Holding Wonder

And she stood there with tears running down her cheek, her bottom lip caught
in her teeth.
What do you do when your mother just stands there with tears rolling down her face? I didn't know either, so I got a tissue and gave it to her. She wiped her face and hugged me tight. I could feel the wetness of her tears above my ear as she hugged. How odd! How odd to feel the warmth of another person, so close! How odd, but how wonderful! "Twixt," she said, letting go of me to look at me. "Have you ever run barefoot through the grass? Or squished mud up between your toes?"
"We don't ever touch the greeneries." I sounded like a tired First Level tape. "They are the breath of the complex. Maybe one touch wouldn't matter, but who are you that you should touch and others not be allowed to? And there's no soil as such in the megapolis," I chanted. "The greeneries are all hydroponics."
"Remember when you were taking mythology," said Mother. My head swam as I tried to keep up with her quick switches. "Remember that man who was strong as long as he touched the earth and lost his strength when he was lifted off it?"
I nodded. "Hercules killed him after he held him off the ground so long he got weak."
"We are all like him," said Mother. "And we've been held off the earth too long. We'll die if we don't touch down soon."
Maybe that explained the funny feeling that had been growing inside me for so long-and twisting me so much of late. Maybe I was dying slowly because I couldn't touch down. But since I don't remember ever having touched down, how could I be suffering because I couldn't-I snatched back to Now. What I was feeling most was uncomfortable, wondering what to say next.
I was spared, though. Mother glanced quickly at the timeline rippling along near the ceiling, snatched her bag from the table and a kiss from the air in the vicinity of my cheek, and slid the door to the corridor in a wild flurry of haste. I could have looked at the log to find out what she was late for, but I felt too quenched even to flip her info switch to see.
I went to the slot wall and flipped the latch of mine. I kicked off my pneumonosoles and lay down on the bed, clicking the panel shut. The lulltone came on in my pillow, and the conditioning currents began to circulate to adjust to night settings. I was crying now-tears running down into my ears on both sides. "I hate! I hate! The whole unit-the whole complex-the whole everything!" I sobbed to myself. "I hate it, but I'm used to it! What can we do else, but be used to it!" I thumped my pillow. "Gonky slot!" I sniffed. "Too stupid to know it isn't night!" Then my tears stopped as I suddenly thought, "Am I any smarter? How do I know it's day? I've been doing day-things just because the timeline says it's day, but how do I know it's day?" Tears flowed again. "But I did see the sun once! I did! It's big and up and so bright you can't see it!"
So that's when the whole thing started, or at least that's when I started knowing there was a thing. It had been an odd, mixed-up day all day. This was only another uncomfortable piece to be fitted in. I had been hoping, in some tiny corner of me, that Mother would be willing to communicate and that by having someone to tell, I could get the day pushed down to its true proportions-or at least be able to blunt a few uncomfortable sharp things that jabbed.
That morning, with my usual sense of reaching a refuge, I had slipped into my study carrel at school. When I was in and facing the viewer, I could shut the whole world out. I could get so absorbed that when break-time came I'd have to blink myself back to Now and wander in a fog down the physical area. I sometimes envied the kids who were so loose that they could get together before break-time, volunteer one of them as a puncher to cover six or eight carrels besides his own, and then stand gabfesting in a tight little wad in the corridor while the puncher wore himself out punching enough responses to prevent Supervisory from investigating, or calling for a check response from everyone simultaneously.
Our level isn't required to do movement beyond our daily compulsory half hour first thing in the morning, so we. usually sit around the area and, well, you know-music and eating and drinking and talking-and boys. At least for some. I had no gash as yet. Time enough. No one can even put in for marriage evaluation until 21-and lucky to get certified before 25. Mother and Dad were married-younger than that-just before Evaluation and Certification came in. I asked them once how they could tell, then, that their marriage could be functional. Dad laughed-he still could laugh then-and looked at Mother. She pinked and he said, "Some knowledge isn't programmable. You'll find out."
Well, back to the student lounge. I had headed for my usual bench where my other-end-of-the-alphabet friend would be waiting with our two containers of Squelch-chartreuse was the Squelch month-flavor, and I loathed it, but everyone was drinking it, so– The lounge was overflowing with a waltz-the old dance-form that has been staging a big comeback. Chis and I used to have fun with it at home at night-along with Dad and Mother-way back when we still had fun together. I wonder what happened to us? Most of the kids think the waltz is too strenuous and barbaric really to dance, since it involves continuous large– muscle movements, but my heart swung with remembered pleasure when I heard the music.
I was cutting across a corner of the area, not paying much attention to the few couples swishing around it. Hardly anyone notices their touching any more. It is assumed that it is with permission. Well, there I was crossing the floor when I was snatched out into the middle of it and into the dance. My feet responded automatically and were waltzing happily long before the top of me had time to wonder what the drill was.
"Hey! You've got two right feet!" The creature who had grabbed me-without permission!-was very pleasantly surprised.
"But I didn't intend to-" I began, annoyed, but he just grinned and almost swung me off the floor. I got so interested in keeping up with all the variations that he knew, that I forgot to be annoyed and just enjoyed! It was swinging way out away from anything. It was being loose in such a beautiful way that shouts built up inside me but came out as rhythmical swirling-and the warmth-the round warmness around us and around us and around– The music stopped and there we were in the middle of the floor, panting and laughing and looking. At least I was looking. The fellow had his eyes pointing at me, but he didn't see me-not really, No more than if we had passed on a glide somewhere. I was just an adjunct to his dancing.
Suddenly very cold and angular and conscious of the ring of eyes around us, I loosened my cooling hands from his. He turned his smile off and mine died. "Lellice is waiting," I said. I didn't even wait for him to walk me the four courtesy steps. I fled to Lellice who stood there open-mouthed –as usual-and clammy-handed from clutching our Squelches.