Ah, yes. That dress is just about right.” Kevin rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Turn around again so that I can see the back.”
Bairn spun slowly in front of the reverse viewing field, her skin showing just a little more tanned than it was in reality, the better to match the color of the dress.
“It’s just about what we want,” Kevin said. “Although, I must say, you don’t seem very happy with it.”
Bairn gazed at herself in the mirror, running her hands over the deep plum dress.
“Oh no, it’s beautiful. It’s just…Kevin, are they going to catch us?”
Kevin smiled lazily. “Catch us?” he said, taking hold of her hair and pulling it up into a chignon. “Only when we want them to.”
The assistant stood off to one side, nervously laying out a selection of cream sweaters. Kevin gave her a withering stare as she fumbled and dropped them.
“I think we’ll try the ivory blouse,” he said after a deliberate pause. “No, not that one. The one with the pearl buttons.”
The young woman scrabbled her way through the selection of blouses on the rail and unhooked the one Kevin had pointed to. He snatched it from her hands and passed it to Bairn.
“Here,” he said. “I thought it might go well with the chocolate skirt, the pleated one.”
Bairn cast a longing look at herself in the plum dress. Kevin was right, she thought, smoothing the material down over her hips. She liked the way it showed off her figure.
“Could I keep this?” she asked.
Kevin smiled again. “Why don’t we try on all the clothes before making a decision?”
Bairn felt like a little girl, embarrassed by her haste. She pulled the plum dress off over her head and slipped into the ivory blouse. The material felt very soft.
“Now this blouse is designed by-” the assistant began, but Kevin silenced her with a stare.
“I think I can make my own decisions without the aid of someone obviously just out of fashion school.”
The assistant flinched. She was very beautiful, Bairn thought: jet black with close-cropped hair, big brown eyes. Bairn felt sorry for her. She tried to distract Kevin.
“What are they doing now?” she asked. Kevin was flicking through another rack of clothes.
“Mmm? Oh, you mean Judy Three and Helen, our digital friends? After their session with Peter Onethirteen, they will have got the EA to run a search on all Onethirteen’s past personal interactions, trying to find the ones with the highest probability of a link to me.”
“Helen was very angry,” Bairn said. “About Peter Onethirteen, I mean. It was like she blamed him for all the things that happened to her.” She looked at herself in the mirror and was gripped by a wave of self-doubt. “Which skirt should I wear with this?”
Kevin tilted his head. “Maybe if you knotted the blouse at your waist and wore just the panties?”
“I don’t know…” she said uncertainly.
“Mmm. Maybe it would be better with a skirt.” He went across to yet another rack of clothes and began to flick through, pointedly ignoring the assistant, who was nervously trying to help him.
“I think Judy was angry, too,” Bairn suggested hesitantly.
“Of course she was. That is a chink in the ice maiden’s armor I have been exploiting for years. And, of course, Judy Three in particular has a lot more in common with me than she would ever admit.” He looked at himself in the mirror for a moment. “Sometime soon we might find out just how much in common… No, not those shoes, you incompetent tart.” By now the assistant was visibly shaking with nerves. “The cream ones.”
“But Kevin, they pinch.”
“Don’t you want to look beautiful?” asked Kevin. He suddenly grinned. “You know, I bet they go to Zinman. That self-absorbed fool’s movements have been intertwined with mine for far too long.”
Bairn looked at Kevin, a puzzled expression crossing her face.
“Zinman? Why does that name sound familiar?”
Kevin waved his hand in a dismissive gesture.
“He used the Private Network quite extensively in the past. A self-important little man to whom I showed a little of his true nature. He rather despises me because of that.” Kevin gave a self-satisfied smile. “He realizes, deep inside, that I epitomize his ideals far better than he does.” He gazed at the ceiling for a moment, lost in thought, then waved a dismissive hand in Bairn’s direction.
“No, I was wrong. The skirt doesn’t suit you. Try that white knitted lambswool dress again-the one with the fern pattern.”
There was a moment’s silence as Bairn and the assistant looked at each other in horror.
Kevin shook his head, eyes closed. “She took it away, didn’t she? Did I say I’d finished with it?”
The assistant picked up a red skirt from a nearby hanger, and then a brown pair of pants, moving on autopilot. “Mr. Smith…” she stuttered, “I’m sorry. I thought…”
Kevin wasn’t even listening. “I hate incompetence.” He gazed directly at Bairn. “The stupid bitch shouldn’t be doing this job. Fashion is not a job for fools. There are plenty of others who would be pleased to have the opportunity. I shall have a word with Ms. Wright.”
“Kevin, don’t make a scene, please. I think the clothes look perfectly lovely.” Bairn gave the stricken assistant a look of desperate apology. “Hey, why don’t we try one of the coats now?”
“No,” Kevin snapped. “We won’t need one on the Shawl. What about the A-line skirt?”
“I think it’s a little plain…”
“I won’t know until I see it on you.”
While Bairn changed into the new skirt, Kevin quickly looked through the other garments on the rack, hangers clacking as he pulled them along, tutting in loud disapproval at the assistant’s choices.
“You know,” he said, “the more I think about it, the more obvious it is that Zinman will put Judy on our trail. I think that it will soon be time to make our move.”
Bairn was turning this way and that, looking at her reflection in the mirror.
“I don’t know. It’s just too dowdy.”
“No, it’s perfect. It’s also, you will note, one of the items that I chose. Yes, I will definitely report the assistant, along with a recommendation that she be dismissed.”
“Oh, Kevin. You don’t mean that,” Bairn cajoled. “You’re just being petty because she didn’t recognize you when you came in. Leave her alone. It’s an overreaction. It’s not fair that a life’s ambition is spoiled because you’ve had half an hour’s bad experience. It doesn’t balance.”
Kevin frowned. “But think how happy the person will be who gets her job instead. It will all even out, Bairn. The equation will balance at zero. I’ve told you this before: we effect local changes only. The net happiness in the universe remains constant.”
Bairn gazed pleadingly at him.
“What have I said?” Kevin asked gently. “Am I right?”
“I suppose so,” said Bairn, looking at the floor.
“Good.” He pulled out his console. “Right, I shall report her immediately. Now. I think we’ll just take the skirt and the blouse. I don’t care for the rest.”
“Couldn’t we take the plum dress?” asked Bairn. “I liked that one.”
“On reflection,” said Kevin, “it didn’t suit you. Now, let’s go.”
They walked from the dressing room into the store beyond. The assistant was rehanging the plum dress, trying not to splash it with tears.
The fashion for nationalism had made a brief resurgence after the Transition. It was fading now, but it held on strongly in countries such as France. Helen and Judy 3 ate in a café that loudly proclaimed its past. Sardines grillées and frites, salade verte and vin blanc. Digital dishes savored by digital mouths. The food tasted just as good, but then again maybe that was all part of the program in the processing space. How would they tell the difference? It was not as if they could step outside and try the atomic version.
There were rooms upstairs for customers who wished to change after lunch, and on realizing that Judy intended to, Helen had followed her upstairs to do the same.
They emerged from the café into a dull grey afternoon. Helen had plaited roses into her hair, red blooms heavy with scent, the petals falling like drops of blood when she shook her head. The cruel pale thorns on
