Robert Heinlein - Variable Star

But that wasn’t even the distraction. Suddenly I realized what had really bothered me enough to try to demand my attention in the middle of an important conundrum—a problem far more urgent than an insult to me or a beloved I was thinking seriously of strangling.

I was on my feet. In motion. Walking toward the door.

Being walked toward the door, by Mr. Albert. His hand rested far too lightly on my shoulder to be steering me, exactly. But it did make it a little easier to keep going than to stop or turn around.

The conversation was over already. The insult I’d focused on had been part of some larger pattern of unnoticed sentences that had ended it, somehow. The pause I’d been waiting for, in which I could have my say, had simply never happened. Or had come and gone in an instant, while I was thinking of something else. It was too late, now. My choices were to keep on walking, or to make a scene. Albert had handled me as smoothly as an awards presenter getting the disoriented winner the hell offstage so they can get to the next, more important award.

I was angry at myself for having been outmaneuvered so effortlessly, for letting somebody march me around like a show dog with nothing more than a combination of body language cues, feather-gentle touch, and total confidence.

But I was also secretly grateful. I hadn’t been looking forward to that pause. Now I could take as long as I liked to compose, refine, and polish my manifesto—and when it was ready, I could deliver it by e-mail, rather than face-to-face to the most powerful man on earth. Since I had done and said nothing, I had nothing to wish I could take back. Since no one was interested in my opinions, why bring them up? Especially since I had no clear idea what they were.

We reached the door, Albert said something or other, I made whatever was the appropriate response without thinking about it, and the door irised shut behind me.

Rennick was not waiting outside. Dorothy smiled as I came through the door and gave me a thumbs-up. I gave her what I thought was my very best sunny smile in reply, and she winced. “I—” I began, and stopped.

When she saw that I had no words, she stepped in smoothly. “I enjoyed meeting you as well, Joel. Would you like Leo to guide you back to your room, or would you care to see some of the grounds, now? I don’t believe you’ve had time for the tour, yet.”

“Actually, I’d like to speak with Jinny,” I said.

“I’m sorry, she’s offsite at the moment. An errand for her father. She should be—”

“I’ll phone her, then,” I said, and lifted my wrist.

“We discourage phone calls to the outside,” she said quickly. “It compromises security. She’s due back before dinnertime, and I’ll make sure she speaks with you the moment she’s back inside the perimeter.”

Right. “I see.” Giving me time to calm down. “Very well, then. Thank you.” It might just be a terrific idea to cool down a little before speaking to Jinny. Three or four years ought to do it.

“You’re welcome. Would you like that tour of the grounds? It’s quite—”

“Later, perhaps. Right now I’d like to go back to my room.”

“Of course. Leo? Please guide Mr. Johnston back to his quarters.”

“Yes, Dorothy.” Green fireflies led me away. I followed them gratefully.

When I’d passed this way in the other direction, the corridors I’d walked through had seemed wastefully, ostentatiously large. Now they seemed cramped and claustrophobic. There was barely room for me, let alone for the billion thoughts swarming around my head, trying to gain entry. I wished mightily that I knew what I thought, how I felt, what I wanted, but I had the idea that I would not know any of those things for certain until I screamed them at Jinny. My mind kept trying to take refuge in disbelief that any of this was really happening. The trouble was, I knew my imagination just wasn’t good enough to manufacture a hallucination like this.

I recognized, from the other direction, the intersection where I’d collided with little Evelyn earlier. I approached it with some caution, this time, listening carefully for someone swooping through the air on a skyboard. But of course I had no clear idea what, if anything, one sounded like. I eased up on the intersection, hooked one eye around the corner for a quick peek—

—nearly bumped noses with Evelyn.

She tried to keep a straight face, did pretty well for a few seconds, and then lost it. As soon as she did, I whooped with laughter myself. The tension release was welcome, almost too much so. I laughed a little bit harder than necessary for a little bit longer than I should have. She finished before I did.

Maybe it shook loose some brains. When I finally spoke, what I said surprised me. I expected to hear myself say something polite, banal, phony. What came out was, “Can you tell me how to get a cab around here?”

As I heard the words come out of my mouth I realized I very badly wanted to be away from here. To be back home. Alone. As quickly as possible. So I needed transportation. And I had no idea how to get any. And here before me, by happy chance, was about the only person in the entire compound, including Leo the AI, that I felt comfortable asking.

She just stared at me, unblinking.

“Transportation from here back to the Lower Mainland,” I amplified.

When she stared like that she looked remarkably like an owl.

“I came here in Jinny’s car, but right now she’s taken it offsite, and I need to get back home as soon as p… you’re imitating an owl, aren’t you?”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Yes, I was. I’ll stop.”

“Thanks. As I was s—”

“I’m not really sorry. But I’ll pretend, as long as I don’t have to do a very good job.”

“Evelyn, honey—”

The owl lit up. “You remember my name.”

“Look, I really need to—”

“Most grown-ups don’t.”

“Evelyn, how do—”

“You can’t get a cab here, silly. There’s no here.”

I nodded. “I figured as much. But that implies there has to be some way to get guests where they need to go, when they need to be there. Do you know what it is?”

I nearly lost her with that question. Then her ferocious frown relaxed. “I deserved that. I was the one playing dumb. Yes, Joel, I do know. I’ll help you.”

I sighed. “Thank you, Ev. Will it take very long?”

“Is there anything in your room you have to go back for?”

I thought about it and shook my head no.

“Follow me, then.”

Three turns and perhaps a hundred meters later, she stopped, and touched a wall, and an elevator door opened up where not even a visible seam had been a moment ago. She touched the wall just beside the door, in a different way, and the wall developed a monitor and extruded a keypad—at a height convenient for a seven-year-old. She typed something on it, with only her index fingers, but at a speed that would have been remarkable even if she’d been using all ten. Finally she made a small grunt of satisfaction, and turned to me.

“You’ll find a car waiting at ground level. Just state your destination; it’ll find it.”

“How do I—”

“When you get where you’re going, just get out and say, ‘Dismissed.’ It homes.”

Of course it did. I started for the elevator, then paused. “Ev, honey?”

“Yes, Joel?”

“Is this… I mean, are you going to get in trouble for this?”

She grinned. “Not unless you rat me out.”

“Are you sure?”

“Guest cars aren’t a secret. Anybody could have called you one.”

“But won’t the record show that it was you who did?”

She grinned again. “The record says Jinny did.”

I nodded. “Okay, then. Thank you. I owe you one.” It didn’t seem adequate. I bent, took her hand in mine, lifted it to my lips, and planted one just behind the knuckles. Then I straightened up and stepped into the elevator. “So long, Ev.”