complete.”

Thom sat, removed his hat and placed it on the table. Lise picked up a utensil that was a combination of fork and spoon. She poked it into the mound, picked up some of the strands and transferred them to her mouth. Her throat resisted swallowing them.

“Chew them, Lise. You're equipped with beautiful teeth. Put them to use.”

She picked up another scoopful, chewed with some deliberation, swallowed and smiled. “I like how the crystals feel on my tongue,” she said, “like sparkles.”

“Very good. I'm pleased.”

She took another scoop. “Thom, why do you wear that sash over your shoulder?”

“Excellent, Lise. You're becoming comfortable enough with me to ask personal questions. Why do you think I wear it?”

“To conceal your caste tattoo.”

“Amazing. You got it in one guess.”

“Why conceal it?” she asked and scooped another forkful of the strands.

“Because I like how I'm treated when folks don't know what my caste is.”

“Are you one of those self-made men who turned nothing into a fortune?”

“Do you mean like Benn Drumm? He was worker caste. He wore three staves on his shoulder. If I were like him I'd wear my caste mark with pride. I'm sorry to say, though, I earned my money the old-fashioned way. I inherited it.”

“Which caste, then?” she asked.

“Why do you want to know?”

“Because I'm curious.”

“Ahh... Curiosity. Do you know there are folks on this rock who wouldn't believe a girl like you possessed any?”

Lise rolled her eyes. “Yes, Thom. I've heard all those things and more. Please tell me your caste.”

“I'm ashamed to say it.”

“Then, show me.”

“All right... You asked for it.” He flipped the sash off his shoulder revealing a three-diamonds mark of the leadership caste. His was rendered in purple instead of the conventional black. Lise's jaw dropped. “Thom... You're a ... a lord?”

“My proper form of address is Thom, Lord Bromen. It sounds terribly stuffy, don't you think?” Lise shrugged. “I'd much rather be known simply as Thom Bromen. After all, there aren't many of us left, and it's been centuries since the last lordship was bestowed.”

“Why? Why conceal it?”

“Because I wish to be dealt with for myself, on my own terms, not for my rank. I wear this mark because I had the foresight to choose the right parents, and for no other reason.” Lise smiled. “I never asked for this and I never sought it. However --what I have done ... THAT's how I wish to be regarded. Otherwise the deference begins to feel normal after a while. I'd like to see everyone on this planet -everyone, Lise --have the same opportunities and rights.”

“Don't lords have some additional privileges?” she asked.

“Not so much any more. I do have the honor of being a member of a rather exclusive club. The Constable-in-Chief for Vyonna is also a member. I'll admit it comes in handy when a traffic cop pulls me over for speeding.”

Lise swallowed the last scoop of her meal and set her utensil into her empty bowl. She pressed her hand against her abdomen. “It was very good ... but now I feel like I over ate.” She palpitated her abdomen. “My stomach is bulging out...”

“Novonids have smaller stomachs than whites,” Thom replied. She put her fingers to her lips. “I'm sorry, Lise --I shouldn't have given you such a large portion.”

“No --it's my fault. I shouldn't have eaten all of it. I was so absorbed in our conversation...”

“That's quite a compliment, Lise. Sharing a good meal and good conversation with a friend is one of my favorite pleasures. I'm delighted to have prepared something we could both enjoy.”

“I'm starting to feel uncomfortable,” she said.

“Would you like to lie down?”

“Maybe that would help.”

He helped her to her feet and led her to a bench. She lay on her back and Thom slid a cushion under her head. “Do you think you're apt to vomit?” he asked.

“I don't think so...”

“I'll get a basin --just in case.” Tom returned and set a polymer tub on the floor. “I'll do some more work on my book and let you rest.”

Lise closed her eyes and tried to ignore the throbbing under her ribcage. That she might vomit was a distinct possibility. Perhaps she should attempt to, and get some relief. It would humiliate her, though; and embarrass her host. She thought instead of her conversation with Thom on the ride to the house --his story of Margliss ... the table talk...

“Lise... Lise...” She opened her eyes and looked around. Darkness had fallen and the walls of the room were washed in artificial light.

“Oh! I must've fallen asleep.”

“Yes you did. Are you feeling better?”

She pressed her hand to her abdomen. “Yes... I feel better... I can feel that lump of food working its way through my intestine.”

“You looked like you needed rest, so I didn't disturb you. Now, it's approaching curfew. We need to get you home.”

Thom led her to the car and she climbed in. He started the turbines and sped down the hill, onto city streets and through the now dark and deserted canyons of downtown Vyonna. The car headed on an arterial leading toward Quadrant Four. Thom turned onto a side street. Chimes began sounding.

“The warning chimes!” Lise exclaimed. “You'll never get home before curfew.”

“Not to worry,” he replied. “One of the perquisites of wearing this caste mark is exemption from curfew. I won't have any problem.”

The car approached the Green Zone. “You can let me off at this corner,” she said, pointing. “There's a passageway leading to my house.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

He pulled the car to the curb. “I'm sorry,” she said, “you didn't get your interview done.”

“Not at all,” he replied. “I think we made excellent progress.”

The curfew siren began wailing as Lise stepped from the car, made her way to a set of steps leading underground and descended them.

X

Lise slowed her descent as the darkness thickened. Total blackness had enveloped her by the time she reached the bottom. She was in one of the old service tunnels that ran between the buildings in this part of Vyonna. Long abandoned power, communications and data mains ran through the tunnels. In the direction away from the Zone the tunnel had been bricked up, to prevent Zone inhabitants from using it as a hidden highway into other parts of the city.

She felt for one of the sticks left by others who traveled before her. Her hand touched one. She grabbed it and swept it before her as she worked her way through the tunnel under the pavement. Eventually dim light appeared ahead. She reached the terminus and set the stick in another pile for use by a traveler heading the other way.

Her eyes now accustomed to darkness, she walked through basements and connecting passageways until reaching another set of steps. These led to the surface safely inside the Zone. She climbed to the street and walked briskly toward the courtyard and to the doorway leading down to her basement home.

“Mother! Father!” she called.

“Lise!” her mother replied. “Bar the door.”

She pulled shut the door leading to the courtyard and dropped a heavy steel bar into brackets bolted onto the building's frame. Below her, at the foot of the steps came the orange flicker of a greaselamp.

“We heard the sirens and you weren't here,” Grott admonished her. “Your mother was worried.”

“I was well in the tunnel when curfew sounded,” she replied. “I wasn't on the streets.”

“Still --you were cutting it close.”

“I came home as soon as I could,” Lise replied. “Is Tagg working tonight?”

“Yes,” Rayla replied. “He left before sundown.”

Lise pulled aside the sheet that screened off her sleeping area from the rest of the basement. She emptied her pockets and placed the scrip card under her mattress. Then, she stripped off her sandals, shorts and bandeau and stretched out on the mattress.

Dawn twilight roused Lise. She arose and began her morning routine. She was getting better at rising early. Even so, Grott and Rayla had already left the house. Lise was happy, at least, that Megan's workday started later than her parents'.

She bathed, dressed and headed for the courtyard, pulling shut the door behind her. She had no way of locking it from the outside, but that was no matter. There was nothing of value in her basement home worth stealing. Grott was right about one thing, she reflected. If you have nothing, then no one can take it from you.

She headed toward the gate leading outside the Zone. “Tagg!” she yelled upon seeing him approach. She ran to him. “Tagg! How was your day?”

“My day? Horrible. Absolutely horrible. Just like every day.”

“Horrible how?”

“I'm the junior guy so I get all the shit tasks. The others tease me and the foreman rides me. I hate the work. I'm an artist. I want to draw. I want to sell my art. Lise... When are we going to see each other?

How many days has it been? I might as well sleep in the barracks at the restaurant and save myself the trouble of coming home.”

“This after,” she said. “I'll come straight home. We can have time together, then.” She regarded the exhaustion on his face. “Get some rest while I'm at work.”

“I need sun.”

“Nap in the courtyard. I'll get my sun during the day, too. Get some rest and then... When I come home...” She put her arms around his neck and thrust her hips against his.

“Your folks will be home. We can't.”

“They understand. They won't disturb us.” She kissed his cheek. “I'll see you this after.”

“Right.” He shuffled toward the courtyard.

Lise headed for the corner and stood with a growing crowd of other novonids. The streetcar pulled to a stop, the driver not bothering with opening the door. Lise could see a handful of white passengers inside the coach.

A pair of pubescent novonid boys approached the side of the bus, shouting and pelting the windows with loose chunks of pavement. The driver gunned the turbine and pulled away, leaving most of the assembled standing at the corner. Some of the men in the group shouted and began chasing the two boys, who laughed and ran back into the Zone.

