Freehold (25 page)

Long divs of work and short daylight was stressful. She and Rob had a few fights over stupid things and she spent more social time with Marta. The young woman had an incredible amount of energy, considerable disposable income for entertainment and was very generous. It took Kendra a while to realize that Mar enjoyed blowing money with her friends and was neither trying to show off nor create obligations.

Still, she had only the two friends and a handful of acquaintances. Cabin fever was a drain and the winter was two and a half months long, or a hundred twenty-five dull, gray, dark, blustery local days. Ice storms, blizzards, occasional freezing rain, broken branches, stuck vehicles, all the bad things she knew from home and for almost twice as long. She realized now why these people were such manic partiers in summer. They had plenty of pent-up energy from winter.

She accepted an invitation to dine with Marta's family. Rob would meet her there, but she was traveling with Mar. The family home was on the west side, where development was still continuing, and surprised Kendra at first. She'd assumed from Marta's spread that her family would have a huge mansion or sprawling ranch. Instead, it was a quite typical contemporary villa. It was modern enough, with variable-polarity solar windows, automatic climate control and a huge heat sink to go with the windows and vents and all the nice accessories that made maintenance simple. The house had good land area and would almost certainly appreciate well as the city grew, but was nothing spectacular like, say, Marta's own monstrous digs.

She pondered the apparent modesty while being greeted and it finally came to her. To become a Citizen, Hernandez had had to achieve considerable wealth, then donate virtually all of it to the Freehold. Citizens wielded huge political power. They were not allowed economic means to go with it. That one tenet of society Kendra had never argued with, as it made perfect sense.

She looked at Hernandez again with new respect. Here was a man who had served in the military, independently made a fortune in the millions, then voluntarily gave most of it away to lead. He now had a textbook average middle-class existence and an equivalent income that was dependent upon the good graces of those he ruled. That said more about his integrity than any thousand campaign speeches back on Earth.

Marta's mother was half Asian, half Caucasian, and that blend with her husband's Hispanic looks had created the exotic beauty of their children. Kiki and Umberto, as they insisted on being called, introduced their other children, Kichan and Carlos. He was just now ten local years, tall and lean, and would be moving out shortly to pursue his own fortune. Marta's older sister, Kichan, was an engineer out in a Halo habitat, home on vacation between projects. She was plain only by comparison to Marta. Rob arrived shortly, looking very good in a kilt in Kendra's opinion. He'd brought wine and mead. Kendra had almost forgotten the local custom of gifts for every occasion and had remembered just in time to stop by a store for some imported Swiss chocolate. It was received enthusiastically.

The meal was good, being a cross between Thai and Southwest. It was something resembling quesadillas and burritos, but with plenty of meat and vegetables and not much in the way of beans or rice. She'd been told it was vat-raised meat and was quite grateful for that and for the fact that the spices were served as sides. The salsa was fresh and corrosive, the beer was Umberto's own brew, crisp and refreshing. To make it even more pleasant, the company was cheerful and highly intelligent. That made sense. There were no stupid genes in this family. Kendra felt very welcome as the conversation swung from space to weather to business to politics, and to a comparison between the Freehold and the UN. Kendra discovered that the group was quite educated as to Earth, far more so than she was to the Freehold, even after more than a year of residency.

Somehow, crime came up. She knew that crime was far lower here, by several orders of magnitude, but the attitude about Earth, from people who had never been there, offended her. She politely said so.

Kichan was quite vocal. "I wasn't trying to offend you personally, Kendra, but don't you admit to being much safer here?"

"Yes," she agreed. "But the mindset on Earth is different. We aren't as bothered by most petty crimes."

" 'Petty crime'?" Kichan asked, a tone of irony in her voice. "I'm guessing you mean shoplifting or larceny? I suppose I see that, if you're used to it as a common occurrence. It's just hard to think of having your property violated and not having any way to recover it as 'petty.' "

"We regard property as expendable. That's what insurance is for," Kendra explained. "Of course, it's hard to put a dollar value on sentimental items. But that's not even really petty crime, that's just human nature at work, taking things."

