GATES CHAPTER ONE: The World Goes Pearshaped
GATES Chapter 1: The World Goes Pear-Shaped
Mirim Otech
8/15/956 NCE
“Mirim, those clothes are inappropriate. Completely inappropriate.” Rakel was wearing a skintight black dress which emphasized her breasts, waist, and hips, but in honor of the occasion, these were all covered. She was wearing a long gold and jade necklace I had given her - one which had played havoc with my budget, but I’d known she would love. She had said, “Mirim, you have to stop wasting money on me,” laughed, and kept the necklace anyway.
I’d passed on to her every object of jewelry the hokkans had given me in the last few months, and she was wearing those too - an armlet of bright gold with dancing figures, a big toe ring (probably meant to fit a man’s hand) of blue-anodized titanium with a scatter of tiny diamonds, a handful of little enameled pins of what appeared to be fishes and coral, which we decided really were hair ornaments.
She glittered. Rakel was only a few years older than I, but combined her youth with a certain savoir-faire which reminded me of my mother, a highly successful player of political systems. With Helen, jewels were a way of keeping score, and I suspected Rakel felt the same. I thought she had never looked lovelier, and said so.
“In that case, dress to at least complement me,” she said, rummaging in my wardrobe. “A tie and a sweater is not - this is a formal occasion, darling. You’ve got to have at least a sport jacket.”
“I don’t,” I said. Rakel had not convinced me to slick back my own hair, and it was an uncontrollable tangle as always. My eyes were not enhanced with mascara. I wore one small diamond stud in my right ear. Helen had given it to me when I was awarded a scholarship to Terran Tech.
“Did you know seamen used to wear an earring in their right ear to improve vision?” I asked, looking at it in the mirror thoughtfully. “That’s how the custom started for men. It was an early concept of acupuncture, I suppose.”
“Try to stay focused tonight,” Rakel replied. “When you go off subject like that, everyone’s eyes glaze over. And God knows the hokkan translation puters have trouble enough without handling non sequiturs.”
She emerged with a tuxedo in plastic. “You do have formal clothing!”
“Last time I wore that was the junior prom. My high school junior prom.”
“I’ll bet you haven’t grown since.”
“I suppose not.” If anything, I’d lost a little bulk in college. I’d only worked at the arb on weekends. And that had been what? Eight years. Not to mention no one had fed me or monitored my eating habits since Helen died.
The tuxedo had been stored de-oxygenated, and had not deteriorated. I slipped on the costume, grumbling that I was going to look conspicuous.
“You will be wearing exactly what everyone else will be wearing tonight,” Rakel said, with great satisfaction.
“It clings. And it’s not a natural fabric.”
“It looks perfect on you.” Because I had worn nothing more formal than lab coats and ties since grad school, I felt encased rather than dressed. But Rakel smiled at me approvingly, and that made up for a lot. She seldom had approval on her face when she looked at me. She’d finally agreed to go out with me shortly after I made the gate (the hokkans had told us the tunnels were called gates) and though we continued to go out together, I hadn’t reached her standards for a companion yet. She seemed resigned to re-training me, though.
“You know, darling, you really are very handsome when you clean up and dress right.”
“Your encomium underwhelms me.”
The smile went away. “Mirim, what did I say about focusing? That includes not using obscure words.”
“It was a joke.”
“Especially your jokes. Not even the Presiding Officer understands them, and he went to a much better university than Terran Tech.”
“No, he didn’t,” I said. “The PO went to a second rate Ivy. It’s probably got a better liberal arts program, but he majored in environmental studies, and to really get a good education in that -“
“That’s enough, Mirim. I want you not to talk tonight. I want you to smile, and look modest and brilliant, and shake hands.”
“Can I kiss?” I asked, reaching out for her. She slid away.
“You get distracted far too easily, darling. We’re talking about your image.”
“Rakel, I don’t want to talk about my image. I don’t want to go to the PO’s reception for the hokkan. I’d rather not even think about them when I don’t have to.”
She frowned. “You are so unreasonable, Mirim. You have to go - you’re the reason we have contact with other worlds now. And the hokkan would be angry if you didn’t show. It would be an insult. You know that.”
I knew that. Helen had brought me up to practice discretion, modesty and courtesy. She made a lot of public appearances, and I was almost always there, so I had lots of practice. My mother thought being a poor guest was one step up from defecating in the living room. I’m not terribly modest or discreet, but I usually manage not to be rude.
Still …. This had been building up for quite awhile. “I loathe the hokkan. My gut doesn’t trust them. I get queasy around some of them. K’am’s the worst, and he’ll be there tonight - the highest military leader on his planet, in full dress regalia, with that smarmy smile and flashy sidearms.”
“What has that got to do with anything?”
“It’ll have to do with a lot if, at an important ceremonial moment, I’m throwing up on his shoes.”
“You’re too high strung, Mirim.”
“Maybe so, but it’s still something I might do. Comes with the rest of me.” I grinned.
Rakel did not grin back. “Take some dramin.”
“That’s not the point.” I sat on the bed, pushing a pile of books and a few socks far enough away it wasn’t lumpy under me. “He scares me, Rakel. I don’t trust him. I think the PO has been sucked in with promises of technologies which sound much more likely to be used to put down rebellion than to reverse famine.”
