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Rob Chilson: In His Image

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Rob Chilson In His Image

In His Image: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

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The way to lead the Public is to get out in front and convince them they're chasing you the way you want to go . . .

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Cleveland had not gone the Free City route during the dissolution of society. The city's Negroes had long been restricted to Hough House, the world's largest building; when the upper and middle classes bought air-and astromobile homes and flew away, the Whites were unable to cooperate with the Negroes on the city's administration. Things were violent in the Jungle, the abandoned residential districts, for a time, but when things began to stabilize to the point where secession might have been possible, it was no longer needed; the new world was born and growing lustily.

As in most cities, the white-elephant office buildings, such as the hundred-story Spire, had been converted to apartments. They were occupied by people late of the Jungle and Hough House, mostly young, on the way up. It was just this group which could be expected to be most hostile to androids; the group with which they'd competed for jobs.

The hangar on the eighty-ninth level opened for them automatically and Yuri swept into the landing cradle of his parking tower. Sugar, quivering with excitement all the way from Idaho, bounced out and took in the drab hangar with delight. The usual complement of loafers went slack-jawed. At least she was dressed. Yuri struggled out with her two suitcases—the larger one, he had learned, contained mostly toys and games.

Her smile widened impishly at one oldster's remark, "I never knew they were real—I thought they just had 'em on TV," but she said nothing. Luckily the locals were too awed to approach; they were able to get through without having to answer half a million questions. Yuri would have slunk hastily through if he could, but Sugar took her time.

A stunning Negro girl with the air of a queen entered the hangar just as he was leading Sugar out, relieved. Sugar took her in with one wide-eyed, awed look and bounded forward, arms extended, saying, "I'm Sugar and you're beautiful!"

The girl—Yuri finally recognized her as one of the youngsters who just yesterday had been sitting on the parking towers, wistfully watching their older sisters come and go with their dates—bent over her with a sunrise smile. "I've seen you on TV," she said, voice as rich as that of a trained actress. " You're the one who's beautiful."

"And this is Yuri," added Sugar. "Aren't I lucky?"

She smiled politely at Yuri, who was tongue-tied by her sudden magnificence and his own inability to remember her name.

"He just bought me," Sugar explained eagerly.

The smile vanished. " Bought you?" she asked wonderingly, looking at Yuri. He managed a sheepish grin, made the mistake of looking at Sugar, wished the suitcases were in orbit. Sugar explained about the Actors' Guild suit and Dr. Birrel's "decision." She leaned her head against Yuri's chest, face radiant. " I was the lucky one. And Yuri was lucky, too, of course. Isn't he nice?" The girl gave him an icy look that loosened his jaw. "Yes, nice. And very, very lucky." The smile flashed back on as she bent over Sugar, squeezing her hand. "I hope you'll be very happy," she said, as if to a child.

"Oh, I am!"

The girl nodded sadly once, flashed Yuri another look, and brushed past.

"Did I do that right?" asked Sugar innocently as they went up the hall. Yuri caught his breath, said, "Perfectly."

She smiled as at some secret, glanced wonderingly up at him, and said, "But you didn't say anything. Aren't you supposed to be acting, too?"

"Don't worry, Twink, I did my part," he said grimly. Sugar started giggling and couldn't stop. "You little imp!" he exclaimed. "I should've bought a whip first thing."

Yuri had a four-room apartment, seeming very small after Dr. Birrel's palatial astromobile, but Sugar did not seem to notice the contrast. She followed him around, taking in everything. He had thought of putting her in his bed, but concluded that she could stand the couch better than he could. The smaller suitcase contained mostly blouses; no need to unpack them. Sugar took out the currycombs, hairbrushes, and the meager cosmetics kit, and carefully arranged them on Yuri's dresser. Yuri was somehow not surprised to find that the symbol on them was that of a female satan with a fantastic figure. The other suitcase they didn't bother to open.

Yuri had recovered somewhat by the time he'd finished dinner. Though he did not exactly look forward with joy to meeting his neighbors—the tale was undoubtedly over the building by now—he'd have to face them. Sugar changed blouses twice and spent ten minutes brushing and rearranging her curls, moving at a dance, while Yuri's jitters grew. She didn't look any different to him, but when they stepped into the rec-room, she was stunning. A concerted sigh, or maybe gasp, arose, and Yuri swelled a little with pride. The rec-rooms, one on each level, were set up for the younger children. The older folks on the eighty-ninth floor had gotten into the habit of gathering in it every night. Tonight there was an unusual number of young people and children.

Sugar began by hugging a wide eyed girl-child who came to a fearless stop right in front of her and stared, then hugged the girl's embarrassed mother. With Yuri following in her wake, she proceed to make the circuit of the room, speaking to everyone, examining each as boldly as a puppy. In ten minutes flat, she was the most popular person in the entire building. Sugar was soon separated from Yuri, surrounded by a crowd of women, young and old.

"It must be something to be able to remember how it feels to be born," mused an old woman, looking at her curiously. "Is it like they say, like waking up?"

Sugar tilted back on her hooves, studying her. She had not seen many old people. To think that she herself would someday have had so many experiences gave her a strange feeling. "Not really," she answered musingly. "When you wake up, you're sometimes confused at first, but you know where you are, and what you are, you know all about beds and rooms and doors and waking up in the morning. You know that you have a body and you can tell where it is and you know the difference between it and the rest of the world."

"You mean, a baby can't even tell the difference between itself and the things around it?" asked a young woman incredulously.

"Not really," said Sugar. "Not at first. But they learn all those things before they start really thinking. Then they forget all about what it was like when they learn to talk."

"You girls were born able to speak and read, weren't you?" asked another. "That must be very convenient."

Sugar smiled. "In a way, yes. But if you've ever taken structured memory-RNA, you'll know it's not that simple. We were bom understanding English and phonetic script, but that's not the same thing as being able to speak and read. We're still learning that."

"Can you remember what it was like before you were born?" asked the old woman.

"I can still remember a little of what it was like," Sugar told her. "A sort of floating, dark nothing; very peaceful. Being dead must be like that. For a long time I was afraid of the world, and kept wanting to go back to sleep. Then I got to be afraid of sleeping, for fear I wouldn't wake up again. It was only yesterday, but it seems so long ago."

"Only seven months," breathed one of the younger women; she was dressed in a beautiful gown that made Sugar envious. Yuri had said that probably a lot of them would stay home tonight on the chance of seeing her. In fact, there seemed to be people here from a number of floors; the room was crowded.

"How long did it take you to learn to walk?" asked the old woman, struck by the thought.

"Only about a week. The incubator had an exerciser complex, you know, and that opened the nerve channels. It was also important to the muscles, of course, but the nerves are the main thing. We were starting dancing and singing at the end of the second week."

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