Текст книги "Cyteen "
Автор книги: C. J. Cherryh
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Nelly had a little trouble focusing on her, as if the changes were too sudden or the time had been too long. "Young sera?" Nelly said, blinking several times. "Young sera?"
"I got to thinking about you," she said to Nelly. "How are you doing? Are you happy?"
"Oh, yes. Yes, young sera." A baby began crying. Nelly gave it a distracted look, over her shoulder. Someone else saw to it. "You've grown so much."
"I have. I'm sixteen, Nelly."
"Is it that long?" Nelly bunked again, and shook her head. "You were my first baby."
"I'm your oldest. Can I buy you lunch, Nelly? Put on your coat and come to lunch with me?"
"Well, I—" Nelly looked back at the rows of cribs.
"I've cleared it with your Super. Everything's fine. Come on."
It was very strange. In some ways Nelly was still only Nelly, fussy with her own appearance—fussy with hers. Nelly reached out and straightened her collar, and Ari smiled in spite of the twitch it made about self-defense, because there was no one else in the universe who would do that now.
But she knew before lunch was half over that the small wistful thought she had had, of bringing Nelly back to the apartment, was not the thing to do.
Poor Nelly would never understand the pressures she stood—or, God knew, the tape library.
Nelly was only glad to have found one of her babies again. And Ari made a note to tell the nursery Super that Nelly should have reward tape: that was the best thing she could do for Nelly—besides let her know that her eldest baby was doing well.
That her eldest baby was—what she was . . . Nelly was hardly able to understand.
Only that Nelly straightened her collar again before they parted company, Ari treasured. It made a little lump in her throat and made her feel warm all the way down the hall.
She went out to the cemetery, where there was a little marker that said Jane Strassen, 2272-2414. And she sat there a long time.
"I know why you didn't write," she said to no one, because maman had gone to the sun, the way Ariane Emory had. "I know you loved me. I wish Ollie would write. But I can guess why he doesn't—and I'm afraid to write to him because Khalid knows too much about people I'm fond of as it is.
"I saw Nelly today. Nelly's happy. She has so many babies to take care of—but she never cares what they'll be, just that they're babies, that's all. She's really nice—in a way so few people are.
"I know why you tried to keep me away from Justin. But we've become friends, maman. I remember the first time I saw him. That's the first thing I remember—us going down the hall, and Ollie carrying me. And the punch bowl and Justin and Grant across the room; and me. I remember that. I remember the party at Valery's after.
"I'm doing all right, maman. I'm everything all of you wanted me to be. I wish there was something you'd left me, the way Ari senior did. Because I wish I knew so many things.
"Mostly I'm doing all right. I thought you'd like to know." Which was stupid. Of course maman knew nothing. She only made herself cry, and sat there a long time on the bench, and remembered herself with her arm in the cast, and aunt Victoria, and Novgorod and Giraud, and everything that had happened.
She was lonely. That was the problem. Florian and Catlin could not understand flux the way she felt it, and she wished when it grew as bad as it was, that there had been maman to say: Dammit, Ari, what in hell's the matter with you?
"Mostly I'm lonely, maman. Florian's fine. But he's not like Ollie. He's mostly Catlin's. And I can't interfere in that.
"I wish they'd made an Ollie too. Somebody who was just mine. And if there was, Florian would be jealous—but of him being another azi and close to me, not—not about what a CIT would be jealous of.
"I'm not altogether like Ari senior. I've been a lot smarter about sex. I haven't fouled up my friends. They've fouled each other up. 'Stasi's not speaking to Amy. Over Stef Dietrich. And Sam's hurt. And Maddy's just disgusted. I hate it.
"And I'm fluxing so badly I could die. I want Florian and I know it's smart to stay to him. But I feel like there's something in me that's just—alone all the time.
"And I feel bad about thinking it, but Florian doesn't touch the lonely feeling. He just feels good for a while. And even while we're doing it, you know, sometimes everything's all right and sometimes I feel like I'm all alone. He doesn't know all my problems, but he tries, and he'll never tell me no, I have to tell myself no for him. Like I always have to be careful. That'sthe trouble.
"I think it's like floating in space, maman. There's nothing around me for lightyears all around. There's times that I'd rather Florian than anybody, because there's no one understands me like he does when I'm down or when I'm scared. But there's a side of me he just can't help, that's the problem. And I think he knows it.
