Earth Girl

When I finished dancing round the room, I sent a jubilant mail to Candace. She wouldn’t read it until next day of course. I had enough sense not to wake up my ProMum at midnight with an emergency-flagged mail unless it really was an emergency. Issette was a totally different matter. She was my best friend and I wanted to tell her this right away!

I dashed next door and stuck my hand on the door plate. I could hear the faint sound of its response from the other side of the door. A musical tone, followed by a voice saying, ‘Your friend Jarra is requesting admission.’

I gave it another minute or two and then tried again. The door opened and Issette stood there in a crumpled sleep suit, looking at me with bleary, accusing eyes. ‘This better be good! Are you dead or something?’ She turned round without waiting for an answer, went across to the bed and flopped on it with a dramatic groan.

I followed her in and the door shut behind us. ‘I got the mail about my course. I’ve been accepted!’

‘What? You woke me up at this hour to tell me that!’ Issette lifted her head to glare at me.

I grinned back at her. ‘I’ve been accepted by University Asgard.’

‘WHAT!’ Issette screeched.

A computerized voice interrupted us. ‘Please have consideration for others attempting to sleep at this hour and reduce your noise levels.’

Issette threw her pillow at its sensor box. We all hated having those things in our rooms. Officially they weren’t an invasion of privacy, because the units didn’t record or pass on information, they just told us off reproachfully. If you kept ignoring them for too long then they started making an annoying noise like a gong being sounded every second until they beat you into submission.

It wasn’t just noise they complained about either. They didn’t like fire hazards, messy rooms, or you getting too boy and girlish. It does nothing for a romantic moment when a computer voice interrupts saying: ‘Your current inter-person intimacy is exceeding that acceptable for your age group.’

There were always rumours going round that people had managed to hot-wire their room sensor to bypass monitoring, but most people just set the tampering alarm off and have to pay for a new unit out of their personal credits. Those things are expensive so I’ve never tried it myself. Cathan wasn’t worth it.

‘I can’t wait to leave Next Step and get away from that thing,’ snarled Issette. She turned back to me. ‘You’re not serious about University Asgard? You can’t be!’

I spent the next hour convincing her I was serious, and explaining what I was planning. The computer complained about our noise level several more times. Eventually Issette started taking me seriously.

‘I’d love to see their faces when they find out,’ she said. ‘You have to promise me to vid it and mail it to me.’

‘And you have to promise to keep this secret. Don’t tell anyone, none of our friends, no one. Only you and Candace know. If too many people find out about it, then someone will be bound to give it away. I can’t fool the other students if they’re expecting an ape to join their course.’

Issette pulled a face. ‘Don’t call yourself that!’

‘Please have consideration for others attempting to sleep at this hour and reduce your noise levels,’ said the voice.

We both groaned.

‘You aren’t even telling your psychologist then?’ Issette was shocked.

‘I’m dumping my psychologist. He’s optional after I leave Next Step.’ I didn’t think much of psychologists, and I felt my sessions with mine were a total waste of time.

‘I’d be lost without my psychologist,’ said Issette, but she didn’t argue any more. She was a believer in psychologists and I wasn’t. We’d been round this too many times in the past to bother with it again now.

She got back to the point. ‘I don’t see how you can manage to fool them even if you do manage to keep it secret. You won’t know all their stuff. The right clothes. The way they talk. I know we watch the vids but … And the sectors all have their own silly words. Those aren’t in the vids we see. We don’t see sector only stuff, there’s only the odd bit in a comedy when they do it for a joke.’

I nodded. ‘Yes, they can all speak Language, but they have dialects too. Alpha sector has the strongest dialect because those are the first planets settled during the Exodus century. Did you know, the newer the sector, the closer the dialect is to standard Language? I saw this info vid about linguistic history mapping and …’

Issette had her fingers in her ears. ‘No history lesson. Bad, bad, Jarra!’

‘Stop doing that.’

