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

to make sense of the descriptive placards. There were miniature ones -- quite expensive. As they grew larger, the prices dropped -- to a point. Then, the larger ones were more expensive.

Lise looked at a handheld unit. The placard listed its features, but she didn't understand many of them. The price was right, though. She should buy one like that.

A young man whose caste tattoo was the three coins of the merchant class approached her. “Miss,” he said, “I must ask you to leave.”

“Leave? But...”

“Please.” He gestured toward the door. “You're making the paying customers uncomfortable.”

“I have money. I want to buy one.”

“This way...” He grasped her upper arm and turned her from the display.

Her eyes began to burn. She bit her lip, turned and headed toward the door.

“Frustrating, isn't it?” She heard a voice and turned to see Thom loitering near the exit.

“Did you follow me in here?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact I did. I happened to notice you on the street and wondered what business you had in here.”

“Let's talk outside.”

They stood on the sidewalk. “I wanted to buy something and they threw me out. My scrip is as good as yours.”

“It must make you furious.”

“No. Discouraged.”

“It makes me furious. I see it all the time. It especially pains me to see it happen to someone I like.”

“Please, Thom. Please leave me alone.” She turned from him and pressed her hand to her eyes.

“What did you want to buy?” He touched her shoulder and then withdrew his hand. “Tell me, Lise.”

“A mediascreen -- a small, handheld one.”

“What would you do with one of those?”

“It's for my mother. She likes to keep up with the news.”

“Very good.”

“And, if she could use it to read books from the library, then...”

“Your mother knows how to read?”

“Yes,” Lise replied. “When she was little on the pomma farm, she was the farmer's daughter's favorite. They were about the same age and she taught my mother to read.”

“Now, I must include your mother in my book. It's no wonder that salesman behaved so badly. I've never heard of a novonid...”

“You said yourself we're capable of much.”

“True, true... I apologize, Lise.”

“The only reason so many of us don't read is that no one ever bothered to teach us.”

“You're absolutely right. I'm sorry -- I'm guilty of the same prejudice as the society I wish to change.”

“It's all right, Thom. I thought we also could use it to communicate. And, a portable one wouldn't need to plug into the wall, except to recharge the power cells. I could bring it to Megan's and recharge it there, when it runs down.”

“I see you've thought it all out. I'm impressed. Let's walk together and figure out how to deal with this.” They walked a distance. “I know -- I'll buy it for you...”

“Oh, I couldn't...”

“... with your scrip, of course. How much do you have?”

“Thirty.”

“We should be able to find something for that amount. Let's look in here...” Thom pointed toward another shop. “We won't buy it here, but we can get a good look at what's on the market. Then, I know a place that has better prices.”

Lise accompanied Thom into the shop and they approached the handheld mediascreens. “Which one did you like?” Thom whispered.

“That one ... I think.” Lise pointed.

“Hmmm...”

A salesclerk approached Lise. “Miss...”

“She's with me,” Thom interjected.

“Very good, sir... May I help?”

“Tell me about this mediascreen.”

“A basic model with a monochrome screen,” the salesman replied. “It can receive the free broadcasts and the news. It comes with text and voice messaging. Video messaging is an extra-charge service.”

“What about accessing the central library?”

“Oh, yes -- that's part of it, too. Premium entertainment programming is extra.”

“And, the price?”

“It lists for forty-five, but I can let you have it for forty -- if you purchase video messaging or an entertainment package.”

“Hmmm... I'll think about it.” He nodded toward the door and Lise followed him onto the street. “That model would be perfect for your needs,” he said as they walked, “don't you think?”

“I can't afford it,” Lise said. “I only have thirty units.”

“Don't despair. I'll take you to where the prices are rock-bottom.”

He led her around the corner, onto a side street and to a basement storefront. “Give me your scrip and wait here. I'll be right back.”

“Can't I come, too?”

“I'm afraid this shopkeeper is prejudiced against green folk.”

“Then maybe we shouldn't...”

“Lise -- which would you rather do tonight -- fight a social battle or buy a mediascreen?” She pulled the three cards from her pocket and handed them to him. He nodded. “You're pragmatic. We'll leave the social battle to fight another day.”

Thom trotted down the steps and into the shop. Lise paced on the sidewalk.

She thought about the mediascreen. Then, a realization washed over her. She knew nothing about the man to whom she had just given her scrip. Grott's words echoed in her mind. Scrip can be taken away from you. She had willingly handed hers over. The livery driver had swindled her just a few days ago. Had it happened again?

A sinking feeling formed in the pit of her stomach. Thirty units! She bit her lip and pressed her knuckle to her mouth. Had she, in the course of just a few days let more than fifty units slip through her fingers? It might as well have been a fortune. It WAS a fortune to her...

She paced more. Thom had been down there an awfully long time. What if he never reappeared? What if he ducked out a back way and disappeared into the city? Maybe she should go down and investigate.

She headed down the steps. On the door was a sign. It bore a green figure inside a red circle with a slash across it. Lise knew better than to enter any establishment bearing that emblem. She headed back up the steps and resumed pacing.

A constable on a foot beat approached her. “Move along,” he said.

“I ... I'm waiting for someone, officer.”

The cop regarded her registration number. He pulled out his handheld, manipulated it, slipped it back into its pouch on his belt and continued on his beat.

Lise wondered if she should chase after the cop and tell him what happened. No -- they wouldn't help the likes of her. She squeezed shut her eyes and shook her head.

The door opened and Thom came up the steps holding a pair of boxes. “Here,” he said. “Mission accomplished.” He looked at her face. “Are you all right? Lise -- have you been crying?”

