Truth (12 page)

XXIII

O
n the way home we stopped at Metro. Gran’s spirits lifted with the news that the writ had been denied. Dr. Silverman was moving her to Edgewater Rehabilitation Center after Holiday, and hopefully home shortly thereafter. The one thing she didn’t bring up was Pops. Which was probably for the best. If she got all worked up again, Silverman might make her stay in the hospital longer, and none of us wanted that.

As we were leaving, Gran said, “Call Harriet and let her know what’s going on. They’ve only let me talk to her twice,” Gran said. “Make sure she won’t be alone on Holiday, what with her son, Johnny, being taken away by B.O.S.S.”

***

When we got home, Chris and Wei were waiting for us. After congratulations on the outcome of the hearing, Chris spirited Dee away to the grocery for Holiday food supplies. She was becoming quite the chef under his tutelage. Wei took me to her room for a PAV meeting with the Sisterhood. Everyone was on the call except for Dorrie.

“How’d the hearing go?” Brie asked.

“The judge dismissed the writ.”

“Awesome. Did they ever figure out who filed it?” Brie asked. “That was ultracruel. Your poor grandmother.”

“It was filed anonymously,” I said. “It’s what caused Gran to have the heart attack, that and Pops’s arrest by B.O.S.S.”

“My grandparents’ doctor goes to their house once a month to do a routine health scan. All elderly people should do that,” Paulette said.

“Yeah, well, not everyone has a personal doctor, or the credits to hire one. And when you’ve only got one medical option, that isn’t going to happen. Can we stop talking about my family now?”

“Sure,” Wei said. “So what’s up? And where’s Dorrie?”

“Today’s the day,” Brie said.

“Rogue?” Mag said.

“Uh-huh. Dorrie’s recording right now. It’ll be on at six tonight.”

“So wait, how does Rogue Radio work?” I asked.

“Each of us gets a turn at putting together a broadcast. After it’s recorded, Dorrie hacks into the signals of three obsolete communication satellites and programs them to play at a set time on a specific frequency. We’ve done some vid interruptions, too.”

“Wait a nano! Did you guys do the clips of the Fems’ rally that interrupted that
XVI Ways
fashion show?” I said. “That was ultra!”

“Sure enough,” Brie said. “Dorrie loves interruptions. She’s got her PAV programmed to hit those satellites from anywhere at any time.”

“I have to admit, I’ve only ever heard Rogue Radio by accident,” I said.

“Chris can set up the channel on your PAV,” Wei said.

“There’ll be an impromptu vert interruption this afternoon,” Paulette said. “Just in time to hit all the last-minute Holiday shoppers. If you want some free entertainment, go down to State or Michigan. Should be fun.”

“I would, but all my shopping’s done,” Brie said. “And I sure don’t want to be part of the mob that’s doing the last-minute routine.”

Mag and Wei nodded. I did, too, although in reality I hadn’t bought one single present. Everyone was getting something I’d made or drawn. Sometimes it really sucked being low tier. Really.

“Sorry your parents can’t make the New Year’s party, Wei. Lots of top-tier people will be there,” Paulette said. “Mom hinted that even Kasimir Lessig might attend.”

“That jerk?” Brie asked. “Who’d want to be in the same room as him?”

Wei passed me a note.
You going to tell her about your invite?

I shook my head.

“You guys been listening to the Alerts?” Mag asked. “Do you believe there’s a fake space station out west?”

“I don’t,” I said. “Although Ed used to take a lot of trips. I suppose he might have been doing something like that.”

“Ed? Ed Chamus?” Mag gasped. “You know that guy?”

Skivs! I’d forgotten that they didn’t know about my connection with Ed. About my killing him. About anything.

“What gives, Nina?” Paulette’s steely eyes bored into me.

“Yeah, I knew . . . know him. He’s my sister’s father.” I nearly choked on the words.

After what seemed an eternity of silence, Paulette said, “Well, if he did what B.O.S.S. is after him for, he’s as good as dead. My guess is he’ll be killed while they’re apprehending him. The GC can’t afford to let him reveal who gave him his orders. He didn’t look smart enough to have figured out a scheme like that on his own.”

I couldn’t believe she hadn’t ripped me for Ed being Dee’s dad—even though he really wasn’t—which, of course, I couldn’t say. To be safe, I changed the subject. “I saw my friend Joan on Monday. Some doctor’s been treating her on the sly. She seemed a lot better. Has anyone thought any more about what we could do to help her?”

“We’ll figure something out,” Mag said. “It’s tough to plan anything during Holiday because so many people have family obligations. However, we’ll come up with the right plan. And I bet we can get her out of town ourselves. Don’t you guys think so?”

