for fatal accidents.
The railing was two strands of twine.If you don’t want to die, don’t falloff! Viki and her brother hunkered close to the ground and stuck their heads over the abyss. For a moment, it was too dark to see. The heated air that drifted up carried the smell of burning oil and hot metal. It was a caress and a slap in the head all at once. And the sounds: workers shouting, metal grinding against metal, engines, and a strange hissing. Viki dipped her head, letting all her eyes adjust to the gloom. There was light, but nothing like day or night. She had seen small electric- arc lamps in Daddy’s labs. These ones were huge: pencils of light glowing mostly in the ultra and far ultra—colors you never see bright except in the disk of the sun. The color splashed off the hooded workers, spread speckling glints up and down the shaft…. There were other less spectacular lights, steadier ones, electric lamps that shone local splotches of tamed color here and there. Still twelve years before the Dark, and they were building a whole city down there. She could see avenues of stone, huge tunnels leading off from the walls of the shaft. And in the tunnels she glimpsed darker holes… ramps to smaller diggings? Buildings and homes and gardens would come later, but already the caves were mostly dug. Looking down, Viki felt an attraction that was new to her, the natural, protective attraction of a deepness. But what these workers were doing was a thousand times grander than any ordinary deepness. If all you wanted to do was sleep frozen through the Dark, you needed just enough space for your sleeping pool and a startup cache. Such already existed in the city deepness beneath the old town center—and had existed there for almost twenty generations. This new construction was tolive in, awake. In some places, where air seal and insulation could be assured, it was built right at ground level. In other areas, it was dug down hundreds of feet, an eerie reverse of the buildings that made Princeton’s skyline.
Viki stared and stared, lost in the dream. Until now, it had all been a story at a distance. Little Victory read about it, heard her parents talk about it, heard it on the radio. She knew that as much as anything, it was the reason why so many people hated her family. That, and being oophase, were the reasons they weren’t supposed to go out alone. Dad might talk and talk about evolution in action and how important it was for small children to be allowed to take chances, how if that didn’t happen then genius could not develop in the survivors. The trouble was, he didn’t mean it. Every time Viki tried to take on something a little risky, Dad got all paternal and the project became a padded security blanket.
Viki realized she was chuckling low in her chest.
“What?” said Brent.
“Nothing. I was just thinking that today we are getting to see what things are really like—Daddy or no.”
Brent’s aspect shifted into embarrassment. Of all her brothers and sisters, he was the one who took rules the most literally and felt the worst about bending them. “I think we should leave now. There are workers on the surface, getting closer. Besides, how long does the snow last?”
Grumble. Viki backed out and followed her brother through the maze of wonderfully massive things that filled the construction yard. At the moment, even the prospect of snowdrifts was not an irresistible attraction.
The first real surprise of the day came when they finally reached an in-use express stop: Standing a little apart from the crowd were Jirlib and Gokna. No wonder she hadn’t been able to find them this morning. They had snuck off without her! Viki sidled across the plaza toward them, trying to look not the least perturbed. Gokna was grinning her usual one-upness. Jirlib had the grace to look embarrassed. Along with Brent he was the oldest, and should have had the sense to prevent this outing. The four of them drifted a few yards away from the stares and stuck their heads together.
Buzz, mumble. Miss One-Upness: “What took you so long? Had trouble sneaking past Downing’s Detainers?” Viki: “I didn’t thinkyou would even dare try. We’ve done lots already this morning.” Miss One-Upness: “Like what?” Viki: “Like we checked out the New Underground.” Miss One-Upness: “Well—”
Jirlib: “Shut up the both of you. Neither of you should be out here.”
“But we’re radio celebrities, Jirlib.” Gokna preened. “People love us.”
Jirlib moved a little closer and lowered his voice. “Quit it. For every three who like ‘The Children’s Hour,’ there are three that it worries—and four more are trads who still hate your guts.”
The children’s radio hour had been more fun than anything Viki had ever done, but it hadn’t been the same since Honored Pedure. Now that their age was public, it was like they had to prove something. They had even found some other oophases—but so far none were right for the show. Viki and Gokna hadn’t gotten friendly with other cobblies, even the pair that had been their age. They were strange, unfriendly children—almost the stereotype of oophase. Daddy said it was their upbringing, the years in hiding. That was the scariest thing of all, something she only talked about with Gokna, and then only in whispers in the middle of the night. What if the Church was right? Maybe she and Gokna just imagined they had souls.
For a moment, the four of them stood silently, taking Jirlib’s point. Then Brent asked, “So why are you out here, Jirlib?” From anyone else it would have been a challenge, but verbal fighting was outside Brent’s scope. The question was simple curiosity, an honest request for enlightenment.
As such, it poked deeper than any gibe. “Um, yeah. I’m on my way downtown. The Royal Museum has an exhibit about the Distorts of Khelm…. I’m
Little Miss One-Upness smiled sweetly. Jirlib’s whole aspect was a glare. “You two are walking disaster areas, you know that?” Exactly how had Gokna fooled Jirlib into taking her along? The question sparked real professional interest in Viki. She and Gokna were by far the best manipulators in the whole family. That was why they got along so badly with each other.
“We at least have a valid academic reason for our trip,” said Gokna. “What’s your excuse?”
Viki waved her eating hands in her sister’s face. “We’re going to see the snow. That’s a learning experience.”
“Hah! You just want to roll in it.”
“Shut up.” Jirlib raised his head, took in the various bystanders back at the express stop. “We should all go home.”
Gokna shifted into persuasion mode: “But Jirlib, that would be worse. It’s a long walk back. Let’s take the bus to the museum—see, it’s coming right now.” The timing was perfect. An express had just turned onto the uphill thoroughfare. Its near-red lights marked it as part of the downtown loop. “By the time we get done there, the snow fanatics should be back in town and there’ll be an express running all the way back home.”
“Hey, I didn’t come down here to see some fake alien magic! I want to see the snow.”
Gokna shrugged. “Too bad, Viki. You can always stick your head in an icebox when we get home.”
“I—” Viki saw that Jirlib had reached the end of his patience, and she didn’t have any real counterargument. A word from him to Brent, and Viki would find herself carried willy-nilly back to the house. “—uh, what a fine day to go to the museum.”
Jirlib gave a sour smile. “Yeah, and when we arrive we’ll probably find Rhapsa and Little Hrunk already there, having sweet-talked security into driving them down direct.” That started Viki and Gokna laughing. The two littlest ones were more than babies now, but they still hung around Dad nearly all the day. The image of them outsmarting Mother’s security team was a bit much.
The four of them maneuvered back to the edge of the crowd, and were the last to board the express…. Oh well. Four really was safer than two, and the Royal Museum was in a safe part of town. Even if Dad caught on, the children’s evident planning and caution would excuse them. And for all the rest of her life there would be the snow.
Public expresses were nothing like the cars and airplanes that Viki was used to. Here everyone was packed close. Rope netting—almost like babies’ gymnets—hung in sheets spaced every five feet down the length of the bus. Passengers spread arms and legs ignominiously through the web-work and hung vertically from the ropes. It made it possible to pack more people on board, but it felt pretty silly. Only the driver had aproper perch.
This bus wouldn’t have been crowded—except that the other passengers gave the children a wide berth.Well, they can all shrivel. I don’t care. She stopped watching the other passengers, and studied the cross streets streaming past.
With all the work going on underground, there were places where street repairs had been neglected. Every
