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  “As Mamie pointed out when we got here, it looks like Kansas, with a curve,” Carol Jeanne said. She had never had a particular fondness for Kansas, but Penelope puffed out her chest with pride as if it had been a personal compliment.

  “Kansas, but the air smells like dirty underwear,” Stef added. He spoke softly, under his breath. If he hoped Penelope would hear him, his wish was granted.

  “Those are the flowers, my dear—nasturtiums. The smell’s more concentrated here on the Ark because we have an artificial atmosphere.”

  I hopped down from Carol Jeanne’s shoulder and landed squarely on a nasturtium plant. I picked the smallest flower I could find and ate it, but it tasted much better than the humans around me smelled. Except for Carol Jeanne, of course. It would have been disloyal for me to admit that Carol Jeanne smelled just like all the other humans around me, so I didn’t. Not even to myself.

  Stef looked at the orange flowers as if willing them to go away. “Clunky looking things,” he said.

  “Oh? I think they’re pretty,” said Penelope. “Soon you’ll hardly notice the smell. Besides—we also grow lilies of the valley here, and they smell just like perfume.” She didn’t add that they’re as lethal as cobra venom. That’s a human for you. When they leave Earth to start a new world, they take their poisons with them—just to make the new world more exciting. I wouldn’t have been surprised to learn they carried black mambas in the embryo banks, on the theory that the snakes could eat whatever pesky rodents inhabited the new planet.

  She dusted off her hands officiously and said, “Well! We’ve chatted here long enough. You’ll want to be going to Mayflower now. The tube is down this ladderway.”

  “Ladder?” asked Mamie, aghast. She hadn’t climbed a ladder in her life. She had always hired people to climb ladders. I suspected that even as a child, she hired the servants’ children to climb trees for her.

  “Up and down change around here,” said Penelope. “Ladders are the only practical way of getting from level to level without using up valuable space on stairways that would end up being on a wall or the ceiling for half the voyage. Besides, since we’re never more than two-thirds of Earth-normal gravity—much less during the actual voyage—ladders are really very easy. We’re all light on our feet around here.”

  “Still,” said Red, “using ladders is pretty confining.” He looked pointedly at Pink. Pink was pretty agile; she was a small pig, and her enhancements made her about as clever as a pig can get. She could climb stairs and hop up on furniture, but she couldn’t handle a ladderway. The people of the Ark should have mentioned the ladder thing before they let Red bring his witness. Or maybe they did, and Red insisted on bringing Pink anyway. Only someone clinging desperately to every shred of personal status would have insisted on bringing into space a witness without functional feet or opposable thumbs.

  “There is a lift,” Penelope said, turning her most helpful face toward Red and Mamie. “For heavy loads.” Since Pink hardly qualified, the remark seemed vaguely pointed at Mamie—and from the look of faint disgust on her face, Mamie didn’t miss the barb, either. It was pretty absurd, coming from Penelope; although Mamie was round, she was small enough that each of Penelope’s breasts probably outweighed her. Penelope was obviously a person who didn’t like having to change her plans to accommodate other people.

  She led us to another elevator, a small one designed for people instead of cargo, and we crowded inside for the trip downstairs. Then she led us to the tube platform. It took only moments for a car to arrive. She seated us efficiently and pressed the name of our village, Mayflower, on the destination board. There was a pneumatic sound as the magnetics were turned on and the car lifted itself from the floor. Then, smoothly, it slipped through the network of tubes, choosing its own way at each intersection.

  As we glided along, Penelope cheerfully pressed ahead with the urgent business of becoming our dearest friend. “Now that we’re settled down,” she said, “tell me about yourselves. Of course, I know all about you, Dr. Cocciolone.”

  Carol Jeanne interrupted. “Please, no titles. Call me Carol Jeanne.”

  Penelope pounced on the name and played with it like a cat. “Carol Jeanne it is, then,” she said. “Such a lovely name, Carol Jeanne. I’m so glad we’re going to be friends, Carol Jeanne.”