"That's the awful thing. He's starting to worry about me. Like it was his fault. And Idon't know why I'm doing this to him. I'm so mad at myself. Ari talked about hurting Florian—her Florian. And that scares hell out of me, maman. I don't ever want to do that. But I am, when I make him feel like my problems are his fault.
"Did you ever have this with Ollie?
"Maybe I should just go down to the Town and try it with some of the azi down there, that do that kind of tiling. Maybe somebody like a Mu-class, who knows? A grown-up one. Somebody I can't mess up.
"But that kind of embarrasses me. Uncle Denys would have a fit. He'd say—O God, I couldn't discuss that with him. Besides, it would hurt Florian's feelings. Florian would be a little disgusted if I did it with Stef, but he wouldn't be hurt.
"Some azi from the Town, though—I couldn't do that to him. I don't think Ari senior ever did anything like that. I can't find it in any records. And I looked.
"I think I'm being silly. I love Florian, truly I do. If there's trouble it's mytrouble, not his. I should go back and be twice as nice to him and quit being selfish, that's what I ought to do. Lonely is all in my head, isn't it?
"Mostly. Mostly, I guess it is.
"Damn, maman, I wish you'd written. I wish Ollie would.
"He's CIT now. He's Oliver AOX Strassen. Maybe he thinks it would be presumptuous, to write now, like I was his daughter.
"Maybe he's just turned that off. He'll never stop being azi, down in his deep-sets, will he?
"I thought about having the labs make another of him.
"But you taught him the important things. And I'm not you, and I can't make him into Ollie. Besides, Florian and Catlin would be jealous as hell, like Nelly was, of them. And I'd never do that to them.
"Wish you were here. Damn, you must have wanted to strangle me sometimes. But you did a good job, maman. I'm all right.
"Overall, I'm all right."
iv
"It won't work," Justin said. "Look. There's going to be an increase in flux in the micro-sets. I can tell you what will happen."
"But it could be proportional. That's what I'm asking. If it's proportional, that's what I'm saying, isn't that right?"
He nodded. "I know what you're saying. I'm saying it's more complicated. Look here. You've set up for matrilineal education. That means you've got the AJ group, there, that's going to go with PA—there's your trouble, you've got a fair number of Alphas, maybe more than you ought to have. God knows what they're going to make out of your instructions."
"I asked Florian and Catlin how they'd interpret that instruction to defend the base. Florian said you just build defenses around the perimeter and wait if you're sure you're the only intelligence there. Catlin said that was fine, but you train your people for the next generation. Florian agreed with that, but he said they couldn't all be specialists, somebody had to see to the other jobs. But their psychsets aren't in the group. Ask Grant."
"Grant?"
Grant turned his chair around and leaned back. "I'd tend to agree with them, except everybody will have to be trained to some extent or you can't follow your central directive and you'll have some who aren't following it except by abstraction. Once you get that abstraction, that growing potatoes is defense, then you've got a considerable drift started. Everythingbecomes interrelated. Your definition of basemay or may not drift at this point, and if I were in charge, I'd worry about that."
That was a good answer. She drew a long breath and thought about it. And thought: Damn, he's smart. And social. And in his thirties. Maybethat's the trouble, with me and Florian. Florian and Catlin are still learning their awn jobs. And so am I. But Grant—
Grant's a designer. That's one difference.
"I've handled that abstraction," she said, "so that there is a change like that. Because they're not stressed and there isn't an Enemy early on. But I think you're right, two variables is going to blow everything full of holes."
"Maintainwould have been a more variable word than defend,"Justin said, "but defendbrings all sorts of baggage with it, if any of your group are socialized. And you say three are. The AJ, the BY and one of the IUs. Which means, you're quite right, that you've got three who are likely going to do the interpretation and the initial flux-thinking; which means your value-sets are going to come very strongly off these three points. Which is going to hold them together tolerably well to start with, because they're all three military sets. And they're likely going to see that 'defend the base' is a multi-generational problem. But your Alpha is likely to be less skilled at communication than the Beta. So I'll reckon that's your leader. The Beta."
"Huh. But the Alpha can get around her."
"As an adviser. That's my suggestion. But the smarter the Alpha is, the less likely his instructions are going to make any immediate sense. He'll dominate as long as it's a matter of azi psychsets. But he'll lose his power as the next generation grows up. Won't he? Unless he's more socialized than the Beta."
"They don't have rejuv. It's a hard life. They're going to die around fifty and sixty. So the kids won't be much more than twenty or so before they're going on just what they could learn."
