Kinder des Schicksals 4 (Xeelee 9): Resplendent

mother put her own Virtual arm around Mela. ’Come, dear.’
They started walking across the sand towards the flitter.
    Chem, desperate, called after Symat, ’You promised you’d stay, you
promised you’d keep us alive.’
    ’I’ll come back.’
    ’They always say that. You won’t. You won’t!…’
    Symat followed Mela and his mother, his heart breaking.

 
II
     
     
    The flitter arrowed with perfect accuracy towards Kahra, capital
city of Mars, where Symat had grown up. The ease of the journey was
galling, after Symat’s slog on foot through the echoing deserts.
    And as the flitter dipped low over the rooftops of Kahra, he saw
lines of people snaking towards the transfer booths. The human
population of Mars was passively draining into another universe.
Symat glanced at his father, wondering if this part of the flight had
been set up deliberately to show him the booths and the patient
lines, to make a point. Hektor returned his gaze, impassive.
    Symat’s parents’ villa, on the outskirts of Kahra, was spacious,
airy. Mela and Symat wandered through it. The glass walls shone like
fire in the light of the sun. Even after a million years on Mars some
deep instinct made you aware that this tall, open design would have
been impossible on heavy Earth, and the place felt all the more
remarkable.
    ’It’s beautiful,’ Mela said.
    After his abortive adventure Symat wanted to puncture her awe. ’It
isn’t so special. There are much grander buildings than this, all
over Kahra, in fact all around the twilight belt. All empty,’ he said
harshly. ’You can just walk in and take whatever you want.’
    ’But this is home, to you. That’s the most important thing about
it.’
    ’I don’t like being here.’
    ’But you don’t have anywhere else to go. You’re all stuck here
together, you and your family.’
    He studied her. ’You’re very smart about this stuff.
Perceptive.’
    ’You think I’m too smart.’ Just briefly her projected image seemed
to waver.
    Symal felt angry. Why did he have to make friends with a weird,
superhuman two-hundred-year-old Virtual? Couldn’t he just have found
somebody normal? ’You’re not even here, are you? Not really. You’re
just a projection of some vast cobwebby thing.’
    ’I’m here.’ She tapped her head. ’It’s just that I hear things. I
can’t help it. I’ll go away, if you like.’
    ’No.’ It had been a long time since anybody else of Symat’s age
had come here. There had been few children around to begin with, and
all his childhood companions had long since followed their parents
into the booths. He couldn’t bear the thought of being left alone
again. ’You’ll have to do,’ he said.
    She seemed to understand; she nodded.
    They completed a circuit of the villa and found Symat’s parents.
Hektor and Pelle sat in the grandest of the villa’s living rooms,
while a small, silent bot, glass-hulled in sympathy with the
architecture, laid out food and drink on a table.
    Hektor stayed seated, but Pelle, Symat’s mother, stood up, a
hopeful smile on her lips. ’You two. Come and sit down. Are you still
hungry?’ She waved her hand over the table; some of the dishes
shimmered and broke up. ’We have something for you too, Mela.’
    Mela smiled. ’Thank you.’ She selected a seat and, cautiously, sat
down. The smart environment gave her a surface that matched the
real-world seat flawlessly. She reached forward, picked a piece of
fruit, and began to eat.
    Symat sat too. Back home, he felt as if he had been reduced to a
child once more. But it was obvious his mother, at least, was making
an effort to reach him; she was even being considerate to Mela. And
somehow with Mela here it wouldn’t have been right to show his
resentment. So he accepted a drink.
    As he had grown, Symat had often felt uncomfortable around his
parents. They were so different from him, both tall and slender,
matching the architecture of their Martian villa, while Symat was
dumpy, squat, thick-set. Today Pelle was casually dressed, but Hektor
wore the orange robe of a scholar, and his head was shaven. Both
Symat’s parents had dedicated their long lives to archiving the human
past on Mars, participating in a community act of remembrance to be
completed before the final transfer through the booths. But in this
domestic environment the robe made Hektor look formal, severe, the
contrast with his son only more accentuated.
    When he spoke, however, Hektor’s tone was mild.