Singing the Dogstar Blues by Alison Goodman

at four in the morning? Hopefully he was all right.
    The food machine beeped and the cage slid back. I picked up the coffee container.
    So far no one at uni had given Mav any aggro. Chaney and his gang had been very quiet. Too quiet. They hadn’t even had a go at me for a couple of days although I’d caught a few sideways looks and sniggers. Chaney was probably plotting another round of revenge for that karate chop at the partnering ceremony. Time to plan a counter strategy.
    I peeled back the pull-ring on the cup. The heating mechanism kicked into action, pushing steam out of the drinking spout.
    The console screen flickered then lit up with Lenny’s face.
    â€˜Hey Joss. We’ve been having a bit of trouble getting hold of you. One of your friends is in town. Why don’t you come around on Saturday night and catch up on all of the news. Bye.’
    His face faded into the CommNet logo. I took a sip of coffee. If I read Lenny right, he’d contacted a spyder for me and set up a virtual meeting at the Buzz Bar on Saturday night. Brilliant.
    â€˜Next message,’ I said.
    The screen went black then suddenly Ingrid was smiling at me.
    â€˜Hello Joss, darling,’ she said.
    â€˜Message freeze,’ I said. Ingrid stopped mid-word. She was looking great. Must have had her eyes done again.
    â€˜What time did this message come in?’ I asked.
    â€˜At seven-sixteen,’ the computer said.
    The console clock read twenty to eight. The first time in two years that Ingrid had contacted me personally and I’d slept through it. What a loser.
    â€˜Continue message.’
    â€˜So, you’re turning the big one eight tomorrow,’ Ingrid said. She raised her eyebrows, trying to look interested. ‘I’m sorry, but I won’t be able to make it back for the party. I’ll send a pressie by courier. Hope you have a wonderful day.’
    She looked away, listening to someone off-screen.
    â€˜Oh, yes. Darling, see if you can talk Professor Camden-Stone into letting me interview you and Mavkel. It would be such a coup. I’ll speak to you soon.’
    She held her palm up to her mouth and blew me a kiss. It got lost somewhere along the data line.
    The CommNet logo cut her off.
    â€˜Computer, keep that message.’
    I didn’t have a current 3D of Ingrid. The picture of her blowing the kiss would be good to download onto my holo unit. I blew on the coffee. Still no Mav. If he didn’t show soon, I’d check with the duty guard.
    â€˜Okay, that message is saved,’ the computer said. ‘Do you want the third message?’
    â€˜Go ahead.’
    For a moment I didn’t recognise Louise. She’d grown her hair long and the sharp planes of her face had rounded out.
    â€˜Joss, neichan, how are you doing? It’s been so long.’ She bent down and picked up a baby.
    â€˜I want you to meet Mr Perri Akinaro, my little boy.’ The baby made a grab at her hair. She pulled her head away then kissed the tiny hand.
    â€˜I know it’s your birthday tomorrow. I was hoping you’d meet me for a coffee to celebrate. How about Mario’s in Mall 14? About eleven? Give me a call.’
    She recited her call code, waving the baby’s hand goodbye. The screen cleared into the logo.
    Louise had finally got in contact. A splash of hot coffee stung my fingers. I dumped the container on the bench. Handy hint for the day: don’t start shaking with a cup of hot coffee in your hand.
    I told the computer to rewind and freeze the last frame of the message. Louise looked ultra happy with her baby. Had Ingrid ever looked that happy with me? They used to fight about babies. Louise had wanted one. Ingrid always said no way, one kid was enough. So Louise had to make do with me. Now she had her own kid, so why was she bothering to call me? After six years, too. Perhaps she’d been waiting until I was a legally an adult. I wouldn’t put it past Ingrid