Nancy Kress - Beggars and Choosers

To Miriam Grace Monfredo and Mary Stanton without whose friendship in a bad time this book would not have been finished.

The clanging of the priority-one override alarm ripped through the cavernous backstage dressing room. Drew Arlen, the only occupant, jerked his head toward the holo-terminal beside his dressing table. The screen registered his retina scan and Leisha Camdens face appeared.

Drew! Have you heard?

The man in the powerchair, upper body fanatically muscled above his crippled legs, turned back to putting on his eye makeup. He leaned into the dressing table mirror. Heard what?

Did you see the six oclock Times?

Leisha, I go on stage in fifteen minutes. I havent listened to anything. He heard the thickening in his own voice, and hoped she didnt. Even after all this time. Even at just the sight of her holo.

Miranda and the Supers Miranda Drew, theyve built an entire island. Off the coast of Mexico. Using nanotech and the atoms in seawater, and almost overnight!

An island, Drew repeated. He frowned into the mirror, rubbed at his makeup, applied more.

Not a floating construct. An actual island, that goes all the way down to the continental shelf. Did you know about this?

Leisha, I have a concert in fifteen minutes

You did, didnt you. You knew what Miranda was doing. Why didnt you tell me?

Drew turned his powerchair to face Leishas golden hair, green eyes, genemod perfect skin. She looked thirty-five. She was ninety-eight years old.

He said, Why didnt Miranda tell you?

Leishas expression quieted. Youre right. It was Mirandas place to tell me. And she didnt. Theres a lot she doesnt tell me, isnt there, Drew?

A long moment passed before Drew said softly, It isnt easy being on the outside for a change, is it, Leisha?

She said, equally softly, Youve waited a long time to be able to say that to me, havent you, Drew?

He looked away. In the corner of the huge silent room something rustled: a mouse, or a defective bot.

Leisha said, Are they moving to this new island? All twenty-seven Supers?

Yes.

No one in the scientific community even knew nanotech had reached that capability.

Nobody elses nanotech has.

Leisha said, Theyre not going to let me on that island, are they? At all?

He listened to the complex undertones in her voice. Leishas generation of Sleepless, the first generation, could never hide their feelings. Unlike Mirandas generation, who could hide anything.

No, Drew said. Theyre not.

Theyll shield the island with something that Terry Mwa-kambe invents, and youll be the only non-Super ever allowed to know what theyre doing there.

He didnt answer. A technician stuck his head diffidently in the door. Ten minutes, Mr. Arlen, sir.

Yes. Im coming.

Huge crowd tonight, sir. All pumped up.

Yes. Thank you. The techs head disappeared.

Drew, Leisha said, her voice splintering. Shes as much a daughter to me as you were a son what is Miranda planning out on that island?

I dont know, Drew said, and it was both a lie and not a lie, in ways that Leisha could never understand. Leisha, I have to be on stage in nine minutes.

Yes, Leisha said wearily. I know. Youre the Lucid Dreamer.

Drew stared again at her holo-image: the lovely curve of cheek, the unaging Sleepless skin, the suspicion of water in the green eyes. She had been the most important person in his world, and in the larger public world. And now, although she didnt know it yet, she was obsolete.

Yes, he said. Thats right. Im the Lucid Dreamer.

The holostage blanked, and he went back to his makeup for the stage.

For some of us, of course, nothing would be enough. That sentence can be taken two ways, cant it? But I dont mean that having nothing would ever be satisfactory to us. It isnt even satisfactory to Livers, no matter what pathetic claims they lay to an aristo life of leisure. Yes. Right. There isnt a single one of us that doesnt know better. We donkeys could always recognize seething dissatisfaction. We saw it daily in the mirror.

My IQ wasnt boosted as high as Pauls.

My parents couldnt afford all the genemods Aaron got.

My company hasnt made it as big as Karens.

My skin isnt as small-pored as Ginas.

My constituency is more demanding than Lukes. Do the bloodsucking voters think Im made of money?

My dog is less cutting-edge genemod than Stephanies dog.

It was, in fact, Stephanies dog that made me decide to change my life. I know how that sounds. Theres nothing about the start of my service with the Genetic Standards Enforcement Agency that doesnt sound ridiculous. Why not start with Stephanies dog? It brings a certain satiric panache to the story. I could dine out on it for months.

If, of course, anyone were ever going to dine out again.

Panache is such a perishable quality.

Stephanie brought her dog to my apartment in the Bayview Security Enclave on a Sunday morning in July. The day before, Id bought pots of new flowers from BioForms in Oakland and they cascaded over the terrace railing, a riot of blues much more varied than the colors of San Francisco Bay , six stories below.

Cobalt, robins egg, aquamarine, azure, cyan, turquoise, cerulean. I lay on my terrace chaise, eating anise cookies and studying my flowers. The gene geniuses had shaped each blossom into a soft fluttery tube with a domed end. The blossoms were quite long. Essentially, my terrace frothed with flaccid, blue, vegetable pe-nises. David had moved out a week ago.

Diana, Stephanie said, through the Y-energy shield spanning the space between my open French doors. Knock knock.

Howd you get into the apartment? I said, mildly annoyed. I hadnt given Stephanie my security code. I didnt like her enough.

Your codes broken. Its on the police net. Thought youd like to know. Stephanie was a cop. Not with the district police, which was rough and dirty work down among the Livers. Not our Stephanie. She owned a company that furnished patrol bots for enclave security. She designed the bots herself. Her firm, which was spectacularly successful, held contracts with a sizable number of San Francisco enclaves, although not with mine. Telling me my code was on the bot net was her ungraceful way of needling me because my enclave used a different police force.

I lounged back on my chaise and reached for my drink. The closest blue flowers yearned toward my hand.

Youre giving them an erection, Stephanie said, walking through the French doors. Oh, anise cookies! Mind if I give one to Katous?

The dog followed her from the cool dimness of my apartment and stood blinking and sniffing in the bright sunshine. It was clearly, aggressively, illegally genemod. The Genetic Standards Enforcement Agency may allow fanciful tinkering with flowers, but not with animal phyla higher than fish. The rules are very clear, backed up by court cases whose harsh financial penalties make them even clearer. No genemods that cause pain. No genemods that create weaponry, in its broadest definition. No genemods that alter external appearance or basic internal functioning such that a creature deviates significantly from other members of not only its species but also its breed. A collie may pace and single-foot, but it better still look like Lassie.