“You mean, we can persuade the universe to change?”
“Yeah,” he said blandly.
“That’s possible?” I asked.
“I’d bet my life on it,” Charles said. “At least my future. Have you ever wondered why we’re locked in status quo?”
Cultural critics and even prominent thinkers in the Triple had speculated on the lack of major advances in recent decades. There had been progress — on Earth, the escalation of the dataflow revolution — that had produced surface changes, extreme refinements, but there had not been a paradigm shift for almost a century. Some said that a citizen of Earth in 2071 could be transported to 2171 and recognize almost everything she saw… This, after centuries of extraordinary change.
“If we could access the Bell Continuum, the forbidden channels where all the universe does its bookkeeping…” He smiled sheepishly. “We’d break the status quo wide open. It would be the biggest revolution of all time… much bigger than nano. Do you ever watch cartoons?”
“What are those?”
“Animations from the twentieth century. Disney cartoons, Bugs Bunny, Road Runner, Tom and Jerry.”
“I’ve seen a few,” I said.
“I used to watch them all the time when I was a kid. They were cheap — public domain — and they fascinated me. Still do. I watched them and tried to understand how a universe like theirs would make sense. I even worked up some math. Observer-biased reality — nobody falls until he knows he’s over the edge of a cliff… Instant regeneration of damaged bodies, no consequences, continuous flows of energy, limited time, inconsistent effects from similar causes. Pretty silly stuff, but it made me think.”
“Is that how our universe works?” I asked.
“Maybe more than we realize! I’m fascinated by concepts of other realities, other ways of doing things. Nothing is fixed, nothing sacred, nothing metaphysically determined-it’s all contingent on process and evolution. That’s perfect. It means we might be able to understand, if we can just relax and shed our preconceptions.”
When we finished the survey, we had no further excuses to stay, and only a few hours before we had to return the tractor to Shrinktown.
Charles seemed dispirited.
“I really don’t want to go back. This place is ideal for being alone.”
“Not exactly ideal,” I said, sliding an arm around his waist. We bumped hips down the tunnel from the pump to the cuvée.
“Nobody bothers us, there’s things to see and places to go …”
“There’s always the wine,” I said.
He looked at me as if I were the most important person in the world. “It’ll be tough going home and not seeing you for a while.”
I hadn’t given much thought to that. “We’re supposed to be responsible adults now.”
“I feel pretty damned responsible,” Charles said. We paused outside the cuvée hatch. “I want to partner with you.”
I was shocked by how fast things were moving. “Lawbond?”
“I’d strike a contract.”
That was the Martian term, but somehow it seemed less romantic — and for that reason barely less dangerous — than saying, “Get married.”
He felt me shiver and held me tighter, as if I might run away. “Pretty damned big and fast,” I said.
“Time,” Charles-said with sepulchral seriousness. He smiled. “I don’t have the patience of rocks. And you are incredible. You are what I need.”
I put my hands on his shoulders and held him at elbow’s length, examining his face, my heart thumping again. “You scare me, Charles Franklin. It isn’t nice to scare people.”
He apologized but did not loosen his grip.
“I don’t think I’m old enough to get married,” I said.
“I don’t expect an answer right away,” Charles said. “I’m just telling you that my intentions are honorable.” He hammed the word to take away its stodgy, formal sense, but didn’t succeed. Honorable was something that might concern my father, possibly my mother, but I wasn’t sure it concerned me.
Again, confusion, inner contradictions coming to the surface. But I wasn’t about to let them spoil what we had here. I touched my finger to his lips. “Patience,” I said, as lovingly as possible. “Whether we’re rock or not. This is big stuff for mere people.”
“You’re right,” he said. “I’m pushing again.”
“I wouldn’t have known how good a lover you are,” I said, “if you hadn’t been a little pushy.”
I napped on the trip back to Shrinktown. The tractor found its way home like a faithful horse. Charles nudged me two hours before our arrival and I came awake apologizing. I didn’t want him to feel neglected. I turned to watch the short rooster tail of dust behind, then faced Charles in the driver’s seat. “Thank you,” I said.
“For what?”
“For being pushy.” I was about to say, “For making a woman out of me,” but the humor might not have been obvious, and I didn’t want him to think I was being flippant about what had happened.
“I’m good at that,” he said.
“You’re good at a lot of things.”
I had promised my family I would spend time at Ylla, my home station, before returning to school. There was a week left for that, but I had to go to Durrey to catch the main loop trains north. Charles would stay in Shrinktown a few more days.
We parked the tractor in the motor pool garage and kissed passionately, then walked to the Shrinktown station, promising to get together when school resumed.
When I got back to Durrey, Diane Johara — again my roommate — opened the door and smiled expectantly at me. “How was he?” she asked. “Who?”
“Charles Franklin.”
I had told her I was going on a trip Up but hadn’t given any specifics. “Have you been snooping?” I asked.
“Not at all. While I was out at the family farm, our room took messages. One of them is from a Charles at Shrinktown depot. Where’s your slate?”
I grimaced, remembering I had left my slate in the tractor by accident. Maybe that was why Charles was calling. “I’ve misplaced it,” I said.
Diane lifted an eyebrow. “I looked at the list when we got back. The same Charles we suffered with at UMS, I assume.”
“We went fossil-hunting,” I said.
“For three days …?”
“Your nose is sharp, Diane,” I said.
She followed me into my curtained area. I pulled the cot from the wall and flopped my case on the blanket.
“He seemed very nice,” Diane said.
“You want gory details?” I asked, exasperated.
Diane shrugged. “Confession is good for the soul.”
“You must have had a boring time at the farm.”
“The farm is always a dusting bore. Nothing but brothers and married cousins. But a great swimming hole. You should come with me sometime. Might meet someone you like. You’d be good for our family, Casseia.”
“What makes you think I’d transfer my contract?”
“We have so much to offer,” she said brightly.
“You’re a top pain, Diane.” I unpacked quickly and folded everything into drawers. The thought of being alone for the rest of the vacation seemed bleak.
“Any good males in your family?” she asked. “I’d transfer contracts… for someone like Charles.”
A few months before, I would have stuck my tongue out at her, or thrown a pillow. Somehow that seemed undignified. I had a lover — was a lover — and that demanded maturity in some ways even more than being in the UMS action did.