Wei’s eyes lit up. Brie did a slow, affirmative nod. We all looked at Paulette.

“Are you willing to plan a daring rescue, Paulette?” Wei asked, teasingly.

“Only if it’s after New Year’s. There’s no way I can leave my mother in the lurch with this party.” She set her jaw. “After that, I’m game. No reason the guys should have all the fun.”

My eyebrow shot up. Paulette was a constant surprise. Now she’s up for helping a homeless girl? It stood to reason that she must believe some of the same things as the rest of us, since she
is
in the Sisterhood. But this?

XXIV

I
left Dee in the kitchen, absorbed in her newfound passion for cooking, and headed over to Harriet’s. I thought a visit would be better than a call.

On the way over, I called B.O.S.S. headquarters, to see if maybe I could get some information about Pops, or at least leave a message for them to give to him. It was Holiday, after all. The only two things they confirmed were that he was there and that he wasn’t allowed visitors.

When I got to Gran and Pops’s old building, I automatically put my hand on the auto-recognition pad. When nothing happened, I remembered I didn’t live there anymore.

Pressing D14, I said, “Nina Oberon for Harriet Pace.”

In a moment, her face popped up on the monitor.

“Lord! Nina? Come in.”

When I got off the elport, Harriet was standing outside her door. “How is Edith? I’ve been worried sick about her. I heard from her only once. The hospital won’t tell me anything, and this darn sciatica’s kept me laid up.” She latched onto my arm, ushering me into her apartment. “I’ve been so worried about her.”

It was almost nice to sit and talk with Harriet for a while. Almost like our old life. Two cups of tea and several cookies later, I left. But not until Harriet had assured me she was having Holiday dinner with the couple in D17. I was glad she wouldn’t be alone.

I headed out and walked along the riverfront, in the direction of Michigan Avenue. I was hoping to see Joan, but there was no sign of her or the homeless women she had been hanging out with. Heading up Illinois Street, I cut east. At Rush Street, I noticed an ultra single trannie idling at the light. The driver was Dr. Silverman. Before I could make up my mind to wave or not, the light changed and he speeded off. After what Mr. Jenkins had said about Silverman’s demotion to Metro Hospital, I wondered how he could afford that kind of transit. Maybe he’d made a ton of credits when he was doing research.

Any thoughts I had of the doctor disappeared as soon as I turned the corner onto Michigan Avenue. It was a virtual fairyland of twinkling lights and Holiday music—if you blocked out the verts. I clicked on my PAV to music only and ambled down the street. The decorations and the music were breathtakingly beautiful. But it wasn’t long before I was paying more attention to the sour faces of the people jostling past me, laden with bags and boxes. They weren’t happy; they were stressed. The only smiling people were the few who, like me, were without packages—strolling slowly down the sidewalk, taking in the sights.

I was standing in front of Yum’s candy shop, watching marzipan ballerinas twirling to the strains of
The Nutcracker
, when the vert interruption hit.

Trannies screeched to a halt. Shoppers’ packages went flying as people bumped into each other, confused by the silence. It would’ve been more comical, except for the fear on the faces of little kids, clutching their parents’ hands.

“Once upon a time, Holiday meant more than a buying frenzy. It was a time for family and friends and compassion for those less fortunate. The spirit of selflessness, generosity, and charity were foremost in a man’s heart. Search your own hearts, people. Is the homeless person, freezing in the harsh winter, less worthy of—”

It was my dad’s voice. Hearing him made me think back to our last conversation, when I’d clicked off on him. Suddenly, a high-pitched electronic screech cut off the speaker. Everyone, myself included, clapped their hands over their ears. Within seconds, a repair trannie flew by, heading to the Media station at the corner of Michigan and Erie. Moments after they arrived, Holiday music was flowing and verts filled the air. I clicked off my PAV to catch snippets of conversation.

An older man said to his companion, “I remember when I was a kid, we’d volunteer at the Shelter and Food works up in Rogers Park. Felt pretty good.”

“Hush,” the woman said. “Someone might hear you and think you agreed with that . . . that . . . subversive propaganda.” She glanced around nervously.

“Maybe I should,” he said.

She yanked him away. “We’ve got grandkids to think of . . .”

I continued up Michigan, purposely avoiding Mars 9, and took a left at the Water Tower. A trannie spun out of an alley, nearly knocking me over. When I glanced down the alley to see if anyone else was going to barrel out and flatten me, I saw a poster stuck on the wall. It was a rough drawing of a homeless man being stunned by a cop. Subversive art. Absolutely illegal . . . and thoroughly cool. Had the person in the speeding trannie posted it? How long would it stay there before the authorities tore it down? An idea began formulating in my brain. By the time I got home, I had a full-blown plan.

