XVII

Lise half expected cuffs to be put on her wrists, but they weren't. One of the deputies opened the rear door of the squad car. She slid onto the seat and noticed a young man seated. He wore a dress shirt with the three scrolls of the clerical caste embroidered over his left collarbone.

“Lise,” he said, “My name is Bryce Nath. I'm Lord Bromen's attorney. It's a pleasure to meet you.”

The car pulled from the curb and headed toward downtown.

“How do you do, Mr Bryce?”

“No, Lise. Just Bryce. If you'd like to be formal, you can call me Squire Nath.” She rolled her eyes in thought. “No? Bryce is fine.”

“What do you want from me?”

“Nothing. Nothing at the moment. I wanted to make my introductions to you, because it's likely we'll be doing business together.”

“What sort of business?”

“Time will tell, won't it?”

The squad pulled into the underground garage of the safety palace. Bryce escorted Lise to a lift. They walked down a corridor and were gestured into an interview room by a deputy.

“Have a seat, Lise.”

Lise sat and noticed another man leaning back in a chair, his head resting against the wall. A door on the opposite side of the room opened and a guard led Thom in. He had cuffs on wrists and ankles and a chain ran between them and around his waist.

Thom sat across from Lise. “Bryce, that will be all for now.” The attorney nodded to Thom and left the room. “Lise, I wanted a private conversation with you.”

She glanced toward the man in the corner. “How can it be private?”

“That is Brocton Mees, attorney at law.”

“I thought Bryce...”

“Bryce is my solicitor. Broc is a trial lawyer, an expert in criminal law. So long as he is in this room, our conversation is privileged. That means the constables are prohibited from eavesdropping. Broc has assured me he will hear nothing.”

“Nothing,” the man repeated.

“Believe me, our conversation is more private with Broc here than if he were absent.” Thom regarded Lise through narrowed eyes for a long moment. “Lise, were you the one who betrayed me? The more I think about it, it's the only explanation.”

“Didn't you betray all of us?” She shook her head. “Look at the mess you created --the Zone in flames and innocent novonids being hunted and shot on sight.”

“I was negotiating an amnesty,” Thom replied.

“How many more innocents would die while you negotiated to save the guilty? Do you really think you'd be granted an amnesty after bombing the police station?”

“That wasn't my idea,” Thom protested. “When I heard about it I tried to change their minds.”

“Did you provide the explosives and the weapons?”

“She sounds like a prosecutor,” Broc remarked.

Thom sighed. “Yes... They were to be used for defensive purposes, only. I suppose in hindsight supplying munitions was a bad idea.”

“Why is it so important you know if it was I?”

“It has a bearing on the statement I intend to make to the media,” Thom replied.

“Yes, Thom. I turned you in.”

Thom nodded. “I thought so. Believe me, I'm not angry with you for what you did. I was coming

'round to the notion that turning myself in was the only solution. I believe everything happens for a reason. Perhaps the reason you were sent to my house was to put an end to this. Have you been watching the news?”

“I try not to. Not now, at least.”

“They haven't released any details regarding my capture. The reason is, Broc here has been drafting a statement --one that implies I did turn myself in. Lise --there are novonids who admire Mott, and who might decide to harm whoever betrayed him. We can't have you becoming a pariah. That would ruin everything.”

“I appreciate your concern,” she said coldly.

“It's more than that. You've been thrust into a role, Lise. Animosity toward you would complicate the situation considerably.”

“What sort of a role?”

“Let's not get ahead of ourselves. What our statement will do is to give our cause something of value

--something the authorities don't want but will have to accept as part of ending this. We will give those in the Zone a martyr.”

“You?”

“Mott. I'm not getting out of this one alive, Lise. I've resolved myself to that fact. A hundred years from now, novonids will talk of Mott. He'll drive the cause forward.”

“Thom, I think you've gone a little crazy.”

“Maybe I have.”

“Will you answer one question for me, Thom?”

“I'll answer any and all of your questions, Lise.”

“Why? Why did you do this? Why impersonate a novonid? If it weren't you, Thom --I'd be offended. I'm not sure --maybe I AM offended.”

“I became Mott in order to have access to the Green Zone. You know what happens to whites who wander in there. I got to know the people --some of the desperate ones, the ones being mistreated. Those I targeted for Novonid Rescue. Mott became a savior. His reputation grew, as someone who could help. I bought property adjacent to the Zone --quite economically I might add ... built the House on the Hill --all in order to be near your people ... my people ... Mott's people. Mott began to spend more and more time there. The more I learned about the Zone, the more radical he became. In some ways he's become his own personality.

“Did you kill Glinda's owner?”

“Careful...” Broc advised.

“No comment.”

“What made you think we needed someone from the white world to organize us ... to strike?”

“First of all... I organized no one. The organization came from within --for and by those living in the Zone. All I did was to facilitate and to motivate. It's what a boss does, and it's all I've ever done --for my own company and for Novonid Rescue. The people in the Zone did the organizing and the planning.”

“It wouldn't have happened without you.”

“Maybe not. Maybe it would. Secondly... I am not from the white world. I'm from yours, Lise. I am one of you.”

“No, you're not. You have a white man's features... Except for your ... condition, you are a human, not a novonid.”

“It's not for lack of trying, Lise. I attempted to innocculate myself with photoptertheron organules, but to no avail. My matrix is incompatible.”

She shook her head in disbelief. “I can't believe you want to be one of us.”

“No, Lise --I AM one of you. I'm surprised you haven't figured it out, yet. You're such a smart girl. How much do you know of the history of our world?”

“Some... What I've read.”

“Then, the time has come for clarification. You know there are three epochs in Varadan history, each lasting about a thousand standard years. We are now in the third epoch.

“First, our world was colonized. For a couple hundred years we were a planetary outpost. Then, for various reasons, the decision was made to abandon the colony. The inhabitants were given the choice to leave or to stay. About half decided to stay.

“Varada at the time was a paradise. The colonists had brought Earth plants --wheat, fruit trees, vegetables. The climate was ideal for these crops and they grew in abundance. The society became agrarian, and technology was abandoned. We lived an idyllic life, plucking food from nature and sleeping under the stars.”

