The Tower - Zandra

Gengis Hall 231 was just like any other meet venue that Kaleem had been in – either here on Zandra or on Terrestra. Boring, but particularly so when your meet partner was running late. Kaleem stared at the holoscene which showed through the window. At least it was convincing. You really felt as if you were looking at a view through a window, just like you might on Terrestra. It was storied from a real place: one of the infant forests, complete with bluebells, ice-bells and all the rest, one of the very forests that his father was working on.

He gets everywhere, thought Kaleem. He wished Edmundson would hurry up. He needed to find out what he wanted. He was beginning to imagine all sorts.

The dataserve whirred into life. Edmundson’s face appeared on the screen.

“Listen Kennedy,” he said. “I’m going to be another fifteen minutes at least. Load the stuff about acorn and vaccine exchange. You tell me what those statistics mean.”

“Of course,” said Kaleem.

Edmundson was still not giving anything away.   

The screen blanked over before Edmundson said goodbye. In fact, Kaleem, supposed, he probably hadn’t said goodbye. Edmundson never wasted time on superfluous words.  Before he even thought about what he’d been asked to do, the screen suddenly started showing the Supercraft at London Harbour and Zandra Dock 1. He was now watching similar scenes to the ones he’d seen yesterday. He didn’t bother, though, this time asking for the Figurescript version of the statistics. He was fairly certain that Edmundson couldn’t read Figurescript.

It was quite mesmerising listening to the robotic voiceover. “Day 116 3520, acorns imported 7500, vaccine exported 5679. Viability in package from day 116 3519 96%. Vaccine to date 97% effective. Forecast for new needs, Day 118 3520, 17,000 acorns, 18,644 doses of vaccine. Forecast for reciprocal needs met Day 220 3527…”

Goodness, if I ever can’t sleep, thought Kaleem, I’ll load some of this stuff up.

It struck him as he watched the split screen picture of London Harbour and Zandra Dock 1 that although Zandrian droids and Supercraft were not quite the same, there was more the same about them than different. The Supercraft were more or less the same shape and had the entrances in exactly the same places, the droids were the same height and walked in the normal slightly stiff manner and the metal containers being loaded at either end were exactly the same size, colour and shape, but the Zandrian ones had a green cross on them to show that they held medication and the Terrestrans had green hexagons to show that they contained plant life.

“Do you see what’s missing?” a voice behind him asked.

Kaleem jumped.

He turned to face Don Edmundson. The man was even scarier in the flesh than he was usually on screen. There was absolutely no expression on his face at all.

Kaleem shook his head. He just couldn’t think with Edmundson staring at him like that. 

“Doesn’t it strike you as odd that there are no people around?”

Kaleem looked back at the screen. Well there were people, but only a very few. Most of the work was being done by the droids.

“I mean, getting on and off the Supercraft,” said Edmundson.

“Forecast daily rate for this lunar period,” the robotic voiceover droned on.

“Fine, we know,” said Edmundson, looking pointedly at the dataserve screen.

The screen went blank immediately and the serve itself gave a final bleep.

Edmundson nodded to Kaleem that he should sit down and took one of the not-so comfisessels himself.

“Everything is going according to plan,” said Edmundson, “as far as acorns and vaccine are concerned. But another part of the bargain was a greater connection between the people of Zandra and Terrestra. I don’t see it happening.”  

“What do you mean exactly?” asked Kaleem.

“I mean that we need people, Terrestrans, to come to Zandra now. And we need to get Zandrians on Terrestra.”

Yes. Of course. Kaleem had known that all along. In fact that had even been his excuse for coming here. Or that was what he had told everyone including his parents and his grandparents: he was here on a Peace Child mission. He had to oversee the first visits to Zandra from Terrestrans and then increase the number of visitors from Terrestra to Zandra. There had been just a few – himself, his mother and the small team that had come across on the first mission to Zandra in search of the vaccine against the Starlight Racer disease. If he was honest, though, he had really come here to get away from Rozia and everything associated with her.

