Cyberpunk

your mother?” She did not introduce her wiseguy.
    “Extreme,” I said.
    She nodded absently. “That’s nice. All right then, Mr. Joplin, give me a dozen of your carnations—and two dozen yellow duraroses.”
    Mrs. Schlieman chatted politely at me while Tree’s father wrapped the order. He was a short, rumpled, balding man who smiled too much. He seemed to like wearing the corporate uniform. Anyone else would have fixed the hair and the wrinkles. Not Mr. Joplin; he was a museum-quality throwback. As he took Mrs. Schlieman’s cash card from the wiseguy, he beamed at me over his glasses. Glasses!
    When Mrs. Schlieman left, so did the smile. “Peter Cage?” he said. “Is that your name?”
    “Mr. Boy is my name, sir.”
    “You’re Tree’s new friend.” He nodded. “She’s told us about you. She’s doing chores just now. You know, we have to work for a living here.”
    Sure, and I knew what he left unsaid: unlike you, you spoiled little freak. It was always the same with these stiffs. I walked in the door and already they hated me. At least he was not pretending, like Mrs. Schlieman. I gave him two points for honesty and kept my mouth shut.
    “What is it you want here, Peter?”
    “Nothing, sir.” If he was going to “Peter” me, I was going to “sir” him right back. “I just stopped by to say hello. Treemonisha did invite me, sir, but if you’d rather I left . . .”
    “No, no. Tree warned us you might come.”
    She and Fidel raced into the room as if they were afraid their father and I would already be at each other’s throats. “Oh, hi, Mr. Boy,” she said.
    Her father snorted at the sound of my name.
    “Hi.” I grinned at her. It was the easiest thing I had done that day.
    She was wearing her uniform. When she saw that I had noticed, she blushed. “Well, you asked for it.” She tugged self-consciously at the waist of her fatigues. “You want to come in?”
    “Just a minute.” Mr. Joplin stepped in front of the door, blocking our escape. “You finished E-class?”
    “Yes.”
    “Checked the flats?”
    “I’m almost done.”
    “After that you’d better pick some dinner and get it started. Your mama called and said she wouldn’t be home until six-fifteen.”
    “Sure.”
    “And you’ll take orders for me on line two?”
    She leaned against the counter and sighed. “Do I have a choice?”
    He backed away and waved us through. “Sorry, sweetheart. I don’t know how we would get along without you.” He caught her brother by the shirt. “Not you, Fidel. You’re misting, remember?”
    A short tunnel ran from their mall storefront to the rehabbed furniture warehouse built over the Amtrak rails. Green Dream had installed a krylac roof and fans and a grolighting system; the Joplins squeezed themselves into the leftover spaces not filled with inventory. The air in the greenhouse was heavy and warm and it smelled like rain. No walls, no privacy other than that provided by the plants.
    “Here’s where I sleep.” Tree sat on her unmade bed. Her space was formed by a cinder-block wall painted yellow and a screen of palms. “Chinese fan, bamboo, lady, date, kentia,” she said, naming them for me like they were her pets. “I grow them myself for spending money.” Her schoolcomm was on top of her dresser. Several drawers hung open; pink skintights trailed from one. Clothes were scattered like piles of leaves across the floor. “I guess I’m kind of a slob,” she said as she stripped off the uniform, wadded it, and then banked it off the dresser into the top drawer. I could see her bare back in the mirror plastic taped to the wall. “Take your things off if you want.”
    I hesitated.
    “Or not. But it’s kind of muggy to stay dressed. You’ll sweat.”
    I unvelcroed my shirt. I did not at all mind seeing Tree without clothes. But I did not undress for anyone except the stiffs at the clinic. I stepped out of my pants. Being naked somehow had gotten connected with being helpless. I had this puckery feeling in my dick, like it was going to curl up and die. I could imagine the gypsy popping out from behind a palm and laughing at me. No, I was not going to think about that. Not here.
    “Comfortable?” said Tree.
    “Sure.” My voice was turning to dust in my throat. “Do all Green Dream employees run around the back room in the nude?”
    “I doubt it.” She smiled as if the thought tickled her. “We’re not exactly your average mall drones. Come help me finish the