were.
“Why are you here, Missus Delia?” said Failt, suddenly. “You don’t belong.”
She looked down at him. His gruesome little face was staring up at her. Missus Delia. She had no idea where he’d learned that form of address—perhaps it was something his overseers had insisted on—and she didn’t have the heart to correct him. “What makes you say that?”
“You’re not Reach-people. You’re not slavey and you’re not boss.” He glared at Yershov. “Him now—he’s slavey if ever I met one. But you? You’re like boss—I bet when you say things people do them, and I bet that sometimes you’d have them hit if they didn’t do what they were told. But you’re not bad like the bosses.”
That, thought Walker, was a pretty good assessment; apart, perhaps, from the final qualification. “Thank you,” she said.
“So why are you here?” said Failt. “You should be home with famblee.”
“With what?”
“Famblees,” Failt said. “Isn’t that what they’re called? The human kids, sometimes, they talked about famblees. Two big ones and a handful of little ones altogether overground in one big room. Sounded nice.”
Families. Christ , thought Walker, out of the mouths of babes ... “Well, Failt, I’m looking for somewhere.”
“All of us looking for somewhere. So what you looking for in particular?”
Walker sighed. Her searches through the datanet were proving fruitless, not least because her access to the more informative parts had been revoked. All her resources had disappeared—including her mode of working. Still, it was what she knew, and she couldn’t stop now. The procedure at the Bureau when your analysis reached an impasse was to stop and present your thinking to a colleague, in case a fresh mind could see a way through. Walker was pretty short on colleagues at the moment. A runaway Vetch child would have to do.
“Have you heard of the Weird, Failt?” she said.
He swung round to face her, his little body suddenly all screwed up in tension. “Have I heard of them? Everyone’s heard of the Weird, missus, even us underground! Everyone’s scared they’re coming!”
Well, at least she didn’t have to explain that. “Back in the core—”
“What’s that?”
“The core,” she said, slowly. “That’s where I come from. The main human worlds—”
“You’re from there?” Failt goggled at her. “The big rich worlds? Said you weren’t slavey! If I was from there, I would never have left. You should go back home, missus!”
“Perhaps I will, one day. In the meantime, do you want my story?”
Failt hunkered down. “Sorry, missus.”
She rubbed the back of his paw. “I’m not cross. Just teasing. Anyway, back in the core, we heard rumours about a world where humans and Weird are living together.”
Failt shuddered. “Bet that weren’t good for the humans.”
“That’s the thing—it was good. It’s co-operative.”
His tentacles twitched. “What’s that, missus?”
She sighed. “I mean, that on this world, the Weird aren’t absorbing the humans. They simply... live alongside each other. Like humans and Vetch do now.” More or less.
“Like you and me.”
Walker smiled. “That’s right, like you and me.”
“I haven’t heard of a place like that, missus. Sounds make-believe to me.”
Walker sighed. “I’m beginning to think that may be the case.”
They were quiet for a while, and then Failt said, “There’s a story on Shard. Everyone told it. About someone who used to smuggle people off Shard and take them away, take them away to be free, not make them work till they drop like the bosses do. They went to a safe place to ‘live-in-peace-and-harmony.’” Failt chanted that in a singsong voice, as if the words were memorized rather than understood. “I thought that sounded nice, so I kept on asking. Some people said it was a trick, the way for bosses to find out who the troublemakers were. Show up those who were going to try and do
“Why are you here, Missus Delia?” said Failt, suddenly. “You don’t belong.”
She looked down at him. His gruesome little face was staring up at her. Missus Delia. She had no idea where he’d learned that form of address—perhaps it was something his overseers had insisted on—and she didn’t have the heart to correct him. “What makes you say that?”
“You’re not Reach-people. You’re not slavey and you’re not boss.” He glared at Yershov. “Him now—he’s slavey if ever I met one. But you? You’re like boss—I bet when you say things people do them, and I bet that sometimes you’d have them hit if they didn’t do what they were told. But you’re not bad like the bosses.”
That, thought Walker, was a pretty good assessment; apart, perhaps, from the final qualification. “Thank you,” she said.
“So why are you here?” said Failt. “You should be home with famblee.”
“With what?”
“Famblees,” Failt said. “Isn’t that what they’re called? The human kids, sometimes, they talked about famblees. Two big ones and a handful of little ones altogether overground in one big room. Sounded nice.”
Families. Christ , thought Walker, out of the mouths of babes ... “Well, Failt, I’m looking for somewhere.”
“All of us looking for somewhere. So what you looking for in particular?”
Walker sighed. Her searches through the datanet were proving fruitless, not least because her access to the more informative parts had been revoked. All her resources had disappeared—including her mode of working. Still, it was what she knew, and she couldn’t stop now. The procedure at the Bureau when your analysis reached an impasse was to stop and present your thinking to a colleague, in case a fresh mind could see a way through. Walker was pretty short on colleagues at the moment. A runaway Vetch child would have to do.
“Have you heard of the Weird, Failt?” she said.
He swung round to face her, his little body suddenly all screwed up in tension. “Have I heard of them? Everyone’s heard of the Weird, missus, even us underground! Everyone’s scared they’re coming!”
Well, at least she didn’t have to explain that. “Back in the core—”
“What’s that?”
“The core,” she said, slowly. “That’s where I come from. The main human worlds—”
“You’re from there?” Failt goggled at her. “The big rich worlds? Said you weren’t slavey! If I was from there, I would never have left. You should go back home, missus!”
“Perhaps I will, one day. In the meantime, do you want my story?”
Failt hunkered down. “Sorry, missus.”
She rubbed the back of his paw. “I’m not cross. Just teasing. Anyway, back in the core, we heard rumours about a world where humans and Weird are living together.”
Failt shuddered. “Bet that weren’t good for the humans.”
“That’s the thing—it was good. It’s co-operative.”
His tentacles twitched. “What’s that, missus?”
She sighed. “I mean, that on this world, the Weird aren’t absorbing the humans. They simply... live alongside each other. Like humans and Vetch do now.” More or less.
“Like you and me.”
Walker smiled. “That’s right, like you and me.”
“I haven’t heard of a place like that, missus. Sounds make-believe to me.”
Walker sighed. “I’m beginning to think that may be the case.”
They were quiet for a while, and then Failt said, “There’s a story on Shard. Everyone told it. About someone who used to smuggle people off Shard and take them away, take them away to be free, not make them work till they drop like the bosses do. They went to a safe place to ‘live-in-peace-and-harmony.’” Failt chanted that in a singsong voice, as if the words were memorized rather than understood. “I thought that sounded nice, so I kept on asking. Some people said it was a trick, the way for bosses to find out who the troublemakers were. Show up those who were going to try and do
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