“Well? said Edmundson. “Do you have any concrete plans yet?”

“No,” said Kaleem. “You can imagine how carefully we have to tread with Terrestrans.”

“I don’t have to imagine,” replied Edmundson quickly. “It’s all too obvious. It was part of the original agreement that an exchange of persons as well as materials would actually take place. You and your mother are hardly enough. And besides, that is not an exchange: there are no Zandrians on Terrestra.”

Kaleem knew he was absolutely right. He would have to do something and soon. He would probably have to ask Razjosh for ideas.

“I suggest,” Edmundson continued, “a person exchange. Six people go from here to Terrestra, and meet with six Terrestran delegates. They travel back to Zandra with our people. Not too much to ask is it, just for a start?”

No, it wasn’t. But Kaleem knew he would be pushed to find six. Maybe Pierre and Stuart. Razjosh was too old really and probably wouldn’t count as he’d been before. Rozia, he knew, would come like a shot. He daren’t ask her, though. He wouldn’t be able to cope with her being there. Not now that she was with Julien. Abel and Kevik – but they were too busy in the Z Zone. Saratina maybe? But how would they react to her here? No, he shouldn’t think like that.

“Well?” asked Edmundson.

“It sounds reasonable,” said Kaleem. Reasonable but almost impossible.

“Good,” said Edmundson. “I’ll get Emmerline to show you the ideas we’d had.”

Kaleem shuddered. Edmundson’s secretary droid was famous. It was always difficult to remember that she wasn’t a real woman. She was so life-like and always carried so much authority. But of course, not being human she never tired.

The door swished open and in she came. Only the slightest jerkiness in her movements and the data that started streaming across the screen as she moved into the room gave away that she was a droid and not a sexy young woman. She moved her hips as she walked and her long straight blond hair flowed behind her as she moved. She was connecting directly with the dataserve, though. Soon images flickered and flashed making Kaleem blink. So, she was a droid after all.

“Data download is now complete,” said Emmerline. The voice was astoundingly human. No way was she a droid. Why was Edmundson the only one to have something as sophisticated as this? She tossed her sleek hair back and smiled at Kaleem and Edmundson. 

“Talk him through it,” said Edmundson.

“Yes, certainly.  A delegation of about six persons should go to Terrestra. Kaleem should help decide who. They should have a diplomatic tour, stay in a good hotel but also have direct contact with Normal Zoners and of at least one in the newly integrating Z Zone. They should have ample opportunity to sample Terrestran food…”

“What would you know about that?” whispered Kaleem. Droids didn’t need food – well at least not the same sort that humans needed.

“It’s a most important part of human life,” said Emmerline, staring at him. The pupils on her artificial eyes widened as if she was trying to take more of him in.

Great elders, she was scary. The scariest female that Kaleem had ever met… not that she was really female, he reminded himself. She was just a machine.

“Essential, in fact,” continued Emmerline. “Fundamental. And also extremely puzzling why food is so much better here on Zandra than on Terrestra where you have better raw materials.”

Kaleem had to concede that one. And he had no idea how they did it either.

“Naturally, we would also like to learn more about your diastics systems,” continued Emmerline. “My searches reveal the following academics may be able to give advice.”

Movie clips of Terrestran scientists showed for a few seconds each on the screen.

And to think all you need is microchips and some good programming, thought Kaleem.

“We would also like to arrange a discussion between the delegates and a committee made up of heads of service and elders. And yourself of course.” She flashed Kaleem another smile. She flicked her hair out of her eyes and her pupils grew even larger as if she were flirting with him.

For a few seconds Kaleem was almost convinced that she really was human and that it was just some trick of Edmundson’s and a female friend of his. Edmundson seemed to be finding it all extremely amusing.

“Show him the timetable,” he said to the droid. It was clear he could hardly keep his face straight. 

A chart immediately appeared on the data screen.

