The spot did not feel crowded; there was no rowdiness; the general mood seemed to be a kind of subdued celebration. People spoke less than usual, and in softer voices; those who listened to music or news did not inflict it on their neighbors; even teenage boys were not horsing around. Rhea suspected things would get more festive later, after the Hour was past, but for the moment there was a kind of solemnity in the air that seemed to call for decorum. It had been a long long time since so many saints had been martyred at once.
“Do you feel like Trancing?” Colly asked.
Rhea looked around. There were a few individuals dancing, but no group had formed as yet. She did not see anyone she knew nearby. “Maybe later, hon. After the Hour.”
“Okay.” Colly liked trance-dancing well enough, but was not as attached to it as Rhea had become in recent months.
“I’m surprised you have the energy,” Rhea added idly. Colly had only been back on Earth for a few days after visiting her father in orbit.
“I know,” Colly said. “Me too. Yesterday I was tired as galoonies—but today I feel like Waldo. You know what I mean? Like he must feel. Like, I know I’m weak, but I don’t feel weak.”
It took Rhea a second to get the reference. “Oh, Waldo—your new friend in the Shimizu. I forgot all about him.” Come to think of it, Colly hadn’t mentioned him once since her return. “How is Waldo?”
Suddenly Colly was a textbook illustration, labeled Nonchalance. “Okay,” she said off-handedly, studying her fingernails. “His frog died, and he likes that dopey classic rock music now, and his teacher says he understands calculus.” Beat. “And he said he wants to marry me when we’re bigger.”
Rhea’s heart turned over in her chest. She didn’t know whether she wanted to laugh or cry, only that she must do neither out loud. And so it begins, she thought. “Oh,” she said, with equal casualness. “I’m… sorry to hear about his frog.”
“Yeah. Hip was cool.”
“So, uh… what did you tell him? About the marriage thing.”
“I said I’d think about it.”
“I see. Did that satisfy him for now?”
“I guess.” Another pause. “He wanted to kiss me.”
Rhea chose her words with care. “How was it?”
Colly had run out of fingernails; she seguéd smoothly to toenails. “Okay, I guess.” Suddenly she turned and looked her mother in the eye. “But honestly, Mom, I don’t get what the big deal is.”
Rhea refused herself permission to smile. It cost her. “You will, baby,” she said solemnly. “You will.”
“Yeah, but when?”
“You won’t miss it,” she said. The words made her think of Manuel Brava, and she glanced at her watchfinger. “Hey, it’s almost time.”
It was about five minutes before the Hour. All up and down the beach, conversations were ending, people were sitting up straighter and facing the sea. Boats out on the water killed their engines, and their passengers came out on deck. Rhea felt a sudden pang of loneliness, the kind that a child’s presence does not assuage. Holidays are always the worst time for those with no significant other.
“Mom? We’re rich now, right?”
The non sequitur made her smile. “No, dear. But we’re richer.”
“Well… can we afford to call space for an hour?”
Automatically Rhea started to do mental arithmetic… then abandoned the equation unsolved. Her daughter had sideswiped her for the second time in less than a minute. “Yes, Colly! That’s a great idea! Oh, I hope he’s not… no, they won’t be working in orbit, either.” She was already autodialing, half-wishing the car was near so they could have visual too. Space images would have been appropriate during the Hour. Ah well…
Rand answered almost at once. “Hi, Rhea! Is Colly there? Of course she is—hi, princess!”
“Hi, Daddy!” Colly called back.
Rhea adjusted the volume for privacy. “Hi,” she said.
“Where are you guys? No, wait—let me guess. Audio only, so you’re out in the boonies somewhere. From the sound of the waves, ocean rather than bay side. The Dunes, right?”
How could someone who knew you that well be hundreds of miles away? “That’s right.”
“Is Uncle Jay around?” Colly asked.
“Right here, cutie,” Jay’s voice said.
“Hi, Uncle Jay! Hi, Duncan!”
There was the sound of laughter, then, “Hi, Colly,” from Duncan.
Rhea monitored herself to see if Duncan’s voice caused any internal fluttering. Nothing. She hoped he and Jay would make a success of it. “Where are you guys, anyway? No wait—let me guess.” It couldn’t be one of the Solariums: Rand and Jay were celebrities. Somewhere private, with a good view… got it! “You’re all in Eva’s window, aren’t you?”
“Right,” Rand said. “As a matter of fact, I think I can see you from here. Wave, Colly.”
She looked skyward and did so. “Here I am, Daddy!”
“I see you,” he assured her. “You’ve got mayonnaise on your chin.”
She checked—and burst into giggles when she found he was right.
“We’re planning to do some damage to the legacy Eva left me, as soon as the Hour is over,” Jay said. “I wish I could send you down a snort.”
“Me too!” Rhea said. “Look, I know the Hour’s almost here. We don’t have to talk or anything—but can we all stay on-line together until it’s over?”
“It’s something Terrans and spacers should share,” Duncan said.
“It was my idea,” Colly said proudly.
“And a good one,” Rand told her.
“Are you okay, Uncle Jay?” she asked. “Are you sad about Eva?”
His answer was slow in coming. “Let me put it this way, honey,” he said at last. “I’m not exactly okay yet—but I know I’m going to be. You know what I mean?”
“I know exactly what you mean,” she said solemnly, and Rhea felt a brief stab of guilt. “Daddy, tell him that thing Captain Kirk said.”
“Huh?”
“You know, about leaving.”
A chuckle. “Oh. Not Captain Kirk, honey: Rahssan Roland Kirk. An Old Millennium jazzman. He said once, ‘Nobody dies. They just leave here.’ ”
There was a pause, and then Jay’s voice said, “I think that’s true. Thank you, Colly.”
“Two minutes,” Duncan said.
“It feels like we ought to be doing something,” Rhea said. “Colly told you we’ve been Trancing a little, right? Maybe we should all dance or something.”
“Well,” Jay said, “I figure like this: Reb was Soto Zen. One of his favorite sayings used to be, ‘Don’t just do something—sit there!’ Do you guys know how to sit zazen? That’s what we were thinking of doing.”
“Sure,” Colly said with just a hint of scorn. “Duncan taught us once. Well, kukanzen, not zazen, but they’re prac’ly the same.” She began manipulating sand into an improvised zafu, and Rhea followed her lead. She was cautious about exposing her child to organized religion, but Zen did not meet her definition of a religion. It had no deity, for one thing—but more important, it did not require either killing or converting unbelievers.
“It’s okay to get up if you get antsy, Colly,” Jay said. “Reb wrote a book once called RUNNING JUMPING STANDING STILL. Any of those would be appropriate, I think. And there’s a walking meditation called kinhin, for groundhogs, anyway. Or you can Trance, if you like. But let’s sit a little at first, at least at the start.”
“Sure,” she agreed.