Picnic on Nearside (36 page)

“Well,” Halo said, not really overjoyed at the idea, “where would we go?”

“How about to Old Archimedes?” Again, that was a big surprise to me. I had had no idea I wanted to go there.

Halo was really shocked. I jolted her right out of her new mannerisms. She reacted just like the old Halo would have, with a dopey face and open mouth. Then she tried on other reactions: covering her mouth with her hands and wilting a little. First-time Changers are like that; new women tend to mince around like something out of a gothic novel, and new men swagger and grunt like Marlon Brando in
A Streetcar Named Desire
. They get over it.

Halo got over it right in front of my eyes. She stared at me, scratching her head.

“Are you crazy? Old Archimedes is on the Nearside. They don’t let anybody go over there.”

“Don’t they?” I asked, suddenly interested. “Do you know that for a fact? And if so, why not?”

“Well, I mean everybody knows . . .”

“Do they? Who is ‘they’ that won’t let us go?”

“The Central Computer, I guess.”

“Well, the only way to find out is to try it. Come on, let’s go.” I grabbed her arm. I could see she was confused, and I wanted it to remain that way until I could get my own thoughts together.

*   *   *

“I’d like a flight plan to Old Archimedes on the Nearside,” I said, trying to sound as grownup and unworried as possible. We had packed a lunch and reached the field in ten minutes, due largely to my frantic prodding.

“That’s a little imprecise, Fox,” said the CC. “Old Archimedes is a big place. Would you like to try again?”

“Ah . . .” I drew a blank. Damn all computers and their literalmindedness! What did I know about Old Archimedes? About as much as I knew about Old New York or Old Bombay.

“Give me a flight plan to the main landing field.”

“That’s better. The data are . . .” It reeled off the string of numbers. I fed them into the pilot and tried to relax.

“Here goes,” I said to Halo. “This is Fox-Carnival-Joule, piloting private jumper AX1453, based at King City. I hereby file a flight plan to Old Archimedes’ main landing field, described as follows . . .” I repeated the numbers the CC had given me. “Filed on the seventeenth lune of the fourth lunation of the year 214 of the Occupation of Earth. I request an initiation time.”

“Granted. Time as follows: thirty seconds from mark. Mark.”

I was stunned. “That’s all there is to it?”

It chuckled. Damn maternalistic machine. “What did you expect, Fox? Marshals converging on your jumper?”

“I don’t know. I guess I thought you wouldn’t allow us to go to the Nearside.”

“A popular misconception. You are a free citizen, although a
minor, and able to go where you wish on the lunar surface. You are subject only to the laws of the state and the specific wishes of your parent as programmed into me. I . . . do you wish me to start the burn for you?”

“Mind your own business.” I watched the tick and pressed the button when it reached zero. The acceleration was mild, but went on for a long time. Hell, Old Archimedes is at the antipodes.

“I have the responsibility to see that you do not endanger yourself through youthful ignorance or forgetfulness. I must also see that you obey the wishes of your mother. Other than that, you are on your own.”

“You mean Carnival gave me permission to go to the Nearside?”

“I didn’t say that. I have received no instruction from Carnival
not
to permit you to go to Nearside. There are no unusual dangers to your safety on Nearside. So I had no choice but to approve your flight plan.” It paused, significantly. “It is my experience that few parents consider it necessary to instruct me to deny such permission. I infer that it’s because so few people ever ask to go there. I also note that your parent is at the present moment unreachable; she has left instructions not to be disturbed. Fox,” the CC said, accusingly, “it occurs to me that this is no accident. Did you have this planned?”

I
hadn’t!
But if I’d known . . .

“No.”

“I suppose you want a return flight plan?”

“Why? I’ll ask you when I’m ready to come back.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” it said, smugly. “In another five minutes you’ll be out of range of my last receptor. I don’t extend to the Nearside, you know. Haven’t in decades. You’re going out of contact, Fox. You’ll be on your own. Think about it.”

I did. For a queasy moment I wanted to turn back. Without the CC to monitor us, kids wouldn’t be allowed on the surface for
years
.