She took her fingers out of her ears. ‘Well, stop lecturing me on history. You’re always doing it.’

‘I’m not.’

‘Oh yes you are. You’re obsessed.’

‘I’m not obsessed.’

Issette just gave me her special look. It’s a sort of hard stare, which says she’s right, I’m wrong, and we both know it. It’s very hard to argue with, so I gave in.

‘Well, if you say so … Anyway, if I pretend to be from a sector, there are bound to be some other students from there, and I won’t have the accent or know the dialect. My plan is to say that my parents are Military.’

Issette looked suspicious. ‘Is that because you’re a fan of Arrack San Domex?’

It wasn’t, really it wasn’t. I’d picked Asgard because of Arrack San Domex, and he plays a Military character in Defenders, but my decision was based on logic this time.

‘No, it isn’t. All the sectors have their dialect, but the Military don’t. They stick to Language. When they’re on assignment, their kids live in places just like Home and Next Step, and Military kids usually go Military themselves. No chance of running into one in a class of thirty history students.’

‘That could work,’ Issette admitted. ‘That would explain your name too. Hospital Earth and the Military both use stupid old-fashioned names. I mean, “Issette”! Have you ever seen an Issette in the vids who’s less than eighty?’

I giggled. Issette has successfully resolved her anger and bitterness over being Handicapped, but her psychologist is still working on her hatred of her name. The only reason she hadn’t changed it years ago was that she couldn’t make up her mind about a new one.

Issette fell asleep soon after that, so I went back to my own room and started scanning info vids about the Military. You can’t totally trust the facts in these things, but it was fascinating all the same.

Well, the ones about Planet First opening up new worlds were fascinating. The ones about running the solar space arrays were interesting too, though I didn’t follow all the science in them. The policing stuff was a bit too like sociology in school. Yeah, yeah, we have cross-sector Military so the different sectors don’t have their own armies and get tempted to re-invent war. I shouldn’t be rude about it – I’m going history and I know we don’t want any more wars – but it gets a bit preachy.

As for the alien standby exercises, well that was just funny. Even the Military people taking part in them sometimes started to laugh in the middle. How do you train to fight aliens when you’ve never met any? The answer is you get someone to imagine mad scenarios, so you find yourself fighting computer-generated bouncing-ball-shaped aliens who can stick to ceilings or eight-legged things that squirt sticky ribbons at you that explode on contact.

All right, it’s serious stuff really. We haven’t met intelligent aliens yet, but it’s been mathematically proven that they must exist, and humanity will at some point meet them. Some of those aliens will be hostile. I may find it hard to believe, but it’s a scientific fact. We have to be prepared, and the Military are doing their best.

I scanned vids all night, and made notes of what I needed to study. I had one month to create myself an identity as a kid of Military parents. If I was going to make a success of this, I needed to make Military Jarra into a real person, and know what she would know. The more I found out, the more I realized I had to learn.

The bit about Military schools was a big shock. Since Military kids usually go Military themselves, their schools cover a lot of things to prepare them for that career. Military basic training is for new recruits from the sectors. Military kids skip it because they’ve already done it at school.

I nearly gave up when I found out all Military kids were trained in unarmed combat. It was only a month until Year Day, and University courses started the day after that. How could I learn unarmed combat in that short a time? Should I pick a different fake background? At least there were info vids I could study on this, and if I didn’t know all I should about the Military, it was pretty certain that my fellow students would know a lot less.

In the end, I decided to stick with the Military idea. I started making up career histories for my fake Military parents, details about bases where I would have lived, and mailed Candace asking if she could arrange anything about unarmed combat training.

Candace mailed me back about nine in the morning. The mail showed her holding a glass of frujit and smiling. ‘Congratulations, Jarra. I’ll find out about the training, but maybe you’re taking the Military research a bit too seriously. You do tend to get carried away by things. Why not have breakfast and get some sleep?’

