Chapter Text
Chapter 41: Deluge
* * *
Shelley stretched out on the bed in her old room in Helmer's house. It felt strange to think of it like that; she looked around in a kind of stuffy-headed, incurious way.
There was the dresser and vanity against one wall, and the small table and chair by the window. The shelf with the duplicate flimsies and tablets she'd left behind, between various knickknacks she'd acquired over the years. Posters and art (some of it hers) on the walls. All of it was familiar, but now everything gave off a slightly alien effect.
She was the difference, she knew. She wasn't the same girl who'd come to visit for her birthday last year. Her left hand went to the membrane over her new interlink port. It still felt different to her. The old port had been rough to the touch, catching slightly on her fingertips and pulling on her hair; this new one was glass-smooth.
Shelley's thoughts stalled. It was easier to look at the Third Pinnacle poster opposite her than to remember the way her arm had been twisted behind her, the crack of the gun hitting Mary's skull, the—rest of it. She flinched and found herself back in the here and now. That's over. It's all right now, we're safe now. It had to be true. Hadn't she gotten to the Foundation's ferry launch and down to Second Miltia without incident?
But there was Reynolds, waiting to escort her as soon as she arrived on-world that afternoon, and there was the video that Security Chief Foster had shown them last week of the android they thought was Mary's and her attacker. It was stupid of her to have come here without alerting anyone before she'd got on the ferry. Neither she nor Mary was safe. And why hadn't she thought to let her sister know where she was going, or for that matter to tell Mary to take a plainclothes security tech with her when she went out of the Residence earlier?
Not that she was any better. At least Mary had remained on the colony. Shelley propped herself up against the headboard and looked through the window, watching the sky turn dark; she did miss a proper nightfall sometimes.
She wasn't the same girl who'd started the search for her mother, either. Shelley tried to remember how she'd felt when she'd started. Hopeful? Expectant? It was going to be smiles all around. Except that what she found of Shalimar Gottwein was a broken woman instead of the warm mother she half-recalled.
There'd been guilt, then, in that moment when she'd finally found some information about her mother. Shalimar's life had collapsed and shrunk around her, while Shelley's and Mary's had . . . expanded. They'd been happy with people who . . . weren't their mother, weren't family.
. . . Except they were.
Her thoughts when she'd shown Mary the file had been of worry that their lives would change for the worse if they contacted their mother. What kind of daughter thought like that? Helmer'd said she didn't need to contact Shalimar if she didn't want to, but didn't she owe it to her mother to see this through?
The sky went from dark blue to black, the silhouettes of the big tree trunk and hedges vanishing somewhat, though there was still the glow from the city lights to delineate those edges. Some things never quite disappeared.
Full dark. There'd be dinner soon, probably something delivered. Shelley thought about going to sleep instead, then rejected the idea. If she slept now, feeling as bad as she did, she'd wake up in an even worse mood. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and got up.
She could hear sounds from the kitchen before she was halfway down the stairs: the low roar of the steam vent, the thump of a cupboard door closing. There was an aroma of celery and onions cooking, and when Shelley stepped through the kitchen doorway she saw Helmer bent over a small soup pot, giving the contents a quick stir before moving to the cutting board and drawing a peeled potato from a nearby bowl of water to dice.
“Sometimes I'm appalled at how impulsive you can be,” he said.
“I'm sorry, I just really needed to talk to you.” The words were out of Shelley's mouth just as she heard Mary's voice say, “But I couldn't let this chance slip through my fingers, now could I?”
Oh. Another look around the kitchen revealed Helmer's connection gear on the counter. Mary and Jr. could both be seen on the screen, and it looked like they were in Jr.’s suite; Shelley could make out the grandfather clock he'd purchased back when chaos showed up.
Helmer turned to look at her, and smiled. “Well, you're a bit too impulsive, yourself.” He finished dicing the first potato, dumped the cubes back into the bowl and got out another. “Potato soup,” he explained. “I thought you could use some comfort food.”
Shelley nodded, willing to admit that Helmer was right. She took a peek inside the pot and gave it a stir before heading toward the pantry closet and a jar of chicken stock. The aromatics were almost done cooking, to judge by the light brown, somewhat glassy look of the onions.