“What does this have to do with you?”

“Lise, if you look at the big picture, how the individual pieces fit becomes clear. Be patient.” Lise shifted in her chair. “About a thousand years after colonization the first epoch came to a sudden end. A comet collided with Varada. The impact threw enormous clouds of dust into the air. The result changed the climate and destroyed the Earth crops. The comet bombed Varada into a stone age.

“Finally the skies began to clear. We managed to salvage some wheat, which we replanted, but it was a long, dark age in which we entered. After a thousand years we had almost rebuilt the civilization that the comet had nearly wiped out. Then, the second epoch came to an end with the pomma invasion.

“There had always been pomma on this world. It was a spontaneous genetic mutation that bred an invasive variety that inexorably overran our wheat fields. Now, that strain is the dominant life form on this world. We had a choice --learn to cultivate pomma or starve.

“Learn we did, but it is a labor-intensive industry. Our society adapted by becoming stratified. The castes were established and we created a class of slaves for field work. Involuntary servitude was the only way to cultivate pomma without it becoming an economic black hole.

“After a few hundred years of this, the slaves rebelled. They did what Mott's gang attempted to do -they permitted the pomma to shoot into seed and go dormant for a season. It led to some lean times, and the powers that were resolved never to permit something like that to happen again. The slaves were freed and paid a fair wage for their efforts. They received what they wanted --money in their pockets. But with so much of the nation's currency diverted, the rest of the economy suffered. The result was inflation, followed by an economic depression.

“A committee was formed to devise a better solution. A member of that committee was a distinguished geneticist, and he had an idea. Why not create the perfect field worker? This scientist had been studying adapting the photosynthetic process into animals. We could create a new species, designed for cultivating pomma. They'd derive their nutrition from the sun, and being built for a purpose would never care about wages or advancement in society.”

“Hence the genesis of novonids,” Lise remarked.

“Precisely. The name of that scientist was Abel Bromen.”

“Your ancestor?”

“How else do you think I came by all that original source material from the dawn of your kind?”

“I hadn't thought about it.”

“It's in the family archives for hundreds of years. Abel Bromen used his own family as his base gene pool. He would clone gametes, make genetic modifications, combine egg and sperm and grow the embryos in culture chambers, the same ones he invented for the production of synthetemeat. Using that technique he could collapse the generations. Many fetuses were not viable, and many more were sacrificed. It took him twenty standard years to get the photosynthesis working --to modify the human matrix to support the photoptertheron chloroplasts; and twenty more before he had the first fertile prototypes.

“When he died, others took over the project. Eventually, a breeding population was created and they were introduced into the farms. Abel was rewarded for his efforts with a lordship.”

“I had no idea your family's association with novonids extended so far back.”

“It's more than you think. Aside from green skin, what single characteristic do you think of when you think novonid?”

“Hairlessness,” Lise replied.

“Precisely. Where do you think they got the gene for hairlessness?”

Lise gazed at Thom's bald head and her jaw dropped. “You mean...”

“Lise ... you and every other novonid share a direct line to my ancestor --Goss Bromen, son of Abel. He suffered congenital alopecia. His genetic material formed the foundation for all novonids. Everything else was done by tweaking his genetic pattern. Your DNA and mine differ by less than one half of one percent. You and I are cousins, Lise. I am more closely related to you than to anyone else on this planet. You are my family.”

“Thom...”

“And, that's why I did it.” She could see anger building in his face. “How would you respond if your family was being mistreated? Enslaved? Hunted like animals?” Thom rose to his feet. “It filled me with rage, Lise... Rage when I realized what it all meant. My family enslaved. And, my father, becoming wealthy on the sweat of his nieces and nephews. My whole line, back to Abel, stained brown with novonid blood. When my father died, I vowed to put it right. I vowed to use my undeserved privilege to help the unprivileged.”

“Oh, Thom... You were doing such good work with Novonid Rescue...”

“That work will continue. As I said before, Novonid Rescue is perpetual.”

“Evolution --not revolution,” she said.

“Evolution is too slow. I wanted to see change in my lifetime.” He sat down again. “You asked me why. Now I've told you. And, it would've worked, too. It would've worked if someone hadn't pulled off one too many links and that single farm hadn't gone out a day early. It tipped our hand, and the authorities were ready for us.”

“No, Thom. It wouldn't have worked. Grott had it figured out. He said anyone who had spent time on a pomma farm would know how the owners would respond. He predicted the farms would begin to capitulate after four days. You needed at least ten for the crop to shoot into seed. Your plan was doomed to failure. You told me once you were many things, but never wrong. You were wrong about this.”

“Perhaps.”

“And, you've set us backward. How long will it take for us to regain society's trust? How long before the people living in Quadrant Four forget it was us who killed so many when the police station was bombed?”

“I told you --that wasn't my doing.”

“It was our doing, and we wouldn't have done it without you, goading us. I was happy, Thom -happy to live a normal life. Then you came along with your chains and your guns and your ... facilitation.”

A tear ran down her face. “I saw the results of your so-called motivation. Tagg was a sensitive artist and you turned him into ... I don't know what --someone I didn't recognize.”

“Again, I did not. Mott was merely the catalyst. Your life was hardly normal, living in squalor ... burning discarded fry grease for lighting ... no power, no communications, no hot water ... no water at all.”

“And I never missed them. My parents always told me, when you have nothing, you have nothing to lose... When you're on the bottom, you can't fall down.”

“Nothing to lose but the bonds that enslave you.”

“In my case I never considered myself enslaved.”

“Then, you are one of the fortunate few. You should've attended some of my meetings, Lise, and heard some of the tales.” He drew in a deep breath. “This isn't why I wanted to see you. I didn't intend to argue politics with you. No --I wanted to confirm my suspicions regarding who turned me in. And, I wanted you to know I hold no hard feelings.”

“It was the hardest thing I've ever done, Thom. I admire you and I admire the good work you've done. Novonid Rescue is a fitting monument for anyone.”