Lise climbed the steps to Megan's house and pressed the chime. The door opened and Megan welcomed her with what had become her usual greeting: a firm hug.

“I'm sorry I'm late,” Lise said, “there was trouble with the bus over by the Zone.”

“You're not late,” Megan replied, “but I have no time to spare. Klarissa and Geddes are finishing breakfast.” She grabbed her bag and rushed out the door.

Lise cleared the table of breakfast detritus. “Geddes ... Klarissa... Use the toilet and put on your sun hats. We're going to the park.”

“Awww,” Geddes whined, “we go to the park every day.”

“The fresh air is good for you.”

Lise walked, holding hands with the twins. Megan's neighborhood was becoming as familiar to her as her own. She saw familiar faces and some of them acknowledged her with a nod or a smile. Upon reaching the park the twins headed for the playground. Lise sat on a bench, took a swig from her bottle of water; then stretched out her legs and leaned back to absorb sunlight.

“Hello,” a voice called.

Lise rolled her eyes. “Thom...”

“I worried about you after dropping you off.”

“I told you I'd be fine and I was. I know my way around that part of town.”

“I'm sure you do. May I sit?”

Lise gestured that he may. “Thom ... don't you have anything better to do than stalk me?”

He rolled his eyes in thought. “No... As a matter of fact, I don't.”

“I thought you had a company to run.”

“It runs itself... Lise --I hope after you're off work today you could...”

“Not today, Thom. I promised Tagg I'd spend some time with him.”

“Your lucky boyfriend... Maybe we could do some talking now, while you watch your charges.”

“Fine, Thom. What do you want to know?”

“Everything. I want to know how this world looks through those beautiful orange eyes of yours.”

Lise uncapped her water bottle and took another swig. “I don't know how to begin.”

“Have you thought any more about what we discussed yesterday?”

“Do you mean Margliss and Benn?”

“Precisely.”

“Yes, I have.”

“And...”

“And I believe she is a fortunate woman.”

“No, Lise. Have you thought more about physical relationships between our kinds?”

“I haven't dwelt on it.” She sipped more from her bottle and capped it. “I suppose if I were in Margliss's position and a white man demonstrated his care for me; then I could love him.”

“Could you make love with him?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, Thom. I think I could ... if I loved him.”

“Then, there's hope for someone like me.”

“Thom... Please.”

“I'm serious, Lise. I have ... feelings for you. To my eyes, you are the most beautiful creature I've ever seen. I've never met your equal.”

Lise could feel warmth in her cheeks. “Thom...”

“Yes --the combination of your face and your body ... your long, shapely legs ... the muscle definition in your arms ... perfection.”

“Thom, please stop this.”

“And, your personality and your intellect. You are undoubtedly as bright as any white I've known and brighter than most. I must know, Lise. How do you find me, physically?”

“You're all right physically.”

“Do you find me at all attractive? Does some ... chemistry get ignited?”

“Thom --we don't have that sort of friendship.”

“Nonsense. Whenever a man and a woman interact, there's a sexual element. There can't help but be. To deny it is to deny biology. I know I feel it with you. You ooze sex appeal. I need to know if you feel any ... intrinsic biology from me.”

“Thom --if you don't stop this right now, I'll have to ask you to leave. Or, I'll gather the twins and leave myself.”

“Oh, Lise... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you. I do care for you. I'll bet I care for you as much as this Tagg fellow does.”

“I believe you do. It's different with Tagg.”

“Because he's ... a novonid?”

“No.” She looked him straight in his face. “It's different because I know Tagg cares for me, for me. I don't believe you do. I believe you care for me, for you; not for me.”

He held both hands to his sternum. “Lise! You've wounded me! How could you think that?”

“It's simple. I've told you repeatedly that I'm uncomfortable discussing ... this topic with you. If you cared for me, for me ... you'd understand that --and stop talking about it.” She stood. “Klarissa!

Geddes!” she called.

“Wait, wait... I'm sorry, Lise. I truly am. I hope I haven't ruined the rapport we've built.” She folded her arms across her chest. “Is there any way we can get together tonight? I want to discuss with you what it's like to be you. I promise ... physicality is off limits.”

“I can't tonight, Thom. I promised Tagg.”

“You're sure it's impossible.”

She sighed. “Tagg goes to work around sundown...”

“That'll work. Suppose I wait for you where I dropped you off last night --outside the Zone.”

“Thom --if I agree to this will you promise to stop pestering me?”

“Absolutely.”

“Fine --I'll meet you at the corner.” The twins raced each other to where Lise stood and each wrapped their arms around her legs. “Klarissa, Geddes --you nearly knocked me over!”

“I was here first,” Geddes yelled.

“No, I was,” Klarissa replied. “Lise, which one was here first?”

“You know --I really couldn't tell. Come on, gang...” She held their hands and led them toward the street.

“Sundown!” Thom called after them.

Lise sat cross-legged on the floor playing a board game with the twins; one in which players' pieces chased each other around the twists and turns of a track. The latch on the front door rattled and the twins leapt up and ran toward it. Megan stepped into the house and hugged each twin.

“I'll pick this up,” Lise said and scooped game pieces off the floor.

“Leave it lie, Lise,” Megan replied. “Maybe they'll play more, later.”

“Megan --may I ask you a question?”

“Of course, Lise.”

“Do you ever have a problem with men making unwelcome advances?”

Her eyes widened. “Hmm... I can't recall the last time it was unwelcome... I'm flattered by your question, Lise. Truth is, it's been a while since any man has looked twice at me. You, on the other hand

--I imagine you have to chase them away with a stick. You're a knockout, Lise ... a very pretty girl.”

Lise bit her lip. “Thank you. Megan --what would you think if a novonid man started following you around ... telling you how alluring you are ... suggesting the two of you start a physical relationship?”

“I don't know ... I'd complain to his owner.”

“What if you believed he truly did care for you, but didn't quite know how to express it? What if you liked him as a friend otherwise, but wished he'd stop the sexual advances?”

“That complicates it. Is this your problem, Lise? A white man has been harassing you?”

“Harassing is too strong. Bothering me would be more accurate.”

“Have you told him to get lost?”

“He doesn't like hearing no as an answer.”

“I wouldn't be afraid to slap his face ... or, kick him in the balls. Most white men understand that message.”

Lise giggled. “Most novonid men, also...”

“Lise --we're so much more alike than we differ. You and I have more in common being women than I have with any white man I know.”

“Megan... How would you feel if, when they're old enough, Geddes fell in love with a green woman or Klarissa with a green man?”

Megan stared at her. “How would you feel?”

“They're your children.”

“I don't want to think about them dating at all,” Megan replied, “not for a number of years yet.” She looked at the ceiling and sighed. “That wasn't an answer, was it? I understand your question. It is the test, isn't it? The test whether or not I'm sincere. I've learned a lot from you, Lise. I claim ... I like to believe I consider you and your kind equal partners on this world. How would I feel if one of my children fell in love with one of yours? I don't know, Lise. That's an honest answer.”

Lise nodded. “I understand.”

“I hope it doesn't change how you feel about me.”

“No. I wouldn't know the answer myself.” Megan opened her arms and embraced Lise. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

Lise walked toward the corner where the busses ran. She half expected to see Thom loitering somewhere along the way.

The bus came and she climbed onto the platform in back, sharing it with several novonid factory workers. It carried her to central Vyonna where she changed to one on the line heading for the Zone. She reached the courtyard. Tagg lay on his back on a concrete bench, asleep. There were no signs of Grott or Rayla.

Lise descended the steps and looked around the basement. It was deserted. She slipped out of her sandals and stripped off her top and shorts; then she climbed the steps and stood in the doorway.

“Tagg!” she yelled. “TAGG! TAGG!” Tagg roused and lifted himself onto his elbows. “Tagg! Over here!”

Tagg glanced her way and looked past her. Then his gaze swung back around. He jumped off the bench and sprinted toward her. When he reached her he scooped her up and carried her below. Lise lay beside Tagg, running her hand across his chest. “I'm sorry, Lise,” he said. She kissed him. “Nothing to be sorry for,” she replied. “It felt good. I can still feel it...”

“But I didn't make you... You didn't have...”

“It's all right. I enjoyed it very much.” She kissed him again.

“Some of the other men brag about how they make women... how big they are and how long they last

... and how many times... Not once. Not once have I been able to ... The other men joke about guys like me... I'm a two-pump chump.”

She pressed her hand to his mouth. “Stop this talk, Tagg. You're making yourself miserable. Don't believe what those other men say. It's all stupid man talk. Don't believe their claims. I've been with them on rounds. They're nothing special. They're not any different than you.”

“You're saying that.”