She stopped when she felt Helmer's hand on her shoulder as she went by. “I've got this,” he said, then nodded to the connection gear. “Take that to the table. I think those two want a word with you.”
A glance at the screen confirmed this. There'd been a light susurrus of voices from the device as Mary and Jr. kept apprising Helmer of their day; now both of them were silent and glaring when Shelley picked the connection gear up.
“So what's this about you finding your mom and not telling anyone?” Jr. demanded as Shelley settled into one of the slightly beat up spindle back chairs around the kitchen table. She watched him turn to Mary and add, “And you didn't say anything either!”
“Well I wasn't saying anything if Shelley wasn't gonna,” Mary said.
For an instant Shelley thought they might distract themselves from Jr.’s question, but her hope was short-lived as they grew silent again. She delayed answering for a few seconds as she looked back up at Helmer busy adding the potatoes to the stock. “I hadn't meant to keep it a secret,” she said when she knew she'd used up all the time she had. “We were getting ready for New Year's, then—the attack happened. And we got the new interlink ports. And the lake—”
Jr. cut her off. “Shelley, that's just making excuses. Just because things were going on doesn't mean you couldn't have said something at any time. Helmer says you're scared of losing us.”
“If you knew that, why did you ask?”
“Because we want to hear it from you,” Mary said. “I mean, I know you've been worried about maybe we'd have to leave, but I didn't know you were that scared. How long have you been pretending? 'Cause it looks like you've been putting on a good act lately. Especially lately. We're sisters, Shelley, remember? We don't suffer alone.”
Shelley's hand went back up to her dataport. “You weren't in there—that flimsy I showed you didn't have everything I learned about her. Did we have a right to be happy when she's been so miserable?”
Both Mary and Jr. were looking at her oddly, though Jr.’s expression was a bit more thoughtful. “Of course you had a right,” he said. “You have a right. There isn't some cosmic scale where the universe will collapse if too many people are happy or unhappy. You didn't make your mom suffer. Whatever happened to her wasn't your fault. It was the fault of the people who kidnapped you.”
Jr.’s ignorance brought Shelley up short, then she remembered that he couldn't have known about the Ithaca Psychiatric Facility since she hadn't told him.
“Look,” Jr. continued before Shelley could say anything, “Helmer told us you're staying down there, probably at least a few days while you figure out how to call your mom. I know he's going to be with you, but Mary and I should be there, too.”
“Especially me!” Mary's comment was only a fraction of a second shy of being an interruption.
“So we're coming down tomorrow. Gaignun's going to try to come down, too, at least until it's time to pour more water into the lake.”
“Gaignun? He knows, too?”
“Of course he knows!” Jr. said. “I told him as soon as Helmer called. He's been listening to this whole conversation. He's annoyed at you, too, though he's saying we shouldn't be too hard on you. I swear, you're both lost causes. I don't know how I put up with either of you, except you're family.”
His eye roll at the end was so expressive that a giggle escaped Shelley before she could stifle it.
“That's better,” Jr. said. “We'll be there tomorrow.”
* * *
Five days later the wallscreen in Helmer's den showed live coverage of the second round of lakebed filling on the Kukai Foundation. From his chair he saw the view rotate slowly from the concourse festival to the lake itself—still an opaque, gently rippling mid-brown expanse—before shifting back to the concourse. A smartly dressed woman holding a wand mike stood in front of the same platform where Gaignun had made his speech a week ago. The platform was empty today, but Helmer could see the left half of one of the big screens behind the reporter, in which Gaignun and several technicians could be seen in what Helmer presumed was the control room for the lake.
Helmer thought that Gaignun was doing a fair job of maintaining his poise, though he could see subtle hints of worry in the young Director's body language; even with Gaignun facing away from the camera pickup, Helmer could see him pressing his fingertips against the console's edge as he looked at one of the monitors. It was unlikely that anyone else not well acquainted with Gaignun would have noticed the tell, however, or if they did they would have figured that it stemmed from concern over the lake project. Helmer knew better, though: Gaignun had to be away from Shelley and Mary when they needed his support most.