“I also wanted to tell you --I still love you. I can't help but love you. I don't know if I'll see you again. The magistrates will decide my case in a few days.” He looked into her eyes. “Lise... Do you still love me?”

“I don't know. All this has made me numb inside. I'm sorry, Thom.”

“No room for sorry, now.” Thom nodded toward Broc, who stood and rapped on the door through which he had entered. A guard opened the door and led Thom from the room. Lise stepped outside and saw Bryce pacing. He walked with her and two deputies toward the underground garage.

“Lise,” he said, “the authorities are done examining the house on the hill. Thom wanted me to tell you

--you may continue to live there, if you'd like.”

“I'd rather not. Take me back to Megan's house.”

Bryce spoke to the deputies and sat in the back seat with her.

“I still can't believe it,” Lise said. “Bryce --did you have any idea what Thom was doing?”

“None whatsoever,” Bryce replied. “I was as astonished as anyone. I've spoken to Novonid Rescue folks who knew Mott...”

“Do you mean novonids?”

“Exactly. I spoke to some who had direct contact with Mott ... with Thom as Mott ... and their description of him was so out of character with what I knew... I consulted a psychologist and he explained that sometimes alter-egos do take on personalities of their own. It must be what happened to Thom.”

“What will happen to him? Life imprisonment? I'm sure they'll come up with enough charges to keep him locked up for the rest of his life.”

“No. They've charged him with sedition --the attempted violent overthrow of the government. It's been over a hundred standard years since they've used that statute.”

“Sedition?” Lise gasped. “How could they regard this folly of a strike as that?”

Bryce leaned toward the deputies in the front seat. “Our conversation is attorney-client privileged,” he said. One officer pressed a control and a transparent panel rose from behind the front seat and sealed off the rear compartment.

He reached into his pocket and retrieved a handheld mediascreen. He slipped an optical chip into a slot on its side and switched it on. “During the search of Thom's house they found this ... the original that is. As a member of his legal team I'm entitled of a copy of the evidence they hold against him. I shouldn't be showing this to you, but since you asked... I'm sure I can count on your discretion.”

“Of course.” Lise took the screen. The document Bryce had brought up was titled Novonid Manifesto . She scrolled to the table of contents. “My goodness...”

“It's an outline for a new society --one that emancipates novonids ... dissolves the current charter ... expropriates property from owners...”

“I can't believe it...”

“Two items are particularly troubling to the authorities. One is the section titled Interim Government. It describes an authoritarian council comprising novonids and sympathetic whites to oversee the formation of a new constitution.” He pointed to the screen. “The other is a roadmap to achieving it --by siezing the pomma farms, and inciting uprisings in the cities as diversions.”

“Bryce --this is some sort of pipe dream. They can't possibly imagine Thom would...”

“Are you sure? Look the document over, Lise. It advocates disarming the constables and using their weapons to arm enforcement squads; as well as replacing magistrates with paramilitary tribunals.”

“This makes my blood run cold,” she said as she scrolled through the document. “This section outlines training camps in the countryside. I know members of Mott's gang were recruiting runners and training them in the wilds.”

Bryce pointed to the screen. “Look here ... there are even lists of urban targets ... like the constable's station. The prosecution will use this as proof Thom was staging something more serious than a work action. They claim he was attempting a revolution.”

“Evolution, not revolution,” Lise replied. “I shudder at the outcome. But, after looking at this and after my converstation with him I fear perhaps they're right.” She handed the display back to Bryce. “What will happen to him?”

“If they get a conviction --and we believe they will --he'll be hanged.”

“She buried her face in her hands. “No... Poor Thom. He told me he's not a brave man.”

XVIII

Lise sat on the sofa in Megan's living room. Klarissa snuggled under her left arm with the electronic book reader. Geddes cuddled to her right, sucking his thumb.

The news was on the mediascreen. Lise watched a reporter state that Thom, Lord Bromen was not contesting charges of sedition, and that a Varadan magistrate would sentence him tomorrow. She pressed a remote control to switch it off.

Megan sat in a chair. “Hey,” she said, “I'm beginning to feel a little jealous.”

Klarissa looked up at her mother, then hopped off the sofa and climbed into Megan's lap.

“I do feel like a member of your family,” Lise said. “It's a wonderful feeling.”

“You are a member of our family,” Megan replied.

“Does that mean we've adopted Lise?” Klarissa asked.

“In a way, I suppose it does. Lise, I mean it. You're always welcome here. You're so good with the twins. You gave them unconditional love and look how they responded. You're good for me, too. I never knew unconditional love, so I didn't know how to bestow it. You've taught me.”

“Surely you exaggerate.”

“Surely I do not. You're a role model for me. Speaking of families --have you heard from your mom and dad?”

“Yes. They're still living at the temporary shelters. They'll be reopening the Zone in a few days, so I imagine we'll head back there. There's no telling what we'll find. Since no one owns the buildings, it's homesteaders' rights. I don't know if we'll get our old place back again or not.”

“If I had the space, I'd invite all of you to live here.”

“At least, we've gone back to the old curfew.”

“Yes,” Megan replied. “Dusk-to-dawn was beginning to wear on one.” She smiled. “I wonder if we'll have a curfew-fueled baby boom within the next standard.”

The doorchime sounded. “I'll get it,” Lise said. “Excuse me, Geddes...” She went to the door and swung it open. “Bryce...”

“Lise, may I come in?” She stood aside. “The civil reserve are busy clearing debris in the Zone. In doing so, they ran across a group of novonids who had been holed up in the basement of one of the burned-out buildings They were caught in the firefight, so to speak. Some of them are injured --one in particular. He happens to be registered to Novonid Rescue, so he's our concern. We had him transported to a novonid clinic in Quadrant Two. He's in pretty bad shape and they don't expect he'll last the night. He's asking for you.”

“For me?”

“Yes.”

Lise glanced at Megan. “Go to him,” she said. “We'll manage 'til you return.”

Bryce led Lise to a constable's squad car. “Are these people your private taxi service?” Lise asked.

“They're helping us get around with curfew.”