I decided to take her advice.

3

The Year Day party was … a bit sad. The nine of us had lived together through Nursery, Home and Next Step, but now we were splitting up. I was heading off on my personal war against University Asgard. The others were all going to University Earth, but would be scattered across different courses and campuses.

Maeth and Ross were doing different courses, but would be on the same campus in Europe Central. Issette, Cathan and Keon would be together on a campus in Europe South. The other four of us would be heading off alone. I’d always known I would be, of course, since Pre-history Foundation classes spent the year working at some of the major dig sites.

Issette was going Foundation Medical. Cathan and Keon were both going Art, but they’d chosen different specialities. Cathan was going Art Paint and Keon was going Art Light. Probably just as well. They’d been asked to send in sample pieces of their work before starting their course, and Keon had been given some sort of award for his.

I’d seen a vid of his piece. A laser sculpture of lights weaving and shimmering through all the colours out of the tropical dome in Zoo Europe. Most of the time it looked totally abstract, but every now and then the colours would sort of fuse together and you saw it was a bird with outstretched wings. Keon called it ‘Phoenix Rising’. You’d have to see it to understand, but it was seriously zan. We were all grazzed to discover Keon actually had some talent. Most of us were grazzed in a good way, but Cathan was a simmering heap of resentment just waiting for an excuse to explode.

So, the nine of us were splitting up, and the Year Day party was a bit like a funeral. We were leaving Next Step. We’d meet up, but it would never be quite the same again. You wouldn’t understand, living out there with real parents, but the nine of us had been a family. We didn’t always like each other (Cathan usually wasn’t speaking to someone) but we were all we had to hang on to.

The younger ones were at the party too, sending us off the way we’d sent off the other years ahead of us. We opened all the partition walls in Commons, to make it one big room. We did all the traditional things, singing Old Lang Zine just before midnight. I tried telling the others just how old that song was, the way I did every year, and they all threw cups of Fizzup over me.

Then we put on the big vid wall to show the countdown to midnight, and shouted along in chorus as the numbers flashed on the screen. ‘Three! Two! One! Happy Year Day 2789!’

We cheered wildly as we all became a year older. Our Next Step Principal had been lurking in a corner keeping an eye on things, now she stepped forward. ‘Congratulations to our new adults. Let’s all wish them happiness in the future.’

The younger kids cheered again. I was embarrassed to find I was getting a bit weepy. Issette was unashamedly crying. We were 18, we were adult, we were moving on. There was a time when people counted ages from the day each person was born, not from Year Day. Must have made things really messy and lonely at times like this.

Eventually the younger ones headed off to bed, the Principal said goodnight, and it was just the nine of us left in Commons. Issette was asleep on the floor. We woke her up because Ross and Maeth wanted to register their first Twoing contract. They’d been waiting months for this. The rest of us watched while they dialled Registry, entered their details, and got the confirmation. Then we all applauded and gave a big cheer.

Ross was planning to work in either a Home or a Next Step one day, so he was going Care and Community Foundation Course. Maeth had picked a random course that was on the same campus. She wasn’t bothered what course she did, because she was planning to be a ProMum and you don’t need qualifications for that.

‘They only allow you to have a three-month contract to start with,’ Maeth said, ‘but that means we can get on to our second Twoing contract quickly, and qualify for joint student accommodation.’

Ross nodded. ‘One more three-month contract, then a six-month contract, and we’ll have the minimum three contracts and a year needed to get married. You have to all promise to come to our wedding next Year Day.’

We all promised.

‘After that …’ Ross grinned at Maeth.

She blushed. ‘After that, we have our kids. Ideally, I’d like our own kids to be at least two years old before I start being a ProMum when I’m 25.’