“It doesn’t matter what the technology is, Mirim. Earth needs it.”
“I don’t think it does. We don’t need a military mindset. That’s one of the factors which led to the last hundred years in the first place.”
Rakel had a temper which went with her original hair color - red. It hit flashpoint then. “You - are - telling - me,” she said slowly, enunciating each word, “that you won’t tell how you made the gate until you approve of what it’s going to be used for?”
“Rakel, we’re living in a global disaster zone. Nearly half the population died from famine, flood, and the diseases which followed them. We still have barely enough to eat, even after the New World Government mandated sharing - you know half the food species we used to have aren’t replaced yet, and since they were mostly grasses, the world’s most fundamental crops are gone. The ocean used to be a desert - now it’s like the moon and makes a desert look fecund. The industrial nations have consigned their children to cohorts to make sure they survive, while every adult has to work on rebuilding, and arts and leisure activities hardly exist anymore. Why the hell are we trading for weapons?”
“Because, Mirim,” she snapped, “Hunger and desperation lead to rebellion. Lots of people didn’t like a more efficient method of raising children and distributing essential resources. We have to make sure we can compel people to cooperate if they don’t do so voluntarily, or there will be more deaths than we’ve seen in the last hundred years.”
“People might not rebel if they had more to live for.”
“Fortunately, you and the other researchers” - Rakel made it sound like a filthy word - “don’t make real decisions. That’s a matter of policy. You’re being elitist.”
I thought about it. I did sound arrogant. Well, as I said, Helen hadn’t really succeeded with the modesty. Nor discretion, because if she had, I would probably not have answered. “Well, fortunately for me, it’s my gate. And my gut.”
There’s a stage past flaming anger which is so hot that the victim doesn’t know he’s been burned. Rakel seemed to have reached that stage of heat. She grabbed her little sparkly purse and stalked to the door.
The fact is, scientists can’t reveal that they’ve done their work by magic; it’s not replicable, it’s not logical, and it can’t get published. As we walked to the taxi, I imagined saying modestly to whomever asked, “Oh, it was magic. I can do magic, you see, so I just made the gate appear.” There wasn’t enough technology in the universe for me to agree to answer that question.
The second reason - though I seldom got farther in my internal defenses to admit this - was that people who do magic are freaks. I learned that growing up - every now and then somebody’d be on the nets who had some mysterious talent. They made lots of money for appearances, but they were laughed at.
I’d grown up a freak just because I had been raised by my own mother. I wasn’t going to add more reasons for people to think I was weird.
The President’s palace was beautifully decorated - luminaria at the entrance, lights everywhere and damn the energy costs. The party itself was on the terrace. The mansion’s grounds were completely domed, of course, for security reasons and others. Although it was heated, I shivered at the temperature.
“My dear Rakel, you look fabulous,” Peldan Presid said, rather patronizingly, I thought. Rakel ran up and kissed him on both cheeks. She was being very European tonight. “And Dr. Otech. You are looking well.”
“As are you,” I replied, having little else to say to the Presiding Officer of the World Congress. He bored me silly. (And I him, I’m sure.)
Standing next to the PO as he greeted everyone were the guests of honor. I knew all three hokkan. Although they were shorter than Peldan and me, they made up in bulk what they didn’t have in height. They weren’t fat; more like the bull at the zoo; solid muscle and bone, straight up and down. As I’d got to know them better, I thought more and more that they looked like pigs which evolved into human. I never cared much for pigs. Sometimes I had to clean out their cage at the zoo, and the smell was awful, unlike the horses’ stalls.
K’am, the hokkan I’d encountered when I made the gate, was indeed dressed in full ceremonial gear, if shiny constitutes ceremony. He looked like a brick wrapped in aluminum foil and dipped in jewels. He also appeared to be wearing about 50 (presumably ceremonial) weapons. I wondered how he’d got all those past the POAs. The Presiding Officer’s Agents had to be about 10 deep around there. I got glimpses of them - all dressed in formal clothes, but with the black shoes and clear earpiece which said security to anyone who knew them, or for that matter anyone who watched entertainment vids. I’d had POAs hanging around my lab all year.
The head of the agency - I recognized her from blogs, though didn’t remember her name - was standing right by the PO, pretending not to look at me. But I thought I could read her expression. This kid is a scientist? I look young for my age anyway, and started college at 15 because that’s when I got offered the scholarship, and I loathed prep school. Helen wouldn’t even listen to my alternative proposal, which was to refuse the scholarship, drop out of school, and work full time at the zoo.
The other two were Mik Tahbel and Linga Tee. It had taken me awhile to figure out that the higher up a hokkan went, the fewer names he had. There was only one K’amino, and he’d even shortened that. Mik was senior enough that although he had two names, everyone called him Mik, even K’am.
I was standing there smiling, pretending to listen, and trying to remember how to pronounce their names because the two world leaders were both making much of Rakel, bowing and nodding and laughing. I seldom paid attention to either social or political conversation, so I smiled and nodded and wondered why Mik was here.
