F. Wilson - Dydeetown World

"Clone."

"Right. This clone gave up the freedom she had on the Outworlds to come back here and be with those kids. Actually be with them, go down in the tunnels and live with them. I've never heard of anybody doing that."

"So?"

"So it makes the rest of us Realpeople look like dreggers.""

"Speak for yourself, Lum. Urchins are out of sight, forgotten. How many times in a year do you think the average Realpeople even thinks about urchins? Once? Maybe half a time?"

"I think about them every single day," Lum said in a thick, low voice.

Patted myself on the back.

"You've got a kid with the urchins, don't you."

As he nodded, a tear collected in one of his eyes. He rubbed it away before it could slide down his cheek.

"And the idea of going down in the tunnels to be with them never even crossed my mind. Do you know how that makes me feel?"

Didn't say anything, just let him rattle on.

"That could have been my little guy with you today, my son holding your hand and looking up at you like that, like you were his hero! I'm going to find this Wendy and talk to her. Where's she being kept?"

"Don't know."

"That's all right. I'll find her. Brode's probably with her now. I can view the recording of the interview later, maybe get an idea what he plans to do with her, or with the kids."

"And then what?"

"I don't know. I'll think of something."

"Let me know what you find out. My number's under 'Investigations.' "

Lum nodded absently. Didn't now if he was really listening.

"Got to find her," he said again.

"Don't get carried away. She's only a clone."

"Really?" His eyes scanned my face. "Then why'd you try to help her?"

Didn't like the scrutiny, or the question.

"She was a client a couple of years ago. You know how it is: Once a client, always a client."

Lum nodded but didn't look convinced.

"Just let me know," I told him.

"I'll try."

We left the blind lounge and returned to the downchute. At the lower level we were met by yellowjackets. A bulky officer boomed at us:

"M.A. Central is closing. Unless you work here, you must exit."

Lum said, "The Pyramid never closes!"

"Tonight it does," said the officer. "Move!"

Lum showed him his Central Data i-d, but since I had nothing like that, I had to go. Fine with me. Suddenly came a lot of yelling from the main floor. We ran to see.

The yellowjackets were clearing the urchins from the lower levels, and they weren't being gentle about it.

Lum's face was grim. "I'm going back up to get my recorder. I want some close-ups of this!"

"What for?" None of this would ever get on the official datastream. "You a graffiti journalist on the side?"

"Not yet," he said, and ran off.

Spent much of the night in the front room of Elmero's, whiffing with the crowd. Almost all the regulars were there. "

Minn had to hustle to keep up with demand, and she didn't like that. Wasn't used to being busy.

Doc was around but he was acting weird. Kept asking questions about Jean's old greencard, like did I ever have it and what did I do with it. Told him all I knew: Had it for a while, then gave it back to her, and nothing more. The answer seemed to delight him. Must have asked me two or three times.

Everybody was talking about the urchins down at the Pyramid and, Elmero's clientele being the sort it was, laughing about how the kids had glitched a few sectors of officialdom today. Caused a bit of a stir myself when I told how the yellowjackets had booted the kids out as I was leaving. Everyone was shocked that M.A. Central had shut down its public areas, even for a few minutes.

And everyone was keeping half an eye on the datastream playing in the life-sized chamber in the corner. No hologames, no drama or comedy tonight — just the Newsfaces and everyone waiting for a graffiti capsule on the urchins.

"Hey, there's Four!" I said as the familiar newsface rotated into view. Hoped maybe he'd slip in something about the urchins.

"Listen to this guy."

Newsface Four's square-jawed, blond-haired, straight-nosed visage, which couldn't have looked less like Arrel Lum, stared out of the chamber at us in silence for a moment, then began to speak in his resonant baritone.

"The Eastern megalops' human garbage backwashed into the lower levels of Megalops Authority Central this morning. Here's how it looked."

Newsface Four dissolved into a panoramic view of today's mob scene at M.A. Central.

"The children you see here," he said in voiceover, "are what we call urchins. In case you've had any doubts about their existence, let this vid dispel them. This is the real thing. Those are real children, and they were all over M.A. Central today.

"Look closely. Some of them might be your nieces and nephews. One of them could be your grandchild. You can't be sure can you? Of course, there are some of you watching who may be looking at your own child. My heart breaks for you."

"Core!" Minn shouted from behind the bar. "He's showing urchins on the datastream! Really showing them!"

"It's got to be graffiti!" said someone else.

"It's not! It's Newsface Four!" another voice cried.

Recognized Doc's voice from the other side of the room. "If it's not graffiti, that means this is going out system-wide! The whole dregging world is seeing it!"

The whole dregging world …what a thought!

"Somebody's ass is going to be shot to the South Pole for this!" Minn said with her usual delicacy.

Thought of Arrel Lum — he was saying good-bye to his career and putting his whole life on the line with this move.

"But what do these children want?" said Lum in his Newsface Four voice. "Why did they come to M.A. Central?"

The chamber filled with one earnest little face after another, each chanting a single word. The sound filled the barroom:

"…WEN-DEE! WEN-DEE! WEN-DEE…"

"And who is this Wendy?" he said as the faces continued to roll through the chamber. "This reporter has learned that she is a young woman who has been living with the various urchingangs in the central area of the Eastern Megalops, reading to them and teaching them to read, cooking for them and teaching them to cook, tucking them in at night. Mothering them, you might say."

He paused and more faces crowded into the chamber.

"They want their mother!"

Jean's face suddenly filled the chamber. Her eyes had a hollow, hunted look. She looked frightened. Newsface Four's words hit the room like cannon shots.

"And here she is. Real name: Jean Harlow-c. A Dydeetown clone. Yes, a clone!" A sterile underperson. Down in the tunnels. Taking care of our kids! The ones we cast off, whose existence we were forced by inhumane laws to leave to chance.

"And what is her fate?"

The holo cut to a high angle longshot of Jean sitting before Chief Administrator Brode. She looked small and frail while he looked huge and imposing.

"This was recorded earlier today."

Brode: And just what was your plan for these urchins?

Jean: No plan, really. They needed me and I needed them. That was all.

Brode: Organizing them for your own purposes? Disruption of official business — wasn't that part of your plan?

Jean: I told you, I had no -

Brode: I don't believe you! Truth her!

There were some quick cuts showing her being dosed and then we were back to the two-shot.

Brode: Now. What were your plans for the urchingangs?

Jean: Well, I…I know it sounds stupid, but I wanted to find a way to get some of them to the Outworlds.