Was I that confident? I know how hostile the surface is if it ever gets the drop on you. I thought I had all the mistakes trained out of me by now, but did I?

“How exciting,” Halo gushed. She was off in the clouds again,
completely over her shock at where we were going. She was bubble-headed like that for three lunes after her Change. Well, so was I, later, when I had my first.

“Hush, numbskull,” I said, not unkindly. Nor was she insulted. She just grinned at me and gawked out the window as we approached the terminator.

I checked the supply of consumables; they were in perfect shape for a stay of a full lunation if need be, though I had larked off without a glance at the delta-vee.

“All right, smart-ass, give me the data for the return.”

“Incomplete request,” the CC drawled.

“Damn you, I want a flight plan Old Archimedes-King City, and no back talk.”

“Noted. Assimilated.” It gave me that data. Its voice was getting fainter.

“I don’t suppose,” it said, diffidently, “that you’d care to give me an indication of when you plan to return?”

Ha! I had it where it hurt. Carnival wouldn’t be happy with the CC’s explanation, I was sure of that.

“Tell her I’ve decided to start my own colony and I’ll never come back.”

“As you wish.”

*   *   *

Old Archimedes was bigger than I had expected. I knew that even in its heyday it had not been as populated as King City is, but they built more above the surface in those days. King City is not much more than a landing field and a few domes. Old Archimedes was chock-a-block with structures, all clustered around the central landing field. Halo pointed out some interesting buildings to the south, and so I went over there and set down next to them.

She opened the door and threw out the tent, then jumped after it. I followed, taking the ladder since I seemed elected to carry the lunch. She took a quick look around and started unpacking the tent.

“We’ll go exploring later,” she said, breathlessly. “Right now let’s get in the tent and eat. I’m hungry.”

All right, all right, I said to myself. I’ve got to face it sooner or later. I didn’t think she was really all that hungry—not for the
picnic lunch, anyway. This was still going too fast for me. I had no idea what our relationship would be when we crawled out of that tent.

While she was setting it up, I took a more leisurely look around. Before long I was wishing we had gone to Tranquillity Base instead. It wouldn’t have been as private, but there are no spooks at Tranquillity. Come to think of it, Tranquillity Base used to be on the Nearside, before they moved it.

About Old Archimedes:

I couldn’t put my finger on what disturbed me about the place. Not the silence. The race has had to adjust to silence since we were forced off the Earth and took to growing up on the junk planets of the system. Not the lack of people. I was accustomed to long walks on the surface where I might not see anyone for hours. I don’t know. Maybe it was the Earth hanging there a little above the horizon.

It was in crescent phase, and I wished uselessly for the old days when that dark portion would have been sprayed with points of light that were the cities of mankind. Now there was only the primitive night and the dolphins in the sea and the aliens—bogies cooked up to ruin the sleep of a child, but now I was not so sure. If humans still survive down there, we have no way of knowing it.

They say that’s what drove people to the Farside: the constant reminder of what they had lost, always there in the sky. It must have been hard, especially to the Earthborn. Whatever the reason, no one had lived on the Nearside for almost a century. All the original settlements had dwindled as people migrated to the comforting empty sky of Farside.

I think that’s what I felt, hanging over the old buildings like some invisible moss. It was the aura of fear and despair left by all the people who had buried their hopes here and moved away to the forgetfulness of Farside. There were ghosts here, all right: the shades of unfulfilled dreams and endless longing. And over it all a bottomless sadness.

I shook myself and came back to the present. Halo had the tent ready. It bulged up on the empty field, a clear bubble just a little higher than my head. She was already inside. I crawled through the sphincter, and she sealed it behind me.

Halo’s tent is a good one. The floor is about three meters in diameter, plenty of room for six people if you don’t mind an occasional kick. It had a stove, a stereo set, and a compact toilet. It recycled water, scavenged CO
₂
, controlled temperature, and could provide hydroponic oxygen for three lunations. And it all folded into a cube thirty centimeters on a side.

Halo had skinned out of her suit as soon as the door was sealed and was bustling about, setting up the kitchen. She took the lunch hamper from me and started to work.

