F. Wilson - Dydeetown World

"You? You're the last one I expected to see."

"Sorry to disappoint you."

"No-no! It's so good to see a familiar face."

"B.B. asked me to see what I could do."

She looked scared. "I don't think anyone can help me now."

"Tell me about it. Couldn't get much from B.B. He was almost incoherent."

"Not much to tell. I came upside last night and the yellowjackets were waiting for me."

"What's the charge?"

"Illegal alien. I guess I didn't do such a good disappearing act."

"Maybe, maybe not. Was it the same entry I used?"

She nodded. "It's one of the few big enough for an adult."

Suddenly I knew: "Spinner did it!"

Jean blanched. "Oh, no! How can you be sure?"

"He's been following me! What a jog! Led him right to you!"

"But you didn't know you were going to meet me!"

True. But somehow I still felt responsible.

"Well, Ned Spinner can go sit on a black hole. He's out of luck. I'm a citizen of Neeka now. He's got no lien on me any more!"

Wasn't so sure of that. Wouldn't be hard for Spinner to establish by genotype that she was a clone of Jean Harlow. When he did that, all her rights — to emigrate from Earth, to take citizenship on Neeka — would go null. The M.A. would treat her like Realpeople until the genotyping was confirmed and Spinner's ownership of her genotype was established. But once that was settled, she'd be property again. Ned Spinner's property.

"Just for the sake of argument," I said, "let's suppose you wind up in Spinner's clutches again. What'll you do?"

She shrugged. "Nothing. And I mean nothing ."

"And if he forces you?"

Her expression was grim. "He'll own one dead clone."

Was afraid she'd say that. And knew she might not get a chance to make that final gesture if Spinner had her personality wiped. The clone I knew as Jean, the person B.B. knew as Wendy — "Mom-to-all" — would be gone, but her body would go on working for Ned Spinner.

Wondered briefly which was worse, then realized it really didn't matter.

"Just a thought," I said. "Don't worry about it."

She looked scared enough already. Didn't need me injecting a worse reality into the nightmares she was probably having as it was.

The transpanel began to opaque between us. Time was up.

"Be back when I find out what's going on. Don't go anywhere."

She smiled — could tell it was forced — and faded from sight.

"Don't look so grim, Dreyer," said a nasal voice to my left as I stepped from the downchute onto M.A. Central's ground level.

"You should be feeling lucky."

Ned Spinner, grinning like a shark.

"Feeling pretty murderous at the moment, Spinner. Don't press your luck."

"I'm not scared of you. Especially here."

Looked at him hard, letting my face show him what I wanted to do to him.

He took a step back. "You'd better be careful, Dreyer. You got lucky last night. If they'd caught you with her, you'd be in your own cell on grand theft charges."

So that was why he had her grabbed by official types — he wanted me, too.

"Tough luck, dregface."

"You're not off yet. You may still wind up spending lots more time here than you want when they start investigating how her genotype status got switched from clone to Realpeople in Central Data. The M.A.'s gonna to be real interested in that."

Felt a spike of uneasiness when he said that, but showed him nothing.

"Do your worst," I said, knowing he would, and headed for the exit.

Became aware of an awful lot of kids around as I crossed the Pyramid's cavernous inner space. Dirty, skinny kids of all sizes in ragtag clothes.

Urchins.

Hadn't noticed them when I came in, but then, I'd been in a hurry at the time. Maybe this was a good begging place.

Wouldn't think so, but how would I know? Was a habit of mine to avoid M.A. Central at all costs.

Right now I had to get to Elmero's. Potential trouble brewing and he had to know about it.

"I think we're safe," Elmero said after a moment's consideration.

His skeletal body was embedded deep into his polyform chair. He smiled with what he no doubt thought was friendly reassurance.

"Not so sure," I told him.

"Where's the link? My contact in Central Data is an old hand at this sort of thing — as you should know. He can add genotypes or subtract them, or change a genotype status from Realpeople to clone and back again without anyone connecting him to the foul deed. And even if they did, all my dealings with him are blind, paid for with hard. Even under Truth he couldn't finger me."

"What about Jean — I mean, the clone?"

"If they Truth her, she'll just tell them what she believes: Her old boyfriend Barkham fixed the databank for her. We're safe." His brow suddenly furrowed. "She does still think Barkham did it, doesn't she?"

"Well…yeah."

His face grew stern and distant, which was better than seeing him smile again.

"You didn't play hero and tell her you paid for the switch, did you?"

Felt myself redden. "Course not! But she mentioned that she thought the card I returned to her was different than the old one, but she wasn't sure how."

"Even so, this could be bad," Elmero said after a moment's thought. "When her clone status is confirmed, they'll be in a dregging frenzy to find out how her genotype got switched over. When they bang her with Truth, you'll fall under suspicion because she'll tell them you had the card for a while. And when you get Truthed…"

His voice trailed off.

"Yeah," I said.

"Isn't this just bloaty," he said after a while. "Why'd you have to get involved with a lousy clone anyway?"

"Leave it alone, Elm," I said in a low voice and he knew I meant it. "She was leaving for the Outworlds — wasn't supposed to come back."

We sat in uneasy silence for a while, then Elmero said, "There's only one thing to do."

Knew what he was thinking, so I said it for him: "Put in a block."

He nodded, then spoke to his intercom: "Find Doc."

"Now," said Doc, the overheads reflecting gleaming highlights on his black skin, "I want you to think about the greencard the clone received from Barkham. Picture it in your mind. Think about getting it from her, then think about giving it back. Getting from…giving back. Got it?"

Saw the card coming into my own hand, then being handed into Jean's. Some foggy memories tried to slip into the picture but I pushed them away.

"Got it."

My scalp tingled and then light exploded in front of my eyes. Felt my arms and legs jump and spasm, then it was over.

"That the last?"

Doc nodded. "I believe so."

Doc had popped a dose of Dyamine through my scalp a little while ago, then had begun working from the middle outward toward both ends of the memory chain he wanted to block. The procedure was tricky but Doc was an expert at it. Illegal as all hell, too. Which was partly why Doc's license to practice was presently on a three-year suspension.

"Try me."

"Do know Jean Harlow-c?"

"Sure."

"Did she ever show you her greencard?"

"Yes."

"Did she tell you where she got it?"

"From Kel Barkham, who she called Kyle Bodine."

"Did she ever give it to you?"

"Yes. To help find Barkham."

"Did you alter the card in any way while you had it?"

Something zipped through my brain. Tried to catch it but it was moving too fast. Gone in a blur before I could latch onto it.

"Course not."

"And you returned it to her unchanged?"

"Right."

"Think, now. Are you absolutely sure?"

Nothing churned in the background this time. The card had been in my possession for a while but that was it.