For the second time in as many months.
The damning thing was that Gaignun needed to be where he was. The Kukai Foundation's enterprises were his responsibility; if he was absent while anything went wrong his credibility would plummet and he'd risk losing the support of the colony's investors. Not only that, but there were political and commercial vultures who were envious of the Foundation's prosperity and Gaignun's charismatic leadership, vultures who'd like nothing more than to see the colony fold, so they could swoop in and fight over the scraps—particularly now when it was recovering after Untainted Blood's attack. That was a situation that couldn't be permitted. Unfortunately, knowing that didn't make things any easier.
Obvious guilt had prompted Gaignun to delay his return to the colony until the 09:00 flight that morning, which had given him slightly more than an hour upon his return to get to the control room and confer with the scientists there. When he'd apologized for leaving, Shelley had insisted he get moving and that she understood why he couldn't stay. She'd been so painfully cheerful about it that Helmer wondered if he should have suggested that Gaignun oversee the lake project remotely this week, but Gaignun had given in to her assurances and left before Helmer could suggest it.
Even so, Helmer'd found it nice to have them all back under his roof for a few days. Since Mary, Jr. and Gaignun had arrived Shelley had brightened considerably. She'd expressed admiration for the new pearls in Mary's ears and the small orange gemstone Jr. was now sporting, though Jr. had said it was temporary and that he was just being nice to Mary. Helmer had fabricated a reason to work from his study that day, and they'd all stayed home, ordering food in and playing card games while ignoring whatever movie was playing. Jr. and Mary had teamed up against Helmer, Shelley and Gaignun, though the latter team ended up wiping the floor with the former, even with Jr.’s attempts to insert a fifth ace into the deck.
The next day Shelley had suggested that they visit the waterfront and see the dolphins now that they were back in local waters. Mary had been ecstatic, but when Helmer had asked, Shelley told him she'd been wanting to see them as much as her sister had. Afterward they'd visited a local exhibit detailing how a massive span of holobarriers had kept the ocean wildlife away from the developing coast for thirty years and how the barriers had been removed when the seaboard had been deemed safe again.
Several unavoidable meetings had forced Helmer back to Executive Tower the following two days. The kids had gone to see the forest reserve on Mitrei's outskirts while the springtime bloom was still in effect, but the day after had been much like the first. The only real difference was that they'd opted for board games that night; Mary confiscated Jr.’s set of loaded dice, but the two of them managed to win that time.
At some point between Shelley told Helmer about running into a friend at the fair last week, and how she'd figured out how one of the games had been rigged. He'd been impressed though not surprised at her cleverness, and she'd shown him pictures of herself wearing the fin.
In between all this they talked about Shalimar Gottwein and what was the best way to contact her. When Helmer had asked Shelley about how she'd finally found Ms. Gottwein, she explained that Gaignun had prompted her to search for an illustrated sign she'd remembered from her childhood and how that led to her finding the planet she and Mary had been taken from. When she asked him the same question he told her that he'd sent the gene-file from when the girls had been rescued from Chemtrack to the Kappa region's missing persons' office as soon as the region's imaginary machine cluster had fully come back online at the beginning of last year. Shelley hadn't been the only one to look startled at such a simple solution.
It was Mary who suggested ripping the bandaid off and calling Ms. Gottwein directly. Her contact information wasn't listed on the flimsy that Shelley had brought with her; a search of the IPF revealed that only previously vetted names could directly access the people in its care. Anyone unknown would have to use the Facility's main communications line and have an intermediary relay their message.
After some deliberation they decided the sisters themselves should be the ones to make the call. Helmer was willing, but he had to admit an unexpected call from the Second Miltian Representative—even in an unofficial capacity—might not go so well.
The initial call, made on the same day that the kids had gone to see the forest reserve, went better than they'd hoped. Shelley'd given Mary's and her full names to the receptionist who'd answered, explaining their relationship to Ms. Gottwein and requesting to be put in contact with her. When they were asked for proof of identity, Shelley offered the same gene-file that Helmer had used before.
They'd been made to wait for half an hour while the file was verified and Ms. Gottwein was consulted. The receptionist came back and stated that Ms. Gottwein would be ready to speak with them in two days. Shelley and Mary were quick to agree.