Lise heard the warning chimes sound as the car headed toward Quadrant Two. They drove past Ramina's breedery and stopped outside a single-story building. Bryce led her inside and spoke to an attendant.

“This way,” the attendant said. “I should warn you, it's not a pretty sight.”

“What happened to him?” Lise asked.

“He has a punctured spleen.”

“Can't you help him?”

“This condition is invariably fatal in novonids. The spleen is a vital photosynthetic organ. There's nothing we can do.”

Lise was led to a cot. She knelt beside him. Tagg' skin had faded to a pale yellow and he lay, gasping.

“Tagg... Oh, Tagg...” She cradled him in her arms.

“Lise... You came.”

“I came as soon as I heard. Oh, Tagg... You should've listened to me. All your talent...”

“Don't scold me, Lise,” he gasped.

“Oh, Tagg --I'm sorry.”

“I wanted you here, Lise ... to tell you ... I never stopped loving you.”

“I never stopped loving you, either. Oh, Tagg... Your art. It did make a difference.”

“My art?”

“Yes. One of your sketches is on the cover of the Novonid Rescue newsletter. It means you reached people, Tagg. You got their attention.”

“Lise... Have you heard?”

“Heard what?”

“Mott... Any news of Mott? They said he was captured.”

“Mott turned himself in. The strike is over, Tagg. They've called off the demolition of the Zone.”

“We'll keep fighting...”

“There's nothing left to fight for.”

“Oh, Lise... I'm so tired. I've been staying awake 'til you came. I can't any longer. I'm going to sleep now. Don't leave me, Lise. I want you to be here when I wake up.”

A tear ran down her face. She squeezed his hand. “I'll be here, Tagg.”

“I love you ... and that's forever.”

“Tagg... No, Tagg...”

He closed his eyes, shuddered and was still. Lise eased him back onto the cot. The attendant covered him with a drape.

Tears blurred Lise's vision. Bryce approached her. “I'm sure you comforted him.”

“Who's going to comfort me? I loved him, Bryce. Such a waste. Such a waste of his talent...” She sniffed back tears. “What happens next? Can we claim the body?”

“Claim the body? Surely you know novonid remains are disposed by...”

“Yes. By the city department of sanitation. Bryce --Thom bought Tagg so he could live like a white. He never had the chance to do so. Can't he at least die like one?”

“We'll need to find a ... facility that will agree to this.”

“A body's a body and ashes are ashes. I don't understand what is the difficulty.”

“I'll start making calls.”

“Oh, Bryce... I'm losing both of the men I loved.”

“You're a young and beautiful woman, Lise. There'll be other men.”

“Not like these two, there won't.”

A delivery courier stopped at number 505. The driver rang the bell and Lise accepted a package, and tipped the man with a mostly-fresh five-unit scrip card. She set the box on the floor.

“Aren't you going to open it?” Klarissa asked.

“Not now. I know what's in it.”

“What's in it?”

“An urn.”

“What's an urn?”

“Do you know what a vase is?”

“Yes...” She pointed to one holding dried flowers.

“It's like that but with a lid on it.”

“Oh... Can't we see it?”

“In due time. Now, it's almost time for your mommy to come home, so why don't you pick up your toys in the living room?”

“Okay...”

Megan opened the door and hugged Lise. She noticed the box. “Is that...”

“Yes. We'll keep it under wraps until I finally move to wherever it is I move.”

“You are more than welcome to stay here, Lise --for as long as you want.”

“I know, and thanks, but I really should be with my folks.”

“I understand. Are you ready for tomorrow?”

“As ready as I'll ever be.”

“I can't believe they're actually going to do it --and I can't believe you're actually going to witness it.”

“Thom asked me to be there. He ordered his attorneys not to file any appeals. The outcome would be the same, and he'd rather get it over with.”

“Good luck and good courage, Lise. I wouldn't have the stomach to do it.”

Bryce placed a placard in the windscreen of his car as they approached the tunnel leading into the Safety Palace. A constable's deputy examined it and waved him into the building. He escorted Lise to an upper floor, down a corridor and to a balcony overlooking the Vyonna central square --the point where all four quadrants of the city came together. A scaffold had been erected on the spot, with a gibbet and a noose. Bryce showed another deputy some credentials and he motioned them onto the balcony. A row of folding chairs had been set up. Lise took a seat beside Brocton Mees.

“Thom will never see me up here,” Lise said.

“He knows you're here and it's a comfort to him.”

She looked down on the crowd assembled in the square. They pressed up against a barricade. A group of novonids pushed against the fence to the right of the square and a raucous crowd of whites assembled on the left.

“It looks like some ... perverted sporting event,” she whispered. “Bloodthirsty animals.”

“It's the first public execution in over a hundred standards,” Bryce replied. “It's been the only thing on the screens all day --both the official news and the alternative.”

“I haven't watched. How does killing Thom make things better? Letting him live would make things better.”

“Believe me, that argument was made and it fell on deaf ears. Thom's good work will continue... Look! They're bringing him out.”

Lise leaned forward. A door in the safety palace opened. A pair of constables led Thom outside. Jeers and catcalls came from the left side of the square.

Thom's hands were shackled behind his back. He walked toward the barricade where the novonids were assembled, nodded and spoke to them.

One woman held up a novonid child. Thom leaned and kissed the infant's cheek.

“I know her,” Bryce said. “She was one of the first ones Thom rescued. In fact it was her case that made him found Novonid Rescue. She was in a terrible situation... Simply terrible. She had been horribly abused, both physically and emotionally. Thom stepped in and...”

“And he'll never be able to step in again. Oh, Bryce --I can't go through with it.”

“A moment's courage, Lise, is all it takes.”

Lise bit her lip as the constables escorted Thom up the steps and to the platform. Another official began wrapping bands around his ankles and knees. A third pulled a white hood over his head, slipped the noose around his neck and tightened it. They stepped back.

A magistrate stepped forward and read the death warrant. Then, the trapdoor opened and Thom dropped through and was stopped abruptly by the rope. His body flexed, stiffened and was still. Some constable's deputies began placing a screen around the scaffold.

