communications, data retrieval, or any other number of tasks; he
thought it probably hadn't expected him back so soon.
Then came Halo's skewed night-time awakening: the sky
shutters cranked half-way open, 'morning' appeared through a cold
mist, and Halo became the Surreal City. Like many others,
Gonzales pulled the curtains closed and turned away from the lurid
glare, his own body clock telling him it was time to sleep again.
He lay in bed, oddly calm in the curtained dark despite a
degree of post-drug fatigue and skittishness. He thought of the
distance between Miami and Seattle, Seattle and Halo, Halo and the
world of the lake and so triggered sharp, eroticized images of
Lizzie, the water beading on her skin, her words, 'Then we'll see'
he felt the astringent bite of lust and regret mixed, knew he
had little choice but to wait until she told him absolutely no
thought of himself moving ever farther from home and believed that
he had been wrong about Seattleit was not too far from Miami; it
was much too close
The memex's voice said, 'I'm back. I've been discussing the
situation with Traynor's advisor.'
'Have you?'
'Yes, it is sympathetic to our concerns.'
Dizzying prospects seemed to open before Gonzales, where the
number of beings multiplied beyond counting, and the simplest
machine would have opinions. He said, 'Have you been told about
the plans for tomorrow?'
'Yes, I have. I am ready to help.' Something like pleasure
in the memex's voice.
'Good.'
'You were almost asleep when I first spoke. I will leave you
alone now.'
'Good night.'
'Good night.'
#
The small creature looked at Gonzales and said, 'You're
welcome here.' Made entirely of dull silver metal, with a baby's
round head, dumpling cheeks, and bow-tie mouth, it walked between
Gonzales and Lizzie on clumsy silver legs, looking up to watch
them speak.
Gonzales said, 'You know, in dreams logic doesn't apply.'
'Yes, it does,' Lizzie said.
'It's a difficult question,' the small creature said.
'No,' Gonzales said. 'I'm sure of this. Here I am I, but I
am also Lizzie, and she is she but also she is I'
'I don't like your pronouns,' the little thing said. Its
breath came in gasps; it was having trouble keeping up.
'They're correct,' Gonzales said.
'That's no excuse,' Lizzie said, but she spoke through him.
As himself, Gonzales listened to a self that was not himself
speaking; hence, as Lizzie, she must be listening to a self that
was not and was herself speaking.
'Correctness is no excuse before the law,' the small creature
said. 'Whichever pronouns you use.'
'Pronouns walked the Earth in those days,' Lizzie said.
'No, they didn't,' Gonzales said. The very idea.
'Pronouns or anti-pronouns,' the little things said. 'The
important thing is not to forget your friends.' It smiled, and
its metal lips curved to show bright silver teeth. 'Wake up!' it
shouted.
Gonzales jerked from sleep with the image of the metal child
fixed in his visionhe could still see the highlights on metal
incisors as it smiled.
'Are you awake?' the memex asked. 'Lizzie wants to talk to
you.'
'Put her through.' Thinking, what the fuck?
'Got it?' she asked.
'What?'
'I think that was Aleph getting in touch. To let us know:
don't forget your friends.'
#
They gathered at the collective's rooms at six in the
morning. The sun still shone brightly through the patio windows,
open to show pots of flowers, ferns, and herbs, all dripping wet
from the night-long mist.
Gonzales stood against the wall, waiting. The twins, dressed
identically this morning in somber gray jumpsuits, sat together
across the room, looking at him and giggling. Several collective
members sat around the room's perimeter, those who had just gotten
out of interface looking tired and distant.
A young woman stood in front of Gonzales. Her dark brown
hair was cut short; her face was pale and blotchy, as if she had
skin trouble. She wore a green sweatshirt that came to the middle
of her thighs and a pair of baggy tan pants gathered at the
ankles. One eye appeared to look off into space, and the other
fixed Gonzales, then looked him up and down. The woman said,
loudly, 'He folds his arms this way.' She put her arms together
in careful imitation of Gonzales's and said, 'That is his reward.'
She looked around and saw Stumdog shambling back-and-forth like a
trapped bear, his hands clasped on his great stomach. 'And he
folds his hands like this.' She put her hands together to show
Gonzales how Stumdog did it. She smiled. 'And that is his
reward.' She went to Stumdog, who stopped his pacing to talk to
her, and the two of them hugged as if amazed to find each other
there, and grateful. Gonzales felt vaguely inadequate.
Lizzie came in, followed by Diana and Toshi. 'Good morning,
everyone,' she said. And to Gonzales, 'Charley and Eric are
waiting for us.'
The room held two neural interface eggs for Gonzales and
Lizzie and a fitted foam couch for Diana. Lizzie, Diana, Toshi,
and Gonzales were followed in by a sam that wheeled a screen of
