Runaways

bother going back to school, either, at 'home' or elsewhere. One more year isn't going to make any difference at all.'

Against such certainty, it was hard to know what to say. Wilma looked down at the grass, picked a small lawn daisy that she found there, and began pulling the petals off it, two or three at a time. 'Look,' Megan said, 'until you at least finish high school, you aren't going to be able to get a job that's going to be worth much-'

'I've already found out here about some jobs that're worth a lot more than any job a high school diploma would get me,' Burt said, turning those flashing blue eyes on her. 'Come on, Megan! Think about it! As if a diploma means that much anymore! It'll get you a job washing dishes in someplace too small and rotten to have a machine to do it, that's about all. It gets you into college- if you have the money, and who has that much money?' Megan had to let out a breath at that. The only real tension she had noticed in her household over the past couple years had revolved around the fact that the savings plans established when she and her brothers had been born were not now yielding anything like enough money to completely cover their coHege costs. Her mother and father never actually fought about it… but the subject was often just there, hanging over other conversations, like a sword hung over the kitchen table by a hair.

'Forget it,' Burt said. 'If I want college, some day, F'll come back for it. Right now I'd sooner get out into the real world and find out what life is like, without people running me down all day. Make some decent money and stow it away. There are plenty of jobs out there' He trailed off.

'Come on, what kind of jobs?' Megan said. 'Seriously, Burt, we're worried about you… we don't want you to wind up in some kind of trouble. And going job-seeking right now could cause just that. Sooner or later anyone who pays you anything worth earning is going to want your permanent address, and your Social Security number…'

'Not if you're going to be doing the kind of work where they don't ask those questions,' Burt said, sounding stubborn.

Megan kept her reaction out of her face. He obviously meant some kind of black-market or gray-market work… not usually the kind of job you would enjoy for long. She'd had no idea he was that desperate. 'Look,' Megan said, 'Burt, think about this before you go off on your own. It's a big step. And you don't have to do it any time soon. They'll give you a while to sort things out. Maybe your folks will even see the light… '

The look Burt turned on her was humorous, but at the same time made it plain that he thought Megan was out of her mind.

'I…' Wilma said. Then she held her head up, and looked Burt in the eye, and blinked a few times. 'You deserve to have your own life for a while,' she said. 'I can wait for you to sort things out… if I know you'll come back.'… For me, her eyes said.

The look Burt turned on her was heartbreaking. It was genuine uncertainty. 'Wil, I don't know how this is going to turn out,' Burt said. 'All I know is… I won't be back to school this semester.' He turned his head away, veering away from the heart of the matter. 'And you're going to have to find someone else to ride the qualifiers with you. Later in the year, I guess…'

'We can find someone more 'permanent' to fill in,' Megan said. 'But, Burt… we're not going to be happy about it. It's you we're going to miss.'

'Yeah,' Burt said, and bowed his head. 'I'm going to miss that, too. It was the happiest I got, usually. A good distance from home..'

None of them said anything for a few moments. Then Wilma looked up. 'Can you come see something in my space?' she said, rather sadly. 'It's not finished yet… but I'd like to see what you think.'

'Yeah,' Burt said. 'Sure.'

Wilma glanced over at Megan. 'Go on,' Megan said. 'I'll catch you later.'

Wilma and Burt stood up, took a few steps together, then vanished.

Megan sat there, looking around her at the superb landscape, and let out a long, pained breath. She had had the occasional boyfriend in her time, but she had never been as serious about any of them as Wilma was about Burt. Now she almost felt grateful for that. IVd be terrible to feel about somebody the way Wil does, and then have them going through this kind of pain…

She stood up, dusting her pants off, though the gesture was hardly necessary on virtual grass. And what kind of job is he talking about? Megan thought. Except for his riding, he doesn 't really have any skills… Certainly there were jobs in the 'gray economy' that would employ a kid Burt's age for a little while… but nothing that would give the worker any security. Not that it sounded as if Burt particularly cared. But there was something about this that was making Megan twitch. Normally, if Burt was going to be doing something aboveboard, he would have told them all about it, right away. Keeping secrets was not his forte. I wonder…

