Claire laughed.
"I can tel when you're lying and I can discover all your secrets. I'll know when you fake it in bed, I'll know when you cheat, I'll know when you spend too much. I'll know what you real y think about me. Don't you want to marry me?"
She finished off her glass and squinted at him from above the rim. "Would you read your wife's mind? You don't read our minds at work."
"Probably not," he said. "But there is always the possibility that I could and that's enough. Your turn to tel me about yourself."
"It's not that interesting," she said.
"I'm interested. I'm dying to know how you ended up on that planet."
She sighed. "Very well. Melko and Brodwyn are actual y large mining conglomerates. Both of them owned mining fleets and they strip-mined asteroids for years. It takes a lot of skil ed workers to run mining operations on that scale. Mining fleets always attract weird people, individuals who don't fit anywhere else, and the employees of both conglomerates had pretty varied histories.
"Then Brodwyn scouts discovered Uley, which is basical y a mineral treasure trove covered with a thin layer of rock. The scouts came back but somehow Melko found out about the find. The official Brodwyn version is that one of the scouts was captured and Melko tortured the information out of her, but official versions are usual y untrustworthy. The Melko fleet was more mobile at the time, so they wrapped up their operation and landed on Uley, on the Eastern Continent. It took Brodwyn almost three years to untangle themselves from their trade agreements and then they landed on the Western Continent."
"And the arms race began," Ven said.
She nodded. "The resources were severely limited so both Melko and Brodwyn adopted no-waste policies and encouraged population growth to build their armies. There was only one city on each continent and they looked exactly the same: picture a hive of uniform rectangular buildings about half-kilometer tal . The buildings were so large, each one was like a vil age ran by a Building Association. You would be born, live, work, and die in the same building sometimes."
"It sounds bleak."
"It was. On most worlds when a war breaks out, both sides have access to prior culture, to art, to pre-war luxuries such as gardens, clothes, entertainment. We didn't. Most clothes were standard issue and un-dyed. We had one solid meal a day, usual y a meat block and some sort of grain, the rest of the time we had nutrient paste." Claire hesitated, not sure how much to share. "When I fourteen, I was taken away from my mother."
"What do you mean, taken away?" He refil ed her glass and emptied the rest of the wine into his.
"It was decided that I should become a part of the military support staff, so some soldiers came and took me away from my mother. I was given new rooms in a Military building and I had to live there. My father had died years ago, and my mother was sick with Meteor Shower Virus. A lot of mining people get it - it looks like black burn marks on your skin. Nobody knows why it flares up, but the outbreaks will spark and die out on their own. The MSV is incurable. It attacks the nervous system and it's a very slow kil er. The victim becomes weaker and weaker, until they lose the ability to walk and then fade into death. all you can do is make the person comfortable."
She took a swal ow of her wine.
"Normal y a child of my age would be working and would be expected to take care of their parent, but I wasn't all owed to do that. The Building Association stepped forward. The Elder, Doreem Nagi, apparently said that nobody in his building would die a slow death alone. The Elder has the legal powers of magistrate: he can marry people, divorce them, he acts as civil judge and so when he made that decision, people listened, and the building col ectively took care of her. There were about three thousand people signed in the building, but toward the end with the war and all only about seven hundred residents remained and every day someone watched my mother and made sure that she had food, was clean, and took her pain kil ers. I owe them a debt I may never get an opportunity to repay."
"I take back my sad story," Ven said. "Yours is worse."
She shrugged. "There isn't much more to tel . I would wake up, go to work, come home, fal asleep. I did this for fourteen years. And then suddenly the war was over. We didn't even know. They told us we were winning until the very end."
She sensed discomfort emanating from him. Her story affected him, but he wasn't sure how to respond without offending her. Mighty Venturo Escana, lost for words.
"Well, that part of my life is over. Now I'm here," Claire said. "Drinking pink wine and enjoying good company.
"And eating meat cooked by a barbaric user of fossil fuels," Ven said.
"I love the food here," she confessed. "I don't know what most of things are, so I just order at random."
"New Delphi is the culinary capital of the South. Or it claims to be. Truth is, everyone in the Provinces is expected to learn to cook whether we like it or not."
"Oh?"
