Divergence

going to back to sleep. Don’t wake me.”

Again the viewing field faded to nothing.

Maurice shrugged. “We’ll take the deal.”

“Good,” said the robot. “I’m detaching myself now. I will meet you at the rendezvous point, with the crates from the A Capella .”

For the second time in half an hour, Maurice began the process of Fair Exchange. From behind him, he heard a crunching sound as Judy ate her apple.

Time passed in the little hold.

Judy ate three apples, one after the other, and showed no sign of wanting to return to her room. The FE software chimed to announce another contract. The Eva Rye would carry the robot and receive nothing in return.

Maurice gave a grunt at the arrangement. Judy shivered again and hugged herself. And eventually, lulled by the silence and the unspoken companionship, Maurice lowered his guard. He picked up the clarinet and began to play. Eyes closed at first, he lost himself in the melody. Then, when he felt confident enough, he looked around to see Judy watching him, staring at his fingers as they flickered up and down. She smiled at him, and he inclined his head a little and listened to the music inside his head. He closed his eyes again and reached inside himself and tried to think what music to play for virgins and nonbelievers, and a melody that seemed to be written in nothing more than the bloom of fresh apples and the reflection of light from pebbles awoke inside him. And then he lost himself, and he was no longer thinking of Judy.

Eventually he finished playing. He opened his eyes.

Judy was staring at him. “That was very good,” she said.

“Thank you.”

“What were you thinking about?”

“What do you mean?” Maurice said defensively.

“You had your eyes closed as you were playing. Maybe you were lost in a dream, I don’t know.” She narrowed her eyes. “I can’t read your mind, Maurice, but I can see the beauty: an empty space, filled with the music of your clarinet.”

Maurice looked down, almost embarrassed. Judy pressed on.

“The air in this hangar resonates with the sound of music—it dances. It’s almost like a mind and then, beyond it, emptiness. Outside the metal walls of the Eva Rye, hard vacuum. Oh…”

A scale of tiny popping sounds came to life as Maurice’s hand clenched itself around the silver plastic of the clarinet, opening the keys.

“That’s private!” he said. Judy had her eyes closed now. She didn’t seem to have heard him.

“Oh! Yes! A little bubble of life, enclosed by the hard metal walls of the ship.”

“Stop it!” said Maurice. “Fucking Social Care! Always telling us how to live our lives! What good have you ever done anyone?” He gripped her arms tightly, though still holding the clarinet in one hand. It dug into Judy’s flesh and she gave a little whimper. “Sorry,” he said, releasing her. She held his gaze.

“I’m sorry, too,” she said. “Maurice, you have a little devil in your head that is whispering to you all the time. It turns you away from everything that gives you pleasure and persuades you that there are better things to do. It tells you that others have far more value as people, and that you must emulate them if you are to be accepted. That’s why you sneak off here to play by yourself.”

She turned and walked out of the little hold.

Maurice watched her go. “Judy!” he called. “I’m sorry.”

She reappeared at the door, face calm. “I know,” she said.

The Eva Rye dropped out of Warp.

Maurice, Saskia, and Judy sat in the white leather chairs of the conference room, looking at the viewing field that floated over the table. Edward brought them coffee, thin and watery. Maurice watched him, saw the look of concentration as the tall man placed the thin white cups and saucers before them.