Linga Tee was the communications officer, or some equivalent. Linga Tee’s job was to take notes about how things worked on Earth, and daily carry his notes through the gate to Hokkanreth. I assumed they were reviewed by people much more competent than he was at technology and motivating people, because their Common steadily improved, the questions Mik asked started making more sense, and the people who Mik talked to started to receive gifts “in appreciation for your assistance” as his metallic translator intoned.
Most of them - scientists and pols-got tech toys, like weather sensors and such. I got art and jewels. Rakel thought it was because those were higher status gifts. I suggested jokingly that perhaps they’d mistaken me for a woman.
My hunch was that Mik was in charge of intelligence and whatever the hokkan equivalent of POAs was. Whenever any of the others wanted something, they’d ask him. He seemed obviously in charge of any hokkan who came to Earth. And he kept a low profile - I only knew him because when anyone talked to me about the gate, he was always there, and when we were touring Hokkanreth, he’d been right next to me all the time.
I’d gotten to know him a bit - he was deeply religious. Once I’d heard the phrase “blood price.” I asked Mik about it. He was quiet for days afterward, and finally told me it was sacred to their religion and should not have been said in front of an outsider.
I have no religion, so that was fine with me. I especially loathe the ones which involve blood, like the Aztecs and . . . was it the Christians? Or maybe the Incas. I didn’t ask again. Still, I liked Mik the best. For one thing, he almost never smelled like formaldehyde.
There was a gasp and an excited laugh from Rakel, and I turned quickly to see her shaking Peldan’s hand with great enthusiasm. She looked around for me, and I moved closer.
“Mirim, this is so exciting!” she said. “Peldan has just told me he’s presenting my name for ambassador to Hokkanreth!”
“Congratulations.” I tried to smile, and make it clear I was happy for her. But my gut twisted. We’d just had a big fight, and ambassadors live where they’re posted - I sure as hell didn’t want my lover headed to another planet, even if it was only a five minute walk away from my office.
But Rakel wasn’t fooled. Her eyes narrowed.
“Mirim,” she said through her teeth, “we need to talk.” She pulled me a few steps away, and said in the Undervoice of Doom, “You aren’t in the least excited for what’s obviously going to be an incredible boost to my career. Do you think grant managers end up ambassadors on a routine basis?”
“Well, you’re brilliant, Rakel, so that’s no surprise. And I’m… well, glad for you. Proud of you - I know it’s an enormous leap forward in your career. But I selfishly wondered . . . . it’s just . . . I was wondering what it would mean for us.”
“You can come with me. The hokkan will pay you a lot to work with them on developing another gate. I’ve already talked to K’am about getting you a job.”
I got a sense of déjà vu, that we’d already had this argument recently.
“That’s not going to happen. You know that. You know I don’t trust them. I can’t imagine living in a place with people who make me want to throw up all the time.”
“Then, Mirim… there is no us.”
I jerked backward. “Rakel… Rakel, you can’t mean that!”
“I should never have gotten involved with you. I thought you were finally changing into a grownup. You got a bigger salary, you got a better title - you were given tenure, for heavens’ sake. You could write your own ticket, Mirim, for money, office - you could get a reserved parking place and your own car, if you wanted, or at least a time share! Instead, you continue to live in the research dorm, and if you go anywhere, you go by raptran or, for godsake, bike. It’s ridiculous. You spent more on me than on yourself. Surprising me with tickets for a cruise-I couldn’t even persuade you to move into a bigger place. And you gave more money to scholarships last year than you spent on me.”
“I said that if you moved in with me -“
“I wasn’t ready, and look how right I was! You’re nothing, Mirim. You’re going nowhere. You talk about saving the world, but you can’t even save yourself.”
She prepared to sweep away, and then stopped, and snarled, “Peldan was right. You’re so arrogant, you won’t share something which could save our world and help our allies! You can’t see reason, and nothing you’re offered will satisfy you. You’re an extraordinary circumstance, and I wash my hands of you, Mirim Otech!”
And she swept away indeed, but not far - just back to the PO, the chief of POA security, and the hokkan. She immediately started talking to them as if I didn’t exist, although she wasn’t smiling and laughing now.
I was in shock. I thought Rakel loved me. She’d told me she did. And of course I loved her - and no one else, now that my mother was dead. I counted on her; she was demanding and intelligent and beautiful and good with people, and I could just be with her and life was taken care of. Even when she said things which sounded just like Peldan’s speech last week about torturing rebels - “In extraordinary circumstances, we need to use extraordinary means.”
Did she think I would follow her? Beg her to come back? I supposed probably I would. But I’d have to give her a little time. Rakel’s temper often hit flashpoint, but it cooled down quickly.
There was no point hanging around pretending to be social. I didn’t know anyone, I didn’t want to talk to them, and there was always a small possibility I might cry, or throw up, or do something else Men Don’t Do When Women Leave Them.
The tuxedo itched as I waved my id at the exit and it allowed me through. I ripped off the tie, then the jacket and dropped them in the nearby recycle bin. I would have been happy to send the shirt after them, but it was, after all, winter. I decided to walk home - and when I got there, throw the rest of the tux away.
In the morning, I felt more cheerful. Rakel had a hot temper, but she got over things quickly.