  After bestowing a winning smile on Mayflower’s newest celebrity, she turned to Red, who was holding Emmy by a lock of hair to keep her from wandering. “Now, Mr. Cocciolone, what should I call you?”

  “He’s Mr. Todd,” Mamie corrected. “Redmond Eugene Todd. We call him Red. Carol Jeanne is Mrs. Todd.”

  Poor Mamie. Didn’t she realize that Penelope was only goading her?

  Penelope and her breasts ignored Mamie. “And what do you do?” she asked Red.

  “I’m a family counselor.” Red always looked proud when he said that—as if he had a real job, doing real work. Being a family counselor seemed as useless to me as going to church—it was just a way to pander to emotions instead of focusing on what was really important. Nevertheless, Red was probably good at it; he was one of those touchy-feely humans who communicate with hugs and pats on the back, forever clucking over strangers and telling them, I understand. Humans loved him for it.

  Penelope looked as unimpressed with Red’s occupation as I was, though. “Inside or Outside?”

  Red was obviously confused. “I usually consult with people in an office, if that’s what you mean.”

  “You don’t even know about Inside and Outside?” Silence was all the answer she needed. “Outside is up on the surface, where the sun shines, where the crops grow. Where we live and farm. The villages. And Inside is down here, in the closed spaces, where we work. Our jobs. It’s as if we all lead double lives. Our Inside life, where we work with people in our profession, just like an office building on Earth, and our Outside life, where we live with our fellow villagers.”

  “And family counselors specialize in Inside or Outside work?” Red asked.

  “The Outside counselors are called by the chief administrator of the Ark to serve each village,” said Penelope. “People go to them when they have village problems. Being an Outside counselor is the greatest honor a person can have—except being the Mayor, of course. Only the most compassionate people in the village can be called to a job like that.”

  “Then our Red will be an Outside counselor, of course,” said Mamie. The woman took the bait as eagerly as a trout sprang for a fly above the pond back home, and I was disgusted at how easily Penelope reeled her in. “He’s the most compassionate person I’ve ever met.”

  “Indeed. That’s interesting news—I hadn’t heard that Mayflower’s counselor was due for replacement.” I don’t believe I imagined the smirk in Penelope’s voice, but to her credit she kept the smile from her lips. “The scientifically trained family counselors are Inside, of course, in offices. But I always think the Inside counselors are for when people are, you know…what’s the word—”

  “Clinically ill,” said Carol Jeanne.

  “Crazy,” said Penelope at the same moment. “Whatever. You go to a village counselor because you want to talk with somebody you can trust. You go to an office counselor because your supervisor thinks that your problems are interfering with your job. It’s so sterile and frightening.”

  Red tried to look cheerful, though no doubt he was seething at her primitive attitudes about therapy. “I’m an Inside counselor, I guess. I’ll work for personnel. No doubt in an office.”

  “Well, how interesting,” said Penelope, apparently completely oblivious to the fact that she had just insulted his profession. But I was sure that she had known all along that he was one of the “sterile and frightening” ones.

  Dismissing Red, she turned her attention to Mamie and Stef. “And you—what are your names, and what do you do?”

  She looked at Mamie expectantly. I was actually looking forward to what Penelope would say to put Mamie in her place.

  “
We’re Red’s parents,” said Mamie. “I’m Mamie Foxe Todd, and this is my husband, Stephan Brantley Todd. Everyone calls him Stef.”

  “I’ll call him Stephan,” Penelope said, speaking to Mamie as if Stef were incapable of speaking for himself. “Stef sounds like a bacterial infection. And what do you do for a living?”

  “We don’t do anything,” said Mamie. “Stef is a man of means, so it’s not as though he ever had to have a job. Of course he’d be retired anyway. He’s much older than I am…he’s sixty-three.”

  I waited for Penelope to raise her eyebrows at that. Stef didn’t look like he was anywhere near sixty-three. He could have passed for seventy-five, and an old seventy-five, at that. Years of living with Mamie had beaten him down until he was shriveled inside himself, as though he had retreated into his very skin to escape her venom. But Penelope saw none of that. She smiled coquettishly at Stef and patted his forearm. She was flirting with that decrepit old fossil, and Stef responded. He smiled back, and years fell off his face. Once, centuries ago, he had been a handsome man.