They had their whole future lives planned out. Listening to them, I didn’t know whether to be jealous or terrified. After a bit, they said goodnight and headed off. The rest of us went a bit quiet after that. I suppose we were all thinking the same thing. Just because a couple start Twoing, it doesn’t automatically mean that they … On the other hand, Maeth and Ross had been together a long time, so now they were adults they probably would … I told myself sternly that it was none of my own business.

Cathan’s mind was clearly also considering the options available to adults. He wandered over to sit next to me with horribly fake casualness.

‘We should get back together, Jarra,’ he said, in a low voice.

‘I’m about to spend a year on assorted history dig sites,’ I pointed out. ‘They’re only open to authorized visitors.’

‘You could visit me even if I can’t visit you.’

‘It’s not a good idea. You wouldn’t be happy unless we spent most of our time together, and that just wouldn’t be possible because of my work and the time zones.’

Cathan wasn’t accepting the polite brush off. ‘We’ve got a bit of time still before we head off. We can try and work things out. Let’s go to my room and talk. We’re 18 now, so I could go and buy some wine and …’

I got sick of being tactful. ‘I know we’re adults now and the room sensors won’t bother us, but I’m not getting drunk and spending the next thirty-six hours in bed with you.’ I stood up and tried to walk away.

‘Oh come on. You want to try it too …’ Cathan came after me, grabbed me, and gave me an incompetent attempt at a masterful kiss.

Just maybe my psychologist is right about my aggression, because I really enjoyed what happened next. I grabbed Cathan’s arms, rolled backwards, and threw him over my head. I’d been enjoying doing this sort of thing in unarmed combat lessons every morning for the past month, but doing it for real was totally zan!

I stood up, and looked down at Cathan. Commons had a nice padded floor, so he wasn’t hurt, just absolutely grazzed. So was everyone else. Issette pulled a buggy-eyed, amazed face at me.

‘Like I said, Cathan. The answer is no. Good night, everyone.’ I made a magnificent exit and headed to my room.

Once inside, with the door safely closed behind me, I fell on my bed and burst out laughing. Cathan’s face!

After a bit, I calmed down. I have to admit I put the vid on after that. I’d turned down Cathan’s generous offer, but I couldn’t resist indulging my curiosity by scanning a few adult vids. Since there was no one under 18 in the room, it gave me access to all the forbidden channels. I knew Beta was the most sexually permissive sector, so I took a look at some of their vids. Hoo eee! I’d never seen so much leg!

I went to bed after that and slept solidly through until early afternoon. When I woke up, I grabbed a quick meal down in Commons and started on the demoralizing task of packing. I’d lived in this room for six years, and it felt like I was dismantling part of myself.

I’d splashed out some credits on a set of luggage with hover pads. I wasn’t sure if everything would go in. It’s amazing how much stuff you can accumulate in one room. After an hour of sorting, I was quite positive everything wouldn’t go in.

A musical tone sounded and my door said, ‘Your friend Issette is requesting admission.’

I went over and hit the unlock plate. Yes, I know what you’re thinking. We do have voice command doors on Earth, we aren’t totally last millennium here, it’s just we don’t have them in our Next Step. They all got disabled after someone in the year above me hacked the system and started sneaking into girls’ rooms. A girl caught him vidding her in the shower, and when they checked his lookup he had vids of two other girls as well. All chaos broke out. It was the most exciting thing that ever happened here. Our Principal had six fuming ProParents in her office, and another forty officially registering concern. After that, the culprit got transferred to Correctional for his last three months in Next Step, and we all had to use unlock plates instead of voice commands.

Issette stood outside, arms full of old toys, her face registering total despair. ‘I’ll never find space for all this.’

‘I’m in trouble too, and I’ll be moving dig site several times during the year. I’ll have to keep unpacking and repacking it all.’ I tried to be practical. ‘I suppose we could throw some stuff out.’

‘I can’t throw them away,’ wailed Issette. ‘I can’t throw out Whoopiz the Zen and all the fluffies.’ Issette was very attached to her toys in Nursery, especially the strange skinny purple object that she called Whoopiz the Zen. She didn’t seem to have entirely grown out of it.