“It's the truth, Tagg. And many of them don't ... well --they don't last any longer than you do. Besides, I don't need one to enjoy myself with you. You need it, and you had one --and I love how it feels when you do. I love drifting asleep afterward with you in my arms. None of what those men talk about matters to me. What matters is how you make me feel, and you make me feel good. Be happy we're together for an afternoon. Okay?”

Tagg lay on his back in silence

She kissed him. “I thought about you all day,” she said, “what we'd be doing... I wanted this, Tagg. Thinking about it ... anticipating it is part of enjoying it. I always want you.” She touched his face and stroked tears from his cheeks. “I love you.”

“Oh, Lise... I'm so unhappy. I hate my job. I HATE it. I have half a mind to just walk away from it ... hide in the Zone forever. I wouldn't care if I was branded a renegade.”

“Don't talk like that. I know what it's like to live underground, in constant fear of the bounty hunters. It's no life, Tagg. You'd never be able to sell your sketches. At least you can do that, on your days off.”

“Yes, at least...”

“No more feeling sorry for yourself. ”

“Maybe I should try being so bad at my job, they'll fire me. My owner will be pissed off, but what can he do?”

“Nothing but place you in another job.”

“It's worked before...”

Lise began smoothing her hand along Tagg's arm. She could hear footfalls on the steps and motion in the room.

“Tagg...” Lise heard her mother's voice. “Tagg --we're feeding tonight. Would you like some before you go to work?”

“No thank you, mam,” he replied. “I'll feed at the restaurant.”

“Lise? Are you feeding?”

“No thanks, Mother. I don't need to today.”

“It was four days ago...”

“I fed on my own day before yesterday.”

“So, I need to open just one can tonight...”

Tagg stretched and put his hand behind his neck. Lise stroked his body from armpit to waist. “I could fall asleep again,” she said.

“So could I... I'd better not, though. They'll dock me if I'm late. Then, I'll have my owner on my back.”

“You should suggest babysitting as a job,” Lise said. “The work's not hard, it's never boring and you can work during the day.”

“I'm no good with kids.”

“I don't believe that. Handling children is easy --you were one, once. Just remember what it was like.”

Tagg rose on his elbows. “I wonder how late it's getting.”

Lise restrained him. “Not late enough.”

“No...” He craned to look through one of the sill windows. “Sun's almost on the horizon. I'd better go.” Tagg stood, pulled on his shorts and pushed his way past the hanging sheet.

“Off to your job?” Lise heard Rayla ask.

“Yes, mam...”

Lise pulled her bandeau over her head and stepped into her shorts. She slipped her feet into her sandals and walked past Rayla toward the steps.

“Where are you going?” Rayla asked.

“Out. I must meet with Thom.”

“The white man? Lise ... you just finished with Tagg, and now you have a liaison with this white man?”

“Not a liaison, mother. What do you think I am?”

“What about rounds? You haven't been on rounds but once. It's a responsibility.”

“That's right,” Grott added from his seat in the shadows.

“I can't believe you two want me to go on rounds.”

“It's a duty for women in the Zone,” Rayla replied. “It's a double duty for those of us who are infertile.”

“Thom is doing important work, and I'm part of it. You said so, yourself, Mother --I'm no longer a child. I can come and go as I please.” Lise started up the steps to the courtyard.

“Be careful of curfew,” Rayla called after her.

Lise decided to take the shorter, and more dangerous route to her rendezvous spot. It wasn't very dark, yet, she figured. She exited a gate and passed the brothel, then through another gate in the wall enclosing the Zone. The street was deserted.

She crossed and walked a block to the corner where Thom had dropped her off. He wasn't there. Lise scanned the area, looking for signs of street thugs and establishing her situational awareness. She paced back and forth and glanced up at one of the constables' surveillance pylons. Its camera was trained on the Zone.

An older and dented green car pulled to a stop. The driver whistled. Lise crouched to look in the window. The driver held up a pair of yellow fivers. Lise shook her head.

“How much, then?” the driver asked. “You're a looker.”

“Sir,” she said politely, “I think you've made a mistake. I'm waiting here for a friend.” She pointed toward the corner. “There's an establishment over there that may be what you're looking for.”

The car's turbine whined and it sped from the corner. Lise fanned from her face the burnt alcohol fumes of its exhaust and resumed pacing. The sun was now almost completely below the horizon. A red Drumm speedster pulled to a stop, its twin turbines making a dissonant whine. The passenger door popped open and Lise stepped inside.

“I'm sorry I'm late,” Thom said.

“You're not. We said sundown, and it's sundown.” Lise fastened her restraint. Thom pushed the stick forward and the car moved away from the curb. They made it about half a block when he pulled to the curb and pressed his hand to his forehead.

“What's the matter?” Lise asked.

Thom gestured behind them with his thumb. She turned around and through the rear window saw a constable's car behind them. A second car screeched to a halt in front, blocking them. A deputy pulled open the passenger door and another grabbed Lise's upper arm and hauled her from the car. He pulled both her arms back and held them in a lock. Lise squirmed. “Calm down you little green whore,” he sneered.

A third deputy felt down the front of Lise's shorts. He pulled his hand out, rubbing his thumb against his finger. “She's full of jizz all right.”

“She's a fast worker,” the first deputy replied. “It's hardly sundown and she's on her second or third trick.”

Thom slid back the car's cowl and another officer leaned against his door. “What's this all about?”

Thom asked.

“Procurement ... solicitation. That corner is widely known as a pickup point for prostitutes. Your green ... friend was observed directing a customer to the brothel across the street in the Zone. The customer was an undercover agent.”

“We watched her come from the brothel across the street.”

“I did not,” Lise protested. “He propositioned me. I turned him down and merely pointed out a fact that's even more widely known than this corner!”

“Hold your tongue, green girl.”

Thom held his hands up in a gesture requesting calm.

“May I see your identification, sir?” the constable said.

“Certainly,” Thom replied. He reached into his pocket and with his thumb and forefinger withdrew a polymer wallet. From it he removed a holocard and handed it to the constable. The officer examined it in the light from the rear cruiser's headlamps. “Chief....” he said. The head constable took the card and examined it. He made a shrill whistle and a hand gesture toward his troops, meaning stop. “Lord Bromen... I didn't notice the emblem on your car. My apologies, Lord.”

Thom snapped his fingers and the officer returned the card. “Release the girl,” he demanded. “She's a friend of mine.”

“But, we just got done arresting her,” the deputy replied.

“Then,” Thom said in a voice of quiet authority, “you had better un-arrest her.” He turned to the head constable. “I can have your badges for this. I want your numbers. All of them.”

“We can make the procurement rap stick,” the deputy protested.

“Let her go,” the head cop ordered.

Lise sat in the passenger seat, pulled the door closed and rubbed her upper arm. “Are you all right?”

Thom asked.

She trembled. “I will be once I calm down.”

The chief constable handed Thom a sheet torn from a notepad. Thom scanned it and then glanced at the deputies. “Is your number on here, too?” he asked the head cop.

The cop handed him a card. “Again, my apologies, Lord Bromen ... sir.” The deputies piled into their cars and pulled away.

Thom held his hand, palm-up near Lise. “Lise...”

She grabbed his hand, locked her fingers with his and squeezed. She bit her lip and clamped shut her eyes to stop the tears. It didn't work. “How could they? How could they think I was a...”

“It's all right, Lise. It's over.” He leaned toward her.

She threw her arms around him and sobbed. “He had no right to touch me like that!”

“What did he do?”

“He put his hand down my shorts and felt ... inside me!” She sobbed. “Just before I came here, Tagg and I...” She wailed.

“So that's the comment about second trick... Which one did it?”

“The older, short, fat one.”

“I'll have his badge, for sure. You're right, Lise. There was no excuse for that.”

“They would've taken me away...”

Thom caressed the back of her bald head. “It's over, Lise. Lise... If you ever have trouble with the constables, just call me. I'll take care of it.”

“I've had more trouble with them since I've been registered than when I was underground.”

“I don't know why they're not out solving real crimes ... crimes with victims,” Thom replied. Personally, I don't think prostitution should be a crime.” He looked at her. “I'm sorry, Lise, for bringing up an inappropriate topic.”

“It's all right. I agree with you.” She wiped tears from her face.

“Good.” Thom pushed the stick forward and headed down the pavement. “These streets certainly get deserted this time of day.”

“Yes,” she replied. “Even the taxis won't come here after sundown.”

“I don't drive here myself after dusk. It is the short way to my place, though. And, it's not all that dark, yet.”

XI

Thom piloted the Drumm roadster over the broken streets of Quadrant Four, heading away from the Green Zone. This part of town was commodity industrial --the car drove past brickyards, scrap metal reclaimers and foundries. Many of these business had begun using novonid workers in large numbers and many of these came from the Zone.