When I got to the showers, I noticed my bathrobe pocket was a bit lumpy, and found the memory stick I’d been planning to take to the lab a few days ago and left in the pocket ever since. The stick was not especially valuable, except to me. It had recordings of me as a kid, Helen for all the years I was growing up, and family friends-including Helen’s lover Alton, who had been important to me and died when I was 13. I wanted to back the stick up on my puter. My wrist puter didn’t have a stick dock, though - nobody used memory sticks any more. I’d have to take it to the lab, which could even run five inch floppies if we’d wanted.
Since carrying it around in my bathrobe pocket wasn’t getting it any nearer the lab, I put it into the kit bag so it wouldn’t get lost, and shoved the whole thing in a locker.
The hot water woke me and helped me form a plan. When I saw Rakel, I’d plead with her, promising her to give her more of what she wanted - a nice place to spend time, glamorous vacations, whatever. Anything but working for the hokkan, which meant our relationship might be long distance for awhile. But she had said she loved me. That meant, I hoped, we’d just had a fight, not a break up.
If Rakel wouldn’t listen, I’d quit my job. I had no interest in the hokkan/terran technology dance, and instrument-only ocean research was not how I’d planned to spend my life. Somehow, I would try to get myself back on track. I’d volunteer in the arb for awhile - I had some savings, because I’d never seen any point in spending much except to fund a scholarship and buy Rakel presents and pay for dates and 2-of-us vacations - and then maybe travel to other zoos, other arbs in the world. Planning to save the world had been an arrogant dream, but I could at least make a few steps in the right direction.
While showering, it occurred to me that Rakel might have sent me a message. I ran back to my room, letting the flannel robe dry me on the way.
No messages. Not really surprised, I hauled on jeans and clean tee, strapped my puter to my wrist, and pulled on my shoes. I threw on the lab coat which magically transformed me from student to research faculty, and ran down the six flights of steps to the lab.
That’s when I realized I’d forgotten the damn memory stick again. It was perhaps the 2,187th time I’d forgotten something I wanted to take to work in the last year or so. But now that I was here, I might as well work, and fetch it later, when I felt like completing my daily exercise by walking up the six flights.
I nodded to the two POAs on duty - there were always guards, though it was odd to see POAs; they usually had uniformed security guards. The POAs nodded back, curtly, and presumably recognized me, since they didn’t ask me any questions.
I’d been running a series of simulations to see if I could identify whatever material it was which composed the gate. I threw them up on the wall and squinted hard. So far, it appeared, nothing known.
I wondered if the hokkan had access to a larger list of metals and minerals than we did. Likely, considering their advanced technology and the significantly longer time they’d known about gates. Maybe I could test their good intentions by suggesting some collaborative work with actual gates, and then assess if I might possibly consider making gates for them, without letting them know how.
I fiddled with the stats for awhile, using my keyboard because while my puter can read my handwriting, it gets a little huffy at the way I write equations. It must have been at least an hour or so later when I heard a noise in the gate.
The POAs, who were in charge of gate-related security, had put a wall in front of it. To get near it, you needed clearance from several high security devices. No one had gone into it from our side, so it had to be hokkan making the noise.
My mother used to tell me that if doing things just out of curiosity was a crime, I’d have been a lifer by my fifth birthday. I let the lasers check my eyeprints, opened the door, and glanced through at the familiar grayish nothingness.
There were three hokkan walking through - two of them in blue shiny uniforms I’d learned belonged to an elite team of soldiers, and one in silver - a leader. K’am stood, with his arms folded, watching them walk down the corridor and begin to flicker and disappear. I nodded to him, and waved - just one pass, like a windshield wiper accidentally turned on and off immediately.
His head went up, and he looked at me. He didn’t acknowledge me in any way. The hokkan in the gate shimmered once more and were gone. Coming my way.
As they started flickering back into existence, something unfamiliar and unpleasant went down my spine. I instinctively turned and started walking quickly out of the gate room, then out of the lab, forcing myself not to run.
The hokkan lounged after me, not hurrying. The two POAs on guard looked up. They didn’t seem especially surprised at the ones following, but they did seem startled that I was leaving.
As I got to the complex’s door, one of the POAs something quietly to his partner, and they both started towards me.
“Dr. Otech!” one called.
“Going to the lav,” I said. I opened the door.
“Dr. Otech, we need to talk to you.”
I considered pausing, then instead walked out the door. I heard a zing. Something yellow hit the wall a foot from me and spattered. Poison or tranquilizer, I didn’t want to know. I had been a sprinter in college; I made it to the stairwell and down a floor before they even opened the firedoor.
I kept running, jumping over the turns to gain a second or two. I didn’t stop to wonder why they wanted me. I figured I’d find out eventually, and with luck, find out far away from them.
Nine stories down. I missed some of the steps on the way, but by sheer luck didn’t fall. I could hear the hollow clang of the POAs’ hard-soled shoes on the metal stairs, smell the dusty metal, feel my heart pounding and my breath trying to catch up with me. I was scared shitless.
By the time I got to the first floor firedoor, I was flying. My hands hit it with enough force to fling it wide open and send me bursting through.