  Mamie cleared her throat. Mentioning Stef, she had relinquished her place as the center of attention, and she wanted it back. “Of course, I’ve never worked at a paying job, though I’ve done a great deal of volunteer work. I expect to continue with that sort of thing here, and Stef will no doubt putter around the way he did at home.”

  Penelope dropped her hand from Stef’s forearm and knitted her brows. She checked her clipboard computer as if for reassurance. Then, obviously not learning anything from the computer screen, she snapped the clipboard shut.

  “That’s not good news, I’m afraid,” she said. “That’s definitely not good news. Everyone here has to work, both Inside and Outside. It’s in the Compact. Don’t you remember?”

  “What Compact?” Mamie asked blankly.

  “The contract you signed before you came here, of course.”

  “That thing? All I did was sign it. It was very long.”

  “You didn’t read it?” Carol Jeanne asked.

  “You didn’t read it?” echoed Penelope. The skin tightened on her neck, and her mammoth breasts jutted forward like warheads. “The Compact is everything. When you signed it, you agreed to work Inside and Outside. This is a working community. We can’t afford to have drones. Fair share, that’s how we live. Everybody does their fair share, and gets their fair share in return.”

  “What else did we agree?” Stef’s voice sounded drier and thirstier.

  “My goodness! There was so much of it, I can’t possibly remember. You’ll have to go back and read the Compact. I can promise you one thing—you signed it, and you’re responsible for keeping your end of the bargain, whether you knew what you were signing or not.”

  There was an uncomfortable silence. Emmy started whimpering, and Stef held out his arms to her. She climbed on his lap and stuck her thumb in her mouth. Almost immediately, she fell asleep.

  Carol Jeanne looked out the window at the blank tube walls gliding lazily by, and Red stroked the top of Lydia’s head. Only Mamie was unintimidated by Penelope. She stared at Penelope’s chest for a long moment, watching it rise and fall the way some people sit and watch the ocean waves. Then, as if she had made a conscious decision to be pleasant, Mamie’s expression softened.

  “Tell me about Mayflower,” she asked brightly, using the sing-song tone she usually reserved for Lydia and Emmy. “Tell me all about where we’re going to live.”

  Penelope was obviously unaware of the effort that Mamie was making. “You read all about us when you chose the place you wanted to live,” she said. “We’re just as the prospectus described us.”

  “I didn’t read the prospectus,” said Mamie.

  “I didn’t, either,” Carol Jeanne admitted. “Other than the legal papers I signed, I didn’t read any of the specifics. I’ve been so busy planning our agenda once we reach the new planet that I haven’t had time to think about the Ark. I’m afraid I left all those decisions to Red.”

  Carol Jeanne blushed, as well she should have. Red had never made a rational decision in his life. The truth was that she had left the reading to me, and so apparently I was the only one in the group to know what we were in for. Carol Jeanne knew that I would fill her in on anything she needed to know, as soon as she needed to know it. At least, that’s what I’d do as soon as I got a clipboard or a computer so I could communicate fully with her.

  Penelope looked disgruntled; then she swelled up importantly and took a deep breath. “Well, I’ll have to tell you about it myself. First of all, we’re Presbyterian here.”

  Mamie sniffed. “There’s not a Presbyterian in the bunch of us,” she said. “I’m Congregationalist, and Stef and Red and the girls are Episcopalian. Of course, with a name like Cocciolone, Carol Jeanne just has to be Catholic.” Mamie treated it as if it were an old family joke. But her smile was tight. Lines radiated from her mouth like legs on a spider.

