Wikiworld Read Free

appreciate the new industry until it was too late for them to join one of the legal oyster wikis. (Membership had been closed at a number determined by complicated sustainability formulae.) Consequently, they turned pirate to survive in the only arena they knew.
    Cherimoya and her extensive kin had divested themselves of their SCURF: no subcutaneous ubik arfids for them, to register their presence minute-to-minute to nosy authorities and jealous oyster owners. The pirates relied instead on the doddering network of GPS satellites for navigation, and primitive cellphones for communication. Operating at night, they boasted gear to interfere with entomopter cams and infrared scans. They were not above discouraging pursuers with pulsed-energy projectile guns (purchased from the PEP Boys). After escaping with their illicit catches, they sold the fruit of the sea to individual restaurants and unscrupulous wholesalers. They took payment either in goods, or in isk, simoleans and lindens that friends would bank for them in the ubik.
    Most of the oyster pirates lived on their ships, to avoid contact with perhaps overly inquisitive mainland security wikis, such as the Boston Badgers and the Stingers. Just like me prior to my island-buying—except that my motivation for a life afloat didn’t involve anything illicit.
    Bits and pieces of information about this subculture I knew just from growing up in the Archipelago. And the rest I learned from Cherry over the first few months of our relationship.
    But that night of my house-raising, all I knew was that a gorgeous woman, rough-edged and authentic as one of the oyster shells she daily handled, wanted to hang out on my tiny island and have some fun.
    That her accidental presence here would lead to our becoming long-term lovers, I never dared hope.
    But sure enough, that’s what happened.
    Following Cherry’s introduction, I shook her hand and gave my own name. Daring to take her by the elbow—and receiving no rebuke—I steered her across the flame-lit, shadowy sands towards the nearest gaggle of revelers around their pyre.
    “So,” I asked, “how come you’re not working tonight?”
    “Oh, I don’t work every night. Just often enough to keep myself in provisions and fuel. Why should I knock myself out just to earn money and pile up things ? I’m more interested in enjoying life. Staying free, not being tied down.”
    “Well, you know, I think that’s, um – just great! That’s how I feel too!” I silently cursed my new status as a land-owner and house-dweller.
    We came out of the darkness and into the sight of my friends. Guitars, drums and gravicords chanced to fall silent just then, and I got pinged with the planned playlist, and a chance to submit any requests.
    “Hey, Russ, congratulations!” “Great day!” “House looks totally flexy!” “You’re gonna really enjoy it!”
    Cherry turned to regard me with a wide grin. “So – gotta stay footloose, huh?”
    To cover my chagrin, I fetched drinks for Cherry and me while I tried to think of something to say in defense of my new householder lifestyle. That damn sexy grin of hers didn’t help my concentration.
    Cherry took a beer from me. I said, “Listen, it’s not like I’m buying into some paranoid gatecom. This place – totally transient. It’s nothing more than a beach shack, somewhere to hang my clothes. I’m on the water most of every day – “Waving a hand to dismiss my excuses, Cherry said, “Just funning with you, Russ. Actually, I think this place is pretty hyphy. Much as I love the Soft Grind , I get tired of being so cramped all the time. Being able to stretch in your bunk without whacking your knuckles would be a treat. So – do I get a tour?”
    “Yeah, absolutely!”
    We headed toward the staircase leading up to my deck. Her sight unamped, Cherry stumbled over a tussock of grass, and I took her hand to guide her. And even when we got within the house’s sphere of radiance, she didn’t