and most of them made no sense to me. I tucked them away neatly in my cortex, said good-bye to Max, and headed off for my work spoke.
Dressed in snotty radiation gel and rubber padding, I stood at the sorting bays and watched as new junk replaced any signs of the
Renaissance.
I recovered an ancient O-dat keyboard, seven platinum screws, and one Khoolan field generator. Weegin rewarded me with half a chit.
This is what they do with a softwire?
I thought. So much for all the fuss. On the
Renaissance,
Mother had taught us things like theoretical mathematics, organic chemistry, and even a little about dimensional supergravity. All of that was wasted on Weegin. To him we were nothing more than drones assigned to a task to increase profitability.
During one spoke at the center for Culture, Wisdom, and Comprehension, I attempted to talk to one of the child Citizens. I overheard them on the tram talking about another central-computer malfunction. I hoped to get more details, but the green-eyed alien only called me a knudnik and slid away the moment I opened my mouth.
As phases passed, and one set became three, I settled into my new routine without resistance, but my life felt boring, even pointless. I learned to sidestep Weegin and avoid any penalty from the knobby little worm by dealing quickly with any glitches in the central computer. If the central computer was so great, why did it mess up so many times?
The chits we earned were useless, since there was no place to spend them, and the absence of the contest tank was a big deal for some. Switzer’s contempt turned to anger, and I, for one, could not blame him this time. The sleepers became a way of escape, and most kids went to bed early and napped during their rec cycles. I went to bed early, too, but I avoided the dream-enhancement equipment. I only spent my dreams chasing Ketheria when I used it.
One sleep spoke, shortly after the blue lights from the sleepers faded, Theodore tapped on the lid of my sleeper.
“C’mon, Johnny,” Theodore whispered.
“What’s going on?”
“Birth Day,” he said.
I had completely forgotten. And it was even Ketheria’s Birth Day. I got out of my sleeper, careful not to wake Switzer or Dalton.
“Should we wake them?” Theodore asked.
I shook my head, and we slipped into the common room. Most of the other children were already there. Grace had managed to steal some food tablets and was filling up glasses with water.
“Happy Birth Day, Ketheria,” I said to her. She stood by herself near the makeshift food table. In fact, we all just stood around staring at one another. No one was sure what to do. What was normally one of the happiest days for us on the seed-ship, filled with friends and laughter, was now reduced to a few of us sneaking water and fake-food supplements in the middle of the night.
“It’s pretty sad, isn’t it?” Theodore said. “I kind of feel bad for her. What a lousy Birth Day.”
Ketheria simply stared out the window, emotionless. I couldn’t tell if she was upset or not.
“I wanna go back to my sleeper,” said one boy.
“Me, too,” said another kid.
“Wait — what about presents?” Grace said. “That’ll be fun.”
“I didn’t make one,” the kid said. “What’s the sense?”
I put my arm around Ketheria. “C’mon, I know it’s not much, but it’s still Birth —”
An alarm ripped through the common room, cutting me off.
“Let’s get out of here!” someone yelled. “We woke up Weegin.”
But I wasn’t sure that was it. The entire room was exploding with red and yellow warning lights, just like the social studies class had when I messed with the computer.
I leaned toward Theodore and said, “Something’s wrong with the central computer.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m not gonna let Weegin find me up,” he replied, and bolted out of the room. We found the doors leading to the sleepers already open.
Theodore said, “Something’s not right,” as he groped around
Dressed in snotty radiation gel and rubber padding, I stood at the sorting bays and watched as new junk replaced any signs of the
Renaissance.
I recovered an ancient O-dat keyboard, seven platinum screws, and one Khoolan field generator. Weegin rewarded me with half a chit.
This is what they do with a softwire?
I thought. So much for all the fuss. On the
Renaissance,
Mother had taught us things like theoretical mathematics, organic chemistry, and even a little about dimensional supergravity. All of that was wasted on Weegin. To him we were nothing more than drones assigned to a task to increase profitability.
During one spoke at the center for Culture, Wisdom, and Comprehension, I attempted to talk to one of the child Citizens. I overheard them on the tram talking about another central-computer malfunction. I hoped to get more details, but the green-eyed alien only called me a knudnik and slid away the moment I opened my mouth.
As phases passed, and one set became three, I settled into my new routine without resistance, but my life felt boring, even pointless. I learned to sidestep Weegin and avoid any penalty from the knobby little worm by dealing quickly with any glitches in the central computer. If the central computer was so great, why did it mess up so many times?
The chits we earned were useless, since there was no place to spend them, and the absence of the contest tank was a big deal for some. Switzer’s contempt turned to anger, and I, for one, could not blame him this time. The sleepers became a way of escape, and most kids went to bed early and napped during their rec cycles. I went to bed early, too, but I avoided the dream-enhancement equipment. I only spent my dreams chasing Ketheria when I used it.
One sleep spoke, shortly after the blue lights from the sleepers faded, Theodore tapped on the lid of my sleeper.
“C’mon, Johnny,” Theodore whispered.
“What’s going on?”
“Birth Day,” he said.
I had completely forgotten. And it was even Ketheria’s Birth Day. I got out of my sleeper, careful not to wake Switzer or Dalton.
“Should we wake them?” Theodore asked.
I shook my head, and we slipped into the common room. Most of the other children were already there. Grace had managed to steal some food tablets and was filling up glasses with water.
“Happy Birth Day, Ketheria,” I said to her. She stood by herself near the makeshift food table. In fact, we all just stood around staring at one another. No one was sure what to do. What was normally one of the happiest days for us on the seed-ship, filled with friends and laughter, was now reduced to a few of us sneaking water and fake-food supplements in the middle of the night.
“It’s pretty sad, isn’t it?” Theodore said. “I kind of feel bad for her. What a lousy Birth Day.”
Ketheria simply stared out the window, emotionless. I couldn’t tell if she was upset or not.
“I wanna go back to my sleeper,” said one boy.
“Me, too,” said another kid.
“Wait — what about presents?” Grace said. “That’ll be fun.”
“I didn’t make one,” the kid said. “What’s the sense?”
I put my arm around Ketheria. “C’mon, I know it’s not much, but it’s still Birth —”
An alarm ripped through the common room, cutting me off.
“Let’s get out of here!” someone yelled. “We woke up Weegin.”
But I wasn’t sure that was it. The entire room was exploding with red and yellow warning lights, just like the social studies class had when I messed with the computer.
I leaned toward Theodore and said, “Something’s wrong with the central computer.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m not gonna let Weegin find me up,” he replied, and bolted out of the room. We found the doors leading to the sleepers already open.
Theodore said, “Something’s not right,” as he groped around
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