"I think we should defrag it," Ricci said.
Matteo's brows lifted. "That's my cue." He wagged a finger at his father. "Ser hombre bueno, viejo."
Ignacio nodded. "Qué él dijo."
Gabriel stretched. "Well, now that we have a rotifer in the clade, I should be rereading some biology." When he noticed the rest of them staring, he rolled his eyes in a way that Amy was now certain had to be patented somewhere in an animator's portfolio – and permanently attached to Javier's clade. "Amy is a rotifer. She produces only daughters, but she incorporates code from a wide variety of other species into every new batch."
"See, Dad?" Ignacio turned a little to nod at his brother. "Sometimes you even iterate nerds."
"There's a species that does what I do?" Amy asked. "An organic one?"
"It's one of the oldest on the planet. It lives at the bottom of the sea."
13
Failsafe
"Shouldn't you be inside, young lady?"
"I'm sorry, officer, I was just feeling a little cooped up at home. I'm really missing the sun."
"I can see you're quite the troublemaker. Think I might have to cuff you."
"I'd love to see you try."
"I'm beginning to think I've rubbed off on you in a bad way." Javier hopped onto the railing and began walking it, arms outstretched, his body one slip away from the churning water below. His toes gripped the steel carefully at each step. He hadn't worn shoes from the moment they boarded the container ship. That was a week ago.
Amy looked up at him. Javier stood framed by a cloudless sky, perfectly balanced, not smiling, but not scowling, either. His calm face. It took some getting used to.
"Please come down from there."
Javier clasped his hands behind his back. "You know you're supposed to stay in your container. There could be botflies. Or satellites. All it takes is one facial pattern match, and we get blown out of the water."
"I'll go back inside if you quit standing on that rail."
One dimple appeared in the corner of his mouth. "You're on."
He made it his usual game of chase, bounding across the riveted steel, one foot on a blue container and the other on a yellow one, or maybe green or red or just rust. They flitted over the names of companies and company towns they didn't know, places where things were built. Once upon a time, the container ships that crossed the Pacific were stacked solid with cargo; not even a finger could slide between the units. Not so, these days. Trenches gaped open between the unevenly stacked containers. Javier enjoyed hiding in those hollow spaces, the little nooks and crannies. His laughter echoed between the walls of steel, down where the ocean and engine noise couldn't dull its edges. When the ship's security systems said the air was clear, they played tag, or Marco Polo, or Sharks and Minnows, or any of the other games he'd watched his children play without ever having tried himself. He'd give her just enough time to catch up before jumping away again. Her jumps were improving. She even caught him, sometimes.
This time he pulled up short, though. He held up one hand, and Amy landed as silently as possible behind him. She peeked over his shoulder. On the bright yellow terrace formed by an uneven stack below, Ignacio was teaching Junior the finer points of blackjack. At least, Amy assumed so. They both wore green gambling visors filched from the bridge. Blackjack required very little talking on the player's part, which made it ideal for Junior.
Ignacio pointed. "You should double-down."
Junior seemed to have a hard time deciding. He had a very expressive face that made understanding his wants and pref erences easy. He just never used words. No one knew why. After researching it, Gabriel suspected that a crucial component of his little brother's natural language functions had burned out somewhere along the line. They held out hope for Mecha, though. If anywhere had the right experts to deal with the problem, it was Mecha. For all Amy knew, she and the boy would be seeing the same specialists. Amy watched him point at something she couldn't see, which in the shared illusion of the visors told Ignacio to deal again.
It came as a surprise when Ignacio told them he was coming along. Javier had blinked at him and his slender roll of clothes tucked under one arm, and then moved aside to let him hop up the ramp leading to the main deck. Ignacio still shoulder-checked Amy on his way up, though. And over the last few days he hadn't acted any differently: frequently calling his father's presence away from hers on one lame pretext or another; rolling his eyes every time she told a story; asking her pointedly if she needed a snack. It was sort of cute, the way he thought those little digs actually impacted her in some way. Amy lived with Portia locked inside her head. No one could mock her as accurately or steadfastly as her grandmother.