“You downloaded everyone’s files?” I asked, and felt ever so slightly violated.
“Relax,” Bennett said. “Only public files are accessible. As long as you encrypted your private files before you turned in your PDA, like you were told to, your secrets are safe. Now, once you access a music file the speakers will kick on. Don’t turn them up too high or you won’t be able to hear the printer jam.”
“You have speakers already set up?” Gretchen asked.
“Yes, Miss Trujillo,” Bennett said. “Believe it or not, even chunky middle-aged men like to listen to music.”
“I know that,” Gretchen said. “My dad loves his.”
“And on that ego-deflating note, I’ll be off,” Bennett said. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Please don’t destroy the place. And if anyone comes in asking if they can borrow a PDA, tell them the answer is no, and no exceptions.” He set off.
“I hope he was being ironic there,” I said.
“Don’t care,” Gretchen said, and grabbed for the PDA. “Give me that.”
“Hey,” I said, holding it away from her. “First things first.” I set up the printer, queued the files, and then accessed “Delhi Morning.” The opening strains flowed out of the speakers and I soaked them in. I swear I almost cried.
“It’s amazing how badly you remembered this song,” Gretchen said, about halfway though.
“Shhhhh,” I said. “Here’s that part.”
She saw the expression on my face and kept quiet until the song was done.
Two hours is not enough time with a PDA if you haven’t had access to one in months. And that’s all I’m going to say about that. But it was enough time that both Gretchen and I came out of the information center feeling just like we’d spent hours soaking in a nice hot bath—which, come to think of it, was something that we hadn’t done for months either.
“We should keep this to ourselves,” Gretchen said.
“Yes,” I said. “Don’t want people to bug Mr. Bennett.”
“No, I just like having something over everyone else,” Gretchen said.
“There aren’t a lot of people who can carry off petty,” I said. “Yet somehow you do.”
Gretchen nodded. “Thank you, madam. And now I need to get back home. I promised Dad I’d weed the vegetable garden before it got dark.”
“Have fun rooting in the dirt,” I said.
“Thanks,” Gretchen said. “If you were feeling nice, you could always offer to help me.”
“I’m working on my evil,” I said.
“Be that way,” Gretchen said.
“But let’s get together after dinner tonight to practice,” I said. “Now that we know how to sing that part.”
“Sounds good,” Gretchen said. “Or will, hopefully.” She waved and headed off toward home. I looked around and decided today would be a good day for a walk.
And it was. The sun was up, the day was bright, particularly after a couple of hours in the light-swallowing information center, and Roanoke was deep into spring—which was really pretty, even if it turned out that all the native blooms smelled like rotten meat dipped in sewer sauce (that description courtesy of Magdy, who could string together a phrase now and then). But after a couple of months, you stop noticing the smell, or at least accept there’s nothing you can do about it. When the whole planet smells, you just have to deal with it.
But what really made it a good day for a walk was how much our world has changed in just a couple of months. John and Jane let us all out of Croatoan not too long after Enzo, Gretchen, Magdy and I had our midnight jog, and the colonists had begun to move into the countryside, building homes and farms, helping and learning from the Mennonites who were in charge of our first crops, which were already now growing in the fields. They were genetically engineered to be fast-growing; we’d be having our first harvest in the not too far future. It looked like we were going to survive after all. I walked past these new houses and fields, waving to folks as I went.
Eventually I walked past the last homestead and over a small rise. On the other side of it, nothing but grass and scrub and the forest in a line to the side. This rise was destined to be part of another farm, and more farms and pastures would cut up this little valley even further. It’s funny how even just a couple thousand humans could start to change a landscape. But at the moment there was no other person in it but me; it was my private spot, for as long as it lasted. Mine and mine alone. Well, and on a couple of occasions, mine and Enzo’s.
I laid back, looked up at the clouds in the sky, and smiled to myself. Maybe we were in hiding at the farthest reaches of the galaxy, but right now, at this moment, things were pretty good. You can be happy anywhere, if you have the right point of view. And the ability to ignore the smell of an entire planet.
“Zo?,” said a voice behind me.
I jerked up and then saw Hickory and Dickory. They had just come over the rise.
“Don’t do that,” I said, and got up.
“We wish to speak to you,” Hickory said.