The crowd fell silent. Novonids were weeping and embracing each other. A few whites cheered and applauded. Then, the crowd began to disperse.

Lise stood and turned to leave the balcony. She paused in the doorway, supported herself against the frame, leaned over and vomited. Bryce came to her and put his arm around her.

“It was so ... barbaric,” she gasped. “Poor Thom.”

“Lise --if you need a shoulder to cry on...”

“I've done my crying already. Take me to Megan's house.”

“I'm afraid we have another piece of business. I'd like you to accompany me to my office.”

“Fine, Bryce. Whatever you say.”

He led her to the garage, opened the passenger door to his car and Lise slid in. He sat in the driver's seat and piloted the vehicle to an office complex in a suburb of Quadrant One, not too far from the house on the hill.

Once inside his office he unlocked a cabinet and withdrew a polysheet scroll. “This is Thom Bromen's will,” he said, unrolling the scroll. “It is Varadan law that one convicted of a felony must forfeit his estate to the government. However, using a bit of legal legerdemain, Thom and I transferred his entire estate to Novonid Rescue, with the effective date of the transfer order prior to his arrest and arraignment. Consequently, it has all been preserved. Do you understand?”

“Yes...”

“In particular, the estate has been placed into a trust with you as beneficiary. This includes his controlling interests in Bromen Enterprises.”

“Me?”

“Yes, Lise. Thom wanted his work with his company and with Novonid Rescue to go forward. He wanted to keep it in the family, so to speak, and he has no immediate family of his own. He considered you ... all of you his family..”

“What does this mean?”

“It means, for all practical purposes, you have inherited Thom, Lord Bromen's entire estate. The house on the hill is yours for your home ... or, to sell if you'd prefer. As in all Novonid Rescue cases, you need a white regent to carry out your wishes. I have been assigned that role. It was Thom's dying wish that I give you absolute obedience --which I will without hesitation. It seems you and I will be doing quite a bit of business together.”

“Do I have to accept this?”

“Are you inclined not to?”

“I know nothing about business.”

“Success at business is more a combination of courage and luck than skill.” Bryce removed a folder and slipped a polysheet from it. “This explains his reasoning.”

She took the sheet. “A handwritten note...”

“I'll read it to you, if you'd like.”

“I can read it just fine.” Her eyes scanned the document.

My Dear Lise... Throughout my career I've found it easier to obtain forgiveness than permission. It's an approach that has served me well, and I'm applying that doctrine now. I've made known my intentions to leave my estate in your control. Knowing you as I do, I'm convinced had I asked your permission to do this, you would've demurred.

“Bryce,” Lise said without looking up, “what does demurred mean?”

“Objected ... resisted.”

“That's what I thought...” She continued reading.

I've gone ahead and done it anyway. Forgive me for not consulting you, and please accept. You are capable, Lise. I can't imagine anyone in a better position to carry on my work. You've lived underground and you've lived in the Zone. You understand novonid issues as well as anyone. You're smart and a quick study. If I had the slightest doubt, I wouldn't have done this, Lise. If you admire the work I started, then you won't shrink from this burden I've placed upon you. --Thom. Lise looked up at Bryce. “What makes up his estate? What did he expect me to be responsible for?”

Bryce rolled his eyes in thought. “Well... There is Thom's interest in Bromen Enterprises. His share amounts to about seventy percent, and the current market value would be...” Bryce counted on his fingers. “Around one billion. That makes his share worth...”

“Seven hundred million,” Lise replied. “What else?”

“There's his personal portfolio, which amounts to another two hundred million or so ... depending on the market, of course. Plus, he has fifty-one percent interest in Novonid rescue. That's a not-for-profit organization, so we can't really count it as assets... And current bank balances amounting to about three and a half million --petty cash.”

Lise closed her eyes. “To think not many days ago I was concerned about spending thirty units of scrip.”

“The decision-making is the same. The only difference is in scale.”

“Yes... The size of the consequences should I make a mistake.”

“If you value the good work Thom did --you won't shy from this. So, what do you say?”

“I'm speechless ... I don't know what to say.”

“How about, yes I'll do it?”

“When is this effective?”

“Immediately.”

Lise grabbed a polycard from Bryce's desk and wrote two numbers on it. “I want you to go out and buy these two novonids and register them with Novonid Rescue. Their names are Grott and Rayla. Bryce

--negotiate your best price, but make sure to buy them. Once you've located them, send them to the house on the hill. Tell them I'll join them there, later.”

“Lise --I'm a solicitor, not a trader. I don't know anything about negotiating prices.”

“Then, you had better learn.”

XIX

Megan approached Lise. “I have something to ask you,” she said in a whisper.

“What, Megan?”

“I'm embarassed... Lise --do you think you could take the twins overnight some night?”

“Overnight?”

“You see... I have a boyfriend and...”

“Oh, Megan!” Lise threw her arms around her and hugged her. “Say no more. I'm so excited for you!”

“I'm not getting my hopes up ... not yet. We'd like an evening together to...”

“I understand completely. I'd be happy to take the twins. They'll have a great time at the house on the hill. I never would've taken them into the Zone, but there will be fine.”

“Thanks, Lise. Let's not say anything to them until I have something lined up.”

Lise looked into Megan's face and couldn't help breaking into a broad smile. Megan hugged her. “Oh, Lise --you are my best friend. My very best friend.”

“I'm happy to hear that, Megan. I'm honored.”

Lise hugged and kissed the twins. “See you tomorrow, gang,”

“Lise,” Geddes said, “can Rinn come over to play?”

“I'll ask Ms Ramina.” Then, Lise headed out the door and to the corner where she climbed aboard a red line number four. The bus worked its route between Quadrants Three and One and began to make its loop at the end of the line.

She hopped off the bus at the bottom of the hill and climbed the steps to the house. Once inside she headed for the master bedroom on the third floor. There she kicked off her sandals and stripped out of her shorts and bandeau.