***

“So,” I said to Wei, “we could reproduce my drawings and post them all over the city.”

“Or,” she said, “we can do a vid interruption made up of your pics. That would be ultra-ultra! We can call the others and see what they think. By the way, Derek’s coming over tonight to listen to Rogue Radio. I heard Sal’s back from his business. Why don’t we get him and Mike to come over, too?”

“Good idea!” I hadn’t gotten a message from Sal, but Wei knew he was back. The bubble of doubt crept up my throat, but I tamped it back down. “Oh, by the way, the vert interruption was great. It was weird to hear my dad talking.”

“It was from an old debate he gave. He’s got such a compelling voice,” Wei said. “People listen to him.”

“Just not enough of them,” I said ruefully. Of course, I hadn’t listened too well when we’d talked. He might be persuasive with the masses, but, as his abandoned daughter, I might need a little extra convincing of his sincerity, at least where I was concerned.

I messaged Sal and Mike, both of whom said they were coming over. Now I needed to figure out how to tell Dee about Rogue Radio without telling her too much about all the rest of our activities.

“So everyone’s coming over tonight,” I said, walking into her room, where she was watching a vid on her PAV.

“Really? How come?”

“We’re going to listen to Rogue Radio.” I waited for the anticipated barrage of questions.

“Cool. Chris was telling me about that. He said the music was tons better than anything Media produces. Is he coming, too?”

“I didn’t ask him. He probably has a date or something.” I was surprised that Dee was so accepting of Rogue Radio, but I guess coming from Chris, it softened things.

“Nuh-uh. He told me he was through with dating. That his last girlfriend was kind of a jerk and he’d rather be teaching me to cook than going out with someone like her again. He’s so nice. And really cute, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, I guess.” My little sister appeared to have the beginnings of a raging crush on Chris. I figured he could handle that, because he really
was
a nice person. And cute, too. Why was I thinking that? “Go ahead and ask him if you want,” I said.

While she was upstairs, I put the finishing touches on pictures I’d drawn for Wei and her family for Holiday. I wished I’d had credits to buy them something instead. But, I told myself, these were from the heart. Like the vert interruption had mentioned—Holiday was supposed to be about more than expensive presents.

***

I was sandwiched between Sal and Chris on the sofa, while Derek and Wei were sharing Pops’s chair. Dee sprawled on the floor on a pile of pillows.

“Smells like ginger,” Derek said, sniffing the back of the chair.

“That’s Pops’s chair. Candied ginger’s his favorite thing,” Dee said. To Wei, she said, “Did you know your mother got him hooked on it when she was in high school? She and your dad were friends with our mom and Nina’s dad. They even went to grade school together.”

“That practically makes us family, then,” Chris said.

His thigh was pressed against mine, and I found it more than a little distracting. Especially when he flashed one of his killer smiles at me. I pressed myself closer to Sal and squeezed his hand.

“Missed you, too,” he whispered.

“Shhhh,” Wei said. “It’s starting.”

Dorrie’s voice came through loud and clear. “Tonight we’re going all the way back to the sixties—the
nineteen
sixties, that is. We’ll be hearing from ultracool Bob Dylan, Neil Young, and Joan Baez. After a quick trip around that decade, we’ll leap forward to the two thousands to hear from Ansley Garnett, Claudette Lucier, and Little Joe Andersen. Wrapping up tonight’s broadcast will be the latest from Chicago’s own Beppo Wills. But you didn’t tune in to listen to me, so without wasting another nano, let’s get something happening here with Buffalo Springfield’s ‘For What It’s Worth.’”

At the end of the program, Dorrie said, “There you have it, guys and fems—a sampling of some music that’s changed the world. Music can do that, you know. Until next time, keep your profile low and your scanners on. When you least expect it, Rogue Radio will return.”

“Damn. I love that ancient stuff,” Derek said. “Dylan was a genius, and so was Neil Young. Man, I wish I had my guitar, the show gave me some great ideas for songs.”

“You could use the piano upstairs,” Wei said.

“Brilliant. Let’s go.”

“You don’t mind, do you, Nina?”

“Of course not.” Maybe this would translate into some alone time for Sal and me. Although I didn’t see how, with Dee and Chris planted firmly in their seats.

“Hey, Dee,” Chris said. “Can we talk Holiday menu for a sec?”

“Sure!”

They disappeared into the kitchen.

Sal immediately pulled me into an embrace. “I have been wanting to do this all night.” His lips were soft and warm on mine.

“Dee and Chris will walk in on us,” I said, when we came up for air.

“Too bad.” He kissed me again. “I missed you, Nina Oberon.”

I leaned into him, kissing back. “I missed you, too, Sal.”