Then Megan shrugged. At least he was all right, and his skin was in one piece. If his ego seemed a little raw and tattered around the edges, well, he had an excuse. After the prolonged hell of being constantly told he was good for nothing, this must seem like heaven to him- professionals who were genuinely interested in him and willing to listen, a place to stay far from the troubles of home, access to his friends. If Burt felt like bragging a little about the possibilities that now seemed open to him, who was Megan to ride him too hard about it?

She made her way back through the beautiful landscape to the preset egress 'door' which was standing there, pale against the sunlit hills, waiting for her. Once through it, Megan waved at the guy behind the desk, told the Breathing Space management system the address of her own Net space, and a moment later was standing again in her white amphitheater, watching Saturn slip under Rhea's horizon, only a sliver of rings still showing above. A moment later the Sun set as well, and with that small change of temperature, the moon's thin unstable atmosphere cooled enough for it to begin to 'snow' frozen methane out of the lowest layer, which had until now been mist.

Megan turned her back on it and broke out of her virtual space, for the moment very much wanting some contact with parents she knew loved her, despite occasional friction, and brothers of whom she was very fond, no matter how much she felt they needed to be slightly killed.

A couple of hours later the brothers had taken themselves out of the house on dates or other business, and her father had emerged from his office to eat and relax a little. Megan took the opportunity to use the office Net machine, which had an implant chair she liked better than the one in the den, and made her way back to Wilma's space. She should have had a little while to get herself back together by now, she thought, as she carefully moved aside the piled-up books which, as usual, were blocking the direct view of the chair and her implant to the Net machine's implant link. Her father never seemed to realize that not everybody in the house was as tall as he was. If she and Burt were saying goodbye for a while, she'll have needed it

But after she had lined up her implant, snapped into her own space, and used the door in it to Wilma's, Megan found her friend rather more pulled-together than she had expected. Wilma's mood was somber, but knowing he was all right had plainly made a very big difference for her. 'Now that I know he's okay,' she said to Megan, 'I guess I can get on with things. Not that I really like the way they seem to be going… '

Megan could see her point. 'You think he was serious?' she said, as they went out the front entrance of the Taj and looked down the length of the reflecting pools, still slightly vague in the advancing dawn, a light low mist lying over them in the moist, warming subtropical air. Down at that end of things was a great green space with nothing built on it, yet, and behind it only the low hills south of Delhi. Wilma had excised the modern city from this vista. 'About not coming home, I mean.'

Wilma stood there and sighed, and then shook her head. 'I don't think so,' she said. 'He sounds so torn up- not at all the way he usually does. I mean, he's always been really good at coping with his folks… but he doesn't seem to be coping real well at the moment.' She turned around to look up at the massive dome of the Taj, now flushing pink with sunrise. 'I keep getting the feeling that he's just repeating stuff he's said to his folks, to freak them out… or that he's been telling himself, over and over, to help him stand what's going on. If he really had a more concrete plan, I think he'd tell me. I think he's just uncertain… '

'You may be right,' Megan said. 'I hope so.' She sighed. 'What about this work thing? Were you able to find out anything more from him about what he intends to do?'

Wilma shook her head. 'He didn't want to talk about it… said he was afraid of jinxing his chances somehow.' She looked at Megan with slight bemusement. 'I don't know why I think this, but sometimes it was as if Burt thought someone was listening to him. But he said that was impossible… '

'Yeah,' Megan said. 'Well…' She sat down on a marble bench nearby. Wilma sat down, too. 'I guess he'll tell us when he's ready. Our job is to make sure he knows we're here to talk to him and help him sort things out, if he thinks he needs help. But I think it's going to be a mistake to assume that he's going to ride the retrial with us, Wil.