I nearly broke my wrists. It was locked.
Mirim Otech
8/15/956 NCE
“Mirim, those clothes are inappropriate. Completely inappropriate.” Rakel was wearing a skintight black dress which emphasized her breasts, waist, and hips, but in honor of the occasion, these were all covered. She was wearing a long gold and jade necklace I had given her - one which had played havoc with my budget, but I’d known she would love. She had said, “Mirim, you have to stop wasting money on me,” laughed, and kept the necklace anyway.
I’d passed on to her every object of jewelry the hokkans had given me in the last few months, and she was wearing those too - an armlet of bright gold with dancing figures, a big toe ring (probably meant to fit a man’s hand) of blue-anodized titanium with a scatter of tiny diamonds, a handful of little enameled pins of what appeared to be fishes and coral, which we decided really were hair ornaments.
She glittered. Rakel was only a few years older than I, but combined her youth with a certain savoir-faire which reminded me of my mother, a highly successful player of political systems. With Helen, jewels were a way of keeping score, and I suspected Rakel felt the same. I thought she had never looked lovelier, and said so.
“In that case, dress to at least complement me,” she said, rummaging in my wardrobe. “A tie and a sweater is not - this is a formal occasion, darling. You’ve got to have at least a sport jacket.”
“I don’t,” I said. Rakel had not convinced me to slick back my own hair, and it was an uncontrollable tangle as always. My eyes were not enhanced with mascara. I wore one small diamond stud in my right ear. Helen had given it to me when I was awarded a scholarship to Terran Tech.
“Did you know seamen used to wear an earring in their right ear to improve vision?” I asked, looking at it in the mirror thoughtfully. “That’s how the custom started for men. It was an early concept of acupuncture, I suppose.”
“Try to stay focused tonight,” Rakel replied. “When you go off subject like that, everyone’s eyes glaze over. And God knows the hokkan translation puters have trouble enough without handling non sequiturs.”
She emerged with a tuxedo in plastic. “You do have formal clothing!”
“Last time I wore that was the junior prom. My high school junior prom.”
“I’ll bet you haven’t grown since.”
“I suppose not.” If anything, I’d lost a little bulk in college. I’d only worked at the arb on weekends. And that had been what? Eight years. Not to mention no one had fed me or monitored my eating habits since Helen died.
The tuxedo had been stored de-oxygenated, and had not deteriorated. I slipped on the costume, grumbling that I was going to look conspicuous.
“You will be wearing exactly what everyone else will be wearing tonight,” Rakel said, with great satisfaction.
“It clings. And it’s not a natural fabric.”
“It looks perfect on you.” Because I had worn nothing more formal than lab coats and ties since grad school, I felt encased rather than dressed. But Rakel smiled at me approvingly, and that made up for a lot. She seldom had approval on her face when she looked at me. She’d finally agreed to go out with me shortly after I made the gate (the hokkans had told us the tunnels were called gates) and though we continued to go out together, I hadn’t reached her standards for a companion yet. She seemed resigned to re-training me, though.
“You know, darling, you really are very handsome when you clean up and dress right.”
“Your encomium underwhelms me.”
The smile went away. “Mirim, what did I say about focusing? That includes not using obscure words.”
“It was a joke.”
“Especially your jokes. Not even the Presiding Officer understands them, and he went to a much better university than Terran Tech.”
“No, he didn’t,” I said. “The PO went to a second rate Ivy. It’s probably got a better liberal arts program, but he majored in environmental studies, and to really get a good education in that -“
“That’s enough, Mirim. I want you not to talk tonight. I want you to smile, and look modest and brilliant, and shake hands.”
“Can I kiss?” I asked, reaching out for her. She slid away.
“You get distracted far too easily, darling. We’re talking about your image.”
“Rakel, I don’t want to talk about my image. I don’t want to go to the PO’s reception for the hokkan. I’d rather not even think about them when I don’t have to.”
She frowned. “You are so unreasonable, Mirim. You have to go - you’re the reason we have contact with other worlds now. And the hokkan would be angry if you didn’t show. It would be an insult. You know that.”
I knew that. Helen had brought me up to practice discretion, modesty and courtesy. She made a lot of public appearances, and I was almost always there, so I had lots of practice. My mother thought being a poor guest was one step up from defecating in the living room. I’m not terribly modest or discreet, but I usually manage not to be rude.
Still …. This had been building up for quite awhile. “I loathe the hokkan. My gut doesn’t trust them. I get queasy around some of them. K’am’s the worst, and he’ll be there tonight - the highest military leader on his planet, in full dress regalia, with that smarmy smile and flashy sidearms.”
“What has that got to do with anything?”
“It’ll have to do with a lot if, at an important ceremonial moment, I’m throwing up on his shoes.”
“You’re too high strung, Mirim.”
“Maybe so, but it’s still something I might do. Comes with the rest of me.” I grinned.
Rakel did not grin back. “Take some dramin.”
“That’s not the point.” I sat on the bed, pushing a pile of books and a few socks far enough away it wasn’t lumpy under me. “He scares me, Rakel. I don’t trust him. I think the PO has been sucked in with promises of technologies which sound much more likely to be used to put down rebellion than to reverse famine.”