“Lise,” Thom said, “I've been thinking about what you said this morning. I see your point. You're wrong --I am in love with you ... for you. I will be even if that love is unrequited. As for my inappropriate behavior... Well, it is, unfortunately, one of my faults. It seems whenever I'm fond of someone I become overly familiar. I was out of line, and for making you uncomfortable I am deeply sorry.”

“I accept your apology, Thom. You have been a good friend.”

“Don't hesitate to reprimand me if I do it again.”

Thom stopped the car at an intersection. “This is the boundary between Quadrants One and Four,”

he said. “Up there is my house. There are steps leading down to the street here, and a bus stop. If you ever need to get here by yourself, this is how to do it.” He made a right turn. “This street takes us to the main boulevard, up and around to the main entrance. It is quicker, however, than driving through downtown. I wouldn't do it close to curfew, however.”

Lise studied the panel of dials and controls in the center of the dashboard.

“Would you like to try driving?” Thom asked. “Take the stick. You're left-handed, aren't you?”

“Yes...”

“I thought so. Most novonids are.” He put his hand on hers. “Push forward to accelerate; pull back to stop and right or left to turn.”

Lise smiled. “This is fun.”

“Maybe you should get driving credentials.”

“May I?”

“Of course you may. All you need to do is pass the exams. More and more novonids are getting driving permits --they're essential for some of the jobs your kind are asked to perform these days.”

“I thought it was prohibited.”

“It was until a few standards ago. Then the powers that be came to a startling conclusion that maybe novonids with driving permits would prove useful... So, they changed the roadsigns to be symbolic --for the benefit of illiterate novonids...”

“And, illiterate whites, too...”

“I suppose.”

“...Just like the bus routes.”

The car approached a curve. Thom pressed against Lise's hand. “You need to anticipate and follow through.”

“I think I could do this,” she said.

“I have no doubt you could. We're approaching the access road. It's a bit tricky so I'll take it from here.” Lise relinquished the stick and Thom piloted the car up the hill. Thom parked the car outside his house and escorted Lise inside. He led her to an office containing a large desk and a wall-mounted mediascreen.

Lise looked around Thom's office. A wall of shelves held binders and a disheveled pile of documents, some looking quite old. From the ceiling, on wires hung a miniature of a native Varadan flying creature crafted from polymer resin. Thom sat behind his desk and gestured toward a chair. Lise sat. “Okay, Thom. What do you want to know about novonids?”

“Nothing.”

“I don't understand. You said you wanted to talk to me...”

“Lise --I know all there is to know about novonids, I'm afraid. More than all. I have studied your kind. I know your anatomy and your physiology. I know your history. I have a library of material on how you came to be --notes from the original experiments ... feasibility studies. This is source material, Lise

--original lab notes ... data cartridges, hard copy. I have the largest and most comprehensive collection of material on novonids anywhere on this planet. Much of it comprises rare, original, one-of-a-kind documents. And, I have read them all. You can't tell me anything about novonids that I don't already know. For example...” He gestured toward the model of the winged beast hanging from his ceiling. “Did you ever see one of those in the wild?”

“Yes --just the other day. I think it's what we saw. It was circling over the pomma savanna beyond the edge of the city.”

“It's called a photoptertheron.”

“A what?” she asked.

“Photoptertheron ... phot-op-TER-ther-on,” he repeated emphasizing each syllable. Lise mouthed the word. “This is a very good likeness. Tell me, Lise --do you see anything remarkable about it's appearance?”

She regarded the likeness. “A flying beast is remarkable enough,” she replied. “What does it have to do with novonids?”

“You'll see shortly... Do you know what the word means?” She shook her head. “It's derived from classic Greek...”

“Classic Greek?”

“Yes --a long-dead language from our ultimate planet of origin... Break the word apart ... photo-pter-theron ... light-wing-beast.”

“The wings do look very light-weight,” she replied.

Thom smiled. “Not the right sense of 'light', Lise... Do you notice anything interesting about its color?”

“A rather non-descript brown, I'd say.” Thom stood on his desk, grasped the model and turned it so she could see the upper surface of the wings. They were a deep, forest green. “Green wings?” Her eyes met his.

“The same color green as your skin, Lise. These creatures spend the sunlit half of the day soaring overhead and soaking up the sunshine that nourishes them. When darkness falls they wrap themselves in their wings and roost on the highest points to evade their predators.”

“Do you mean ... that I ... that we ... that all novonids share genetic material with ... them?”

“Indeed. Like a photoptertheron, you are a symboitic being. The structures that color your skin green and your blood brown are in fact micro-organisms, harvested from creatures like the very one you watched soar over the savanna. Now, after so many generations, they have become endemic ... passed from mother to fetus in utero . Those organules feed you and feed from you, consuming the carbon dioxide your muscles exude. Their waste is your manna --and vice-versa.”

Lise stroked her forearm and studied her skin. “The green corpuscles... It makes perfect sense.”

“Inventing humanoid photosynthesis from scratch was far too daunting a task for your designers, Lise

--brilliant as they were.” He flourished his hand toward the suspended model. “However, this native creature offered a working system that needed only to be mated to a hospitable human matrix.” He resumed his place behind his desk. “As you see --I know more about your kind than you do.”

“Then ... what...”

“What you can teach me, Lise, is what it's like to be you. I want to know about one novonid named Lise.”

“I ... I don't know...”

“You don't know what it's like to be you?”

“I don't know what to tell you.”

“Are you happy, Lise?”

“Oh, yes. I'm very happy.”

“How can you be? How can anyone be with a registration number seared into your flesh?”

“I'm delighted to have this, Thom,” she said tapping her left clavicle. “You don't know what it's like living in fear. For three years I couldn't stray from that courtyard your terrace looks upon --not in daylight, at least. Now, I'm free.”

“Free? How can you call yourself free? Watch this...” He picked up the control to his mediascreen.

“I'll show you what it really means to be a novonid.”

“Do you think you can tell me something I don't already know?”

“I think I can,” he replied.

The screen displayed a message reading please stand by.

“What is this?” Lise asked.

“This is today's novonid auction. It's about to get underway. Oh, this isn't a channel you can receive on that screen we bought for your mom. You need to be a registered novonid broker and have a seat on the exchange to view this.”

“You're a broker, Thom?”

“Oh, yes. I've never owned one but I've bought countless. I buy them to free them.”

“Do you mean you buy them for the BSS?”

“I started out doing that. I was a member of the BSS, but we've since parted ways. Benevolent Shelter Society... Have you ever been inside a BSS shelter? Shelter is about it --large barracks, segregated by gender... I became convinced the BSS isn't really interested in helping your people, Lise. They're interested in preserving the status-quo.”

“That's the way my mother feels about them, too.”

“Certainly they don't want to see novonids put to death. We can thank the BSS for the Termination Act, and I suppose that's something. No, Lise. I wanted to do more, so I founded an organization called Novonid Rescue. When we learn of a novonid in distress ... one deserving relief from an oppressive or threatening situation, we buy and free him ... or her.”

“Free?”

“Absolutely, totally free. The individual may live any life he or she desires ... find whatever work ... keep whatever wages ... live wherever, sleep with whomever... As free as a white.”

“There's no such thing as a free novonid.”

“A legal technicality. Once a novonid's title is transferred to Novonid Rescue, there is absolutely nothing the legal system can do about it. Lise ... over the past ten years I have spent in excess of twenty million buying and freeing novonids.”

“Twenty million?” Lise could not fathom such a number.

“When it comes to helping, Lise --I put my money where my mouth is.”

“Where ... how...”

“How did I come by twenty million? It's a small part of my fortune. My family founded Bromen Enterprises. Up until the moment of my father's death, Bromen Enterprises was the largest and most active novonid brokerage on the western continent... Perhaps the whole planet. At one time Bromen Enterprises owned six hundred novonids. They were pledged as collateral on loans made to one of the larger pomma farms by our financial division. When the farm defaulted, we acquired them. And, we held liens on twelve thousand more.”

“My goodness...”

“Now, do you feel like you've been sleeping with the enemy?” He looked toward her “Not that we've actually slept together, but a guy can dream, can't he?”

Lise rolled her eyes. “Thom...”

“Within ten days of my father's passing, I had dismantled the whole operation. I kept my father's seat on the exchange, though, so I can keep an eye on the market. The Bromen name is deeply stained with the brown blood of your kind, Lise. I hope my actions sponge away some of that stain. I find it amusingly ironic that my father's ruthless search for profits yielded the funds that I use to un-do the very institution he spent his life supporting. Ah... The auction is about to begin.”

“Thom... I had no idea...”

“In addition to buying novonids I buy properties. Just last year I bought the old residential campus from Vyonna College. The college is consolidating its campus in the suburbs of Quadrant Two. We bought a cluster of dormitories, on the cheap. They make perfect starter apartments for novonids ... both singles and couples.” He showed her a photoimage. “This is one of the rooms.”