"Your Beta's instructions are likely to be more near-term, less abstract, more comprehensible to the young ones."
"My Alpha founds a religion."
"God. He'd have to be awfully well socialized. And machiavellian. Besides, it's not an azi kind of thing to do."
"Just practical."
"But, given that he does, would the kids understandthe value of the instruction? Or wouldn't it just go to memorizing the forms and ritual? Ritual is a damned inefficient transmission device, and it generates its own problems. —I think we'd better start working this out in numbers and sets, and get some solid data, before we get too far into speculations. I'm not sure your Alpha can win out over the Beta in any sense. You're likely to lose virtually all his input. And you're likely to end up with a matrilinear culture in that instance—and a very small directorate if it's by kinships. The question is whether kinships are instinctive or cultural. . . I'm cheating on that, because I've read the Bureau reports on Gehenna. But they're not going to resolve it, because there were CITs in the Gehenna colony."
She had lunch with Maddy; and heard the latest in the Amy-'Stasi feud. Which made her mad. "I could kill Stef Dietrich," Maddy said.
"Don't bother," Ari said. "I'll bet Yvgenia's already thought of that."
Mostly she thought about the colony-problem, around the edges of the Amy-'Stasi thing. And thought: Damn, the minute anything goes CIT, everybody's crazy, aren't they?
The office was shut when she got back. She waited at the door and waited, and finally Justin showed up, out of breath.
"Sorry," he said, and unlocked. (Although she could have had Base One do it, through Security 10, but that was overkill, and made Security records, and meant papers. So she didn't.)
"Grant's got some stuff over at Sociology," he said. "He's running a paper for me. I doget work done outside of this—"
He was in a good mood. It cheered her up. She took the cup of coffee he made for her and sat down and they started at it again. "Let's assume," he said, "that whether or not kinships are instinctual, your socialized azi are likely to replicate the parent culture."
"Makes sense," she said.
"Likely quite thoroughly. Because they'll place abstract value on it, as the source of the orders."
She had never noticed the way he bit at his lip when he was thinking. It was a boyish kind of thing, when mostly he looked so mature. And he smelled good. A lot like Ollie. A lotlike Ollie.
And she couldn't help thinking about it.
He and Grant were lovers. She knew that from gossip in the House. She couldn't imagine it.
Except at night, when she was lying in the dark looking at the ceiling and wondering what made them that way and whether—
–whether he hadany feelings about her, and whether it was all just worry about Security that made him want Grant there all the time. Like he needed protection.
She liked being close to him. She always had.
She knew what was the matter finally. She felt the flux strong enough to turn everything upside down, and felt a lump in her throat and outright missed his next question.
"I—I'm sorry."
"The second-generation run. You're assuming matrilineal."
She nodded. He made a note. Tapped the paper. She got up to see, leaning by the arm of his chair. "You should have had an instructional tape in the lot to cover family units. Do you want to input one?"
"I—"
He looked over his shoulder at her. "Ari?"
"I'm sorry. I just lost things a minute."
He frowned. "Something wrong?"
"I—a couple of friends of mine are having a fight. That's all. I guess I'm a little gone-out." She looked at the printout. And felt sweat on her temples. "Justin, —did you ever—did you ever have trouble with being smart?"
"I guess I did." A frown came between his brows and he turned the chair and leaned his arm on the desk, looking up at her. "I didn't think of it like that, but I guess that was one of the reasons."
"Did you—" O God, this was scary. It could go wrong. But she was in it now. She leaned up against the chair, against him. "Did you ever have trouble with being older than everybody?" She took a breath and slid her hand onto his shoulder and sat down on the chair arm.
But he got up, fast, so fast she had to stand up to save herself from falling.
"I think you'd better talk this over with your uncle," he said.
Nervous. Real nervous. Probably, she thought, uncle Denys hadsaid something to him. That made her mad. "Denys doesn't have a thing to say about what I do," she said, and came up against him and held on to his arm. "Justin, —there's nobody my own age I'm interested in. There isn'tanybody. It doesn't hurt, I mean, I sleep-over with anybody I want. All the time."
"That's fine." He disengaged his arm and turned and picked up some papers off his desk. His hands were shaking. "Go back to them. I engaged to teach you, not—whatever."
She had trouble getting her breath. That was a hellof a reaction. It was scary, that a man reacted that way to her. He just gathered up his stuff, went to the door.
As the door opened and Grant stood there taking in what he saw, with small moves of his eyes.
