And?”
“She’s been with Rick.”
“Of course.” Skerry popped the top of a red jack container and sat down. “Did you mention to her that we had been just a trifle concerned?”
“I almost took her head off.”
“I hope you left something for me.” He closed his eyes. “I don’t believe I’m playing the heavy here. But her behavior’s been pretty shabby. And no way I can let her hang out with Rick.”
“I know you don’t like him …”
“Like has nothing to do with it.” His eyes flashed with gold fire. “There’s something wrong with that kid, Lydda. Something dark and violent, tucked away like some latent seed, in his head. I saw it. I don’t like it. And I don’t want my daughter anywhere near him/it/ that.”
Narlydda stood up, alarmed. “You really mean it, don’t you? Skerry, if you’re convinced that something is wrong, maybe you should talk to Melanie and Yosh. The healers …”
“The healers can’t do squat for him. He’s a bomb waiting to go off. Maybe it comes from being a null, I don’t know. Look what his mother went through before she settled down.”
“That was a long time ago.”
“Melanie’s okay,” Skerry said. He held up his drink in salute. “There’s a tough lady underneath all that silk and nail polish. And I like Yosh fine, despite his strange music. That other kid of theirs is kind of a stiff but clean as far as I can tell. But Rick is bad news.”
“And Melanie’s favorite,” Narlydda said.
“I know. And you want me to tell her that her baby boy’s got a hairline fracture of the psyche? That he’s bound to explode sooner or later? No thanks. Just make sure we’re far away from ground zero when he goes. And that includes our daughter.”
“Easier said than done.” Narlydda shook her head. “Alanna is on her way home to talk to us. Maybe you can tell her what you’ve seen.”
“You can bet on it.”
“And maybe that will change her feelings for Rick,” Narlydda said. “But I doubt it.”
.
******************
6
It was a late afternoon. Rick had ducked out of work during Shoggie’s lunch hour and sped the eighty miles to San Francisco, making the trip in just under an hour.
“Thumbprint here,” said the Housing Authority clerk. His bald head was studded with blue pearls and winking crylights. “Social Security Number there. We’ll get back to you.”
“Yeah,” said a skinny Chinese guy one line over. “Maybe in your next lifetime. This is my fourth visit here.”
“Great,” Rick said. “I won’t hold my breath.”
He left the office, jumped on his cycle, and started it up. Traffic was slow, and it took him the better part of an hour just to thread through the downtown maze to the feeder loop for old Highway 17. Skimmers and cars idled, honked, and darted from lane to lane.
Random images played through Rick’s mind. The breen storm that had become a reverse cyclone. Alanna jolting into his arms as Henley watched and the neon death’s-head atop Zeitgeist winked. The shelf fall of screenbrains starting to fall, then somehow stacking each brain neatly on the floor. Alanna aging before his eyes.
“I didn’t catch those brains, Rick. You did.”
You did. You did. You did.
Rick concentrated on the cycle’s roar, trying to dull the refrain. Too many strange things were happening. The visions, the odd fugues he was having—as though he were looking at somebody else’s life through their eyes.
Alanna was wrong. She had to be wrong. Instinctively, she’d saved herself from that half ton of metal falling toward her. She had just been trying to flatter him that first night together. But she had misunderstood. He didn’t want to be a functional mutant. Not ever. Rick liked being a null. He had even considered having iris implants to cover his mutant gold. Alanna was the first mutant woman to whom he had ever been attracted.
Their conversation last night had left him unsettled. The two of them, alone, setting up
“She’s been with Rick.”
“Of course.” Skerry popped the top of a red jack container and sat down. “Did you mention to her that we had been just a trifle concerned?”
“I almost took her head off.”
“I hope you left something for me.” He closed his eyes. “I don’t believe I’m playing the heavy here. But her behavior’s been pretty shabby. And no way I can let her hang out with Rick.”
“I know you don’t like him …”
“Like has nothing to do with it.” His eyes flashed with gold fire. “There’s something wrong with that kid, Lydda. Something dark and violent, tucked away like some latent seed, in his head. I saw it. I don’t like it. And I don’t want my daughter anywhere near him/it/ that.”
Narlydda stood up, alarmed. “You really mean it, don’t you? Skerry, if you’re convinced that something is wrong, maybe you should talk to Melanie and Yosh. The healers …”
“The healers can’t do squat for him. He’s a bomb waiting to go off. Maybe it comes from being a null, I don’t know. Look what his mother went through before she settled down.”
“That was a long time ago.”
“Melanie’s okay,” Skerry said. He held up his drink in salute. “There’s a tough lady underneath all that silk and nail polish. And I like Yosh fine, despite his strange music. That other kid of theirs is kind of a stiff but clean as far as I can tell. But Rick is bad news.”
“And Melanie’s favorite,” Narlydda said.
“I know. And you want me to tell her that her baby boy’s got a hairline fracture of the psyche? That he’s bound to explode sooner or later? No thanks. Just make sure we’re far away from ground zero when he goes. And that includes our daughter.”
“Easier said than done.” Narlydda shook her head. “Alanna is on her way home to talk to us. Maybe you can tell her what you’ve seen.”
“You can bet on it.”
“And maybe that will change her feelings for Rick,” Narlydda said. “But I doubt it.”
.
******************
6
It was a late afternoon. Rick had ducked out of work during Shoggie’s lunch hour and sped the eighty miles to San Francisco, making the trip in just under an hour.
“Thumbprint here,” said the Housing Authority clerk. His bald head was studded with blue pearls and winking crylights. “Social Security Number there. We’ll get back to you.”
“Yeah,” said a skinny Chinese guy one line over. “Maybe in your next lifetime. This is my fourth visit here.”
“Great,” Rick said. “I won’t hold my breath.”
He left the office, jumped on his cycle, and started it up. Traffic was slow, and it took him the better part of an hour just to thread through the downtown maze to the feeder loop for old Highway 17. Skimmers and cars idled, honked, and darted from lane to lane.
Random images played through Rick’s mind. The breen storm that had become a reverse cyclone. Alanna jolting into his arms as Henley watched and the neon death’s-head atop Zeitgeist winked. The shelf fall of screenbrains starting to fall, then somehow stacking each brain neatly on the floor. Alanna aging before his eyes.
“I didn’t catch those brains, Rick. You did.”
You did. You did. You did.
Rick concentrated on the cycle’s roar, trying to dull the refrain. Too many strange things were happening. The visions, the odd fugues he was having—as though he were looking at somebody else’s life through their eyes.
Alanna was wrong. She had to be wrong. Instinctively, she’d saved herself from that half ton of metal falling toward her. She had just been trying to flatter him that first night together. But she had misunderstood. He didn’t want to be a functional mutant. Not ever. Rick liked being a null. He had even considered having iris implants to cover his mutant gold. Alanna was the first mutant woman to whom he had ever been attracted.
Their conversation last night had left him unsettled. The two of them, alone, setting up
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