"It's not your nature, is it?"

"Well, no," Kendra admitted. "But it's quite common for poor people."

"Not here," Rob observed. "But if that's not what you mean by petty crime, what do you mean?" he asked, leaning forward with his wine.

"Oh, basic assault, vehicle theft, rape, burglary, strong-arm robbery," Kendra said. "As long as you aren't seriously hurt, it's just like any other accident."

There was silence. She realized that some boundary had been crossed, but couldn't place it.

"Rape is a 'petty' crime?" Marta asked, looking very bothered.

"Well, it's painful and embarrassing short term," Kendra replied, "but not really debilitating. After the first couple, you get used to it, just like muggings."

The whole table was staring at her. She struggled with the horrified looks. Were they that naive about crime? Had none of them ever thought about what it was like? At all?

Kichan put her fork down, breathed deeply and stood. "If you'll all excuse me for a moment, please?" she said, and left the table. She was hurrying as she reached the hall.

Into the awkward silence, Rob and Marta both began to speak. He deferred to her.

"So, has anyone heard about Vermilion's new recording? I'm posing for the cover," she said.

Everyone, including Kendra, gratefully embraced the subject change. "Great!" her mother said. "Any details?"

"Not really, Mom. They are doing most of the background with both classic oil and electronic art, so it'll be a very surrealistic holo. Apparently it involves a dragon and some kind of alien creature. I'm spread out and writhing and having a really intense orgasm."

"Oh, that'll be good for business," her brother commented.

"Exactly," Marta nodded. "The rate was okay, but what I didn't get in percentage I'll more than get in advertising. Maybe even some outsystem orders for pics or some visiting muckymuck. Who knows? The art director loved it, said I looked delish, so I may even get some more orders that way, too."

Kendra nodded. She had found out that Mar also sold pictures, would do custom videos, modeled for several exoticwear manufacturers and did bit parts of acting. Rob had taken over as her agent and she had a net programmer on contract to keep her files from being hacked. She had a small sample site that could be accessed for free and would sell images gladly, but expected a fee for every viewing. She kept the code updated so they couldn't be downloaded or copied without approval and had filed several suits against secondary dealers who had swiped files.

Kichan returned, looking better, and the conversation drifted to camping, sports and eventually to Kendra's park work. No one seemed bothered by the earlier incident and they stayed quite late.

As they headed home, she asked her friends, "Okay, I'm confused. Crime is a taboo subject, but you can discuss your publicly displayed orgasms? I don't get it."

Rob and Mar exchanged glances and thoughtful looks. Finally, he spoke. "Crime is a violation of a person's self or property. Sex is a matter of human nature, and in this case, art."

I guess," she replied. "Back home, we talk about our attacks and how we managed. Sort of a release, I suppose. It's also kind of a bragging rights thing or just a story type of thing. Hard to explain. But sex is very private."

"I think," said Marta, "that sex in that context reveals too much of your feelings to strangers. It's a protective measure. The crime is superficial to you, so that's an okay subject."

"Which is exactly backwards," Rob said. "I don't know how you got into that mindset as a society, but it's guaranteed to destroy it."

"I think it's just another difference," Kendra insisted defensively. "I don't see Earth disappearing anywhere after all this time."

The others were silent. She joined them.

"Democracy is based on the assumption that a million men are wiser than one man. How's that again? I missed something.
"Autocracy is based on the assumption that one man is wiser than a million men. Let's play that over again, too. Who decides?"

—Robert A. Heinlein, in
Time Enough for Love
 

Kendra arrived home tired. It had been a hectic day, with a lot of planting and several rearrangements of spaces. Then she'd had to clear vehicles away. There'd actually been an election scheduled and the park was one of the prime meeting places in town, along with the Citizen's Council Building and two other large parks.

