"Four! The little guys were in such a rush they just jumped out at me." He held the mailer close. Juan could hear tiny thumping noises from inside it.
"That's great," said Miri. "Physical evidence!"
William didn't reply. He just stood there, staring at the carton. Abruptly he turned and walked a little way up the trail, to where the path widened out and the brush and pines didn't cover the sky. "I'm sorry, Miriam." He tossed the mailer high into the air.
The box was almost invisible for a moment, and then its ring of jets lit up. Tiny, white-hot spikes of light traced the mailer's path as it wobbled and swooped within a foot of the rock wall. It recovered, and slowly climbed, still wobbling. Juan could imagine four very live cargo items careening around inside it. Silent to human ears, the mailer rose and rose, jets dimming in the fog. The light was a pale smudge when it drifted out of sight behind the canyon wall.
Miri stood, her arms reaching out as if pleading. "Grandfather, why?"
For a moment, William Gu's shoulders slumped. Then he looked across at Juan. "I bet you know, don't you, kid?"
Juan stared in the direction the mailer had taken. Four mice, rattling around in a half-broken mailer. He had no idea just now what security was like at the FedEx minihub, but it was at the edge of the back country, where the mail launchers didn't cause much complaint. Out beyond Jamul ... the mice could have their chance in the world. He looked back at William and just gave a single quick nod.
There was very little talk as they climbed back out of the canyon. Near the top, the path was wide and gentle. Miri and William walked hand in hand. There were spatters of coldness on her face that might have been tears, but there was no quaver in her voice. "If the mice are real, we've done a terrible thing, William."
"Maybe. I'm sorry, Miriam."
"...But I don't think they are real, William."
William made no reply. After a moment, Miri said, "You know why? Look at that first picture we got from the mouse meeting hall. It's just too perfectly dramatic. The chamber doesn't have furniture or wall decorations, but it clearly is a meeting hall. Look how all the mice are positioned, like humans at an old town meeting. And then at the center—"
Juan's eyes roamed the picture as she spoke. Yes. There in the center—almost at though they were on stage—stood three large white mice. The biggest one had reared up as it looked at the imager. It had one paw extended ... and the paw grasped something sharp and long. They had seen things like that in other pictures and never quite figured them out. In this natural-light picture, the tool—a spear? —was unmistakable.
Miri continued on, "See, that's the tip-off, Foxwarner's little joke. A real, natural breakthrough in animal intelligence would never be such a perfect movie poster. So. Later tonight, Juan and I will turn in our local team report, and Foxwarner will ‘fess up. By dinnertime at the latest, we'll be famous."
And my own little secret will be outed.
Miri must have understood Juan's silence. She reached out and took his hand, dragging the three of them close together. "Look," she said softly. "We don't know what—if anything—Foxwarner recorded of us. Even now, we're in thick fog. Except for the mice themselves, our gear saw no sensors. So either Foxwarner is impossibly good, or they weren't close snooping us." She gestured up the path. "Now in a few more minutes we'll be back in the wide world. Bertie and maybe Foxwarner will be wisping around. But no matter what you think really happened tonight—" her voice trailed off....
And Juan finished, "—no matter what really happened, we're all best to keep our mouths shut about certain things."
She nodded.
Bertie followed Juan home from Miri's house, arguing, wheedling, demanding all the way. He wanted to know what Miri had been up to, what all they had done and seen. When Juan wouldn't give him more than the engineering data from the dungballs, Bertie had got fully dipped, kicked Juan off their unlimited team, and rejected all connections. It was a total Freeze Out. By the time Juan got home, he could barely put up a good front for his Ma.
But strangely enough, Juan slept well that night. He woke to morning sunlight splashing across his room. Then he remembered: Bertie's total Freeze Out. I should be frantic. This could mean he'd fail the unlimited and lose his best friend. Instead, more than anything else, Juan felt like ... he was free.
Juan slipped on his clothes and contacts, and wandered downstairs. Usually, he'd be all over the net about now, synching with the world, finding out what his friends had done while he was wasting time asleep. He'd get to that eventually; it would be just as much fun as ever. But just now the silence was a pleasure. There were a dozen red "please reply" lights gleaming in front of his eyes—mostly from Bertie. The message headers were random flails. This was the first time one of Bertie's Freeze Outs had not ended because Juan came groveling.
Ma looked up from her breakfast. "You're off-line," she said.
"Yeah." He slouched onto a chair and started eating cereal. His father smiled absently at him and went on eating. Pa's eyes were very far away, his posture kind of slumped.
Ma looked back and forth between them, and a shadow crossed her face. Juan straightened up a little and made sure she saw his smile. "I'm just tired out from all the hiking around." Suddenly, he remembered something. "Hey, thanks for the maps, Ma."
She looked puzzled.
"Miri used 411 for recent information on Torrey Pines."
"Oh!" Ma's face lit up. There were a number of 411 services in San Diego County, but this was her kind of thing. "Did the test go well?"
"Dunno yet." They ate in silence for a moment. "I expect I'll know later today." He looked across the table at her. "Hey, you're off-line, too."
She grimaced and gave him a little grin. "An unintended vacation. The movie people dropped their reservations for tour time."
"...Oh." Just what you'd expect if the operation in East County was related to what they'd found in Torrey Pines. Miri would have seen the cancellation as significant evidence. Maybe it was. But he and Miri had turned in their project report last night, the first local exam to complete. If she were right about the mice, Foxwarner was sure to know by now that their project had been outed, and you'd think they'd have launched publicity. And yet, there were no bulletins; just Bertie and a few other students pinging away at him.
Give it till dinnertime. That's how long Miri said it might take for a major cinema organization to move into action. Real or movie, they should know by then. And his own secret? It would be outed ... or not.
Juan had a second serving of cereal.
Since he had a morning exam, Ma let him take a car to Fairmont. He made it to school with time to spare.
The vocational exam was for individuals, and you weren't allowed to search beyond the classroom. As with Ms. Wilson's math exam, the faculty had dug up some hoary piece of business that no reasonable person would ever bother with. For the vocational test, the topic would be a work specialty.
And today ... it was Regna 5.
When Regna had been hot, back in Pa's day, tech schools had taken three years of training to turn out competent Regna practitioners.
It was a snap. Juan spent a couple of hours scanning through the manuals, integrating the skills ... and then he was ready for the programming task, some cross-corporate integration nonsense.
He was out by noon, with an A.