“I think it is a good idea,” said Blue unexpectedly. “I will wear a chip bracelet. I am a baby in the woods—”
“—babe—” corrected Morgan automatically.
“—babe, and I don’t want to get lost. In my reading, I find too many tales of wolves in the woods.”
The grey man laughed, then looked at the Boy Wonder. “It’s a joke, Rahim,” he said gently.
“Oh. Heh,” said the Boy Wonder humorlessly. “Mac, you know I oppose this kind of risk.”
“I know,” said the grey man. “But I think it’s justifiable.”
“So do I,” said Blue Suit, to Morgan’s surprise. “As far as we can see, our alien is coming along best.” (Blue preened with innocent egoism.) “We want to take advantage of that. We are getting enormous PR value out of the secret normal life our alien has. Canada has never looked so good at the UN. So what if it’s far from normal? We work with it. A nice normal pre-wedding party with a man and a woman getting married is just what he needs.”
“He? Oh, Blue,” said Robyn. “Listen, it’s not exactly … normal … We’re writing our own vows, and it’s not a Christian ceremony.”
“It’s not queer,” said Blue Suit. “That’s good enough for me.”
“That’s enough, Ko,” said the grey man. “Where is this family get-to-know party, and when?”
“Er,” said Robyn, “tomorrow. Starts at noon. At the North Side Buddhist Hall. Twylla’s grandparents are ancestor worshipers, really, but the Buddhist Hall is right by their house, and it’s big.”
“Ancestor worshipers,” said the man in the blue suit, weakly.
“They’re Chinese,” said Robyn.
“Oh, that’s all right then,” said Blue Suit, and even Rahim laughed at his tone.
“Too soon,” said the grey man. “Can’t arrange security. Sorry.” Morgan felt, not annoyance, but relief. What was
that
about?
“Her other grandparents are Scots,” said Robyn. “It’s going to be quite a potluck. And there’ll be a piper at the wedding. The wedding is—”
“Can I go to the wedding instead, Morgan?” asked Blue eagerly. “I’ve always wanted to hear a piper, ever since I read about the Battle of Culloden. They sound very strange on recordings.”
“Don’t interrupt, honey. And usually one waits to be invited to these sorts of things,” said Morgan admonishingly.
“I invited you,” said Robyn. “You can bring any date you want. But I think bagpipes will surprise you in person, Blue. Recordings just don’t give the full effect.”
“We’ll have to warn the sound technicians,” said the grey man complacently.
Morgan looked at him covertly. He appeared to be extremely happy.
I wonder why
, she thought.
This must be a logistical night-mare.
But he was grinning at Blue with open enjoyment, and as if he could read Morgan’s thoughts, the grey man turned to her. “This will be very interesting,” he said.
“In the Gertrude Stein sense of the word, or the ancient Chinese curse sense?” Morgan asked.
“Both,” he said, still smiling. “I am going to enjoy this next phase very much.”
“I just can’t go tomorrow,” said Morgan. They sat in the living room after the CSIS delegation had gone. “It sounds dumb, I know, but I realized—there will be too many people there. It’s not because Blue can’t go. I just—can’t start knowing you again in a crowd that big. Or get to know Twylla that way. I’m sorry. I’ve been such a trial to you for the last few months, and here I am being temperamental again.”
“Don’t write my script,” said Robyn. “I understand. After all, I’m showing up the day before, to drop all this on you. We are not exactly doing this family stuff very well. But we are all we have left. We have to sort it out.”
“We will. What is the difference between family you’re born with and family you make?” asked Morgan.
“I don’t know, what is?”
“I was asking you.”
“Family you make … never saw you with baby food in your hair? Or vice versa?”
Morgan remembered, early in her time with Blue, washing junior puréed beans out of the alien’s long tresses after a temper tantrum about the taste. She grinned. “As good a distinction as any.”
“Okay, how about supper with just the immediate family, in a couple of days?”
“That would work.”
“Can I come too?” said Blue, coming around the edge of the dining room pocket door.
“It’s not polite to eavesdrop,” said Morgan.
“I know. Can I?”
“Okay with me,” said Robyn.
“We’ll see,” said Morgan, but she already knew that she would take Blue with her. For a touchstone? Odd thought. Then she would have two familiars there.
The grey man’s voice on the other end of the ’phone line was a surprise: he never called in the evening. He sounded edgy. “The media have got it somehow. We’re looking for a leak here. That Aziz kid says it wasn’t him, polygraph-perfect, Rahim tells me. I assume your brother can be trusted, though I’m sure I don’t know why. Except for the tail we put on him, and the tedious family reunion we listened to all day. Believe me, he didn’t have time to make a phone call. Be glad you dodged that bullet. They didn’t even have any jellied salad. Oh, and the fact that he’s bonded at work. Anyone else at your end likely to have told them?”
“Not that I know …”
“Oh, never mind, it was bound to come out eventually. Too many people to keep a secret. But I thought I’d warn you. Keep the gates locked, use the electronic entry system.”
Nevertheless, for the first few days they were mobbed when going out for groceries, to work, anywhere. Videorazzi were constantly lurking outside the fence. It took each of them a different length of time to stop being polite—Morgan was the last to do so.
“Just a few words, Ms. Shelby?”
“Be realistic,” said Morgan. “You don’t want just a few words, you want my whole life.”
“What?”
“No comment. No words.
Nada.
Sorry.”
She regretted the last word instantly, but she was a Canadian—certain habits were difficult to break.
“Why won’t you talk to them?” said John, later. “I could get the network footage later for my documentary.”
“Documentary?”
Chagrined, he looked down. “I’m doing a vid about us all. About the alien and all. I’m doing, like, an inside view.”
Morgan couldn’t decide between fury and resignation. This one was such a
guy
. Such a boys-and-their-toys egoist.