She hadn't thought any democratic process existed here. There was no provision for legislation in the Constitution and only the Citizens were allowed to make what few political decisions there were. She'd followed the news closely on this, just out of curiosity. She had assumed that as an immigrant, she was not eligible, then recalled that she was a paid Resident. She had as much voice as anyone born here.

It was a simple District matter. The starport wanted to expand and would have to destroy several existing roads to do so. Paying for them and construction of new ones, was a strictly private matter for the Jefferson Starport Corporation. She was still bemused by the notion of a private entity controlling traffic. It seemed dangerous, but there were two others competing with it. Usage rates were quite reasonable.

The question was, where should the relocated roads be routed? There were several farms and industries that had to be worked around. Three routes presented themselves as being easily exploited, but all three had their pros and cons. One would prevent expansion of an existing business park entity, which had the land but had not yet used it. They were willing to sell for the right price and instead stretch south rather than west. A second diverted far around existing land and would slow ground traffic from the suburbs growing out that way. The third would cut close to the bay, affecting Bay Park and several private beaches. For the time being the city had claimed all three routes and would not be releasing them until a decision was reached. A suit had been filed against the 'port and the city by investors, demanding release of land not being used for roads, as a constitutional violation. There was a petition from the suburbs not to use the circuitous middle route and another from civic groups not to use the seaside path. JSC had filed a demand that it be allowed to select the cheapest route, which was the one the suburbanites were opposed to.

Faced with a conflict that was bound to antagonize everyone, the Citizens judging the suits had decided to put it to a popular vote in the District. They reserved the right to make the final decision, but had decided that a popular choice was necessary to that decision-making process.

The election was scheduled for six divs. Anyone was welcome to code a vote to Citizens' court, with residence number attached. Many did. Many others gathered in the parks and the Council building to hear final arguments. The lifter-elevated screen rippling in the breeze showed the discussions and a massive crowd formed, most arriving within a few segs of the voting time.

Cameras and aides were in place and the choices were read. "For the western route, through Parkfield Business Park, at the expense of JSC."

"Aye!"
Kendra thought that best. The 'port would have to raise fees slightly or cut corners elsewhere, but it would be cheaper than distancing three towns' ground traffic.

"For the middle route, around the towns of Greenwood, Franklin and New Muncie."

"Aye!"

"For the eastern route, along the bay."

"Aye!" That last was clearly not popular and the few raised hands and voices were followed by good-natured chuckling, some of it from the voters who supported that lost cause.

"To be confirmed by review, the population votes for the western route."

That was it. Election over in ten seconds. Did these people do nothing at a slow, respectable pace?

She could determine why the park was used, anyway. Most of the voters stayed to socialize. She should have expected it. She had a soft drink and a sandwich from a vendor, watched a couple of performers and headed home.

There was a message waiting on her comm. Pulling off her boots, she sat back and cued it.

"Hi there," said a familiar redheaded woman. It was Jelsie Romar. "Told you I'd be home about now. It looks as if you're doing well. I'd like to stop by about six-fifty. Call me and let me know. Two nine nine nine three, two nine three seven five five. Bye."

Kendra said, "Place call to code from message."

"Dialing."

On the third flash, the call was answered. "Romar. Oh, hi. Glad you're there. You see, I have this body." She grinned.

Laughing, Kendra replied, "You're in luck. I work for Jefferson Parks, so I have a shovel."

Romar whooped in response. "You got my message I assume?" she asked.

"Sure. Come on over."

"Be there in twenty."

Jelsie hit it off with Marta as well as she had with Kendra. She was just very nice and sweet. She was also very religious, Kendra discovered. They were at Marta's place with Rob and Drew and were still talking and drinking as dark fell. "Oh, shoot!" Jelsie gasped, looking outside at the purple sky. "Full Gealach tonight! I'm supposed to do ritual!"

"We can do it here," Marta said. "My shrine is small, but you're welcome."