"I'm going home," Justin said. "Closing up early today. How did the run go?"
"Fine," Grant said, and came in and laid it down, ignoring her presence, ignoring everything that had gone on.
"The hell,"Ari said, and to Justin: "I want to talk to you."
"Not today."
"What are you doing? Throwing me out?"
"I'm not throwing you out. I'm going home. Let's give us both a little chance to cool off, all right? I'll see you in the morning."
Her face was burning. Shewas shaking. "I don't know what my uncle told you, but Ican find something to tell him, you just walkout on me. Get out of here, Grant! Justin and I are talking!"
Grant went to the door, grabbed Justin's arm and shoved him out. "Get out of here," Grant said to him. And when Justin protested: "Out!"Grant said to him. "Go home. Now."
They had the door blocked. She was scared of a sudden—more scared when Grant argued Justin out the door and closed her in the office.
In a moment Grant came back. Alone. And closed the door again.
"I can call Security," she said. "You lay a hand on me and I'll swear Justin did it. You watch me!"
"No," Grant said, and held up a hand. "No, young sera. I'm not threatening you. Certainly I won't. I ask you, please, tell me what happened."
"I thought he told youeverything."
"What did happen?"
She drew a shaken breath and leaned back against the chair. "I said I was bored with boys. I said I wanted to see if a man was any different. Maybe he hit me. Maybe he grabbed me. Who knows? Tell him go to hell."
"Did he do those things?"
"He's screwed everything up. I need him to teach me, and all I did was ask him to go to bed with me, I don't think that was an insult!" Damn, she hurt inside. Her eyes blurred. "You tell him he'd betterteach me. You tell him he'd better.I need him, damn him."
Grant went azi then, and she remembered he wasazi, which it was easy to forget with him; and she was in the wrong, yelling at him and not at Justin; she had a license that said responsibility, and she wanted to hit him.
"Young sera," he said, "I'll tell him. Please don't take offense. I'm sure there won't be any problem."
" 'There won't be any problem.' Hell!" She thought of working with him, day after day, and shook her head and lost her composure. "Dammit!" As the tears flooded her eyes. She pushed away from the chair and went for the door, but Grant stopped her, blocking her path. "Get out of my way!"
"Young sera," Grant said. "Please. Don'tgo to Security."
"I never asked for this. All I asked was a polite question!"
" I'lldo whatever you want, young sera. Any time you want. I have no objection. Here, if you want. Or at your apartment. All you have to do is ask me."
Grant was tall, very tall. Very quiet and very gentle, as he reached out and took her hand. And there was very little space between her and the desk. She backed into it, her heart going like a hammer.
"Is that what you want, young sera?"
"No," she said, finding a breath.
And did, dammit, but he was too adult, too strange, too cold.
"Sera is not a child. Sera has power enough to have whatever she wants, by whatever means. Sera had better learn to control whatshe wants before she gets more than she bargained for. Dammit, you've cost him his father, his freedom, and his work. What else will you take?"
"Let me go!"
He did then. And bowed his head once politely, and went and opened the door.
She found herself shaking.
"Any time, young sera. I'm always available."
"Don't you take that tone with me."
"Whatever sera wishes. Please come tomorrow. I promise you—no one will bring the matter up if you don't. Ever."
"The hell!"
She got out the door, down the hall. Her chest hurt. Everything did.
Like the part of her that was herself and not Ari senior—had just fallen apart.
I fell in love about as often as any normal human being. I gave everything I had to give. And I got back resentment. Genuine hatred.
. . . isolation from my own kind. . . .
She caught her breath, reached the lift, got in and pushed the button.
Not crying. No. She wiped the underside of her lashes with a careful finger, trying not to smear her makeup, and was composed when she walked out in the hall downstairs.
She knew what the first Ari would tell her. She had read it over and over. So, well, elder Ari, you were right. I'm a fool once. Not twice. What now?
v
Grant walked into the cubbyhole of the second floor restroom and found Justin at the sink washing his face. Water beaded on white skin in the flickering light second floor had been complaining about for a week. "She's gone home," Grant said, and Justin pulled a towel from the stack and blotted his face with it.
"What did she say?" Justin asked. "What did yousay?"
"I propositioned her," Grant said. "I believe that's the word."
"My God,Grant—"
Grant turned on the calm, quiet as he could manage, given the state of his stomach. "Young sera needed something else to think about," he said. "She declined. I wasn't sure that she would. I was, needless to say, relieved. Very fast work for young sera. I was so sure you were safe for an hour."
