“This is it, isn’t it?”
“This is what?”
“The attack Starke warned us to expect.”
“I believe so.”
“And Starke was involved? She may have been the architect?”
“Excuse me?”
“Ellen Starke owns the Leena franchise through her production company, right?”
“Yes, Burning Daylight.”
“A coincidence?”
“Perhaps.”
“The hollyholo Leenas were based on three actual evangelines who just so happen to be Ellen’s full-time companions.”
“It does make one wonder.”
ELLEN SAID, “DO they know? How are they taking it?” The toddler hurried as fast as her little legs could carry her to Mary’s suite at the north end of the main floor. Cabinet was at her side, and the dog, giraffe, and a nurse trailed behind.
“They know,” Cabinet replied, “but their reaction is rather flat.”
“Shock?”
“Perhaps.”
Ellen banged her tiny fists on Mary’s door. She was just able to reach the handle but could not turn it, and she glared at the nurse behind her. The nurse scrambled to open the door, and Ellen went in unannounced. She found all three of her companions in the living room. They were seated around the coffee table. A holocube was open on the table depicting the dead evangeline lying in a bed in the death artist’s breezeway. The dead woman’s upper body was enclosed in a trauma trolley, and a medical team of people and machines was frantically working on her.
“What are they doing?” Ellen asked Cabinet.
“Trying to retrieve her.”
“Trying? Trying?”
“They have her on life support, but she’s not responding.”
Ellen went to Mary and clung to her robe, but the evangeline didn’t seem to notice. She had a faraway look in her eyes, as did Georgine and Cyndee. “Mary,” the girl pleaded, tugging at her sleeve, “look at me.”
She beat her fists on Mary’s leg until Mary turned and said, “It’s pointless, you know. They can retrieve her heart. They can retrieve her lungs. But the flame has gone out.” With that, Mary turned away again.
“If they can’t revive that woman,” Ellen said to Cabinet, “then they must immediately put her into biostasis.”
Lyra appeared in the room and said, “I agree, but that would go contrary to Myr Oakland’s wishes.”
Ellen turned to her former mentar and said, “Oh, Lyra, thank you for coming. You must tell them to biostase that poor woman immediately.”
The mentar replied, “Shelley Oakland has a living will that clearly refuses all life support and retrieval measures, including biostasis.” She gestured to the holocube, where the doctors and jennys labored. “Therefore, this effort is disallowed, and we are suing to have it stopped.”
Ellen was stunned. “Lyra, how can you say that? I gave you to the Sisterhood to assist the germline, not destroy it.”
The mentar was unruffled. “My mission is to further the interests of the Sisterhood, not to judge them. The Sisterhood Council has voted to respect individual evangeline wishes.”
“Of course they would!” Ellen pleaded. “They’ve got the same disease!”
“In any case, Myr Oakland’s living will has already withstood separate legal challenges from her ex-husband and concerned civil groups, including Starke Enterprises.”
Still clinging to Mary, Ellen waved frantically at the holocube scene. “Don’t you see this is for real? That woman is not a sim, and time is running out! You can’t just let her
The mentar’s expression never softened. “My hands are tied, Ellen.”
Ellen turned to Cabinet, who said, “We’ve exhausted our legal options in Myr Oakland’s case, but we are actively engaged in pursuing other avenues.” The attorney general persona glanced at the ceiling as it said this.
But Ellen refused to take the hint. “Explain.”
Lyra said, “I believe Cabinet is trying to circumvent your companions’ lawful decisions by arranging forced biostasis. In light of this action, I am procuring transportation away from this place to Mary’s Chicago apartment, where nurses will care for them for the duration.”
“No!” Ellen cried. “Absolutely not! I will not permit them to leave.”
“We will use marshals if necessary.”
ZORANNA SAID, “BECAUSE I don’t trust Andrea Tiekel, and I never liked her aunt. Because implicating the Leena sims in this tragedy was supposed to make me suspect the Starkes in the same way the Borealis rubbing oil was supposed to make me suspect Saul. And I do! I suspect the both of them. I can’t help it. And that’s why I have to do the opposite of how I feel.”
“I don’t follow,” said Nicholas.
“I know you don’t. You can ride me all you want, but you’ll never get it. I say we send the datapin.”
Nicholas threw up his hands. “Fine! Why not? Our business is ruined anyway.”
Zoranna went to her desk and fished out a courier envelope. “Make me the card.”
“What occasion?”
“I don’t know what occasion, Nick. Disaster! Plague! Revenge!”
“How about a nice sunset?”
“Brilliant. Make me a nice sunset.”
They waited in frosty silence until a doris came in with the card. Her eyes were puffy from crying. Nicholas said,
The doris was nearly out the door when Zoranna said, “Wait, Danita.” The doris turned to look at her. “I know it’s hard. I mean, even though she wasn’t a doris . . . I mean, we all . . .”
The doris began to cry, nodding her head. “Thank you, myr,” she said and fled the room.
“There,” Nicholas said. “Was that so hard?”
Zoranna stared at the empty doorway, then turned her attention to the card. Its cover depicted a cliched scene of a fiery sun setting into the ocean. “This was the best you could do?” She opened the card. “It’s blank!”
“Of course. It’s a
Zoranna found a pen in a drawer and uncapped it. “I don’t suppose you’ll tell me what to write? I didn’t think so.” In blue ink she wrote, “Dear Saul.” She read the words and crossed them out with angry slashes. Then she tore the card into pieces. “Dear Saul?
“Then don’t write dear. Just write Saul.”
“Make me another card. Make me a stack of them; this may take a few drafts. And for heaven’s sake, have a goddamn arbeitor deliver them this time.”
ZORANNA FORMED EACH letter with deliberate care. “Does anyone actually write in longhand anymore? I don’t even remember how.”
“The personal touch is considered important.”
She put the pen down and read what she had.
Saul,
