Vernor Vinge: Fast Times at Fairmont High

Miri's father? No ... the Goofus. Ug.

This time, Miri Gu did not debate. She nodded, and said softly. "Well ... if you think that is best."

Juan spoke without thinking, "But ..." then more diffidently: "But wouldn't that violate the exam rules?"

The voice came from behind him. "No. Read the rules, Orozco." It was William.

Juan turned to acknowledge the other. "You mean, you won't be a team member?"

"Yeah, I'd just be your escort." The Goofus had the same broad features, the same coloring as the rest of the family. He was almost as tall as Bill Gu, but scrawny. His face had a sweaty sheen like maybe— Oh. Suddenly Juan realized that while Bill and William were father and son, it was not in the order he had thought.

"It's really your call, Dad," said Mr. Gu.

William nodded. "I don't mind." He smiled. "The munchkin has been telling me how strange things are in junior high school. Now I'll get to see what she means."

Miri Gu's smile was a little weak. "Well, we'd be happy to have you come along. Juan and I want to look at Alice's gear, but we should be ready in half an hour or so."

"I'll be around." William gave a twitchy wave and left the room.

"Alice and I will let you make your plans now," Mr. Gu said. He nodded at Juan. "It was nice to meet you, Juan."

Juan mumbled appropriate niceties to Mr. and Col. Gu, and allowed Miri to maneuver him out of the room and down a steep stairway.

"Huh," he said, looking over her shoulder, "you really do have a basement." It wasn't what Juan really wanted to say; he'd get to that in a minute.

"Oh, yeah. All the newer homes in West Fallbrook do."

Juan noticed that this fact didn't show up in the county building permits.

There was a brightly lit room at the bottom of the stairs. The enhanced view was of warm redwood paneling with an impossibly high ceiling. Unenhanced, the walls and ceiling were gray plastic sheeting. Either way, the room was crowded with cardboard boxes filled with old children's games, sports equipment, and unidentifiable junk. This might be one of the few basements in Southern California, but it was clearly being used the way Juan's family used the garage.

"It's great we can take the surplus sensor gear. The only problem will be the stale emrebs—" Miri was already rummaging around in the boxes.

Juan hung back at the doorway. He stood with his arms crossed and glared at the girl.

She looked at him and some of the animation left her face. "What?"

"I'll tell you 'what' !" The words popped out, sarcastic and loud. He bit down on his anger, and messaged her point-to-point. "I'll tell you what. I came over here tonight because you were going to propose a local team project."

Miri shrugged. "Sure." She replied out loud, speaking in a normal voice. "But if we hustle, we can nail the whole project tonight! It will be one less background task—"

Still talking silently, directly: "Hey! This is supposed to be a team project! You're just pushing me around."

Now Miri was frowning. She jabbed a finger in his direction and continued speaking out loud, "Look. I've got a great idea for the local exam. You're ideal for the second seat on it. You and me are about as far apart in background and outlook as anybody in eighth grade. They like that in a team. But that's all I need you for, just to hold down the second seat. You won't have to do anything but tag along."

Juan didn't reply for a second. "I'm not your doormat."

"Why not? You're Bertie Todd's doormat."

"I'm gone." Juan turned for the stairs. But now the stairwell was dark. He stumbled on the first step, but then Miri Gu caught up with him, and the lights came on. "Just a minute. I shouldn't have said that. But one way or another, we both gotta get through finals week."

Yeah. And by now, most of the local teams were probably already formed. Even more, they probably were into project planning. If he couldn't make this work, Juan might have to kiss off the local test entirely. Doormat! "Okay," Juan said, walking back into the basement room. "But I want to know all about your ‘proposed project', and I want some say in it."

"Yes. Of course." She took a deep breath, and he got ready for still more random noise. "Let's sit down.... Okay. You already know I want to go down on the ground to Torrey Pines Park."

"Yeah." In fact, he had been reading up on the park ever since she mentioned it to her parents. "I've also noticed that there are no recent rumorings hanging over the place.... If you know something's going on there, I guess you'd have an edge."

She smiled in a way that seemed more pleased than smug. "That's what I figure, too. By the way, it's okay to talk out loud, Juan, even to argue. As long as we keep our voices down, Bill and Alice are not going to hear. Sort of a family honor thing." She saw his skeptical look, and her voice sharpened a little bit. "Hey, if they wanted to snoop, your point-to-point comm wouldn't be any protection at all. They've never said so, but I bet that inside the house, my parents could even eavesdrop on a handshake."

"Okay," Juan resumed speaking out loud. "I just want some straight answers. What is it that you've noticed at Torrey Pines?"

"Little things, but they add up. Here's the days the park rangers kept it closed this spring. Here's the weather for the same period. They've got no convincing explanation for all those closures. And see how during the closure in January, they still admitted certain tourists from Cold Spring Harbor."

Juan watched the stats and pictures play across the space between them. "Yes, yes, ... yes. But the tourists were mainly vips attending a physicality conference at UCSD."

"But the conference itself was scheduled with less than eighteen hours lead time."

"So? ‘Scientists must be adaptable in these modern times'."

"Not like this. I've read the meeting proceedings. It's very weak stuff. In fact, that's what got me interested." She leaned forward. "Digging around, I discovered that the meeting was just a prop—paid for by Foxwarner and gameHappenings."

Juan looked at the abstracts. It would be really nice to talk to Bertie about this; he always had opinions or knew who to ask. Juan had to suppress the urge to call-out to him. "Well, I guess. I, um, I thought the UCSD people were more professional than this." He was just puffing vapor. "You figure this is all a publicity conspiracy?"

"Yup. And just in time for the summer movie season. Think how quiet the major studios have been this spring. No mysteries. No scandals. Nothing obvious started on April First. They've fully faked out the second-tier studios, but they're also driving the small players nuts, because we know that Foxwarner, Spielberg/Rowling, Sony—all the majors—must be going after each other even harder than last year. About a week ago, I figured out that Foxwarner has cinema fellowship agreements with Marco Feretti and Charles Voss." Who? Oh. World-class biotech guys at Cold Spring Harbor. Both had been at the UCSD conference. "I've been tracking them hard ever since. Once you guess what to look for, it's hard for a secret to hide."

And movie teasers were secrets that wanted to be found out.

"Anyway," Miri continued, "I think Foxwarner is pinning their summer season on some bioscience fantasy. And last year, gameHappenings turned most of Brazil inside out."

"Yeah, the Dinosauria sites." For almost two months, the world had haunted Brazilian towns and Brazil-oriented websites, building up the evidence for their "Invasion from the Cretaceous". The echoes of that were still floating around, a secondary reality that absorbed the creative attention of millions. Over the last twenty years, the worldwide net had come to be a midden of bogus sites and recursive fraudulence. Until the copyrights ran out, and often for years afterwards, a movie's on-line presence would grow and grow, becoming more elaborate and consistent than serious databases. Telling truth from fantasy was often the hardest thing about using the web. The standard joke was that if real "space monsters" should ever visit Earth, they would take one look at the nightmares documented on the worldwide net, and flee screaming back to their home planet.