She knew she had a bit of time before Bryce would arrive, so she stepped onto the private balcony to enjoy the last direct rays of sunlight playing on her nude body. She found it a pleasant solar snack. The sound of a car in the drive alerted her that Bryce had arrived.

She stepped back into the bedroom, into the clothes-press and reviewed her choices. From the rod she picked a white, synthetic fibre dress and slipped into it. The hem came to her knees and the right shoulder had a little cap sleeve. Like most Varadan business attire the left shoulder was cut to reveal the wearer's caste tattoo. In her case, it exposed her serial number. She fastened a belt around her waist. Lise took a page from Thom's book and tucked one end of a sash into her belt in back, then flipped the other end over her left shoulder. She found a pair of medium-high-heeled shoes and slid her feet into them. Then, she stepped into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. With her finger she dipped into a pot of lavender metallic face color and smeared some onto her right eyelid, extending the line across her temple to her ear. Some brown gloss on her lips completed her toilet. She slipped on a pair of non-corrective eyeglasses and headed downstairs to the library.

Bryce met her there and withdrew his mediascreen. Lise picked up the control for the wall-mounted screen and switched it on. The image of a board room appeared.

“We'll keep it short today,” Lise said. “First item is our investment portfolio. I've reviewed it. I'd like to sell all our Drumm Industries.”

“What do you suggest we buy with the proceeds?” a woman in a blue dress asked through the mediascreen.

“I think we should hold it in cash for the time being,” Lise replied. “At least until we know which way the political winds are blowing. Also, we should lighten up our luxury sector by forty percent and our heavy industry by twenty --also to be kept in cash.”

“What about agriculture?” a middle-aged man asked.

“It's fine where it is,” she replied. “Even during hard times folks need to eat. Any objections?”

“No,” replied the woman in the blue dress. “It sounds shrewd to me.”

“What makes you think there will be hard times?” the man asked.

“The strike has unsettled people,” she replied. “Uncertainty breeds caution. We're seeing it already on the Eastern continent.”

“Shouldn't we stay the course until we see what direction...”

“It's easy to gamble with someone else's money,” Lise shot back. “Lloyd --would you put your life savings into Drumm Industries right now?” She looked at him through the screen. “I didn't think so... Next topic --Uncle Thom's packaged meals.”

A woman in a red suit replied. “The focus groups have been very positive. They like the notion of meals that humans and novonids can share.”

“My gut tells me,” Lise said, “that the market for them is restricted to a fairly small sector of Vyonna. I think we should go with limited production and see if it catches on.”

“Here's the suggested design for the package.” The woman in red tapped a key and an image appeared on the mediascreen. “We'd use the same layout with different color schemes for the red and white synthetemeat products.”

“I like the concept,” Lise said. “Let's redo the artwork so the figures look more life-like.”

“But --we thought caricatures would have more impact.”

“I think they're borderline offensive,” Lise replied. “Both the white one and the green one. They're not dignified. Remember that --whatever we do, we do it with dignity.”

“I see your point,” the lady in the blue dress said.

“What if we used photoimages?” the man asked. “How about a pretty white girl and a pretty novonid one?”

“I know,” said the woman in red. “Just their eyes. We photo them dead on, with their eyes looking to the side --at each other.”

“I like the sound of that,” Lise said.

“We'll have new artwork day after tomorrow,” the red-dress lady replied.

“Good,” Lise said. “Any other business?” She scanned the faces in the mediascreen. “Adjourned.”

She pressed a control and the screen went dark.

“I've put a number of contracts that need your review in your in-stack,” Bryce said. “I'll be at my desk.”

Lise dismissed him with a nod and he headed to a sitting room that had been converted into an office. She sat behind the large desk, pulled the mediadisplay before her and began reviewing documents. A rap came at the door and a teenaged white girl with long blond hair stepped in. “Mam, your appointment is here.”

“Show her in, Leah.”

A novonid woman stepped into her study. Lise stood to greet her, and scanned her from head to foot. She looked no older than her mother, though Lise knew she had at least twenty additional standard years. The woman was wearing the traditional costume of bandeau and short shorts. Lise extended her hand. “Margliss, pleased to meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine. I was expecting to meet someone who looked a bit older.”

Lise smiled. “So was I.”

“You're too kind.”

“Please sit.”

“This is my first visit to the Bromen estate,” Margliss said. “It's so very ... snug.”

“Yes. Lord Bromen sold the family manor and bought this property. He did so because it overlooks the Green Zone.”

“I'm pleased to hear things have returned to normal inside Zone.”

“That's precisely why I wanted to speak with you,” Lise replied. “Things are returning to normal ... unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately? Why do you say that?”

“Conditions in the Zone were never optimal.”

“What today is optimal? The Green Zone does serve an important purpose.”

“What purpose is that?” Lise asked.

“It's a safety valve. It's a place where unregistereds can go, unharassed.”

“It's also a place where renegades go to hide from bounty hunters, where street thugs evade the constables and where desperate girls sell their bodies to white men for pocket change.”

“Our society is not prepared to have unregistered novonids roaming the streets of Vyonna.”

“So, the solution is to hide them in the Zone --out of sight, out of mind. The plight of unregistered novonids is a particular interest of mine,” Lise said. “You and I are members of a second class of Varadan citizens.”

“As I know all too well.”

“Do you, really? Unregistereds form a third class. Those of us who are ... or, were members of that class live in constant fear. We learn to scan our surroundings for any suspicious strangers before exposing ourselves to the sun, and thus to possible capture.”

“And that is why we need safe harbors.”

“Like the Green Zone? Is this your position, Margliss? Or, do you speak for the BSS as well?”

“The BSS believe safe harbors should be encouraged.”

“I have heard it said that the BSS is more interested in maintaining the status quo than in progress. It appears that assessment is correct. Margliss --thank you for stopping by.” Lise sat at her desk and began reviewing documents on her mediascreen.

“You are a brazen girl,” Margliss hissed. “I am not accustomed to being dismissed so.”

Lise continued scanning documents. Margliss rose and headed for the door. Bryce stepped in from his desk across the hall. “I can't believe you treated Margliss that way,” he whispered. “She has powerful friends and can be a formidable enemy.”

