Lise, DM Arnold [bearly read books .TXT] 📗

that driver who cheated you. They agreed to settle the claim for five units. I know he swindled you of thirteen, but five is better than nothing - - don't you think?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

Megan opened her arms. Lise accepted the invitation and embraced her. She felt Megan's arms around her back. Lise rested her face against Megan's shoulder and hugged her.

Lise released her and stepped back.

“It's a nice day,” Megan said, “after such a stretch of dreary weather. What are your plans?”

“I've been feeling a bit sunstarved,” Lise replied. “I thought I'd take the twins to the park for a picnic lunch.”

“Very good. That way you get nourishment, too. I have a hamper in the closet you can use to carry their food. Don't forget the sun bonnets.”

“I won't.”

“Then, I'll see you this after.” Megan gave her a little wave and headed out the door.

Lise pulled the cards from her pocket and added the new fiver to them. Thirty units! She had never held so much money. She certainly could buy a mediascreen, now. She poked the cards and Ramina's payment ledger into her pocket.

Klarissa and Geddes struggled down the sidewalk carrying the hamper between them. They reached the corner. “Hold up, gang,” Lise said. “I'll take the hamper across the street. You can carry it from there.”

The signal changed and Lise gestured the twins into the crosswalk. She noticed a constable's car parked at the corner. The cop who had arrested her leaned against it, working his handheld. “Good morning, ladies ... gentleman...,” he said.

Lise smiled and snapped her head in a bow. She led the twins halfway down the block and set down the hamper. “Geddes ... Klarissa... You can carry it the rest of the way.”

The sun had climbed above the trees and tall ferns lining the streets. Its oblique rays hit Lise's green skin and began activating her chlorophyll. Sun-hunger was a cold, prickly sensation. Sunlight was the opposite -- warm, soothing, invigorating and relaxing at the same time.

She drew in a deep breath, released it and realized how much breathing she had been doing lately. When her body was full of sunlight she need not breathe at all. Her aerobic and photosynthetic metabolisms would be in balance supplying the blood gasses she needed.

Walking to the park was the perfect level of physical activity for her as the energy- producing systems in her body started coming on line. If she were too sedentary, then her blood would become oxygen-rich and she would begin to exhale it. This was an uncomfortable state for her, too; leaving her feeling agitated and uneasy.

The sun felt good after so many days of shade; and it would feel better as it climbed to the zenith, its rays becoming more direct and intense.

They reached the park. Lise put the hamper on a bench near the sandbox. “Geddes -- Klarissa... Go play.”

“When can we eat?” Geddes asked.

“When it's lunchtime.”

“How will we know it's lunchtime?” Klarissa asked. “You don't carry a watch.”

“I'll know.”

“But, how?”

Lise pointed to the sky. “When the sun is overhead, it's lunchtime. Now -- you play 'til then.” She stretched out her long legs and leaned back to expose as much of her green skin to the sun as possible.

Klarissa helped Lise pack the empty food containers, plates and utensils into the hamper. Lise withdrew a bottle she had filled with water and took a long drink from it. “You drink so much water,” Klarissa observed.

“I need lots of water.”

“Why?”

“All my kind do. We don't eat much, but we drink lots of water.” She capped the bottle and put it into the hamper. “Are you bored or do you and your sister want to play more?”

“The swings,” Geddes exclaimed. The children ran to them.

Lise locked her fingers behind her head and leaned back again. Her sun-hunger had dissipated. She felt an overall state of well-being as she absorbed more sunlight, recharging her biological battery in reserve for the next stretch of cloudy weather.

“May I sit here?” A man's voice startled her.

She turned and saw a white man in early middle-age standing near the bench.

“There are other benches,” she said.

Rayla had taught Lise to remember the features of strangers who approached her. Lise made a mental inventory of this man's appearance: medium height; athletic build; age early thirties, grey eyes. His dress was typical for a white Varadan man: tan trousers and a one- sleeved shirt. A brown sash, fastened behind, was thrown over his left shoulder, concealing his caste tattoo. On his head was a broad-brimmed hat of the kind frequently worn by whites to shade themselves from the harsh, midday rays.

“I would like to sit on this one. May I join you?”

She made a gesture that said, suit yourself and leaned back to absorb more sun. Lise sensed the man was watching her. She slid from him until she reached the end of the bench and regarded him out of the corner of her eye.

“I see you're Zero-One-Zero,” the man said.

Lise glanced at her registry number. She could feel heat building in her cheeks.

“A pretty girl like you must have a nicer name than that.”

She folded her arms and looked away.

“You were brought up right,” he continued. “You were taught never to speak with strangers.” He extended his hand “My name's Thom... Thom Bromen.” Lise looked at her feet studying the vein that ran from inside her ankle and made a loop along the top of her foot. Then she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He held his hand out for a moment, then retracted and examined it before placing it in his lap. “I'm Thom ...you're...” She rolled her eyes. “You're...”

“Lise,” she relented.

“Ah, Lise. Much nicer than Zero-One-Zero, don't you think?” Lise stared at her toes. “I think so, at least. Tell me, Lise -- what's a girl like you doing in a place like this?”

Lise studied the back of her hand.

“Lise -- we're no longer strangers. We CAN have a conversation.”

“Please, Mr Thom...”

“No -- not Mr Thom. Just Thom.” He held up his thumb and forefinger. “Short ... Thom.”

“Thom,” she replied.

“You have no reason to fear me, Lise. I work with your people.”

“Do you mean novonids?”

“Exactly. I'm writing a book on the urban novonid population and I'd love an opportunity to talk with you -- to have you tell me about yourself ... your story.”

“There's not much to tell.”