Justin threw the towel into the laundry-bin and folded his arms tight about his ribs. "Don't joke. It's not funny."
"Are you all right?"
"I'm having flashes. Oh, God, Grant, I– Dammit!"
He spun about and hit the wall with his hand and leaned there, stiff, hard-breathing, in that don't-touch-me attitude that absolutely meant it.
But Grant had ignored that before. He came and pried him away and folded him in his arms, just held on to him until Justin got a breath and a second one.
"I—lost—my sense of where I was," Justin said finally, between small efforts after air. "God, I just—went away. I couldn't navigate. She's—God knows. God knows what I said. It just blew up—she—"
"—she neededa firm no. It's doubtless a new thing for her. Calm down.
Now is now."
"A damn kid!I—had—no finesse about it, absolutely none, I just—"
"You were expressing a polite and civilized no when I walked in. That young sera doesn't recognize the word isn't your fault. Young sera may call Security and young sera may lodge charges, I have absolutely no idea. But if she does, you have a witness, and I have no trouble about going under probe. Young sera needs favors from you.I politely suggested she consider the trouble she's caused and show up tomorrow with a civilized attitude—at which time I'm goingto be there; at all times hereafter, I assure you." He pushed Justin back at arm's length. "She's sixteen. Personalities aside, she's quite the other end of the proposition—a year younger than you were. A great deal more experienced, by all accounts, but not—not in adult behavior. Am I right? She has no idea what she's dealing with. No more than you did."
Justin blinked. Rapid thought: Grant knew the look. "Go back to the office."
"Where are yougoing?"
"To make a phone call."
"Denys?"
Justin shook his head.
"Good God," Grant said. And felt as if the floor had sunk. "You're not serious."
"I'm going alone, if she'll see me. Which is far from likely at this point."
"No. Listen. Don't do this. If you're having flashback, for God's sakedon't do this."
"I'm going to straighten it out. Once for all. I'm going to tell her what happened—"
"No!" Grant seized his arm and held on, hard. "Administration will have your head on a plate– listen to me.Even if she took your side she hasn't got the authority to protect you. She hasn't got anything, not really. Notinside thesewalls."
"What in hell do we do? What do we do when they take us in and they trump up a rape charge—what happens when we end up in a ward over in hospital under Reseune law? All they need is a statement from her. ..."
"And you're going to go over to her apartment and talk to her. No."
"Not her apartment. I don't think I can handle that. But somewhere."
vi
Justin took a sip of Scotch as the waiter at Changesbrought the three to their table—Ari in an ice-green blouse with metallic gray beading, Florian and Catlin in evening black.
Evening at Changeswas a dress occasion. He and Grant had taken pains, both of them in their best. Dress shins and jackets.
"Thank you," Ari said, when the waiter pulled the chair back. "Vodka-and-orange for the three of us, please."
"Yes, sera," the waiter murmured. "Will you want menus?"
"Give us a while," Justin said. "If you will, Ari."
"That's fine." She settled in her chair and folded her hands on the table. "Thank you for coming," Justin said as soon as the waiter left. "I apologize for this afternoon. For Grant and myself. It was me. Not you. Absolutely not you."
Ari shifted back in her seat, her lips pressed to a thin line.
And said not a thing. "Has your uncle Denys called you?"
"Have you called him?"
"No. I don't think he wants to hear what happened. I don't know to what extent he can come back on you—"
"Only because he's the Administrator," Ari said. "There's nothing he'll do to me."
"I wasn't sure." He saw the waiter coming back with the drinks, and waited during the serving.
Ari sipped hers and sighed. "Whose credit is this on?"
"Mine," Justin said. "Don't hesitate." As the waiter discreetly took himself off. It was a private corner, quite private: a sizeable addition to the bill assured it. "I want to assure you first of all—I'm perfectly willing to go on working with you. I want to tell you—what you're doing—is full of problems. But it's not empty exercise. You've got some ideas that are—fairly undeveloped right now. I still don't know to what extent you've modeled this on reality—or borrowed from your predecessor. If it's considerable borrowing—it would be remarkable enough that someone so young is working integrations at all. If any portion of it is original—I have to be impressed; because there is a center of this that, if I were going faster, and not taking the time to demonstrate your problems—I would simply throw into research, because I think it's a helpful model."
"You can do that, if you like." Not spitefully. Reasonably. Quietly. "Perhaps I'll do both. With your permission. Because I'm very afraid it's classified."