Lise held up one finger. The sound of footfalls approached. Bryce ducked back into his office. Margliss poked her head into the library. “Lise... I don't wish you to perceive me as opposing progress ... or, as insensitive to the plight of unregistereds. Perhaps we should make another try at our conversation.”

“We can try it as many times as you'd like.”

“May I sit?”

“Please.”

“It's obvious,” Margliss said, “that you have a different vision for the Zone. Would you mind sharing it with me?”

“I thought you'd never ask.” Lise manipulated her mediascreen and pressed a key. An image appeared on the wall screen. “This is an artist's conception of what is now the Green Zone. We've removed the walls, fences and gates. The centerpiece is a replica of the old hotel, restored to its prime a couple hundred years ago. We believe with its location at the edge of the city and overlooking the pomma savanna, it will be a popular destination both for visitors to Vyonna and for city folk looking for an escape.”

“More popular than the coastal resorts?” she asked.

“If we offer the right value, it will be popular enough.” Lise pointed to the screen. “Here is the old park, restored, with new homes and apartments ringing it. All this was burned down during the strike. And at this end, the apartment buildings are to be renovated. All apartments and homes are to be equipped with power, water and sanitation. The streets will be open to traffic. The Zone will cease to be its own enclave, and instead be integrated into Vyonna's fabric.”

“Will this be income-generating property?” Margliss asked.

“Yes... We anticipate modest rents along the lines of the Rescue Towers.”

“How will you induce owners who've been accustomed to dumping their novonids in the Zone to avail themselves of these renovated properties?”

“We will ask Vyonna to require owners to provide housing.”

“And, if they can't afford to?”

“We believe most can afford to. Otherwise, they can give up their novonids.”

“Give them up to whom?”

“To Novonid Rescue and receive a tax write-off. Novonid Rescue will then place them in housing and find work for them.”

“And, what of the unregistereds? How do they fit into this plan?”

“They don't,” Lise replied. “There won't be any.”

“What do you plan to do with them? Deport them? Send them to the hedgerows and forests beyond the pomma farms?”

“Of course not. There won't be any unregistereds because we will register them. All of them.”

“How many are there?”

“Our best count puts the number between three and five thousand,” Lise replied. “This is where we need some help from the BSS. We'd like a price break on registering them.”

“What sort of a price break?” Margliss asked.

“We were hoping you'd do it gratis.”

“Register five thousand novonids for free? That's a loss of ten million units of revenue!”

“No, it's not,” Lise replied. “These are registrations you'd never have to begin with. Margliss --the BSS runs the registry. It doesn't cost you two thousand units to register one.”

“There are some costs.”

“What's your profit margin? Ninety-five percent? Give us a ninety-five percent discount and we'll pay the rest. Margliss --in a generation or two, there will be a population explosion of unregistereds if we don't do something about it now.”

“And, you expect Novonid Rescue to take title on all these newly registereds and care for them?”

“It will be our challenge. We'll welcome help from the BSS but we're prepared to go it alone if we must. Will you help us with the registrations?”

“I can't speak for the BSS, but I will bring it up at the board meeting.”

“Thank you, Margliss.”

“Tell me something, Lise... Do you really think the city of Vyonna will go along with this idea?”

“I think so.”

“What makes you think so?”

“Because of the money we bring to the table. The only cost to Vyonna is turning over the Zone to Novonid Rescue and making some upgrades to services. We will do the rest.”

“I was wondering when we'd get around to that topic. I imagine you expect me to donate, too.”

“If you'd like,” Lise replied. “I am prepared to liquidate our interest in Bromen Enterprises and put it all into this project. That amounts to about seven hundred million..”

Margliss looked at Lise for a long moment. “Seven hundred million?”

“Yes, and more if I sell everything except this house and a small annuity for living expenses. And, Margliss --I'm accustomed to living modestly.”

“I ... I can't give you a figure right now...”

“Whatever you can do will be appreciated. We have more than a billion pledged already --most of it is Bromen money.”

“I'll get back to you ... and I'll bring the matter up before the BSS board. Good day. It was a pleasure meeting you.”

“Likewise.” Margliss walked out of the door.

Bryce stepped back into the library. “Wow,” he said, “how you handled her. They say Margliss has a heart of gold --only harder. You're as tough as she is.”

Lise gazed at the plans on the screen. “I can't wait for the work to start,” she said.

“I can. I lie awake nights worrying about it. Don't you?”

“No. What frightens you, Bryce?”

“Putting all that capital at risk,” he replied.

“You're not worried about the long-term ramifications? We will accomplish what Mott's gang failed to achieve.”

“How do you figure that?” Bryce asked.

“Mott's ... Thom's mistake was thinking he could persuade us to covet the white lifestyle. We don't and that's why the only ones who struck were Zone residents who've been poorly treated.”

“They're the ones who had reason to strike.”

“Precisely. Forcing owners to either provide room and board or a living stipend should alleviate that problem. No, Bryce. What I see happening is bigger --much bigger. How many novonids are registered to Novonid Rescue right now?”

“I think about five hundred.”

“We'll add ten times that number. We'll absorb the unregistereds. We'll integrate the Zone into Vyonna and give those living there an investment in the place. We'll send them to the trade schools and train them; and we'll use their labor to rebuild the Zone.”

“What makes you think Zone residents will cooperate?” Bryce asked.

“Have you ever looked over the notes Thom collected about the genesis of our species? One thing out designers built into us is an aversion to idleness. We like to keep busy in the sun. Zone residents won't simply cooperate. They'll embrace it.”

“Won't the trade guilds object?”

“They won't dare,” she replied. “To object would be to admit novonids are a threat. By admitting we're a threat, they're admitting we're their equals. They can't afford that. They'll ignore us.”

“I'm beginning to understand,” Bryce said. “When we're done we'll have eliminated five thousand unregistereds living off scraps and have replaced them with five thousand functioning, contributing members of society.”