“It doesn’t matter what the technology is, Mirim. Earth needs it.”
“I don’t think it does. We don’t need a military mindset. That’s one of the factors which led to the last hundred years in the first place.”
Rakel had a temper which went with her original hair color - red. It hit flashpoint then. “You - are - telling - me,” she said slowly, enunciating each word, “that you won’t tell how you made the gate until you approve of what it’s going to be used for?”
“Rakel, we’re living in a global disaster zone. Nearly half the population died from famine, flood, and the diseases which followed them. We still have barely enough to eat, even after the New World Government mandated sharing - you know half the food species we used to have aren’t replaced yet, and since they were mostly grasses, the world’s most fundamental crops are gone. The ocean used to be a desert - now it’s like the moon and makes a desert look fecund. The industrial nations have consigned their children to cohorts to make sure they survive, while every adult has to work on rebuilding, and arts and leisure activities hardly exist anymore. Why the hell are we trading for weapons?”
“Because, Mirim,” she snapped, “Hunger and desperation lead to rebellion. Lots of people didn’t like a more efficient method of raising children and distributing essential resources. We have to make sure we can compel people to cooperate if they don’t do so voluntarily, or there will be more deaths than we’ve seen in the last hundred years.”
“People might not rebel if they had more to live for.”
“Fortunately, you and the other researchers” - Rakel made it sound like a filthy word - “don’t make real decisions. That’s a matter of policy. You’re being elitist.”
I thought about it. I did sound arrogant. Well, as I said, Helen hadn’t really succeeded with the modesty. Nor discretion, because if she had, I would probably not have answered. “Well, fortunately for me, it’s my gate. And my gut.”
There’s a stage past flaming anger which is so hot that the victim doesn’t know he’s been burned. Rakel seemed to have reached that stage of heat. She grabbed her little sparkly purse and stalked to the door.
The fact is, scientists can’t reveal that they’ve done their work by magic; it’s not replicable, it’s not logical, and it can’t get published. As we walked to the taxi, I imagined saying modestly to whomever asked, “Oh, it was magic. I can do magic, you see, so I just made the gate appear.” There wasn’t enough technology in the universe for me to agree to answer that question.
The second reason - though I seldom got farther in my internal defenses to admit this - was that people who do magic are freaks. I learned that growing up - every now and then somebody’d be on the nets who had some mysterious talent. They made lots of money for appearances, but they were laughed at.
I’d grown up a freak just because I had been raised by my own mother. I wasn’t going to add more reasons for people to think I was weird.
The President’s palace was beautifully decorated - luminaria at the entrance, lights everywhere and damn the energy costs. The party itself was on the terrace. The mansion’s grounds were completely domed, of course, for security reasons and others. Although it was heated, I shivered at the temperature.
“My dear Rakel, you look fabulous,” Peldan Presid said, rather patronizingly, I thought. Rakel ran up and kissed him on both cheeks. She was being very European tonight. “And Dr. Otech. You are looking well.”
“As are you,” I replied, having little else to say to the Presiding Officer of the World Congress. He bored me silly. (And I him, I’m sure.)
Standing next to the PO as he greeted everyone were the guests of honor. I knew all three hokkan. Although they were shorter than Peldan and me, they made up in bulk what they didn’t have in height. They weren’t fat; more like the bull at the zoo; solid muscle and bone, straight up and down. As I’d got to know them better, I thought more and more that they looked like pigs which evolved into human. I never cared much for pigs. Sometimes I had to clean out their cage at the zoo, and the smell was awful, unlike the horses’ stalls.
K’am, the hokkan I’d encountered when I made the gate, was indeed dressed in full ceremonial gear, if shiny constitutes ceremony. He looked like a brick wrapped in aluminum foil and dipped in jewels. He also appeared to be wearing about 50 (presumably ceremonial) weapons. I wondered how he’d got all those past the POAs. The Presiding Officer’s Agents had to be about 10 deep around there. I got glimpses of them - all dressed in formal clothes, but with the black shoes and clear earpiece which said security to anyone who knew them, or for that matter anyone who watched entertainment vids. I’d had POAs hanging around my lab all year.
The head of the agency - I recognized her from blogs, though didn’t remember her name - was standing right by the PO, pretending not to look at me. But I thought I could read her expression. This kid is a scientist? I look young for my age anyway, and started college at 15 because that’s when I got offered the scholarship, and I loathed prep school. Helen wouldn’t even listen to my alternative proposal, which was to refuse the scholarship, drop out of school, and work full time at the zoo.
The other two were Mik Tahbel and Linga Tee. It had taken me awhile to figure out that the higher up a hokkan went, the fewer names he had. There was only one K’amino, and he’d even shortened that. Mik was senior enough that although he had two names, everyone called him Mik, even K’am.
I was standing there smiling, pretending to listen, and trying to remember how to pronounce their names because the two world leaders were both making much of Rakel, bowing and nodding and laughing. I seldom paid attention to either social or political conversation, so I smiled and nodded and wondered why Mik was here.