“Goodness,” she said, “I haven’t thought of that expression in a decade and a half. That’s so weird!”
“What?”
“Boys and their toys. Do you have releases from us? Otherwise, I’m afraid, there’s no use shooting another byte of vid. And the network stuff? Permissions cost too much.”
“Oh, permissions!” said John in such a dismissive manner that Morgan decided for anger.
“Yes, permissions,” she said. “It may escape your notice, but it doesn’t mine, that everything we do is being recorded out there. Dammit, I’ll subpoena the records that show you don’t have our consent and sue your trendy little britches off if you don’t get permissions. We’re getting fucked over enough without date rape too.”
“Fine,” said John, as if the negotiations had come out his way, “I’ll get permissions.”
“You do that,” said Morgan.
Hello, this is Morgan. If you want a conversation that might not be monitored by CSIS, leave a number and I’ll call you back from somewhere else. If you don’t care, press one. All media calls will be screened out, so you may as well give up now.
“Knife and fork for you?”
Morgan and Blue—who was today in a very pale version of pinkface and looked like a rather exotic Asian/Caucasian mix, in an androgynous business suit and with hair pulled back—shook their heads in unintentional unison. “No thanks; I can use chopsticks,” said Morgan. “Me too,” said Blue, and smiled ingratiatingly. It was the alien’s first house visit.
We should have started by going to visit someone we knew,
Morgan thought apprehensively, but here they were, a visit accomplished only after the initial media scrum had subsided, and Blue Suit and the grey man had worked out protocols for dodging the persistent videorazzi and the automated camera-eyes. Their solution was simple—they had let it be known that one more person came often to the house, creating a virtual person with a surprising resemblance to Blue in pinkface. Then they had run decoy ops daily for a week, enlisting the willing and pliable Aziz to enter disguised as this “frequent visitor” while Blue showed up at various windows for a few seconds—and though the whole thing seemed like a crude vid plot to Morgan, when Robyn and Aziz arrived today and then she, Robyn, and Blue had emerged, there had been almost no interest in them among the camera operators with their lenses fixed to a third-floor window that Morgan knew lighted a small storage room.
Twylla’s brother Kee was a chef, but his grandfather, the herbalist, was doing the cooking. His grandmother insisted on setting knife and fork for Morgan but, after considering Blue for a moment, set a bowl and chopsticks. Twylla returned to the room with her parents, introducing them to Morgan and then standing back, at a loss, to let Morgan explain her companion.
“This is my friend Blue,” said Morgan simply.
“Blue?” said Twylla’s mother Ada. She walked around the table behind her mother, changing the cutlery for bamboo; Morgan would have returned her grin if she hadn’t been so worried about Blue’s answers.
“I’m named after my hair color,” said Blue ingenuously.
“Oh, are you a performance artist too?” said Twylla eagerly. “Robyn told me that Jakob Ngo—oh, I can never pronounce it—lives at your place. That’s so
cool!
”
“Ngogaba,” said Blue, as Morgan said, “Yes, he does.” So as the elders prepared to serve the meal they all talked about Jakob’s work, Delany, Russ and John, and the cats.
You can get lots of mileage out of cats
, Morgan thought. The Tsangs had four.
If all else fails, it’ll be a dinner conversation full of cat stories.
“And what do you do for a living, young man?” Twylla’s father Peter asked Blue.
“What she said,” said Blue, gesturing at Twylla. “My art is my life.”
Morgan stifled a giggle. Blue would be fine. She settled down to enjoy the meal.
“I liked the petting zoo best,” said Blue.
Delany playfully echoed the childlike tone. “I liked being able to go on the bus.” They had taken the rapid transit to the west end terminal, then a rickety but still accommodating “kneeling bus” to the zoo. Delany, the not-so-blue Blue, and Morgan felt like escaped prisoners.
Two women had followed them everywhere. They must be the minders. Morgan figured they would probably get an earful from the Boy Wonder or Blue Suit after this for not taking the official car, but she didn’t care: two women had, after all, followed them everywhere, the day was bright and unseasonably warm for fall, the wind felt wonderful, and Blue was deliriously happy, bubbling like a child. And Blue was a child, she thought; even if the head was full of data and the mind synthesized well, the emotions and interactions of this lovely being were just a little over a year old, and growing up more slowly than the information-rich intelligence.
Home, Blue peeled off the pinkface solemnly, but the edges were stubborn around hairline and neck.
“You look like you have a weird sunburn,” said John, and Blue giggled. Jakob, sprawled on the couch with his head in Aziz’s lap, leaped up.
“Which animals did you like?”
“Little ones that scuttled and oozed,” said Blue. “The slow loris. It was very funny.”
“Show me,” said Jakob.
“What do you mean?”
“Move like the animals moved. Was it like this?” and Jakob made a Pink Panther pussyfoot across the living room and into the dining room.
“No, like
this
,” said Blue, and climbed the double-doorframe
adagio.
Morgan drew in her breath. The alien must be far stronger than she had thought, to be able to cling like a rock-climber to the oak mouldings. She had lifted Blue, so she knew Blue was no lighter than any of them. The motion was uncannily like the small beast at the zoo who had crept fluidly but with almost-agonizing slowness across the web of branches in its enclosure.
Blue let go of the center of the doorframe and dropped to the floor feetfirst like a cat, with a soft thump. Dusting off fingers, the alien grinned. “And there was a very silly bird there too,” and suddenly was prancing across the living room like a flamingo, all style, no substance, eerily silent and avian. John was laughing, but Jakob was struck silent with, Morgan realized, the same kind of shock she felt.
Jakob moved quietly beside her.
“We never thought to teach him to dance. But look at that. I have to choreograph something. It’s phenomenal.”