“These show the timings,” said Emmerline. “Red is for food discussion, blue for investigation of scientific matters, yellow for social activities and purple for further negotiation of the peace.”

Now Kaleem wanted to giggle. This was just too much. It was much too precise.

Edmundson suddenly looked stern.

“Stand-by,” he ordered Emmerline. “You see, she really is a droid.”

“No, no,” said Kaleem. “I just found it all too neat and tidy. You can’t do things that quickly.”

“Hmm,” said Edmundson. “But it ought to be a lot more focussed than you’re making it.” He turned back to the droid. “Continue,” he commanded. “Show Terrestrans on Zandra.”

A movie clip loaded on to the screen. Kaleem gasped. There were Pierre, Stuart, Saratina, Rozia, Sandi Depra and Ben Alki. They were here, on Zandra, looking at one of the oak plantations. Of course, why hadn’t he thought of those two? 

“It‘s all right,” said Edmundson. “She can read your mind.”

“But I never thought of Ben Alki or Sandi Depra,” Kaleem murmured.

“Good, isn’t she?” continued Edmundson. “She can even read your subconscious mind.” He was grinning.

Here we go, thought Kaleem. Another mission impossible.

The droid whispered something to Edmundson. The executive’s face went pale.

“Really? He said. He turned to Kaleem. “I’d get home as soon as possible if I were you. You don’t want to be caught here with me with what might be about to happen.” What was he talking about?

“Go on, I mean it,” said Edmundson, his face now red. “Skedaddle.”

Kaleem could see that he meant business. He set off home.       

The Tower: Forgetting Rozia

Day 170 Louish’s News

Well that was fascinating!

Louish was as dramatic as ever.

First off, she greets me in a bright royal blue tunic covered in glittery sequins. It was an incredible outfit. It was all sort of ruched up with great pleats in the body of it and the sleeves as well. Mind you, it really suited her. And her make-up! I mean, I’m wearing make-up all the time now, but I try to do it so that it doesn’t show. But Louish! Long curly eyelashes. Thick eye-liner. Bright blue eye shadow that matched her tunic. A huge beauty spot. And lipstick so red it almost looked as if her lips were bleeding.

Then there was all her prodding and poking – trying to get things out of me. So much so that I ended up telling as much about Julien as I dared.

“Well, my dear,” she said. “You’re looking well. Any sign of any new romance?”

At that point, I felt my cheeks burning.  

“Ah, I see there is,” she said. “Well, do not fear anything from me, sweetie.  If that nutcase of a grandson of mine can’t appreciate what is right in front of him, what’s offered to him on a plate, well then he’s even more of a fool that I thought.”

She stroked my hair and then gave me a huge hug. I don’t know why exactly, but that set me off. I couldn’t hold back the tears. Was I still sad about Kaleem? Was I pleased she accepted the idea of Julien?

Maybe she defined it herself in the end.

She sighed. “I’m sure he’s a fine young man, whoever he is,” she said. “But he’ll take you away from our family I expect.”

The lunch was superb, of course. Louish is always so cheerful and she tells such funny stories. But as we had coffee afterwards she became deadly serious. 

“I want to arrange a meeting,” she said. “A secret meeting. Between you and Razjosh.”

I couldn’t begin to imagine what Razjosh might want with me.

“Oh?” I said.

“Yes, he wants to discuss the whole switch-off thing with you. Making sure it becomes  permanent.  

“Ah,” I replied. I couldn’t think that that was going to be easy. He had just had such a narrow escape from switch-off himself.  “What does Elder Frazier think?”

“He’s all for it, my dear. In fact he’ll be at the meeting too,” she replied. “You will agree to it won’t you?”

How could I not? Louish is such a well-meaning person. I nodded. 

“Great!” she said, and beamed.

The rest of the afternoon was lovely. We went for a walk together. She told me all about what she and the other elders’ attachments get up to. Despite this rather heavy task she’s landed me with, it always does me good being with her. I really can’t believe she’s a grandmother with an adult grandson.     