The view of Gaignun on the beach concourse screen vanished, to be replaced by a shot of one of the reservoir hatches, a stark intrusion of unembellished steel in this carefully contrived recreation of nature. Helmer glanced at the clock. 12:47. The hatches would open on schedule this time.
In the foreground the reporter tucked a strand of light brown hair behind her right ear and said, “All of us are excited to see the progress of the Kukai Foundation's most ambitious civil project: the artificial lake and its surroundings. One week has passed since the project began its current phase. Reports from the Limnology Department indicate that the water released last week has passed all tests made regarding its effects on the lakebed plant life and the supercolony's atmospheric composition. Now we're only minutes away from the second stage of the lake-filling, this time simultaneously releasing the newly designed filtration drones. Those won't be living fish roaming this manmade lake, but with any luck they'll be a precursor to the real thing.”
From the hallway Helmer heard Jr. saying, “You triple-checked everything, didn't you? So what's the worry? Look, I know, but you have to pay attention to what you're doing there. We—shit.” This last part came as Jr. bashed the corner of a large loaded snack tray balanced on his right arm against the doorframe. He dropped the eight-pack of canned iced teas he'd been carrying in his left hand to catch the tray before it could start sliding further; crisis averted but drinks temporarily abandoned he came the rest of the way into the room.
Jr. put the tray on the coffee table and went to retrieve the iced teas before he settled in on the end of the couch, next to Shelley. “Gaignun says they're ready to go but he's nervous there'll be another last minute emergency if they wait to let the water out on schedule. I told him he's an idiot and if there are any problems today then it's better they show up now and not afterward.”
From Shelley's other side Mary reached out for a pretzel. “I hope they open the beach soon,” she said.
Jr. shook his head. “Nah, not until a month after next week at the earliest. And you still won't be able to go in the water.”
“At least I could make sandcastles!”
Shelley was silent, but Helmer saw her take a lemon cookie from the tray. She took a bite; the rest of it remained untouched as she kept her eyes fixed on the screen. It was finally sinking in how big she'd gotten over the last five years, especially with Jr. sitting beside her. Mary, too. He'd been aware of it—he commented on how much they'd grown every time they visited—but suddenly their size took on a new significance. One day his girls would be all grown up. He wasn't sure how he felt about that.
Mary and Jr. both straightened up, prompting Helmer to look at the screen again. The fair had been replaced with a split screen view. There was a wide shot of the shoreline and several reservoir hatches on the left—though the audio was still of the festival—and a view of the control room on the right, with Gaignun standing next to a handsome blonde woman at a slight remove from the end of a bank of monitors. Helmer recognized her from recent promotional pictures as Dr. Sasha Coven, the head of the project. There was a soft shimmer that moved over a portion of both of them, as though they were partially caught in a net of light.
The view in the control room changed as one camera was switched for another; the source of the shimmering was a permaglass wall holding back thousands of liters of water. There was a gentle rhythmic motion at the top as the water gently sloshed in its pen, and periodically the drones could be seen, flashing dull silver as they swam by.
Helmer knew that this couldn't be all of Reservoir 2. He could see the side walls which were only a half meter each beyond the sides of the permaglass; the far wall was a good fifty-five, maybe sixty meters away, but there was a narrow, horizontal patch of gray in the center that he took for a hatch. It was a sizeable tank, but it couldn't hold nearly enough water to fill a third of the Foundation's lake. He wondered if the rest of the reservoir was thus segmented, and if the others were, too.
The focus was on Dr. Coven, who touched an earpiece and said, “Beginning Reservoir 2 pre-release checks. Salinity?” Her words could be heard from both sides of the split screen; everyone on the concourse would be hearing her over the public address. Gaignun had taken a step back, indicating that this was now Dr. Coven's show.
A technician answered, “Level is acceptable.” His voice was doubled in the same fashion.
“Alkalinity?”
“Level is acceptable.”
“Phosphorous?”
“Level is acceptable.”
“Potential of hydrogen?”
“Level is acceptable.”
“Oxygen dissolution?”