“It's small...”

“Each unit has two bedrooms, a lavatory and a sitting area. There's no kitchen, but novonids don't cook meals. I rent one of these for two thousand.”

“Two thousand per pay period?” she asked.

“Two thousand per standard year,” Thom replied.

Lise looked at the ceiling. “I could afford that on what Megan is paying me! In a couple of years, once my registration fee is paid... And, Tagg too...”

“My organization also is a holding company. Let's say a freed novonid wants to buy a house.”

“We can't own property...”

“No --but my holding company can. We've developed legal fictions that permit your people to live like my people. And my people don't like it. They don't like it one bit. That delights me.”

“Can't they pass laws?”

“Oh, they've tried. You see, passing any law restricting what we do will trample on some other white enterprise somewhere on the planet. We have the best business and legal minds on our side, Lise. There is nothing they can do about it.” He turned to his display. “Let's see what inventory is on the block today.” Thom manipulated the mediascreen control and screens of images appeared --images of novonid men, mostly, and a few women.

“Pretty typical,” he said, “an estate sale. We don't see many farm workers in the auctions. Those are traded by the planters, among themselves. They know who's good and who's not. Once in a while a farm will be liquidated and some workers end up here.”

“It's how my mother and father came to Vyonna,” Lise replied.

Thom continued scrolling. He stopped on an image of a young novonid man. “What do you think of him, Lise? He's currently employed by a landscaping company. Look at that physique. Too bad you already have a boyfriend. Otherwise, I'd buy him for you.”

“Thom... He's not my type.”

“What do you think of seeing all these green faces, Lise? Every one of them for sale. My regret is I can't buy every single novonid on this planet and free them all. I would if I could ... in a heartbeat.”

“Wait,” Lise said. “Stop and go back one.” She leaned toward the screen. “That's Glinda!” Her owner was murdered some days ago.”

“I'll bring up her data sheet... Fertile, breeding female ... seven gravidas ... she has some life in her yet. She's pregnant ... pedigree of the fetus unknown... and with a little boy.” Thom sat back and stroked his chin. “We'll keep an eye on her. My gut tells me one of the other breeders will snap her up. I bet she sells tonight for five thousand.”

“Five thousand? That's all?”

“Five thousand, tops. A male's worth one but a female's worth ten. You've heard that saying?”

“Of course.”

“I've heard it, too. It's true, perhaps, on the farms, but not in Vyonna. Glinda's getting along in years. Her pedigree isn't all that good to begin with, and her little boy...”

“Rinn. I know him. He's a nice little boy.”

“But of unknown parentage --a mongrel. In this business, here in Vyonna, pedigree is everything. On top of that, Glinda has born five other children, with one miscarriage. She's about halfway through her useful life. Let's say a breeder can raise Rinn and his sibling and sell them into the workforce. They'll bring twenty-five hundred each. If Glinda can bear five more children... Five thousand would be a good investment for a second-tier breeder.”

“But... Glinda was taken by the BSS when her owner died.”

“And this is what the BSS does --care for her until she can be sold. If there's no buyer, then the BSS

will put her into a shelter. And, there she'll stay.”

The screen flashed. “Bidding is open... Look --twenty-five hundred on Glinda already... There are unscrupulous buyers who'll troll the shelters, picking up discards at rock-bottom prices. I think that's how a lot of the females end up in the brothels. Of course, the BSS is always ready to let a white adopt a novonid. They turn a blind eye to what happens after.”

“Would you buy Glinda for your organization?”

“Perhaps. We'll see how the bidding goes. I have watches on several auctions tonight, but I doubt I'll move on any of them. I know who all the other brokers are. If a good one bids on her, we'll let it ride. If it looks like one of the sleazebags is on the hunt... Well, let's say I'm an expert at bid sniping and leave it at that. Since she's an acquaintance of yours, we'll give her extra attention.”

“Who bid on Glinda?”

“One of the breeders I know. Not a bad one.”

Lise watched the clock tick down. The bid jumped to thirty-five hundred.

“Look!” Thom pointed to the screen. “That's Ramina! Why is she bidding on such a one as Glinda?

Things are going to get interesting, now. The market knows Ramina buys only the best stock... I wonder what she knows that we don't.”

The bids began climbing in hundred-unit increments as the clock ticked down. Thom flipped to other auctions and then back to Glinda. The bid now sat at six thousand.

“This is crazy,” Thom said. “There's no way she's worth six grand... It's a bidding frenzy, now. They're not thinking what they're doing. Look! Ramina's back in at seventy-five hundred.” The clocked ticked its final ticks. “Done and done! Ramina bought Glinda for eight thousand. I don't understand it.”

“Thom... How can you say Glinda isn't worth more than five thousand?”

“I wouldn't have paid four thousand. I learned this business at my daddy's knee, Lise. Ramina knows something about Glinda, and her participation spawned competition.”

“Ramina didn't seem too distressed about the news of Glinda's owner's murder...”

“Now, Lise... I know Ramina. She's an excellent breeder and a savvy businesswoman, but she's no murderess. If you're insinuating she'd kill another owner in order to scoop one up at an estate sale... I don't think she's capable of THAT. She'd much more likely have bought Glinda outright in a private transaction.”

“Poor Glinda,” Lise said.

“Poor Glinda? Lise --she was snagged by the top breeder in Vyonna. Ramina takes good care of hers.”

“I know. But it means she'll be separated from her man.”

“Glinda's living with someone?”

“Yes --in the Zone.”

“Why didn't you say something? That's exactly the sort of situation Novonid Rescue looks for.”

“Do you mean you would've bought her?”

“I'd have paid more attention. Was her man in tonight's list?” He began flipping through screens.

“No --he belongs to another owner.”

“Hmmm... That does complicate it. Still --I wish you had said something. We look for stable family units and try to preserve them. It's too late to do anything about it, now.”

Thom stood and opened a cabinet. “Here is my collection of original documentation. It's my pride and joy. Some of this dates back five hundred years, when the notion of novonids was merely the gleam in a geneticist's eye. It's all here, Lise --why you are as you are. You were built for a purpose.”

“Yes --to pick pomma.”

“No. That was one intended purpose. There are too many other attributes. For example, your strength. Novonid muscle is stronger, gram for gram than a human's. I wager you'd easily beat me in a footrace, and if you and I got into a wrestling match, you'd splat me flat. Such strength isn't needed for picking pomma.”

“Then, why?”

“Because our people anticipated returning to space, some day. This colony was founded and later abandoned, leaving a die-hard group that called the place home and preferred to stay than return to the homeworld. Varada lacks the exotic minerals necessary for building warp coils and inertial sinks, at least based on homeworld technology. As a result, our technology regressed, but now it's progressing again.

“When we do return to space, there will be difficult and dangerous missions ahead. Missions for which additional strength and fortitude is essential.”

“So we were intended for off-world missions?”

“Among other things. Lise --it's obvious you have never been pregnant. Did you know that, if we were to put an infant to your breast, within a couple days you'd begin lactating?”

“Yes, I knew that.”

“And, you know novonid milk is satisfactory for human infants.”

“Some believe it's superior.”

Thom nodded. “Again, no accident. It's all documented here. Have you been called upon to nurse an infant?”

“No. My mother has.”

“Then, there's the issue of your brain. Did you know that novonids come with one of two brain models? They're known as high-capacity and low-capacity. You possess a high-capacity one, no doubt. Again, it's all documented. Your designers discovered they could make you either stupid or intelligent. Intelligent meaning matching a white's intelligence --though in your case, I'd say you're smarter than most.”

“You've said so.”

“Low capacity is fine for pomma farming. Up to a hundred years or so ago, that's what was bred. Hence, our society's conviction you are stupid, docile creatures. However, when you started moving off the farms and into the cities, your oppressors...” He paused and smiled. “That's me and my kind... We discovered the low-capacity brain doesn't have what it takes for urban assignments. Within a generation high-capacity models were being bred and became the dominant strain.

“You see, Lise --we could make stupid ones or smart ones, but not half-smart ones. For a while we experimented with various forms of conditioning. Thankfully, that practice is dying out.” Thom pointed to a binder. “This one discusses your sexuality. I know the topic makes you uncomfortable, so we won't go into it ... except to note there's a reason why your reproductive strategy so exactly matches the human one. And the reason is not that the human model is so superior. It's not a very good system in my opinion.”

“Thom... All this has my head swimming.”

“Good. I want to uncover your eyes, Lise. I want you to see how you fit into the larger scheme. I want to radicalize you --make you angry, and make you want something better.”

“What I have now is better than what I had,” she replied. “Isn't that good enough?”