“End and delete,” said Kaleem. That was definitely the last time he would read Rozia’s glog. Now that his grandmother knew about the new man in her life. At least perhaps now Louish would stop nagging him about getting back together with Rozia.

Rozia. She was obviously happy with Julien. That had been the plan. Leave her. Allow her to find someone else. There was no place for romance in the life of a Peace Child. He’d even told her that he approved, even made it sound as if he didn’t care.

Yet still she was producing her glog in Wordtext. She was doing that for him, he knew. He doubted whether Julien could read Wordtext. And every time now that he read her glog, he just hoped that she still wanted to be with him. But she was with Julien now. Just as he had planned. No point hoping it was otherwise. What was the point then, of her writing this glog in Wordtext? Was she trying to torment him?  There was certainly no point in him reading it anymore.  

He sighed. What was there to look forward to now, though?     

The door to the apartment swished open. Kaleem tensed, hoping there would be just one set of footsteps and no voices.

“I’ll get some coffee on the go,” he heard Marijam say. “Then I’ll go and get Kaleem.”

“Great stuff,” he heard Nazaret reply.

He could do without this. The sooner he got his own apartment, the better. It had been good at first, finding out that he had a father who was still alive. He actually liked Nazaret, for goodness sake, but he just couldn’t feel comfortable when he and Marijam were together. He wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it was because he’d lived for all those years with just his mother. Perhaps it was because Nazaret had abandoned him and Marijam. Or did it come down to Rozia again? After all, Nazaret hadn’t had any choice in being taken from Terrestra. He hadn’t known that Marijam was pregnant. Perhaps you could you say that what he’d done to Rozia was worse? Leaving her when she was so ill?  Or was he jealous because Nazaret and Marijam had carried on being in love over all those years of separation; neither of them had found another partner. And Rozia had found Julien. In just a few weeks.

Then, even if he could argue himself out of all of those points, he and Nazaret were always awkward around each other. He longed to have the same easy relationship with his father as he had with his mother.  

“Hey, sweetie,” called Marijam, bouncing into Kaleem’s room. “Your father’s got something really exciting to tell you. Will you come and join us?” Her eyes were shining and her cheeks were glowing pink.

It was so good to see her so happy and full of fun these days. She had always been so serious when they lived on Terrestra in the cave apartment.

“I’ll be in in a minute,” said Kaleem. It was so stupid how he always had to brace himself to be in the same room as Nazaret.     

“I’ll call you when the coffee’s ready,” said Marijam, beaming.

That was why he kept on staying with them. His mother was so happy having both of her men under the same roof. And it wouldn’t after all, be forever. At some point he would have to go off on another Peace Child mission.  

He supposed he ought to check again on how Project Acorn was going. The dataserve whirred into life before he as much as made a voice command. He ought to be used to how the dataserves here seemed to read your mind. He’s spent enough time on Zandra, but it was still disturbing, not least of all because he couldn’t work out how they did it.

Movie clips of the Supercraft in London Harbour and Zandra Dock 1 started loading and a voiceover began reading off numbers. Kaleem frowned. He would prefer this in Figurescript as he could read it. It would be quicker and he could just look up what he needed to know. He opened his mouth ready to give the command. The screen flickered and suddenly rows and rows of figures appeared.

I wish it wouldn’t, thought Kaleem. But this is better.

He’d hardly had time to think than when the screen changed again.

“Receive message from Don Edmundson?” asked the machine. A static picture of Edmundson, the coordinator of Project Acorn, appeared on the screen.

What now? thought Kaleem. He sighed. He’d better speak to him he supposed.

Edmundson immediately went live.

“Good morning, Kaleem,” said Edmundson. He was frowning as usual. “I need to arrange a meet with you. I take it you have no objections?”

He doesn’t give anything away, thought Kaleem, looking carefully at Edmundson’s face for any clue about what he might be thinking or feeling. It was expressionless apart from the frown.