“Level is acceptable.”
“Clarity?”
“Level is acceptable. All variables are within acceptable limits.”
A clock popped up in the upper right corner of the wallscreen, frozen at 12:59:50. Dr. Coven turned to face the permaglass wall, paused for an extended moment, and said, “Reservoir 2 will open in ten seconds.”
The numbers on the clock began ticking up, as people—at the fair, in the control room, or, like everyone in Helmer's den, watching from elsewhere—began counting down. It was different from the New Year's Eve countdown; this time everyone seemed breathless and subdued. Jr., Shelley and Mary were all perched on the very edge of the couch, eyes darting from one side of the screen to the other. Helmer was leaning forward, mouthing the numbers under his breath.
A collective “One” was murmured as the clock reached 13:00:00. Nothing seemed to happen for an agonizing second, then a series of thin black lines appeared against the view of the shore as the hatches began opening. The lines thickened, began briefly to distort then vanished as imported Second Miltian ocean water began gushing out, merging into last week's muddy water in an ecstasy of foam and rainbows, a flash of silver now and again hinting at a released filtration drone.
In the control room the effect of the opening hatches was less obvious at first. There was a suggestion of growing brightness in the watery distance beyond the permaglass wall, and a fitful sloshing from left to right on the water's surface. Then an impression came of movement oriented away, followed by an increased agitation in the surface slosh as the water level dropped. Seconds later it progressed to a churning, though the water's violent motion was only visible at the surface, leaving a peculiar serenity in the water below that was soon to disappear. The water level dropped below the camera's focus with mounting speed as the surface agitation took on a greater force before beginning to calm again as all but a quarter of the chamber's water was let out into the rest of the reservoir, this last portion now gently rippling just below the permaglass.
“Draining of Reservoir 2 is now complete.”
The view of the shoreline switched back to the fair, this time of an overhead shot that showed the lake's new water level. On the other side of the split screen the camera had panned back from Reservoir 2; the technicians were still focused on their screens, but their newly relaxed postures telegraphed satisfaction with how the event had gone. Dr. Coven tapped her earpiece and turned to face the control room.
Throughout the reservoir's draining Gaignun had remained silent and observant. Now he closed the small distance to Dr. Coven with a long stride and an outstretched hand, which she took. “Very well done, Dr. Coven, you and your team. I'm looking forward to next week, when this stage will be completed.”
“Thank you, Director,” Dr. Coven said, smiling belatedly. “We're looking forward to seeing a healthy lake ourselves.”
“As are we all. Once again, you've done an exemplary job.”
Once this bit of scripted dialogue had concluded, the Kukai Foundation Major Projects logo was superimposed over the two of them for a handful of seconds before the image vanished and the whole screen once again showed the reporter who'd taken up station in front of the platform. She began reiterating the success of this week's lake filling; Helmer turned down the volume and turned to look at the others.
Neither Jr.’s nor Mary's appetites had been diminished by the events of the last several minutes. The bowl of pretzels was almost empty and Jr. was knocking back the last of his can of iced tea. Helmer himself had made a dent in the bowl of herbed crackers. As for Shelley, at some point she'd eaten the other half of her lemon cookie, but though she too was holding an iced tea can, it hung limp and unopened between her fingers.
Jr. finished his drink and went for a second. “Just one more tank left. Anyone want to make bets whether next week goes as well? Hey!” This was at Mary, who'd practically crawled over her sister to pinch him.
“Don't jinx it! Today's bit isn't over,” Mary scolded him. She scooted back to her side of the couch, murmuring a quick “Sorry” to Shelley, who'd only winced when Mary'd jabbed a knee into one of her thighs.
“Hey, I'm just saying these last two events have gone amazing well,” Jr. said.
Shelley rubbed her leg and looked at him. “They have, haven't they?” There was an odd expression on her face, something like hope fenced in by apprehension.
The release of Reservoir 2 had been a distraction that day—welcome, given the tension that'd been in the air since Gaignun left that morning, but a distraction all the same. All of them had been ticking down the hours until Shalimar Gottwein was scheduled to call Shelley and Mary. Now there were less than two.