“No --not by a long shot. Let me show you something else Novonid Rescue is doing.” He brought up another photoimage. “This is a trade school we're starting. We'll be teaching novonids all the basic building trades.”

“Thom --it won't work. My stepfather works as an unskilled construction laborer. He does so only because no white man wants to do that kind of work. He lifts things. He carries things. He digs holes and fills them in again. And, he can't touch any of the trades. If he touches a piece of iron or some polycrete, or even unplugs a cord, one trade or another files a grievance against him. You'll never penetrate the construction business. Not while the trade guilds hold sway.”

“That's not quite true,” Thom replied. “A generation or so ago, no one would've thought someone like your stepdad would set foot on a site ... not even as an unskilled laborer. Do you know if there are any white unskilled laborers on his jobsite?”

“One... An old man ready to retire.”

“Now, it's almost exclusively a novonid trade. Once we've created a workforce of novonids trained in the skilled trades, some contractor will hire them. He'll discover they do quality work, and other contractors will follow his lead.”

“See?” Lise asked. “We're evolving. Our situation is better than a hundred years ago.”

“Revolution, not evolution,” Thom retorted. “Evolution isn't fast enough. We need to grab society by its lapels and shake it. That's what I'm trying to do with Novonid Rescue.”

“I admire you, Thom. I admire someone who takes action.”

“That pleases me... All this material is yours, Lise.” He made a sweeping gesture toward the bookcase. “Come here in your spare time... Lock yourself in this room and educate yourself.” He checked his timepiece. “It's getting late. I should take you home.”

She followed him out of the house and to the car.

Lise stepped through the courtyard door and called down the stairs. “Mother!”

“Lise!” she called back.

“Shall I bar the door?”

“No --Grott's not back yet.”

Lise descended the steps and into the glow of a greaselamp. Another meeting?”

“Yes. He feels he must attend and be the voice of reason.” Sirens began wailing across Vyonna.

“Curfew.”

“Glinda's been sold --to Ramina,” Lise said.

“What?”

“Ramina bought Glinda and Rinn. I doubt they've heard yet.”

“How did you hear?”

“I watched it happen. I watched an auction session. Glinda will be going to Ramina's breedery.”

“I'll miss her,” Rayla mused.

Lise heard the sound of the courtyard door. “Rayla! Lise!” Grott called.

“We're both here, Father,” Lise called in reply. She heard the bar drop into its brackets. Grott came down the steps. “They've fixed the time for the strike,” he said. “In ten days.”

“Oh, Father!”

“It's idiocy. The pomma farms will go out, so they say. After ten days the pomma crop will be ruined and the whites won't permit that. It won't play like they think it will.”

“How will it play?” Lise asked.

“The farms won't stay out long enough. Two, three days at most ... then, when the farms start to cave the comfortable urban greens will start heading back to work. That'll leave only the Zone on strike. No one cares about the Zone.”

“Did you tell them that's how it'll play?” Rayla asked.

“Of course I did. They don't know what it's like on the farms. None of them have ever set foot on one. There's no way the farm workers will stay out more than three days.”

“It's because,” Lise added, “of the low-capacity brains of farm workers.”

“What?” Rayla asked.

“It's true --novonids are bred with two different brain models. There's a low-capacity brain for farm work and a high-capacity one for city work. I learned about it tonight.”

Grott narrowed his eyes. “Are you saying farm workers are stupid?”

“Not all... But there are two different novonid brains.”

Rayla suppressed laughter. “It does explain some of what I've seen over the years,” she said.

“Those with low-capacity brains are more docile, more apt to do what they're told and less likely to appreciate a coordinated effort. That's why it'll be hard to organize the farms.”

“They've solved the organization problem,” Grott replied. “It's keeping them out that's the challenge. It has nothing to do with brain size. It has to do with the farmers having hundreds of years experience imposing their wills.”

“Is Mott's bunch leading it?” Rayla asked.

“Yes...”

“Was Mott at the meeting?” Lise asked.

“No --just his lieutenants.” Grott held up his hand. “They asked me to keep one of their strike chains. I told them I'd keep it. I have to be up at dawn and I'm tired from arguing with those nitwits. I'm going to bed.”

Lise undressed and stretched out on her mattress. She heard sounds of Zone residents talking on the street outside her building.

A noise tugged at her, pulling her from her slumber. Someone was pounding on the courtyard door.

“Lise!” a voice called from outside. “LISE! GROTT! RAYLA!”

She headed toward the steps, grabbing a towel on her way and holding in front of herself. “Who's there?”

“It's me, Lise!”

“Tagg!” She lifted the bar and opened the door. He pushed past her into the basement. “Tagg --what are you doing here this time of night?”

“What's the commotion?” Rayla asked as she stepped from the sleeping quarters she shared with Grott. She lit a match and ignited a greaselamp.

“I'm not going back,” Tagg said. “I'm not going back.”

“What happened?” Lise asked him.

“Look!” He faced away from the lamp. Tagg's back was covered with a random pattern of welts. Some were caked with dried blood.

“Tagg!” Lise cried. “It's criminal!”

“Lise is right,” Rayla added.

“Who did that to you?”

“I was bussing tables. I had a tray stacked with dishes. One of the tables had a group of workers. They were having some sort of party and they all smelled of pomma beer. One of them put his foot out while I was passing and tripped me. They thought it was great fun. The dishes went flying and everything broke.

“Then, the foreman decided to make an example of me. He's never liked me, not from the start. He marched me into the barracks and started caning me. He had me bend over a desk and he caned me -one stroke for each broken dish. Then he told me to get back to work.”

“Is the foreman white or green?” Lise heard Grott ask from the shadows.

“He's another novonid.”

“Do you have his number? I'll have a word with him.”

“I don't... I think he lives at the restaurant. Well, I didn't go back to my post. How could I go in front of customers with my back bleeding? Instead, I headed for here.”

“The restaurant's in Quadrant Two,” Lise said.

“The busses were still running, so I made it to downtown before the warning chimes. I figured if I kept to the shadows I could make it back to the Zone. I think one of the pylon cams caught me, but I made it here.”

Rayla brought a can with some water. “Let me clean your back.”

“OWW! I've had it. I am not going back there. I don't care if they list me as a renegade or put a bounty on me. I'm not leaving the Zone.”

Lise sat and held his head in her lap. “No, Tagg. I've lived underground and it's no fun. You need to speak to your owner about this. An owner won't put up with someone mistreating his workers. A good one won't.”

“No. I'm not going back.”

“Lise is right,” Rayla added. “You must clear this up. Your owner can file criminal charges for what he did.”

“What about your art?” Lise asked. “If you spend your life hiding in the Zone, how can you sell your art?”

“I don't care. I'm not going back.”

XII

Lise knelt in Megan's living room picking up polymer construction blocks. The door opened. “Lise?”

Lise stood. “Oh, hello Megan. The twins are napping. We were at the park for a while.”

“That's fine, Lise. Something wrong?”

“What makes you think that?”

“You seem down today.”

“I'm worried about my boyfriend. He lost his job and now he's in some trouble. That didn't sound right...” She pondered. “He didn't do anything wrong but he's bearing the brunt of it.”

“I know that scenario well,” she replied. “Good luck.”

“Thanks. We're going to need some.”

The mediascreen warbled with an incoming call. “I'll get that,” Megan said and headed for the device.

“I'll be on my way. See you tomorrow, Megan.”

Lise headed for the door. She was halfway down the block when she heard her name. Megan was half-walking and half-running after her. “Lise!” she called.

“What?” Lise turned. “What is it?”

Megan attempted to catch her breath. “I'm out of shape... Lise, that was your owner.”

“Ms Ramina?”

“Yes --she wants you to stop by her place on your way home.”

Lise rolled her eyes. “Am I in trouble now, too?”

“Not from me you're not.” Megan opened her arms and embraced her. “You're wonderful, Lise -you're wonderful with the children and a good friend and I never miss an opportunity to tell Ramina so.”

Lise smiled. “You made my day.”

Ramina's breedery was in Quadrant Two --the opposite direction from the Zone. Getting there wasn't nearly the problem going home would be. Lise crossed the street and waited for an inbound bus routed through Quadrant Two.

The bus stopped three blocks from the row houses comprising Ramina's facility. Lise headed up the walk and rang the bell. A novonid youth opened the door and let her in. “Ramina wanted to see me.” she told the boy.

Ramina came from the back of the house, her long, grey hair down and wearing a housecoat. “Lise -thanks for coming. Hann, bring Lise some water. Would you like to sit under a sunlamp?”

“No, thanks, Ms Ramina.” The boy handed her a bottle of water.

“Are you hungry? Would you like some food?”

“I'm fine, mam. Why did you want to see me?”

