The John Varley Reader Read Free Page B

of her new mannerisms. She reacted just like the old Halo would have, with a dopey face and open mouth. Then she tried on other reactions: covering her mouth with her hands and wilting a little. First-time Changers are like that; new women tend to mince around like something out of a gothic novel, and new men swagger and grunt like Marlon Brando in A Streetcar Named Desire. They get over it.
    Halo got over it right in front of my eyes. She stared at me, scratching her head.
    â€œAre you crazy? Old Archimedes is on the Nearside. They don’t let anybody go over there.”
    â€œDon’t they?” I asked, suddenly interested. “Do you know that for a fact? And if so, why not?”
    â€œWell, I mean everybody knows . . .”
    â€œDo they? Who is ‘they’ that won’t let us go?”
    â€œThe Central Computer, I guess.”
    â€œWell, the only way to find out is to try it. Come on, let’s go.” I grabbed her arm. I could see she was confused, and I wanted it to remain that way until I could get my own thoughts together.
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“I’d like a flight plan to Old Archimedes on the Nearside,” I said, trying to sound as grownup and unworried as possible. We had packed a lunch and reached the field in ten minutes, due largely to my frantic prodding.
    â€œThat’s a little imprecise, Fox,” said the CC. “Old Archimedes is a big place. Would you like to try again?”
    â€œAh . . .” I drew a blank. Damn all computers and their literal-mindedness! What did I know about Old Archimedes? About as much as I knew about Old New York or Old Bombay.
    â€œGive me a flight plan to the main landing field.”
    â€œThat’s better. The data are . . .” It reeled off the string of numbers. I fed them into the pilot and tried to relax.
    â€œHere goes,” I said to Halo. “This is Fox-Carnival-Joule, piloting private jumper AX1453, based at King City. I hereby file a flight plan to Old Archimedes’ main landing field, described as follows . . .” I repeated the numbers the CC had given me. “Filed on the seventeenth lune of the fourth lunation of the year 214 of the Occupation of Earth. I request an initiation time.”
    â€œGranted. Time as follows: thirty seconds from mark. Mark.”
    I was stunned. “That’s all there is to it?”
    It chuckled. Damn maternalistic machine. “What did you expect, Fox? Marshals converging on your jumper?”
    â€œI don’t know. I guess I thought you wouldn’t allow us to go to the Nearside.”
    â€œA popular misconception. You are a free citizen, although a minor, and able to go where you wish on the lunar surface. You are subject only to the laws of the state and the specific wishes of your parent as programmed into me. I . . . Do you wish me to start the burn for you?”
    â€œMind your own business.” I watched the tick and pressed the button when it reached zero. The acceleration was mild, but went on for a long time. Hell, Old Archimedes is at the antipodes.
    â€œI have the responsibility to see that you do not endanger yourself through youthful ignorance or forgetfulness. I must also see that you obey the wishes of your mother. Other than that, you are on your own.”
    â€œYou mean Carnival gave me permission to go to the Nearside?”
    â€œI didn’t say that. I have received no instruction from Carnival not to permit you to go to Nearside. There are no unusual dangers to your safety on Nearside. So I had no choice but to approve your flight plan.” It paused, significantly. “It is my experience that few parents consider it necessary to instruct me to deny such permission. I infer that it’s because so few people ever ask to go there. I also note that your parent is at the present moment unreachable; she has left instructions not to be disturbed. Fox,” the CC said, accusingly, “it occurs to me that this is no