The Exile Waiting by Vonda N McIntyre

Author:Vonda N McIntyre
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Handheld Press
Published: 2019-08-26T00:00:00+00:00

***

As Mischa approached the tall double doors of the pseudosibs’ quarters, she could feel the emotionless passion of Subone flowing slowly around her, obscuring all but a tendril of intellectual involvement from Subtwo. She hesitated before knocking on the door, thinking that she could put this off, that she perhaps should not disturb him. She was already a day late. She knocked.

The door slid open. The geometric symmetry of Subtwo’s quarters had not been disarranged by time. No echo or limestone odor hinted that the rooms were built inside a cave; no smell or sound indicated that a person lived within. Mischa went into the next room and found Subtwo sitting with his back to her, playing his computer as a composer might an organ. He did not turn; it occurred to her that with his automatic responses to external stimuli, he might have let her in almost without noticing. She waited behind him, but he did not slow his work, or turn, or speak.

‘I’m back.’

If he had not known she was there, he showed no surprise. He shifted slightly and Mischa could see the screen that had held an image of the corridor the first time she had come. Now her own face looked out, moving left when she moved right, and vice versa. She glanced at where the camera must be, for the angle, but could not find it.

‘It’s a new one,’ Subtwo said without looking at her. ‘It’s very small.’ Continuing his work at the console, he watched Mischa via the screen.

‘Where have you been?’

‘In Center.’

‘Jan Hikaru said you had an emergency. I hope everything is all right.’

‘Not really.’

‘Fine.’

She thought he was being sarcastic, but realized he had simply responded with one of his inappropriate automatic phrases, without listening to what she had said. ‘I need to talk to you,’ she said, rather louder than necessary. Now was not the best time to speak to Subtwo about Chris, but she was afraid to put it off any longer, now that he was here.

He glanced up at the screen, then over his shoulder at her, as though he had no image of a proper response and had to look for a signal in reality. ‘You missed your lesson.’

‘I know, I couldn’t help it, that’s—’

‘It’s all right,’ he said instantly, interrupting her. He stood up and wandered around the room as Mischa watched with astonishment. His wandering had a posed quality to it; he seemed to be trying it for the first time to see how it fit on him. Mischa had expected anger, sarcasm, or insult. Subtwo stopped before a shelf on which stood a sculpture with planes of symmetry in two dimensions. He turned it so the vertical symmetry faced obliquely and was much less obvious, put his hands behind his back, and regarded it. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’

‘In the morning?’

‘We’ll start your lessons then,’ he said impatiently. He left the shelf and moved to a desk, where he began systematically to disarrange the papers. Mischa both saw and felt the tension rising in him as he continued.

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