“What took so long?” Lise asked. “I was getting worried.”

“They had to locate the correct model. Come. To celebrate our victory in the mediascreen campaign, I would like you to accompany me to dinner. I know of a place that serves both our species. They have a modest dinner menu for whites, and some special diet for you.”

“I fed yesternight,” Lise replied. “I'm not hungry.”

“Well, I am. Would you sit with me and have an iced pomma brew? Unsweetened, that is.”

“No. I can't.”

“Are you still on duty?

“No. I must get home.”

“It would please me if you would, Lise. I'm a fast eater.”

She pondered. “All right.”

“This way...”

Thom led her up some stairs to a dining room. She looked around -- it wasn't busy. At a couple tables she saw white and green folks sitting together. “What is this place?” she whispered, “and, who are those people?”

“Like I said -- it's a restaurant that serves both kinds.”

Thom pulled out a chair and Lise sat. He sat across from her. She scanned the room again and realized every novonid was accompanied by a white.

Thom doffed his hat and set it on the table. Lise glanced at him and attempted to conceal her surprise.

He was bald. The hat had done a good job of concealing it outdoors, but now she could see it. He was as hairless as she, lacking even eyebrows and eyelashes. She put her fingers to her lips.

“The condition is called congenital alopecia. It makes me look a little like a very pale novonid, doesn't it?”

“I guess...”

“You and I have something in common. When it starts raining -- we're the first to know.”

Lise giggled and then laughed. “I suppose you're right.” She regarded him. “Can't you wear a ... wig or something?”

“I did for a while. Then I realized that one must be true to oneself -- you must be what you are. I AM bald so I decided to BE bald.”

“Were you born that way?”

“I was born as bald as one of you. That in itself isn't uncommon in white infants. But -- my hair never developed.”

“Does it run in your family?”

“In my case, yes. It's not a common condition, but it's not a rare one either. I'd say the odds of it are ... about the odds of being a oneshot.”

A member of the wait staff placed a menu card before Thom. Before Lise she set a card with pictures of preparations.

Thom pointed to the menu. “You see ... they dress up the special food you need to make it more attractive ... more varied and interesting.”

She looked up at him. “Thom -- they must do this for the benefit of our white owners. We don't care what the food looks like. We feed because we must -- not because we enjoy it. I told you I fed yesterday. I'm not hungry.”

The waiter approached holding a handheld screen. “I'll have the seaprawn sandwich and two iced pomma brews ... plain for her and syrup in mine.”

The waiter entered the order, nodded and left.

Thom set the boxes on the table. “I'll show you what I bought...” He opened a box. “This mediascreen should work well for you.” He switched it on and manipulated it. “Here is the official news...” He poked it. “The alternative news...” He poked it again. “Text and voice messaging ... here's the call number.”

Lise nodded.

“There are some other free services -- library access and so on. They tried to sell me an entertainment package but I said no.”

“I've seen some entertainment on Megan's screen,” Lise replied. “It's nothing we'll miss.”

The waiter brought a plate and two tall glasses filled with an amber liquid. On the plate were two rounds of pomma bread with a pink filling.

Lise sipped her drink and her eyes popped. “It's so sweet. I think this is yours,” she said. She wiped the rim with a napkin. “I'm sorry. She must've mixed them up.”

“Not a problem...” Thom handed her the other glass. Lise sipped from it and tried to analyze the flavors.

“How do you like it?” Thom asked.

Lise picked up the mediascreen. “I love it. I'm sure Mother will love it, too.”

“No -- the pomma brew.”

“Frankly?”

“Yes, frankly.”

“I don't understand why one would spoil perfectly good water by putting this into it.”

Thom chuckled. “You are a pragmatic girl, Lise. Some folks enjoy the taste. It IS all right to expose yourself to new sensations -- for no other reason than deriving pleasure.”

“I'll try to think of it that way. The cold is nice -- refreshing after a long day.”

“That's the girl.”

“What's in the other box?”

He opened it. “It's a solar charger. You set this in the sun, connect it to the screen ... no need for house current.”

“That's perfect, Thom!”

“I thought since YOU were solar powered there was no reason your mediascreen shouldn't be also.” He dug into a pocket. “I almost forgot.” He handed her an object.

She looked at a yellow five-unit scrip and read the punches. “Three units?”

“That's right. Both devices came to twenty-seven.”

“It was much more expensive in the other shop.”

“One must become a savvy shopper, Lise.” He pointed to the mediascreen. “This is not exactly the gadget we examined together. It's a model from a couple of years ago, but it has the same features and works the same way. The store where I bought it sells remainders at half the cost.”

Lise held the screen to her bosom. “Yes, Mother would approve of that. Thank you so much, Thom.”

Thom tore a bite from his sandwich. “Have you thought about it?”

“About what?”

“About helping me with my book.”

She looked into his grey eyes and smiled. “Yes, I will. I like you, Thom. I'll be honest -- at first I thought you were stalking me ... or something. You've been very kind and helpful. Talking with you is the least I could do.”

“It makes me very happy. You'll be a fine addition. Am I your friend, now?”

She extended her arm and Thom grasped her hand. “Yes -- friends.”

“That pleases me more.”

Lise drained her glass and crunched on an ice cube. “That's a new sensation,” she said, swallowing.

“Did you enjoy it?”

She smiled and shrugged.

He finished his sandwich and raised his hand to catch the waiter's eye. She approached their table. Thom handed her a pair of yellow scrip cards. She slipped one and then