I watched her with keen interest as she prepared the food. I wanted to get an insight into what she was feeling. It wasn’t easy. Every fuse in her head seemed to have blown.

First-timers often overreact, seeking a new identity for themselves before it dawns on them there was nothing wrong with the old one. Since our society offers so little differentiation between the sex roles, they reach back to where the differences are so vivid and startling: novels, dramas, films, and tapes from the old days on Earth and the early years on the moon. They have the vague idea that since they have this new body and it lacks a penis or vagina, they should behave differently.

I recognized the character she had fallen into; I’m as interested in old culture as the next kid. She was Blondie and I was supposed to be Dagwood. The Bumsteads, you know. Typical domestic nineteenth-century couple. She had spread a red-and-white-checkered tablecloth and set two places with dishes, napkins, washbowls, and a tiny electric candelabra.

I had to smile at her, kneeling at the tiny stove, trying to put three pans on the same burner. She was trying so hard to please me with a role I was completely uninterested in. She was humming as she worked.

After the meal, I offered to clean up for her (well,
Dagwood
would have), but Blondie said no, that’s all right, dear, I’ll take care of everything. I lay flat on my back, holding my belly, and watched the Earth. Presently I felt a warm body cuddle up, half beside me and half on top of me, and press close from toenails to eyebrows. She had left Blondie over among the dirty dishes. The woman who breathed in my ear now was—Helen of Troy? Greta Garbo?—someone new, anyway. I wished fervently that Halo would come back. I was beginning to think Halo and I could
screw like the very devil if this feverish creature that contained her would only give us a chance. Meantime, I had to be raped by Helen of Troy. I raised my head.

“What’s it like, Halo?”

She slowed her foreplay slightly, but it never really stopped. She propped herself up on one elbow.

“I don’t think I can describe it to you.”

“Please try.”

She dimpled. “I don’t really know what it’s
all
like,” she said. “I’m still a virgin, you know.”

I sat up. “You got
that, too?
”

“Sure, why not? But don’t worry about it. I’m not afraid.”

“What about making love?”

“Oh, Fox, Fox! Yes, yes. I . . .”

“No, no! Wait a minute.” I squirmed beneath her, trying to hold her off a little longer. “What I meant was, wasn’t there any problem in making the shift? I mean, do you have any aversion to having sex with boys now?” It was sure a stupid question, but she took it seriously.

“I haven’t noticed any problem so far,” she said, thoughtfully, as her hand reached down and fumbled, inexpertly trying to guide me in. I helped her get it right, and she poised, squatting on her toes. “I thought about that before the Change, but it sort of melted away. Now I don’t feel any qualms at all. Ahhhhh!” She had thrust herself down, brutally hard, and we were off and running.

It was the most unsatisfactory sex act I ever had. It was not entirely the fault of either of us; external events were about to mess us up totally. But it wasn’t very good even without that.

A first-time female Changer is liable to be in delirious oblivion through the entire first sex act, which may last all of sixty seconds. The fact that she is playing the game from the other court with a different set of rules and a new set of equipment does not handicap her. Rather, it provides a tremendous erotic stimulus.

That’s what happened to Halo. I began to wonder if she’d wait for me. I never found out. I looked away from her face and got the shock of my life. There was someone standing outside the tent, watching us.

Halo felt the change in me and looked at my face, which must
have been a sight, then looked over her shoulder. She fainted; out like a light.

Hell, I almost fainted myself. Would have, but when she did, it scared me even more, and I decided I couldn’t indulge it. So I stayed awake to see what was going on.

It looked way too much like one of the ghosts my imagination had been walking through the abandoned city ever since we got there. The figure was short and dressed in a suit that might have been stolen from the museum at Kepler, except that it was more patches than suit. I could tell little about who might be in it, not even the sex. It was bulky, and the helmet was reflective.

I don’t know how long I stared at it; long enough for the spook to walk around the tent three or four times. I reached for the bottle of white wine we had been drinking and took a long pull. I found out that’s an old movie cliché; it didn’t make anything any better. But it sure did things for Halo when I poured it in her face.