I shouldn't have been surprised by its ability to play chess or poker. It was, after all, a toy–and even Douglas could write a chess or a poker program, the logic wasn't that hard to chart. Simulating intelligence is so easy, even Stinky can do it.
But every so often, I caught the monkey studying me thoughtfully–or maybe it was just my imagination. Maybe that was part of the way it had learned to interact with its human hosts. But it made me wonder. What if the monkey really was watching us? Recording everything? What if the monkey was some kind of a spy? Maybe the monkey's job was to travel with us and monitor … that was the part I couldn't figure out. That was where I ran out of paranoia.
"I wish you could talk to me," I said to it. "I wish I could just order you to explain yourself. That would make everything so much simpler."
The monkey just cocked its head and looked at me curiously, as if waiting for me to give the order. Yeah, right.
Some people thought robots were fun. I didn't. I thought most of them were a damn nuisance. Because they did exactly what they were told. They didn't do what you meant,they did what you said. Which was kind of funny if you were a kid, but it was frustrating too. I never had the patience for it, but Stinky did. And so did Douglas. They had the logic genes. I guess they got that from Mom. I got the music, and not much else, from Dad. I didn't resent it, not really, but sometimes I wished I could understand things the way other people did. It would make life a lot easier. I wouldn't have to work so hard at everything.
It was halfway through the second waking period–I couldn't think of them as "days" when nothing really changed–when Stinky finally figured it out. It.
We had gone up to the front window to look at the moon, which was still a crescent, but starting to fill out enough that we could see the sharp edges of craters all along the terminator line. When we got bored with that, we started making up songs about bouncing elephants, and then we decided to teach the monkey how to dance, which is hard enough in gravity, but in free fall it's impossible–so it was silly enough to start Stinky giggling, which is sort of good most of the time, because once he starts giggling he just keeps on going; but it isn't always a good idea because sometimes he giggles so hard he pees in his pants.
But this time, he and the monkey started imitating each other, and it was hard to tell which of them was funnier–and which of them was more amused by the other. They really did look a lot like twins.
–Until in the middle of everything Stinky asked thequestion. The one I'd been hoping he wouldn't. "Chigger, who's going to meet us on the moon? Mommy or Daddy?"
I knew that he wasn't simply asking who was going to meet us. He was asking if we would ever see them again. And I honestly didn't know what to say to him. For one of the first times in my life, I felt sorry for the little monster because there just wasn't any way to soften this blow. And … even though I didn't like thinking this thought, maybe it hadbeen a mistake for Douglas and me to insist on keeping him with us. Maybe he would have been better with Mom. Or even Dad.
Except–I knew he wouldn't have been. And I knew if I'd had to choose at his age, I'd have chosen to leave instead of stay, even if I didn't understand all the reasons why. Or maybe I wouldn't have chosen to leave, maybe I'd have been too scared to, but wouldn't have been better off staying. But Stinky didn't know that–because he wasn't thirteen or eighteen, and he didn't know any better. All he knew was that his Mommy and Daddy weren't here. And he missed them.
And he was looking to me to give him an answer.
So I told him the truth. As best as I could.
Which means, I weaseled like an adult.
"I don't know, kiddo. Remember, Dad promised us a trip to the moon, and this is our vacation. And Judge Griffith said he could go too. So I'm sure he's going to try to meet us when we get where we're going–he just doesn't know that we're taking the long way around."
"And what about Mom?"
I thought about fat SenorDoctor Hidalgo, who had flown Mom and her friend up on an expensive shuttle flight for the emergency custody hearing. Would he shuttle her to the moon and try to head us off there? If he thought he could get his hands on the monkey, he would. It seemed to me he was trying to get off the Earth anyway. So whatever game he was playing, bringing Mom along might be part of it.
"I think she might get to the moon too, I didn't have a chance to ask her before we left. We had to leave in a hurry, remember?"
He shook his head. I didn't expect him to remember anything. Mickey had drugged his ice cream and that had kept him pretty drowsy for half a day.
But whatever else he was, Stinky wasn't stupid. "We're not going to see them anymore, are we? We're going on the brightliner by ourselves."
"Well, Mickey will be with us–I think. Do you like Mickey?"
"Douglas likes him." Which was his way of saying no. Because if he really liked Mickey, he would have said so. Maybe he resented Mickey for the same reasons I did. Or maybe he was just jealous that Douglas was spending so much time with him. Or maybe he just didn't like Mickey for no reason at all.
"Do you miss Mom?" I asked.
"Uh‑huh, don't you?"
"Um … I don't miss the yelling."
That must have been answer enough, because he changed the subject. "I'm hungry. Do we have anything to eat besides those awful em‑ maries?"
"Not till we get to the moon, kiddo. Sorry."
"Okay. I'll wait."
FINAL APPROACH
After seven or eight more course changes, each one more painful than the last, we finally got a good look at the bright side of the moon. Well, part of it anyway, as we came around the northern edge of the terminator. We still had three more burns to put us into a near‑polar orbit, what Alexei called the crazy‑mouse orbit, so that meant we'd actually orbit the moon a couple of times–down the front and up the back–before finally heading in.
The second time we came around the bright side, it filled the window, but it was hard to tell how close we were; Douglas said that's because the moon has a fractal surface; there's so many craters of so many different sizes that a close view looks a lot like a high view, and vice versa.
But the landscape below us was moving slowly, so I took that as an indication that we were still fairly high–and when I pressed my face close to the window, I could see the horizon, and it was still curved. So that meant we were at least a‑hundred klicks high, if I had done the math right. Probably not. Math was not my best subject.
The dark side of the moon was hard to see clearly; there was some light reflected from the crescent Earth, but not enough, so everything looked all gloomy gray. And the bright side, when we crossed the terminator again, was almost too bright to look at directly. Douglas said that the Lunar surface reflects more light back at you when you look at it head‑on, and that's why a full moon is noticeably brighter than a half‑moon, it's something to do with refraction and the way the Lunar dust scatters light.
Alexei joined us at the window. He took one glance and grunted. "We are coming in very fast. Good."
I took another look. He was right. The ground below us was moving noticeably faster.