Always the same neutral face.

“There isn’t a problem, is there?” asked Kaleem.

“Hope not,” said Edmundson. “Three tomorrow afternoon, Gengis Hall 231?”

“Yes, of course,” said Kaleem. There was no point prodding Edmundson. If it was something he could have said by a dataserve link he would have said it. There must be a really good reason why he wanted them to meet in person. Kaleem dreaded what that might be.                    

“Good,” said Edmundson and the screen snapped back to the Figurescript pages.

“Coffee’s ready,” shouted Marijam from the lounge.

It just gets worse, thought Kaleem.

Marijam was pouring the coffee herself as he walked into the lounge. Even though she and Nazaret had every modern convenience including the state of the art house droid, Marijam often preferred to do her own catering. She beamed at Kaleem.

“Hi, Kaleem,” said Nazaret, a little stiffly “would you like to come and see this?”

What did he want now, Kaleem wondered. He sat on the comfisessel next to Nazaret, who was looking at a small portable dataserve on the coffee table in front of them.

A movie clip started up. It showed some woodland with trees and all sorts of grasses and flowers growing under them. Kaleem supposed it was from Terrestra, but did notice that most of the trees were very young. 

“These are young oak trees on one of the new Zandrian plantations,” said a voiceover.

“And those flowers are all native to Terrestra except that little one there,” said Nazaret, pointing at the screen.

The screen zoomed in at once to a small flower Kaleem had never seen before. It had papery ivory petals with delicate thread-like streaks of very pale pink and blue woven through them.

“The Zandrian ice-bell,” explained Nazaret. “And those there-” He pointed to what Kaleem recognised as bluebells. “Are native to Terrestra, but only one variety is appearing. This is the one which has white pollen. The stronger one, the one which grows so viciously that it tends to take over, is not appearing at all. Then there are all the usual fungi and mosses – everything that you would expect to find in Terrestran woodland.” 

“How?” asked Kaleem. He did not feel quite so uncomfortable with Nazaret when they were talking about things like this.

“A bit of a mystery,” replied Nazaret. “We would expect a few spores and seeds to get mixed up with acorns. But why the type one bluebell exclusively? It would be more understandable if it were the type two, the hardier one. And the ice-bell is a real mystery. It is not one of those plants whose seeds lie dormant until the soil is turned. There were plenty of those around before the deforestation disaster. Why is it precisely this one that has come back and not the others?”

Nazaret was beaming now. Kaleem wished he could feel as enthusiastic about his father’s work.

“Even more exciting,” Nazaret continued. “All of the plant life has adapted extremely well to the Zandrian clock and season rotation. At any one time plants at all stages of their cycle are present.”

“Come on you two,” said Marijam. “Drink up your coffee before it gets cold. And you should tell him your most exciting news.”

“Aha!” said Nazaret, taking a sip of his coffee. “Guess who is going to head up the research into all of this?” The man’s eyes were positively shining. He looked like a child with a new toy.

For a moment Kaleem felt content. He could be proud of his father taking on such an important job. He could be happy that he was so happy. He did like the man for goodness sake. That was never the problem. He wasn’t really sure exactly what was. 

“That’s great,” he said.

“Isn’t it?” said Marijam. She got up out of her seat and made her way over to Nazaret. She put her arms round his shoulders and planted a brief kiss on his cheek.

But Nazaret pulled her face back to his and kissed her full on the lips. He lingered a little too long for Kaleem’s liking.

Oh for goodness sake. Why shouldn’t a man kiss his attachment? Even if it was your father kissing your mother? Get a grip, Kennedy-Bagarin, thought Kaleem. It’s not as if they’re about to have sex.     

He gulped his coffee down.

“I’d better get on,” he mumbled, getting up to leave the room.

“Don’t work too hard,” called Marijam, pulling herself away from Nazaret, who seemed reluctant to let her go.    

Kaleem sighed to himself as he made his way out of the room. He wished he didn’t have to be like this.