Linga Tee was the communications officer, or some equivalent. Linga Tee’s job was to take notes about how things worked on Earth, and daily carry his notes through the gate to Hokkanreth. I assumed they were reviewed by people much more competent than he was at technology and motivating people, because their Common steadily improved, the questions Mik asked started making more sense, and the people who Mik talked to started to receive gifts “in appreciation for your assistance” as his metallic translator intoned.
Most of them - scientists and pols-got tech toys, like weather sensors and such. I got art and jewels. Rakel thought it was because those were higher status gifts. I suggested jokingly that perhaps they’d mistaken me for a woman.
My hunch was that Mik was in charge of intelligence and whatever the hokkan equivalent of POAs was. Whenever any of the others wanted something, they’d ask him. He seemed obviously in charge of any hokkan who came to Earth. And he kept a low profile - I only knew him because when anyone talked to me about the gate, he was always there, and when we were touring Hokkanreth, he’d been right next to me all the time.
I’d gotten to know him a bit - he was deeply religious. Once I’d heard the phrase “blood price.” I asked Mik about it. He was quiet for days afterward, and finally told me it was sacred to their religion and should not have been said in front of an outsider.
I have no religion, so that was fine with me. I especially loathe the ones which involve blood, like the Aztecs and . . . was it the Christians? Or maybe the Incas. I didn’t ask again. Still, I liked Mik the best. For one thing, he almost never smelled like formaldehyde.
There was a gasp and an excited laugh from Rakel, and I turned quickly to see her shaking Peldan’s hand with great enthusiasm. She looked around for me, and I moved closer.
“Mirim, this is so exciting!” she said. “Peldan has just told me he’s presenting my name for ambassador to Hokkanreth!”
“Congratulations.” I tried to smile, and make it clear I was happy for her. But my gut twisted. We’d just had a big fight, and ambassadors live where they’re posted - I sure as hell didn’t want my lover headed to another planet, even if it was only a five minute walk away from my office.
But Rakel wasn’t fooled. Her eyes narrowed.
“Mirim,” she said through her teeth, “we need to talk.” She pulled me a few steps away, and said in the Undervoice of Doom, “You aren’t in the least excited for what’s obviously going to be an incredible boost to my career. Do you think grant managers end up ambassadors on a routine basis?”
“Well, you’re brilliant, Rakel, so that’s no surprise. And I’m… well, glad for you. Proud of you - I know it’s an enormous leap forward in your career. But I selfishly wondered . . . . it’s just . . . I was wondering what it would mean for us.”
“You can come with me. The hokkan will pay you a lot to work with them on developing another gate. I’ve already talked to K’am about getting you a job.”
I got a sense of déjà vu, that we’d already had this argument recently.
“That’s not going to happen. You know that. You know I don’t trust them. I can’t imagine living in a place with people who make me want to throw up all the time.”
“Then, Mirim… there is no us.”
I jerked backward. “Rakel… Rakel, you can’t mean that!”
“I should never have gotten involved with you. I thought you were finally changing into a grownup. You got a bigger salary, you got a better title - you were given tenure, for heavens’ sake. You could write your own ticket, Mirim, for money, office - you could get a reserved parking place and your own car, if you wanted, or at least a time share! Instead, you continue to live in the research dorm, and if you go anywhere, you go by raptran or, for godsake, bike. It’s ridiculous. You spent more on me than on yourself. Surprising me with tickets for a cruise-I couldn’t even persuade you to move into a bigger place. And you gave more money to scholarships last year than you spent on me.”
“I said that if you moved in with me -“
“I wasn’t ready, and look how right I was! You’re nothing, Mirim. You’re going nowhere. You talk about saving the world, but you can’t even save yourself.”
She prepared to sweep away, and then stopped, and snarled, “Peldan was right. You’re so arrogant, you won’t share something which could save our world and help our allies! You can’t see reason, and nothing you’re offered will satisfy you. You’re an extraordinary circumstance, and I wash my hands of you, Mirim Otech!”
And she swept away indeed, but not far - just back to the PO, the chief of POA security, and the hokkan. She immediately started talking to them as if I didn’t exist, although she wasn’t smiling and laughing now.
I was in shock. I thought Rakel loved me. She’d told me she did. And of course I loved her - and no one else, now that my mother was dead. I counted on her; she was demanding and intelligent and beautiful and good with people, and I could just be with her and life was taken care of. Even when she said things which sounded just like Peldan’s speech last week about torturing rebels - “In extraordinary circumstances, we need to use extraordinary means.”
Did she think I would follow her? Beg her to come back? I supposed probably I would. But I’d have to give her a little time. Rakel’s temper often hit flashpoint, but it cooled down quickly.
There was no point hanging around pretending to be social. I didn’t know anyone, I didn’t want to talk to them, and there was always a small possibility I might cry, or throw up, or do something else Men Don’t Do When Women Leave Them.
The tuxedo itched as I waved my id at the exit and it allowed me through. I ripped off the tie, then the jacket and dropped them in the nearby recycle bin. I would have been happy to send the shirt after them, but it was, after all, winter. I decided to walk home - and when I got there, throw the rest of the tux away.
In the morning, I felt more cheerful. Rakel had a hot temper, but she got over things quickly.
