the craft could fly. Then the shadow in which he stood was shrinking as the shuttle lifted lightly into the air. Justinian watched it rise, spiraling higher and higher into the turquoise sky. And then it was gone.
He turned and made his way back up the ramp into his own flier, pushing his way past Leslie as he went.
Dont speak to me, he growled as he set a flight chair to the shape of a cot and placed the baby in it. Then he slumped into a chair opposite, suddenly aware of a tingling on his leg. He pulled up the right trouser leg of his passive suit.
A second BVB had formed there.
Helen 2: 2240
Brilliant sunlight burst around them. They had now dropped beyond the lowermost edge of the Shawl; they could see it receding above them and begin to make out its shape.
Earlier, back in her room, Judy had unrolled a bolt of black-and-white chequered kimono silk and gathered it loosely around her shoulders, like a shawl. This is what it looks like, she had explained. Imagine that the black squares are the sections of the Shawl. New sections are formed and added around the neck; the older sections are allowed to drop a little closer to Earth
Helen was looking up into the heavens, following the receding pattern of sections, unable to make out the overall shape of the Shawl. It was just too big.
But it was beautiful. The spun-glass bauble of the shuttle was filled with rose and gold from the bright sun. Helen jumped from her seat and, arms outstretched to catch the warmth, seemed to hang suspended in a golden halo, a vision of life, her hair plaited with flowers, rich light blooming on her white shift.
Im glad we took the shuttle! she sang out. We would have missed all this if we just stepped straight down to Earth.
Judy smiled back. Emotional extremes were normal after Helens experience. Her moods would continue to swing back and forth for the next few weeks, as Judy sought to center her.
To think I might have died without seeing this! Helen said.
Judy said nothing. The atomic Helen had died fourteen years ago. Judy thought it significant that Helen hadnt thought to ask about her original selfs death yet. She was still thinking in atomic ways. Example: insisting on catching a shuttle when a door could have been opened directly to Earth.
An orange glow was building around the transparent skin of the shuttle as they plunged down towards the narrow channel of water lying between England and France. There were plenty of leisure craft floating there; someone would take them on to the coastal town where Judys next client unwittingly slept.
This place looks grim. Helen gazed down the narrow street. A trail of damp, sandy footprints led back along the rubbery road to the grass-covered dunes. Behind them, the yellow catamaran that had brought them ashore now skimmed its way southwards, borne by the cold morning wind that cut through Helens shifts warm-field, making her shiver.
I thought you said there hasnt been any poverty since the Transition, Helen said through chattering teeth. She hugged her arms to her chest as she gazed at the bleak scene all around them.
It depends on how you define poverty, said Judy calmly. No one goes hungry, but there are still people with fewer possessions than others.
Judys white face turned to scan the street. Helen noticed that her black hair was knotted in a different style this morning. There were other subtle variations to her kimono, too. The sleeves were shorter, the obi sash not as wide. Nonetheless, she still had the same striking appearance: black lips and nails, white face and hands. Put next to Helen in her simple white shift and tanned skin, the contrast could not be more marked. The virgin and the nymph. It was no wonder that shadows moved in the windows of the apartment block, watching them.
Youd think that they would have set a VNM loose on this place, Helen murmured dismissively. Converted these dumps into something more modern.
Different places, different times, different perspectives, replied Judy. Here they dont pay as much attention to the exterior appearance. This street
isnt seen as shabby; it is valued for the fact that it isnt constructed by Von Neumann Machines. This is a prime location. The people who live here are rich by whatever definition you care to apply. Remember what the atomic Judy told you back on the Shawl? There is as much of a shortage of raw materials for the VNMs to work on today as there was in your time. Everything already belongs to someone else.
But none of this is real, said Helen. Why not let everyone have what they want in this processing space?
Because that would make us less human, said Judy. Thats a basic tenet of the EA.
That sounds a bit-
Listen, thats just the way it is. Remember, my sister-the atomic Judy-doesnt inhabit the digital world. She has a different perspective. She believes in the stories of the Watcher and Eva Rye far more than I do. Hah! Eva Rye. The woman whom the Watcher studied in order to learn what it means to be human. I dont think so. Eva is a metaphor. A training technique they use on us when we start with Social Care. The clue is in the name. Eva. EA. En-Vironment Agency? Get it? Now, come on. This way.