“Why don't you let me be the judge of that... I have a better idea. Let me tell you what I know about you already and we'll see how close I am. Are you game?”

She smiled. “Go ahead.”

“Let's see...” He regarded her from head to foot. “You look about nineteen standard years old...”

“Eighteen ... and a half.”

“Close. You live in the Green Zone and for some reason or other you can't bear children.”

Lise's jaw dropped. “How can you tell I live in the Zone?”

“Was I right?”

“Yes, but... How did you?”

“Well, if you could bear children, you wouldn't be out on the streets -- you'd be locked up in some breedery.”

“There are breeding females living in the Zone,” Lise replied.

“Yes -- a few. However, you're definitely not pregnant -- not with your slim, sleek figure.” She smiled. “Based on your age, you should have at least one child -- one not old enough to be weaned. However, there are no novonid children within eyeshot. So -- the likely explanation is that you are a working girl.”

Lise nodded. “Yes...”

“Would you mind sharing with me why you can't?”

“Can't what?”

“Bear children, Lise. There aren't many novonid females in the workforce. Those that are, can't.”

Lise regarded Thom for a long moment and let out an exasperated sigh. “You are the most forward man.”

“You won't tell me?”

“No, I won't.”

“Then let me guess... I've done fairly well with guessing so far haven't I?” He scanned her body with his eyes. “You certainly don't suffer from atrophied ovaries. It's the single most common reason for infertility in novonids. If you had that condition, you'd be built like a twelve-year-old boy, not like a twenty-year-old girl.”

She sighed. “I've been sterilized. I'm a oneshot.”

“A oneshot... Is your mother alive?”

“Yes...”

“Unusual... I definitely want you in my book. I don't encounter oneshots every day.”

“No,” Lise replied coldly. “There's not much demand for us and we usually die young.”

“Yes -- in childbirth,” Thom added. “I've never heard of a oneshot being sterilized. How did that come about?”

“I'd rather not talk about it.”

“Not a problem.”

“What about the other thing?” Lise asked.

“What other thing?”

“Living in the Zone.”

“Oh, yes... Well -- I went a bit out on a limb for that one. I'd say you haven't been registered very long -- certainly less than a year.”

“Yes...”

“I could tell THAT by your registration number. The RAA series is new.” He leaned toward her and held his hand to shield his voice. “It's my job to know these things.”

Lise nodded. “That fact confounded some constables a couple of days ago.”

“Since novonids must be registered before their sixteenth year, and since we both know you're in your nineteenth, you must've spent time underground as an unregistered. Yes?”

Lise nodded. “... yes...”

“The only place you could do THAT and survive is in the Zone. So, I figured you at least had lived in the Zone recently.”

“Yes, that's right.”

He rubbed his hands together. “Oh, how I want you for my book.” He began counting on his fingers. “A working female novonid who has lived underground as an unregistered and is a oneshot. What a specimen!”

“I'm afraid you'll need to look elsewhere for your collection, Mr Thom.”

“Now, now... Please, Lise. And, please -- no Mr Thom. It's Thom. You must understand the purpose of my book. I'm writing it to further the cause of greater autonomy for your people.”

“Autonomy?”

“Yes -- independence, freedom -- whatever you want to call it. So many whites think your kind are incapable of much. I know better. I know you're capable. I have a great respect and fondness for your people, Lise. I think you've been treated very poorly, especially since being brought into the cities. I want to document as many cases I can of ... of people like yourself who break the stereotype -- to educate the white population on the true capabilities of your kind. I want to help you, Lise. So -- will you think about it?”

“What would I have to do?”

“Nothing other than talk with me ... maybe let me take your photoimage. I want us to be friends, Lise. I consider you my friend already. Please consider me one of yours.”

“I don't know...”

“Think about it.”

“All right -- I'll think about it.”

“Good.” He looked around the park. “So, are you on the clock now or waiting for your stint to start?”

“I'm on duty now -- watching two children.”

“White children, no doubt. Which ones?”

Lise pointed toward the swings. “Those. They're twins.”

“How delightful.”

Lise looked at the sky. “I should be getting them home. All this fresh air is apt to tire them and I want them to have their naps.”

“So they're fresh for their mom and dad.”

“She's a single mother.”

“A single mom... I'd like to meet her some day.”

“Nice meeting you Thom...” She stood and grasped the hamper. “Geddes! Klarissa! Time to head home.”

Lise heard the front door unlock. Klarissa and Geddes jumped up and ran to greet their mother. She stepped into the living room. “Did you have a nice time at the park?” she asked.

“Very nice,” Lise replied. “Some white man insisted on talking to me. I let slip I worked for a single mom and he...”

“Lise... I'm not desperate enough to require matchmaking services.”

“I didn't think you were. I just wanted to get rid of the guy.”

Megan laughed. “I have encountered many men who've made me feel the same way.” She regarded Lise. “If I didn't know better -- I'd say you look darker than this morning.”

“I likely do,” Lise replied. “When we fill with sunlight, our skin darkens.” She knelt on the floor and hugged and kissed the twins. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

She headed for the door patting the pocket that held her scrip. She knew better than to count it on the street, so she paused in the doorway and pulled it from her pocket. Once again she reviewed the three cards -- thirty units. She slipped them back into her pocket and headed out the door.

Lise walked to the corner and turned right toward a retail area she had noticed from the streetcar. She approached a shop selling electronic equipment, walked in and stopped short. The displays of myriad devices bedazzled her. Half the store was turned over to media screens. She saw large, wall-mounted ones, ones for business, ones for homes. She saw built-in units and portable ones like Klarissa and Geddes watched.

One wall was filled with handheld mediascreens. She looked over the display and tried