“Let's step into my office where we can talk.” Lise followed Ramina and sat on a sofa. Her owner closed the door and sat behind a large desk. “Lise --I received a call from Lord Bromen today. He indicated that he would like to buy you.”

“Thom? Buy me?”

“Yes, Lise.”

“But ... but...”

“Of course I told him you were not for sale.”

“Thank you Ms Ramina.”

“Lord Bromen is a man who is unaccustomed to being told no. He likes to get his way and he usually does.”

Lise smiled. “But not this time.”

“There's more, Lise. Thom badgered me for a price. I explained to him that, in addition to any ... price I could put on you, there's the matter of your surgery and registration fees, which amounted to four thousand. Plus, you are under contract to Megan for two years with an option to renew for another three. I told him without a doubt she'd be renewing. Those contracts amount to a revenue stream of another fifteen thousand. I didn't tell him it was my intention to let you keep your wages after your debt was paid, Lise. I was making it sound as unattractive as I could.”

“And?”

“I tossed out a price of thirty thousand. You must understand, Lise --my best fertile, breeding females are worth no more than twenty-five, tops. And then, if you add the nineteen thousand for your doctors' bills and registration, and Megan's revenue stream.”

“I understand. Forty-nine thousand.”

“A figure I reasoned was well out of reach.”

“How did Thom respond?”

Ramina opened a drawer and withdrew an envelope. “Under the circumstances, I think it's only fair that I give you this.”

Lise opened the envelope. It was stuffed with scrip cards. “A hundred eighty units...”

“Your wages for the past two pay periods --less a ten percent brokerage fee --instead of the customary twenty-five. I'll call Megan in the morning and inform her. I imagine she'll be paying you directly from now on.”

Lise's jaw dropped. “You sold me! You sold me to Thom Bromen! Ms Ramina, how could you?”

“As I said, Lord Bromen is a man accustomed to getting his way. When I named my price, it became a legal ask. When he accepted, it was a binding contract. I had no way out of it. The title will transfer as soon as the funds clear the banks. I wanted to tell you, in person, as soon as I could. There is one thing I don't understand.”

Lise buried her face in her hands. “What's that?”

“Why was he so determined to acquire you? Novonid Rescue specializes in distress cases. You're not distressed... At least, I hope you're not. I believe I treat mine fairly and well.”

“Oh, you do, Ms Ramina. I have no complaints. I know exactly why Thom wanted to buy me.”

“Why, pray tell.”

“Are you familiar with the tales of Benn Drumm and Margliss?”

“Margliss... Certainly. She's well known in Vyonna.”

“I believe Thom wishes to emulate Benn Drumm, with myself in the Margliss role.”

“What makes you believe that?”

“I've been working with Thom for ... well, since about the time I started with Megan. Thom happened across me in the park. He's writing a book, so he claims...”

“He wanted you in it.” Ramina rolled her eyes. “You poor dear...”

“Within no time he was ... bothering me ... bringing up unwelcome topics of conversation.”

“Unwelcome, how?”

“Of a sexual nature, mam.”

“Oh, my. I have heard rumors that Lord Bromen has been afflicted with bouts of Green Fever from time to time.”

“He ... suggested behavior that I consider taboo.”

“Our society considers taboo. It does happen more frequently than you might imagine, Lise.”

“But, there are laws...”

“Yes. The laws are ... sporadically enforced. If a constable were to walk in on a mixed couple engaged in coitus, he could arrest them, charge them with fraternization and the penalties would be severe, indeed --for both parties. However, when discreetly done behind closed doors... Who's to be the wiser?”

“I could complain...”

“There is no law against a white propositioning a green. From that point on, it becomes an issue of consent. Without corroborating witnesses, it boils down to one's word against the other's. In a dispute between white and green parties ... you can imagine which side will be given credence.”

“I don't have to imagine. I know.”

“I always teach mine to avoid such situations with whites. The boys in particular are at risk. A white man is likely to claim it's consensual when it isn't --to save his own skin. However, a white woman is more likely to claim it wasn't consensual when it was --to save her honor. For that matter, white men claiming they were victims are not unheard of. In any case, if there is physical evidence...”

“A novonid wouldn't stand a chance.”

“Precisely. It's why I believe it's a matter of prudence for one species to remain at arm's length from the other.”

“Nothing has happened, mam. And, nothing will happen.”

“I had no idea you were falling into anything like this. I certainly don't blame you, Lise. I feel sorry for you. I wish you had said something earlier. It might've induced me to be more adamant about not naming a price.”

“If he thinks now, since he's my owner he can simply command me into his bed... I won't do it. That's something he cannot order me to do ... mam.”

“I do believe many so-called maids and valets are indeed obliged to do just that.”

“No --it's not right. He can't ask me to do that. If you'll excuse me, Ms Ramina --I'm going to Thom Bromen's house right now and tell him he can't do it.” She stood and stormed out of Ramina's office.

“Child,” Ramina called after her. “Remember your place.”

Lise pressed the stop request on the red line coach that serviced Quadrant One. The bus was making a loop near the boundary with Quadrant Four. She hopped off the platform and walked to the steps leading up to the promontory where Thom's house stood.

She climbed the steps, reached his front door and pressed the chime. Thom opened the door. “Lise... Come in.”

She bit her lip in a futile attempt to contain her rage. “How could you? You're just like all the others!

You can't have me any other way so you bought me. Well, you can forget it. You can order me to do your bidding but you can't make me do that!” She clenched her fists and tried to control herself, but the tears were flowing.

“Lise, calm down. I don't know what you're talking about.”

“How could you not? Ramina told me just now. You bought me!”

“Yes. I bought you,” Thom replied calmly.

“I've heard stories in the Zone about lonely, sleazy men buying girls to be their maids. Then they have them wear little revealing costumes and keep them as their sex toys. I won't, Thom. I won't cooperate. I don't care how it ends up, but I won't. You can't order me to do that!” She buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

“Lise... Sit and get hold of yourself. I did not buy you for myself. I've never owned a novonid and I'm not about to start. After what I've shown you about my work with Novonid Rescue I'm a bit disappointed.”

“Then why did you buy me?”

“I bought you to free you.”

“I was already free...”

“No, Lise. You were owned by Ramina. I've worked with Ramina for years. She's kind and honest. I wish all the owners were like her. However, she is mortal, like I am ... like all flesh she will go the way of all flesh. You could find yourself at auction, just like Glinda.”

“But Ramina has assured me...”

“Assured you what?”

“That... In her will, she... She was going to donate me...”

“To the BSS?”

“Yes, with instructions...”

“Lise, those might be her intentions ... her desires. Desires aren't always carried out. It's up to a probate magistrate to decide what happens ... what assets must be sold to cover what obligations. And the BSS frequently disposes of novonids to make space or to raise funds. I couldn't bear the thought of your face on that auction list. If there is one of your number who deserves freedom, Lise --it's you. I was determined you have it, at whatever cost.”

She sniffled. “So, you don't expect...”

“I don't own novonids. I've never owned one. I don't believe in it. I don't own you. Your title is held by Novonid Rescue. You are a free woman, Lise. You're free to find your own job ... keep your wages

--all of them, no brokerage fee... You can live wherever you like ... in the Zone or somewhere else. You can rent a room at Rescue Towers. If you decide you want to buy a house, Novonid Rescue will hold the title for you ... open a bank account for you ... whatever you need to live whatever life you desire ... pursue whatever future. Now, Lise no one can ever buy you, sell you, lease you, or trade you again. I expect nothing in return. Nothing.”

“You mean...”

“Remember, Lise --Novonid Rescue isn't mortal. It's perpetual. You can't out-live it.”

“In return...”

“Like I said, nothing. I've never concealed my attraction to you, Lise. Ever since I met you, I've respected you ... your person ... as if you were a peer. Now you are one.”

“Oh, Thom...” Now the tears flowed in earnest. She threw her arms around him, lay her face against his shoulder and wept. “I'm sorry...”

He caressed the back of her head and her shoulders. “Lise... Lise, it's all right. This is what I do.” He lifted her chin with his finger and kissed her forehead. Then, he kissed the tears from her cheeks.

“Thom, thank you, and I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I thought...”

“You're forgiven, Lise.”

“I can't stop crying,” she blubbered. “You can't imagine what this means. Just a year ago I was an unregistered hiding in the Zone. My only prospect for earning any scrip would be in one of the Zone brothels. And, now ... this... to be free!”

“Lise, if there were a place on this planet where you could be truly free, I'd send you there. But, there isn't. We're doing the best we can do with what we have.”

“How can I thank you?”

“You can give me your friendship. Will you do that?”

“Of course, Thom.” She put her arms around him and hugged him again. He brought his face to hers. Lise moistened her lips with her tongue. Then, he kissed her. He held her, caressed the back of her neck and kissed her again.

