Specimen Days

It was time for Simon to go to his seven o'clock. But here she came. Here was the Nadian, headed his way with her two little blonds. He decided to see her one last time.

Today the boy had some kind of toy in his hand, something bright that apparently outranked the search for stones and marbles. He capered along, waving the golden object over his head. The little girl danced in his wake, demanding a turn of her own, which the boy naturally refused.

When the small party drew close, Simon said, 'Hey, Catareen.'

'Bochum,' she answered.

He wanted to tell her something. What could it be? Maybe only this: that he would not see her again. When she came to the park tomorrow she would find a new guy in his place. Would she be able to tell that it wasn't him? Did humans look alike to them? Would she say bochum to his replacement and believe it was still Simon?

He wanted her to remember him.

What the boy held turned out to be a miniature drone: tiny wings that flapped frantically, protruding eyestalk, central opening through which the rays would shoot. The boy aimed it at Simon. He said, 'Zzzzap.'

Catareen turned the drone aside with one taloned finger. 'No, Tomcruise,' she said. 'No point at people.'

The boy's face reddened. She was probably not supposed to discipline him. He probably knew it. He aimed the drone more squarely at Simon's heart. He said 'Zzzzzap' again, louder this time.

Simon said, 'I am the hounded slave, I wince at the bite of the dogs.'

No. Repress. Concentrate.

The Nadian, however, did not seem to notice anything unusual about what he'd said. Maybe all sentiments expressed in English were equally strange to her.

'Child is young,' she said. Was there a hint of exasperation in her voice? The Nadians were hard to read. Their voices were so sibilant, so full of slide and whistle.

Simon said, 'How long have you been here?'

She had to calculate a moment. Earth years versus Nadian. She said, 'Ten year. Little less.'

'Is it working out okay?'

'Yes.'

What else could she say? She was probably telling the truth or close enough to it. It must be better than endless rain. It must be better than kings who read their shit for signs of glory and found them. It must be better than straining as much silt as they could from the drinking water, than listening every minute for the sound of leathery wings overhead. Still. The Nadians must have hoped for more when they migrated to Earth. They must have imagined themselves as something better than servants, nannies, street sweepers. Or maybe not. It was hard to know how far their imaginations were capable of taking them.

The boy kept his weapon trained on Simon. 'Zap zap zap zap zzzzap.'

'Listen,' Simon said. 'It's been nice. Seeing you every day.'

She stiffened slightly. 'You are leaving?' she said.

'Oh, well, you never know, do you? Here today, gone tomorrow.'

'Yes,' she said. 'Been nice.'

The little girl made her move. She grabbed at the coveted toy and received the smack she must have known the boy had ready for her. She went down bawling.

The Nadian picked her up, held her close to… her breasts? Did they have breasts? No outward evidence, but they fed their young, didn't they? He knew they lactated. It had been in the papers long ago. When the papers were still interested.

'Tomcruise,' she said sternly. 'No hit Katemoss.'

Little Tomcruise recovered his focus, trained the drone in the direction of Simon's crotch. 'Zap zap zap zap zap'

'I take them home,' she said. 'Where do you live?'

She paused. Not a question she was supposed to answer, not when posed by a strange player in the park. She looked to the west. She extended a green finger.

'There,' she said.

The San Remo. Venerable address of administrators and CEOs, the favored few who were permitted to live in the park and were spared the commute from the housing tracts and dormitories. She had a good job, relatively speaking.

Little Tomcruise had apparently tired of killing Simon and of being ignored. He chose that moment to run back in the direction from which they had come.

'Tomcruise,' Catareen called. He paid no attention. He was on the move. The little girl wailed in the Nadian's arms.

'I must get,' she said to Simon.

'And I,' he answered, 'am late for an appointment. Goodbye.'

'Arday.'

'Unscrew the locks from the doors!' he said. 'Unscrew the doors themselves from their jambs!'

She nodded and went after the boy.

It was two minutes to seven. If he hurried, Simon could be fewer than five minutes late. He hurried. He cut across Cherry Hill.

He had reached the fountain when he glanced back. He wanted to see her one more time. What he saw was Catareen standing on the pathway by the lake with a drone whirring over her head, speaking to her. The children huddled at her side. She answered. The drone spoke again. She answered again. Then the drone shot off in the wrong direction, away from Simon, toward Strawberry Field.

She had done it. Had she done it? Probably she had. She had told the drone that Simon had gone west rather than east.

Simon processed his options. He reviewed the likelihoods. Something was going on. There must have been an election, then; the laws must have changed. They were exterminating artificials now. This was probably not good news for Nadians, either. A crackdown of any kind usually included the Nadians.

This was the question: Go now or finish his shift? Failure to show for his seven o'clock would be incriminating. Making his seven o'clock would locate him.

He thought of Marcus's titanium core, cooling by the band shell.

He decided. Go now. It would arouse suspicion if Simon didn't show after his coworker's extermination, but the odds were probably better. If he showed up for his seven o'clock, and if he was arrested, he would be counting on clemency from a council that might have been voted out. He might be breaking new laws in unguessable ways.

There was one other factor. The Nadian.

Did she know what it meant, giving false information to a drone? It was difficult to tell what the Nadians knew. They were not organized. They were not informed.

Simon watched Catareen move off with the children.

The little boy would tell his parents. That seemed certain. Even if Infinidot didn't check the park vids, determine that Catareen had lied to a drone, and immediately inform the Council, she would without question lose her job for having been someone a drone wanted to speak to. Cant entrust our children to someone who... There'd be no more work for her. Nothing better than sweeping up. They'd plant a sensor in her. He had essentially ruined her life by talking to her.

O Christ! My fit is mastering me!

Concentrate.

Simon made another decision. Not technically a decision. His wiring told him what he would do. He would try to protect the Nadian from harm, because his actions had exposed her to harm. It was built into him.

When Catareen arrived at the San Remo, she would be unreachable. Simon's options: to intercept her now, or to wait until she came to the park again tomorrow. Twenty-four hours was too long to wait.

He sprinted off toward the San Remo. If he ran the long way, around the lake, he could still get there ahead of her.

He waited for her at the park's edge, leaning against the stone wall on the far side of Central Park West.