When I got to the showers, I noticed my bathrobe pocket was a bit lumpy, and found the memory stick I’d been planning to take to the lab a few days ago and left in the pocket ever since. The stick was not especially valuable, except to me. It had recordings of me as a kid, Helen for all the years I was growing up, and family friends-including Helen’s lover Alton, who had been important to me and died when I was 13. I wanted to back the stick up on my puter. My wrist puter didn’t have a stick dock, though - nobody used memory sticks any more. I’d have to take it to the lab, which could even run five inch floppies if we’d wanted.
Since carrying it around in my bathrobe pocket wasn’t getting it any nearer the lab, I put it into the kit bag so it wouldn’t get lost, and shoved the whole thing in a locker.
The hot water woke me and helped me form a plan. When I saw Rakel, I’d plead with her, promising her to give her more of what she wanted - a nice place to spend time, glamorous vacations, whatever. Anything but working for the hokkan, which meant our relationship might be long distance for awhile. But she had said she loved me. That meant, I hoped, we’d just had a fight, not a break up.
If Rakel wouldn’t listen, I’d quit my job. I had no interest in the hokkan/terran technology dance, and instrument-only ocean research was not how I’d planned to spend my life. Somehow, I would try to get myself back on track. I’d volunteer in the arb for awhile - I had some savings, because I’d never seen any point in spending much except to fund a scholarship and buy Rakel presents and pay for dates and 2-of-us vacations - and then maybe travel to other zoos, other arbs in the world. Planning to save the world had been an arrogant dream, but I could at least make a few steps in the right direction.
While showering, it occurred to me that Rakel might have sent me a message. I ran back to my room, letting the flannel robe dry me on the way.
No messages. Not really surprised, I hauled on jeans and clean tee, strapped my puter to my wrist, and pulled on my shoes. I threw on the lab coat which magically transformed me from student to research faculty, and ran down the six flights of steps to the lab.
That’s when I realized I’d forgotten the damn memory stick again. It was perhaps the 2,187th time I’d forgotten something I wanted to take to work in the last year or so. But now that I was here, I might as well work, and fetch it later, when I felt like completing my daily exercise by walking up the six flights.
I nodded to the two POAs on duty - there were always guards, though it was odd to see POAs; they usually had uniformed security guards. The POAs nodded back, curtly, and presumably recognized me, since they didn’t ask me any questions.
I’d been running a series of simulations to see if I could identify whatever material it was which composed the gate. I threw them up on the wall and squinted hard. So far, it appeared, nothing known.
I wondered if the hokkan had access to a larger list of metals and minerals than we did. Likely, considering their advanced technology and the significantly longer time they’d known about gates. Maybe I could test their good intentions by suggesting some collaborative work with actual gates, and then assess if I might possibly consider making gates for them, without letting them know how.
I fiddled with the stats for awhile, using my keyboard because while my puter can read my handwriting, it gets a little huffy at the way I write equations. It must have been at least an hour or so later when I heard a noise in the gate.
The POAs, who were in charge of gate-related security, had put a wall in front of it. To get near it, you needed clearance from several high security devices. No one had gone into it from our side, so it had to be hokkan making the noise.
My mother used to tell me that if doing things just out of curiosity was a crime, I’d have been a lifer by my fifth birthday. I let the lasers check my eyeprints, opened the door, and glanced through at the familiar grayish nothingness.
There were three hokkan walking through - two of them in blue shiny uniforms I’d learned belonged to an elite team of soldiers, and one in silver - a leader. K’am stood, with his arms folded, watching them walk down the corridor and begin to flicker and disappear. I nodded to him, and waved - just one pass, like a windshield wiper accidentally turned on and off immediately.
His head went up, and he looked at me. He didn’t acknowledge me in any way. The hokkan in the gate shimmered once more and were gone. Coming my way.
As they started flickering back into existence, something unfamiliar and unpleasant went down my spine. I instinctively turned and started walking quickly out of the gate room, then out of the lab, forcing myself not to run.
The hokkan lounged after me, not hurrying. The two POAs on guard looked up. They didn’t seem especially surprised at the ones following, but they did seem startled that I was leaving.
As I got to the complex’s door, one of the POAs something quietly to his partner, and they both started towards me.
“Dr. Otech!” one called.
“Going to the lav,” I said. I opened the door.
“Dr. Otech, we need to talk to you.”
I considered pausing, then instead walked out the door. I heard a zing. Something yellow hit the wall a foot from me and spattered. Poison or tranquilizer, I didn’t want to know. I had been a sprinter in college; I made it to the stairwell and down a floor before they even opened the firedoor.
I kept running, jumping over the turns to gain a second or two. I didn’t stop to wonder why they wanted me. I figured I’d find out eventually, and with luck, find out far away from them.
Nine stories down. I missed some of the steps on the way, but by sheer luck didn’t fall. I could hear the hollow clang of the POAs’ hard-soled shoes on the metal stairs, smell the dusty metal, feel my heart pounding and my breath trying to catch up with me. I was scared shitless.
By the time I got to the first floor firedoor, I was flying. My hands hit it with enough force to fling it wide open and send me bursting through.
I nearly broke my wrists. It was locked.