  “Mayflower is a compromise, Mother.” Red said it patiently, as if he had explained it a hundred times before. I’d heard him say it so many times that I wanted to throw feces at him whenever I heard it again. When I read the specs, I knew at once that Carol Jeanne should live in the village of Einstein, with the people for whom science was life, not just a job; or in Mensa, with the godless heathens. There would have been fewer distractions that way. But no, Mamie had insisted on living among Christians. Her brand of Christians, of course—or as close to her brand as she could get.

  Mamie smiled indulgently at her dear boy. “Of course Mayflower’s a compromise, Redmond. I’m very happy with it.”

  Penelope smiled, too. “You’ll be even happier the better you get to know us,” she said cheerfully. “We’re pretty open-minded here. Presbyterians are tolerant folks. All religions are the same, anyway, as long as they’re Christian. In fact, we even have three Jewish families who live with us, because Bethel Village is too Orthodox for them, and there are also some Mormons because nobody else wanted them. They have their own services, of course, but otherwise you’d never know they belonged to a cult.”

  “How interesting,” said Mamie, plainly uninterested. It did not particularly please her to know that her village was one that included Jews and fanatics. She had never in her life had to associate with such people except when they served her in such roles as lawyer, store clerk, or maid.

  Penelope didn’t catch Mamie’s sarcasm. “Actually, I think most people agree that Mayflower is the best village of all. For one thing, the chief administrator lives here. That gives the village a certain—prestige, if you will—that the others don’t have. It makes Mayflower—well, there is no capital city on the Ark, but if there were one, it would be Mayflower.”

  “Oh?” Mamie’s mouth relaxed into a tentative smile.

  “And now we have the chief gaiologist as well. People would kill to live in Mayflower. Oh, the parties we’ll have!—after the mourning is over, of course. I hope Cyrus marries again soon.”

  “Cyrus?” Stef asked, sounding more tired than curious.

  “The chief administrator, Dad,” said Red. “It’s his wife’s funeral we’re going to attend.” Red sounded as if he were looking forward to it.

  “It starts in just a few minutes,” Penelope said. “Mayflower is directly ahead. We should be stopping right…now.”

  With timing that was either a lucky coincidence or the result of diligent practice on Penelope’s part, the tube settled onto its wheels the moment she finished speaking, and in moments we came to a stop. The doors opened, and Penelope herded us onto the platform. We wouldn’t reach our house for seven hours, but in some sense we were finally home.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ODIE’S FUNERAL

  When we finally saw the village of Mayflower, nobody was more surprised than I was. We had flown all those miles away from Earth, only to boomerang home again. Except for the weather, we could have been back in Temple, New Hampshire. The photographs in the prospectus hadn’t prepared me for how like
Temple the villages on the Ark would be.

  Mayflower hadn’t been patterned after our home town, of course. It’s just that both Temple and the village of Mayflower had been designed, centuries apart, to look like any small town in New England. The elevator up from the tube disgorged us onto a town square just like the one in Temple. There was a grassy commons in the middle, with white buildings all around. One looked like a general store. Another could have been a post office, though that was unlikely. All that was missing was a Revolutionary War cannon in the center of the town square—that and a big clock that tolled the hours. There was even a church on the far end of the square, as white as every other structure in the village.

  There was one difference, and that was a big one. All the buildings were inflatable. All of them looked puffy and impermanent. I knew that inflatable buildings were vital here—all structures had to be designed so they could be removed and stored for each changeover, and then quickly put back in place when the soil had been restabilized. Even so, the overblown structures reminded me of nothing so much as Penelope’s breasts. This place would be heaven for an unscrupulous person with a pin.

  As I clung to Carol Jeanne’s neck, Mamie was the one who blocked my line of vision. Her mouth opened and closed, just like the gaping mouth of a goldfish in a bowl. I knew she was going to say something when she got her breath.

  “Good grief,” Mamie said finally. “The buildings all look like balloons.”

  “They’re cartoon houses!” cried Lydia.

  “Our house won’t look like that, will it?” asked Mamie.

  “Oh, you’re such a tease,” Penelope said. “Of course it will. The prospectus explained all about it…but you didn’t read that, did you? I keep forgetting. I never heard of anyone else who came here without reading it.”