“Yeah,” Jr. said before a silence could grow, “so we're probably due a breakdown somewhere by the time next week rolls around. I'm thinking it'll be the drones. They'll send blank reports back to the monitoring rooms, or something. That's how these things typically go, anyway. Whatever happens, we'll figure it out.”
Helmer watched Shelley's face. There was still worry there, but it was a little more relaxed. He was glad to see her take another lemon cookie from the tray, and was even more pleased when it vanished in two quick bites.
Shelley reached for a third cookie. “I'm still scared—I don't know how this is going to go—but you're right, I've got to think it'll all turn out all right.”
“Yeah,” Mary echoed Jr. “With everything we have to tell her like how we've learned to cook and what Mitrei and the Foundation are like and your drawings and my covers and getting to help make a park on the Foundation and everything else, we'll probably be talking past midnight.”
That was likely true, Helmer reflected. Both of them had spent time yesterday between movie-watching and board games to gather pictures and favorite examples of their interests and accomplishments. Mary had even made a small sign with the words “Hello Mom” written in the mosaic lettering she'd been practicing for months. Helmer thought it was her best work so far.
A scattering of white against the image on the wallscreen caught the corner of Helmer's eye; the first half of the program was over. From this point there'd be alternating shots of the lake and the still-flowing hatches interspersed with updates on the lake's changing status and on businesses opening in the area. He turned the screen off.
“Any other news from Gaignun?” he asked Jr.
Jr. shook his head. “All he can really do is hover at this point. He says he's been chased away from the monitoring room. He's got a few things to confer on while he's up there, but he says he's going to try to make it on either the 18:00 or the 21:00 ferry back down here. He can do a lot of his work over a connection gear, after all.”
Helmer took another cracker from the bowl. He'd noticed that Shelley seemed to perk up slightly at the possibility of Gaignun returning some time that night. That was good, he thought. If the call from her mother didn't go the way they hoped, it would be best if they were all together.
“Shelley, Mary,” he said, “we've still got more than an hour before Ms. Gottwein calls us. What do you want to do until then?”
Mary looked at Shelley, who said, haltingly, “I think I just want to take it easy for a bit, maybe rewatch last week's mag race on Keltia.” Mary nodded at that.
“All right. I've got a few reports to read, myself.” Helmer had hoped Shelley or Mary would want to talk before Ms. Gottwein got in touch with them, but he understood why they didn't. They needed to sit with their own thoughts while there was still time.
The screen was switched back on. Shortly afterward a cluster of mag-bikes zipped past, their narrow, tapered frames making them look like so many thrown knives. Jr. said something about wanting to check out one of the auction houses on the UMN; his connection gear came out and he slid from the end of the couch to the floor, stretching his legs out in front of him.
Helmer skimmed through a proposal to build another manufacturing district, but found it hard to concentrate. A pair of words kept distracting him: “her mother.” He wondered about the way he'd phrased it in his mind earlier when he thought about the upcoming call, but there it was: though he knew Mary had been involved from the beginning, it had always been Shelley's search for their mother. At three, Mary would have been too young to remember Ms. Gottwein; to her, her mother was a word and whatever her imagination contrived when Shelley tried to describe what she could recall.
Over the last five years Shelley's memory of the time before her kidnapping would have dwindled, even with the interlink to provide some form of backup. Helmer knew that during those years at Chemtrack, Shelley'd reminded Mary about the life they'd been taken from whenever she could, as a talisman against their bitter reality. She'd kept up the habit for those first few months after he'd adopted the two of them, but she'd become less diligent over time when she realized she no longer needed to create a refuge in the past. Helmer thought about how Shelley'd described the way she'd recalled the sign for the HCA Primary Educational Center, having to conjure each detail in brief snatches, instead of as a whole. Previously sharp memories had blurred over time. And now there was a possibility those memories would be reduced to the status of fantasy.
Helmer tried to amend that last thought, but a thin serpent of worry had begun to coil itself around his mind. He thought to almost a week ago, when he'd told Shelley he would've hoped to hear from his children every day if they'd been taken from him. He would have taken that call instantly. Why hadn't Shalimar Gottwein?