Lise pulled back. “No, Thom,” she said. “I can't ... I ... I'm not ready.”

“I love you very much, Lise. I can't help it --in my eyes, you are the perfect young woman. I'll wait for you to be ready.”

“What if I'm never ready?”

“So be it. I'm letting you set the pace, Lise.” He held her face in his hands and stroked the last of her tears away. “Are you all right, now?”

“Oh, yes...”

“I'm sorry I can't enjoy more of your company. I have a meeting to get to, and I'm running late as is.”

“I won't take any more of your time.”

“Once the transaction is finalized, we can talk about details. I'll give you the name of someone at Novonid Rescue.”

“I'll be going.”

“Do you know where to wait for the bus?”

“Yes. I won't have any trouble getting home.”

“I'd drive you, except...”

“I understand. I'll see you later.” She gave him a little wave and headed out the door. Lise descended the steps to the street and listened for the whine of a blue-line bus servicing her quadrant. She climbed onto the platform and held on as the bus bounced its way along the rough streets in Quadrant Four. The conversation with Thom ran through her mind and her tears began flowing again. The sun was casting long shadows in the courtyard by the time she reached it. Lise crossed it to her mother, lying on a concrete bench.

“Lise --you're home early for a change. Are you all right? It looks like you've been crying.”

“Let's go inside.” Rayla followed Lise into the basement. “Look, Mother...” She pulled the scrip cards from her pocket. “One hundred eighty. I didn't want to show you on the street.”

“Lise --where did you get that?”

“From Ms Ramina. They're my wages from the past two pay periods. She no longer owns me.”

“Ramina sold you?”

“Yes --to Novonid Rescue.”

“I have never heard of them.”

“I'm free, Mother. Novonid Rescue lets us live free lives. Oh, Mother! It's too good to be true.”

“When something's too good to be true ... it usually isn't.”

“Time will tell. Tomorrow's another pay period and Megan will pay me. Me, mother --not Ramina or some broker. I'll have nearly three hundred.”

“I've never seen so much,” Rayla replied. “We should find a safe place to hide it.”

“Where's Tagg?”

“He went out --I don't know where to.”

“How's his back?”

“It's healing. He'll have some scars, I'm afraid. Grott told him in some quarters scars like his would earn him some respect.”

“I can't wait to tell him.”

“I'd hold off telling Tagg if I were you. Since his incident at work, he's changed.”

“Changed? How?”

“He's been saying things that worry me.”

“What sorts of things?”

“Nasty things about whites ... about settling the score. Three hundred could buy a weapon, Lise. I'd keep it quiet.”

“Mother --Tagg's not like that. He wouldn't hurt anyone.”

“I'd be careful. You think you know someone, but you never truly do. I've been with Grott for longer than I remember, and at times he's a stranger to me.”

Lise lay on the concrete bench in the courtyard looking up at the yellow haze of the night sky, illuminated by the reflected light of streetlamps as her mother washed between her legs.

“It was nice having you on rounds with me,” Rayla said.

“I hate it,” Lise replied. “I hate this place. I hate the Zone. One of these days I'm going to rent my own apartment and move out of here. I'll have you and Father come live with me. No more damp, musty basement with smelly greaselamps. No more making rounds.”

“Don't get your hopes up, Lise. It costs more than a hundred units per pay period for an apartment. For one that's better than what we have, at least. This one doesn't cost us a thing.” Her mother dabbed her privates with a towel.

Lise stood and wrapped the towel around her waist as Rayla exchanged places and rolled open her legs. “Gently, Lise...”

“I'm sorry, Mother. It makes me angry. I want to get every last bit of those filthy men out of you... Why should we do this, Mother?”

“To keep the peace. Men need satisfaction, else they become frustrated...”

“Which leads to anger which leads to rage which leads to violence. I've heard the litany, Mother. It was a man who said it. The agreement to share the women was made among the men, wasn't it?”

Rayla wrapped her towel around her waist. “You're beginning to sound like Tagg. And, you've seen white life. You're getting the white man's disease, wanting comfort --wanting what we don't need.”

“You're beginning to sound like Grott.”

“Sound like what?” Grott asked.

“Nothing,” Rayla replied. “We were just having a talk.”

“Where's Tagg?” Lise asked.

“Still out.” Electronic chimes reverberated off the buildings. “There's the warning --Curfew soon.”

“We'll have to keep the door unbarred for Tagg.”

Lise stepped into her bedroom and pulled closed the sheet. She undressed and lay, prone on her mattress. The smell of rotting fabric from moisture seeping through the bare concrete floor filled her nostrils and revolted her. She lay on her back and locked her fingers behind her neck. Footfalls sounded on the steps. She sat up. “Tagg?”

“It's me, Lise.”

“Bar the door, Tagg.” She heard the steel beam drop into its brackets. Tagg pulled open the sheet. He was carrying a greaselamp and held it so it illuminated her. “You're beautiful, Lise.”

He set down the lamp, stripped off his shorts and dove onto the mattress.

“No, Tagg --I'm not in the mood.”

“I am!”

Lise struggled. Tagg kissed her and forced his tongue between her lips. She wrenched her face from his. He kissed her neck and between her breasts.

“No, Tagg, don't...” She folded her arms across her chest. Tagg pushed her onto the mattress. “I'll cry out,” she hissed. “Grott will stop you!”

He threw his weight against her, pinning her to the mattress and clasped one hand across her mouth. Then, he worked his other hand under her arm, cupped it over her breast and began a deep massage. She stopped her struggle. Her body relaxed. Anger drained from her. Tagg looked into her eyes.

“You won't cry out... Yes, green girl. You're mine.”

He ran his hands along her body, fondled her breasts and caressed the insides of her thighs. Lise closed her eyes and rolled her head to one side.

Tagg grasped her knees and spread them. He lay upon her and she held him across his back as he pressed his hips against hers. Grunting, he increased the force of his thrusting. Lise felt Tagg's climax. Then, spent, he rolled off her and onto his back. “I feel like a man tonight, Lise. I proved it --I am a man.”

“For conquering a woman? I don't think so, Tagg. Before --you had my heart and I gave you my body. Tonight wasn't love, it was power. It doesn't make you a man.”

“No --I feel like a man because I'm doing a man's work. I spent the whole day down by the old hotel, with Mott's group. They admire my scars, Lise. Mott was there tonight. He told us what good work we're doing, and how this strike will change the way whites treat us. We're a force to be reckoned with.”

“Tagg... This isn't right.”

“It's not the right way, Lise --it's the only way.”

“But what about your art?”

“My art.” He snorted. “Since when did pictures change anything? Art is nothing. This is something. Tomorrow I distribute strike chains --at the factories in Quadrant Four. Here...” He pulled a chain from his pocket. “Not too many links left. Think of it --the farms go out, and Vyonna shuts down. That restaurant ... they can't stay open without us, not without someone to bus tables, cook food and sweep floors. Tomorrow night I'm bringing you to the meeting with me.”

“I'm not going, Tagg.”

“Oh, yes you are. Some men bring their women and share them. Wait'll they see you, Lise. Maybe I'll share you with Mott himself. It'll put me in solid with him.”

“I am not doing that!”

“You go on rounds. It's the same thing.”

“Did you come here fresh from sharing someone's wife?”

“Oh, Lise --she was withered from bearing so many children, and pregnant with another. She only whetted my appetite for you.” He grabbed for her.

Lise slapped his face. “I don't know who you are any more, Tagg. You'd better get out of here.”

“Lise! I have every right to be here.”

“No you don't. You're a guest here and you had better remember that. I don't know what sorts of things this Mott tells you, but he's turning your head inside-out. You'd better leave - - go back to your gang at the old hotel and stay there until you get your priorities straight.”

“Lise... Lise ... I'm sorry. You're right.”

“I don't find any of it appealing or sexy, Tagg. It's all swagger. There's no courage in what you're doing.”

“But the strike...”

“What of it? You go ahead with your strike and when it fails maybe you and all the others will see how foolish this was.”

“No, Lise. You wait. It won't fail. It'll be glorious.”

“It'll be a disaster.”

Lise slipped into her shorts and bandeau and headed for the steps. “Lise,” her mother called.

“Yes?”

“Is Tagg here?”

She rolled her eyes. “No --he went out early to the factories here in this quadrant ... to distribute strike chains.”

“Did you two have an argument last night?”

“Of sorts.”

“I thought so. Grott wanted to intervene but I told him lovers quarrel and need to resolve things on their own.”

“I don't know, Mother. I don't know what's gotten into Tagg ... all this rhetoric from Mott. He has them believing they'll change Varada.”

“I fear they will,” Rayla replied, “but I don't think in the way they intend.”