When he finally gave up on sleeping, some of the other boys had begun to stir. He ruminated on the day ahead: Adventure? Boredom? He should rig up a program to regulate the mirrors automatically, that was one thing. And something needed to be done about that damned bathroom....
When Karl Smoit sat up and rubbed his eyes, Conrad decided that morning had finally arrived, so he got up and retrieved a wellstone sketchplate Bascal had stowed in one of D’rector Jed’s cabinets. The more he thought about it, the more he realized how much work there was to do before Viridity would be anything like a stable environment, much less a comfortable one.
Using his pinkie for a stylus, he scribbled on the sketchplate:
To Do List:
Thermostat for Mirrors
Chronometer/Clock
Measure Stored Energy
Sink Hood
Better Light Controls
Water Dispensing Limit
Bathroom Cleanup Tools
By now Karl and Jamil were grumbling at each other over first use of the bathroom, and Preston and Martin were showing signs of getting up, and there were various thumps and rustles from the storage closet where Ho had sequestered himself. That left only Steve Grush asleep— a condition Conrad was inclined to leave him in.
Soon there was breakfast, which Bascal and Xmary joined blearily. Afterward they washed up, and then Xmary announced her schedule, which specified the times for lights-on, lights-off, three meals, an exercise hour and a story hour, and (thankfully) a “laundry check” of unspecified but probably beneficial nature.
“You should add ‘maintenance,’ ” Conrad told her. “I’ve got a long list of issues, and it’ll probably get longer before it gets shorter.”
She nodded, looking annoyingly chipper and perky. “Okay. Maintenance. Does that include cleaning up?”
“Well, we should probably put that down, too.”
She made a note on her sketchplate. “Maintenance. Cleaning. One hour or two?”
“Um, I dunno. Two hours each?”
“The days are going to be long, boyo,” Bascal agreed, sidling up and putting an arm around Xmary. “It’s better to have too much to do than too little. Can I see your list?”
Conrad dug the sketchplate out of his pocket, mimed tossing it to Bascal, and then did toss it when he was sure the pilinisi was ready to make the catch. Zero gravity was a new twist on this familiar act, but Conrad correctly intuited that he needed to fire the plate directly at Bascal’s chest, not fast or hard but very straight, in a flat spin for stability. The prince caught it on the first try.
“Yeah,” he said a few seconds later, looking it over and nodding. “Yeah. I’m going to add a few items before you get started. You need more sailing lessons, for example. Every day. And a turn at the helm while I’m doing other things. We really shouldn’t leave it unattended for long periods.”
Resignedly: “Right. I can see that.”
“Well, I’ll go update the master list,” Xmary said, decoupling herself from Bascal’s arm. Then she looked at the two of them and added, “Be nice to each other, all right? Set an example.”
When she was out of earshot, Bascal said, “How did we get so lucky, Conrad? What are the odds?”
“I dunno. Not bad I guess.”
Bascal rolled his eyes. “ ‘Not bad,’ the man says. Not bad. Run the experiment a hundred times, and how many Xmarys do we get?”
“There’s a lot of unhappy people in Denver,” Conrad answered. “You’re popular, and the Constabulary got confused. They just grabbed whoever was next to you. What you’re really asking is, how many people in that position would play along? I’m guessing quite a few.”
“Ah,” the prince said. “Now there’s a romantic notion. You’re a fun guy, Conrad.” He fiddled briefly with the sketchplate and added, “Our first order of business—our absolute highest priority—is to do something about our coloration. The sail is transparent, which is good, but you’ve got the cabin all shiny, which is bad. We want to be”—he fluttered a hand—“invisible. A light conduit: photons in one side, out the other.”
Conrad was nodding. With wellstone sensors and emitters readily programmed for it, “invisible” objects were commonplace for certain uses. Many people had invisible toilets, for example, to hide the fact that they had any bodily functions at all. Photons hitting one side were analyzed and absorbed, then re-created on the far side just as though they had traveled through unimpeded. A really transparent toilet would simply show off the water and other contents as if they were floating in midair, but an invisible one hid everything, looking like a weak lens, a slight distortion in the air and nothing more.
“The problem is heat,” Conrad said. “We’ve got to hold ours in or we’ll freeze to death.”
“I realize that,” Bascal said, in a testy way that sounded patient but wasn’t. “But the trick is to make the inner surface reflective, and the outer one invisible. We can even keep the windows clear. One-way mirrors.”
“Oh. All right. That sounds sensible.” Conrad knew about one-way mirrors, another popular programming trick that involved asymmetrical atoms. “Do you know ... how?”
“We’ll work on it,” Bascal said. “I’m not completely sure how it’s done, but we’ve figured out harder things together. Right?”
“Uh, sure. I guess.”
“And Conrad?” Bascal glanced up over the top of the sketchplate.
“Yeah?”
“Don’t work too fast on the rest of this. Stretch it out; make it last. We’re going to be out here a long time, and we need to stay busy.”
That night at story time, Xmary told the tale of the first American flag, and following along in the same theme Karl, who was also American, recited what he could remember of “Paul Revere’s Ride.” Jamil followed up with “Sinbad the Sailor,” which turned out to be the first of many Sinbad stories he knew and promised to tell. It didn’t have much to do with sailing, but entertainment was entertainment.
And then somehow it was Bascal’s turn again—the seating pattern was totally different from yesterday’s— and he was saying, “I’m taking you back, back, back before the Tongans and Europeans had discovered one another, to a time when land powers ruled the coasts of the Pacific, and sea powers ruled its islands.”
He paused for effect—he was a big one on pauses and cadence—and then continued. “On the island of Tongatapu, a special day had arrived: Elders’ Day, and all the people were afraid. The young prince, Polua-le-uli-gana, or Polu to his friends, did not understand.”
“Understand what?” someone asked, as if on cue.
Bascal answered, “The people wouldn’t come out to throw the fishing nets. They refused to race up the coconut palms and be the first one to throw down the most coconuts. They wouldn’t swim in the ponds, or come to the king’s feast. Instead, they stayed hidden until the feast was finished.
“Prince Polu was sad. He didn’t understand why on Elders’ Day his playmates stayed in hiding, or why one of them would never be seen again. When the prince questioned a servant, he got no answer. The servant simply walked away. Prince Polu lived with his royal family at Lapaha, a large village on the main island. The village included many great stone buildings, and even a stone pier jutting out into the lagoon for the king’s ships to use. Many paths led toward this royal village. Many people walked these paths to bring gifts, food, news, and greetings to the prince’s father, King Malietoa. Some people came because they were commanded—some to be honored, others to be punished.