"Grant can do it."
"Grant could do it. With your permission. And Yanni's. We work for him."
"Because you refused to be transferred. I can still do that."
He had not expected that. He took a drink of Scotch. And was aware of Grant beside him, subject to whatever mistakes he made. "I wouldn't think," he said, "that you'd be thinking about that after the scene this afternoon."
Redirect. Shift directions.
She sipped at the vodka-and-orange. Sixteen, and fragile—in physiology. In emotions that the alcohol could flatten or exacerbate. Flux-thinking at its finest, Grant was wont to say. Puberty, hormones run wild, and ethyl alcohol.
Oh, God, kid, back off it: it did me no favors.
Power. Political power that was still running in shockwaves across Union; threats of assassination. And all the stress that went with it.
"I'm glad you want to talk about it," Ari said, on a slight sigh following the vodka. "Because I need you. I study my predecessor's notes—on kat. I knowthings. I've talked to Denys about putting the stuff into print.
Organizing everything. I said I wanted you to do it and he didn't want that. I said the hell with that."
"Ari, don'tswear."
"Sorry. But that was what I said. I could have sat down and said I wouldn't budge. But it's real good, politically, if the Bureau gets it about now. Sort of proof that I'm real. So you'll know pretty soon what's mine and what's Ari's. I'll tell you something else you can guess: not allthe notes are going out. Some aren't finished. And some are classified." She took another sip. The glass hardly diminished. "I've thought about this. I've thought real hard. And I've got a problem, because you're the one who's working on deep-sets, you're the one who could teach me the actual things I need– Giraud's very bright; but Giraud's not down the same track. Not at all. I don't wantto do the things he does. Denys is bright. He's very near-term and real-time. Do you want to know the truth? Giraud isn't really a Special. Somebodyhad to have it, to get some of the protections Reseune needed right then. The one who is, is Denys; but Denys wouldn't have it: it would make him too public. So he arranged it to get Giraud the Status."
He stared at her, wondering if it wastrue, if it couldbe true.
"It's in Ari's notes," Ari said. "Now you know something on Denys. But I wouldn't tell him you know. He'd be upset with me for telling you. But it's why you should be careful. I've learned from uncle Denys for years. I still do. But the work I really want is macro-sets and value-sets. You're the only one who's working on the things Ari wantedme to do. I listen to her."
"Listen to her—"
"Her notes. She had a lot to tell me. A lot of advice. Sometimes I don't listen and I'm generally sorry for it. Like this afternoon."
"Am I—in the notes?"
"Some things about you are. That she talked Jordan into doing a PR. That she and Jordan did a lot of talking about the Bok clone problem and they talked about the psych of a PR with the parent at hand—and one like the Bok clone, without. It's interesting stuff. I'll let you read it if you want."
"I'd be interested."
"Stuff on Grant, too. I can give you that. They're going to hold that out of the Bureau notes, because they don't want it in there, about you. Because your father doesn't want it, uncle Denys says."
He took a mouthful of Scotch, off his balance, knowing she had put him there, every step of the way.
Nota child. Wake up, fool. Remember who you're dealing with. Eighteen years asleep. Wake up.
"You didn't walk in here unarmed," he said. "In either sense, I'll imagine."
She ignored that remark, except for a little eye contact, deep and direct. She said: "Why don't you like me, Justin? You have trouble with women?"
A second time off his balance. Badly. And then a little use out of the anger, a little steadiness, even before he felt Grant's touch on his knee. "Ari, I'm at a disadvantage in this discussion, because you aresixteen."
"Chronologically."
"Emotionally. And you shouldn't have the damn vodka." That got a little flicker. "Keeps me quiet. Keeps me from being bored with fools. Drunk, I'm about as eetee as the rest of the world."
"You're wrong about that."
"You're not my mother."
"You want to talk about that?" Offthe other topic. "I don't think you do. Shows what the stuffs doing to you."
She shook her head. "No. Hit me on that if you Like. I threw that at you. So you're being nice. Let's go back to the other thing. I want just one straight answer—since you're being nice. Is it women, is it because I'm smarter than you, or is it because you can't stand my company?"
"You want a fight, don't you? I didn't come here for this." Another shake of the head. "I'm sixteen, remember. Ari said adolescence was hell. She saidrelations with CITs always lose you a friend. Because people don't like you up that close. Ever. She said I'd never understand CITs. Myself—for my own education—once—I'd like to have somebody explain it to me—why you don't like me."