“Five thousand functioning, contributing members of society who are living a free lifestyle, Bryce. In a couple generations that number could swell to twenty thousand; and in a few more could approach a hundred. THEN, we'll have established a green lifestyle the other urban novonids can and will wish to emulate. The pressure will be on to expand novonid rights, at least in the cities.”

“Now we're talking about a green strike with some teeth.”

“I would hope it won't come to conflict,” she replied.

“Evolution, not revolution,” Bryce said. “What looks to the city as a charitable effort to clean up the Zone is in reality the seeds of a new order.”

“We don't set out to change society,” she replied. “We use society and it changes itself. This will be Thom's true legacy. That was his other mistake --he was too impatient. The Bromen fortune has been amassing for generations. Now is the time to put it to use. It's the right thing to do. I'm sure of it. It's just like when I had thirty units in my pocket and wanted to buy a mediascreen for my mother. It was a fortune to me then, Bryce.” She looked in his eyes. “As a white, doesn't this frighten you?”

“Not in the least, Lise --it delights me. I'm as fond of your kind as Thom was --or else I wouldn't be associated with Novonid Rescue. When my wife and I are ready to start a family, it's our intention to adopt a novonid baby. We'll register the child with Novonid Rescue and raise him alongside our own as siblings.”

Lise looked at him, her eyes welling. “You'd do that? You're braver than I thought.” She held out her palm. Bryce pressed his to hers and they locked fingers. She squeezed his hand; then, embraced him.

“You're a good man, Bryce. It won't be easy for you...”

Leah entered the library. “Excuse me, mam,” she said.

“Yes, Leah?”

“I've finished filing. Is there anything else?”

“No, Leah --you may call it a day.”

“Thank you, mam.” The girl turned and left.

“She's a nice girl,” Lise said to Bryce.

“I'm surprised you didn't hire a novonid as an intern.”

“I would have, but I couldn't find one who reads well enough,” Lise replied. “Leah reads better than I do.” She bit her lip. Bryce put his hand on her shoulder. “I'm sorry, Bryce. I was having a moment of white envy.”

“There's no shame in what you're doing, Lise. Once the school Thom founded starts graduating students --we'll have plenty of novonid interns.”

“I know. It all reminded me of how far we have to go yet. Leah's what... two years younger than I? I was just thinking what I was doing two years ago.” She pulled her shoulder blades together and stretched. “It's been a long day for me and probably you, too. See you tomorrow, Bryce.”

“I have a little work to finish before I go.” He headed back to his office. Lise left the library and stepped onto the terrace. She approached a section where planters had been arranged in a sort of shrine. Two urns sat in it --one labeled Tagg and the other Thom. She poured water from a can onto the plants and began picking off spent blossoms and flicking off maturing seeds. A hand rested on her shoulder. She turned and saw Rayla. “I can understand why you honor Tagg,”

her mother said. “But, why Thom Bromen? Why after all the trouble he caused us?”

“Thom did much good work, too,” Lise replied. “He was a good man.”

“Then, why did he do what he did?”

“No good man is completely good ... and no bad man completely evil. It's important his good works are carried forward.”

“I'm proud of you, Lise,” her mother said. “I can't believe how well you're doing.”

“I have you to thank, Mother. You taught me to read and to do sums. I couldn't have taken this on without that.”

“It goes beyond reading and writing,” Rayla replied.

“I have a good mentor in Bryce. He keeps telling me success is more courage than skill.”

“Courage is something you have in abundance.”

Lise grasped her mother's hand and they laced fingers. The two women walked to a table where Grott was sitting and joined him.

“You're looking glum,” Lise said to her stepfather.

“What is that on your face?” he asked.

She removed the eyeglasses. “I wear these to make me appear more mature.”

“No. This...” He tapped his face near his right eye.

“Just some color.”

“What's the point of it? And, what's the point of the costume you're wearing? Are you ashamed to show your green skin?”

“Father --I have to deal with business people. Business people who are accustomed to dealing with other business people. White business people. I discovered they take me more seriously if I look a bit more like they do.”

“Why don't you paint your face white and put a wig on, then?” Grott made the guttural growl he reserved for ultimate contempt. “There is nothing to do here.”

“That's not true. There's plenty that needs doing. These gardens are all wild pomma. It needs cultivation just like the food crop. You're more than welcome to do whatever you think needs done.”

Grott growled again.

“Father --if you'd really rather be back on the farm picking pomma... Well, I'll just tell Bryce to buy a pomma farm and you can go pick to your heart's content. Or --go back to your construction job. I thought you hated it, though.”

“I was happy to quit working for the laundry,” Rayla said.

“Both of you --you should enjoy your freedom. You've certainly worked hard enough up to now. Are we ready to feed?”

“I am,” Rayla replied. Grott grunted.

Lise poked a key on her mediascreen. “Marta, please bring our meals.”

An older novonid woman pushed a cart onto the terrace. She set before them three bowls of brownish strands covered with multi-colored sprinkles.

“Thank you, Marta,” Lise said.

“That's another thing,” Grott added. “I don't like being waited on by another novonid.”

“Would you rather be waited on by a white?” Lise asked.

“Maybe I would.”

“It gives Marta work,” Rayla replied. “That's a good thing.”

Bryce approached. “Beg pardon, Lise. I'm sorry to interrupt your family meal.”

“What is it, Bryce?”

“I received a call from Prefect Ogan's office. He would like to schedule a meeting in the next day or so to discuss your Green Zone proposals.”

“You have my calendar. I'm free tomorrow and the next day, late afternoons.”

“The prefect would rather meet in the morning.”

“I have a commitment mornings --my babysitting job.”

“That's what I wanted to discuss. You could be more effective if you didn't have that ... obligation. You don't need the money. Why do you insist on keeping that job?”

“Because I entered into an agreement with Megan to do it and that agreement pre-dates any of my commitments here. It doesn't matter if it's Klarissa and Geddes or the prime minister himself. A prior commitment is a prior commitment.”

“Certainly you could hire someone to...”

“Megan doesn't want someone. She wants me. I promised her and I'm keeping my promise. I want those children to grow up knowing when a novonid gives her word it's her bond.”