He knew, though, that his own belief in his hypothetical joy in being reunited with his children was a product of his imagination. There was no knowing how Ms. Gottwein felt. The public data contained in the old news reports and what was released by the Ithaca Psychiatric Facility did little to reveal the way she thought, except for the fact of her attempted suicide two years after Mary and Shelley had been abducted, and that she'd apparently never tried to leave the IPF after she'd been admitted.
Her daughters contacting her after so long would almost certainly have come as a shock. It did make sense that she might need some time to prepare herself for seeing them after ten years.
A flurry of shapes and colors suddenly moving against the flow on the wallscreen suggested imminent calamity. Helmer looked in time to see one mag-bike on its left side, almost parallel with the track, its rider just managing to stay within the cage. There was a roar and a dull screech as it spun away from the magnetic strip and slid, still spinning, toward the outside wall of the track. As the other bikes zipped past in the background, the downed vehicle slammed into the barrier, causing the structure to ripple slightly for a couple of seconds.
The sound dimmed for added drama and the camera went entirely still. Then: a small movement back of center on the bike alerted everyone to the racer's survival. Sighs of relief could be heard from around the room, which was a bit of a paradox since the race was a week-old recording. Yet there was that fear things hadn't gone as remembered.
Shelley let out two big breaths of air and flopped back against the couch cushions. She jumped when her connection gear went off, and fought to pull it from her back pocket.
“It's her,” she said, staring at the tiny display on the device itself before switching the screen on. Mary crowded next to her. Jr. looked up but didn't move from his place on the floor.
14:22. The call was early. Helmer hoped that was a good sign.
He could see a reversed image of two women on Shelley's screen: one with dark hair in the white and blue scrubs of an IPF employee and the other a longhaired blonde in casual dress. At first their voices were too low to make out, then Shelley turned up the volume.
“. . . to call at 15:00,” the dark haired woman was saying, “but we felt it was best to call now. Are you ready, Shalimar?” She moved out of camera range when Shalimar nodded.
Shelley was clutching her connection gear in both hands. “It's me, it's Shali—Shelley. Mom, we're here, Mary and me, we're—” Shalimar had lifted a hand to cut her off.
“Don't call me that,” Shalimar said in an accent much like Mary's.
In his chair, Helmer straightened and angled himself toward the couch. Jr. and Mary both went still. Shelley's face froze.
Shalimar Gottwein continued, “I thought you were dead. I had to think you were dead. I couldn't hope. I had to give that up to survive. Then I got a call, last year.” Helmer saw her push a strand of hair back over her shoulder before she continued. “It was from the gene-registry. Missing persons. There was a—there were two matches.”
A wind went up Helmer's back. Shalimar's tone was clipped and precise, not the words of someone overjoyed at a sudden reunion. And the content of her words—
The connection gear wobbled slightly in Shelley's hand as her mother said, “A year. You knew where I was for a year. And you didn't say anything. Why now?”
“I didn't,” Shelley started to say as Helmer sank back, air hissing through his teeth. She looked at over at him and he knew she'd come to the same realization. Though Helmer had only made a basic inquiry on the girls' behalf, the gene-registry would have passed the word that someone with similar DNA had been admitted into the system.
“I looked you up. Those gene-files didn't say much, just that we had a lot of matching alleles. You've certainly done well for yourselves. The Second Miltian Representative? The Kukai Foundation Managing Director? No wonder you put off saying anything when you knew where I was for a year. I wouldn't trade what you've got for this—” Shalimar waved vaguely around herself “—either.”
Mary spoke up before Shelley could. “Shelley looked! For so long! Do you know how scared she's been? She didn't send that file. She had to look up the school.”
Shalimar's expression was hard to make out, but Helmer saw her go stock still. Then the tension went out of her. She said, “I'm sorry. I can't do this. I'm—it's good to know you're alive. That you both are. But I don't think I can go back to that place. I won't. I can't. Take—goodbye.” Her hand moved and the screen went blank before vanishing.
Helmer watched, his mouth dry, as Shelley's hands dropped, her connection gear tumbling to the floor. Mary had her eyes squeezed shut.
To the air Jr. said, “Gaignun, get your ass down here.”