"Oh yes. In the Provinces, if a woman is a bad cook, people make jokes." He leaned closer. "Mina, Lienne's daughter? Can't cook at all. Everything she makes tastes awful."
Claire smiled. "I'm sure anything I made would be awful as well. Sometimes when I taste food, my mouth feels overwhelmed. This whole planet is overwhelming: the clothes, the colors, the people..."
He leaned toward her. "You're the most disciplined, grounded person I know, Claire. I've never seen anyone hit the ground running the way you did. Nothing rattles you. If you had a psycher mind, you would be something else on the bionet."
She could tel him. He wouldn't betray her. She could "I feel at ease with you," he said. "Your mind is so calm.
Every day I deal with people whose minds are a source of constant noise. When we work together, I can final y relax."
She almost screamed in frustration.
"You understand the way I think. I want you to know that I value that greatly. I promise, I won't put you into a harm's way again. It took courage to handle it the way you've done.
You stood by me. Not many employees would in your place.
I won't ever forget that."
Employee... That's what she was, an employee. She shouldn't have deluded herself.
"Did I say something unpleasant?" he asked.
"Not at all. I just realized it's late. I should be getting home." He would never see her anything else. She was Claire with a quiet mind. That was her value to him. She had mistaken his friendliness and concern for something deeper.
"I'll walk you to the ground floor."
She rose. "It's alright. I know the way."
Ven got up. "Let me walk you down."
She turned and looked at him, keeping her voice flat.
"It's not necessary. Thank you for the meal."
Claire turned and walked away.
Chapter Five
"One blue pepper, cut into strips," the Artificial Intel igence announced.
Claire surveyed the smal heap of ingredients on her kitchen island. "Define blue pepper."
"Blue pepper: pungent fruit of a Moloccy species rich in lycopene and Vitamin C. Flavor: sweet, slightly bitter.
Appearance: dark blue, cylindrical shape tapering toward the tip."
The picture of a blue pepper ignited on the kitchen's digital screen. Claire plucked the pepper from the bunch and placed it on her cutting board. "Demonstrate."
The AI opened a frame showing a woman deftly chopping the pepper into five mil imeter wide rings.
Claire watched it for a few seconds, picked up the knife, and chopped the pepper.
It was Saturday morning and she had woken up with a sudden need to prove to herself that she could cook.
Immigration had ful y stocked her refrigerator with raw ingredients, so she set them out on the counter and had the AI run a comprehensive analysis finding a combination that would result in a beginner-level recipe.
"One peeled compa, cut into strips."
"Define compa."
"Compa: fleshy fruit of Karlovskaya species, rich in Vitamin A. Flavor: sour, with sweet aftertaste. Appearance: red tetrahedron with rounded corners."
Claire picked out a rough pyramid-looking red fruit.
"Demonstrate peeling."
The woman on the screen scraped the compa with some sort of implement that did not look like a knife. Claire pul ed open the kitchen drawers, rummaging through until she found a similar looking tool.
A soft chime rang through her apartment.
"You have visitors," the AI announced dutiful y.
Venturo. Her heart hammered. Her mouth went dry.
"Visual," she said.
The screen ignited. Claire's heart sank. Tonya stood at the door, accompanied by an old man and another that looked in his early forties.
She clenched her teeth, furious with herself. This obsession with Ven had to end. It was turning her into an nervous wreck, catapulting her from one emotional extreme to the next. Enough was enough. Claire exhaled, finding calm.
"Open," she said.
The door swung open, and Tonya and the man in his forties bowed, letting the older one through the door first.
Claire wiped her hands on the kitchen towel and walked up to greet them.
The older man examined her, taking her measure. Age whitened his hair, and he walked leaning on a cane, by the eyes that looked at her from under the thick eyebrows remained sharp. He was carrying a satchel. The other man hovered protectively over him. She didn't recognize either of them.
Tonya approached. "Retainer Shannon, we are sorry to cal on you so early in the morning, but our need is great.
This is Doreem Nagi, our Building Elder, and Charles Monn."
Claire inclined her head, touching her forehead in a sign of respect. "Thank you for looking after my mother."
Doreem nodded to her.
"We seek your help," Tonya said.
"Please sit down." Claire led them to the couches.
Everyone took a seat.