I didn’t want to toss all my old familiar clutter down a waste chute either, so we dragged everything over to a hired storage unit. It was surprisingly hard to close the door on the sad jumbled relics of our years in Nursery, Home and Next Step, and return to a stripped, impersonal room.

I didn’t sleep very well, but the next morning I could laze in bed until late. I was due at my course at ten in the morning, but this time I’d remembered to allow for the time zones. The first part of my course was in America North, so I had five spare hours.

My last bit of packing took only a few minutes. I spent a while helping out Issette, and then we both headed down to the entrance hall with our luggage. I just had to press my key fob, and my bags gathered up in a tight group behind me, bouncing up and down slightly in mid air, like obedient but excited puppies. Issette’s bags didn’t have hover pads, so she had them loaded on a hired hover trolley.

In the entrance hall we met five other hover trolleys, another two sets of hover pad luggage, and their owners. The nine of us stood in an awkward group, with nothing to say except the goodbyes we’d already said, but feeling unable to actually leave. This was the big moment that we’d dreamed of for years. No more Principal giving us orders. No more rules. No more room sensors nagging us. We could go anywhere we liked, and do anything we wanted. We were adults, we were free, and we were scared.

We’d probably have stood there all day, if the Principal hadn’t arrived. She did a quick head count, saw we were all ready to go, and put us out of our misery by waving us off.

We dutifully formed an orderly queue for the portal, and took out our lookups to check our destination codes. One by one we dialled, stepped into the portal, and vanished. I let the others go first, because they all had internal Europe destinations, and I was going inter-continent.

I portalled to the closest Europe Transit, wandered past the information signs about inter-continent portal charges, and portalled to America. AIPTH, that’s Automated Intercontinental Passenger Traffic Handling, randomly allocated me an American Transit destination, and I popped out in America Transit 2.

That’s where I made a really nardle-brained decision. I could have dialled straight to my destination from any local portal in America Transit 2, but I had the bright idea of going via America Off-world since that was where a genuine off-world student would arrive. I felt this would help me get in character as Jarra the Military kid.

It was a seriously bad move. I thought America Off-world would be nice and quiet by now. Around eight in the morning, it would be busy of course, the plaza full of Earth norm kids gathering up ready to portal through on the way to their off-world schools. The authorities generously pay for them to portal off world daily to school, but they aren’t completely insane about it. The big cost is establishing the portal, not keeping it open, so they march the kids through in batches of up to a hundred to keep the cost per head down to the minimum.

The mass off-world kiddie commute would be over by now, so I expected things to be peaceful, but I stepped out of the portal into chaos. It was the day after Year Day and every university course was starting. America Off-world was teeming with Handicapped parents sending their normal kids away to off-world universities. There were also off-world history and medical students flooding in. The problem wasn’t so much the people, but the quantities of luggage chasing their owners in all directions.

I weaved my way through the mob, avoiding the area with big red information signs about the colossal off-world portal charges, and went to another local portal. Anyone watching would think I was mad, coming here and then just going from one local portal to another. They’d be right too.

I was relieved when I made it without losing myself, let alone my luggage. I entered the code for the dome on New York Dig Site, where our course would be based for the first couple of months, and the portal started talking to me.

‘Warning, your destination is a restricted access area,’ it told me. ‘If your scanned genetic code is not listed as authorized for access, then your portal will not establish but your personal account will still be charged for this journey.’

I hesitated, with last-minute cowardly thoughts running through my head, and an acid voice spoke from behind me.

‘You may have all day, but I don’t!’

I glanced behind me at an impatient, elderly woman, who reminded me of my scary science teacher at school, turned back to face the portal and took a deep breath. I was Jarra, a Military kid, trained in unarmed combat. A history lecturer and twenty-nine other history students wouldn’t scare me.

I stepped into the portal and a new identity.

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