Fifty Degrees Below - Kim Stanley Robinson [143]
“Oh yes. I think it’s linked to Homeland Security, maybe just a black-black inside it.”
“So, these chips. Will he know you’ve been here?”
“No, he would have to be following me. The chips ping back a radio signal with their information and location, but the range isn’t very big. It’s getting bigger though, and they’ve been installing a network of transmitters that will give comprehensive coverage in the capital area. But it hasn’t been activated yet, as far as I know. I think you still need to be tracking to get a bounce from a chip. Not that he wouldn’t do that too. But he’s out of town.”
Frank didn’t know what to say.
Long silence. They let it go. There they were, after all, just the two of them. Rocking back and forth. She lay her head on his chest. Back and forth, back and forth.
“This feels so good. It’s like being in a cradle.”
“Yes,” Frank said. “You can tell which direction the wind is coming from. See, it’s coming from the north, from behind our head. When it swings toward our feet, there’s a little pause at the end, while the wind holds it out there. Then it springs back with an extra little push, like it’s been released. Whereas behind our heads we’re going into the wind, so it slows sooner and makes the turnaround quicker, with no extra acceleration from the release. See, feel that?”
“No.” She giggled.
“Feel it again. Downwind, upwind, downwind, upwind. They’re different.”
“Hmm. So they are. Like a little hitch.”
“Yes.”
“It’s like clocks going tick tock. Supposedly there’s hardly any difference between the two sounds.”
“True.” Frank felt a deep breath fill him, lifting her head. “I’m glad you don’t think I’m crazy.”
“Me? I’m in no position to think anyone else is crazy. I am fully out there myself.”
“Maybe we all are now.”
“Maybe so.”
They lay there, swaying back and forth. Please time stop now. The wind strummed the forest; they could hear individual gusts sweep across the watershed. Creaking branches, the occasional snap and crash, all within a huge airy whoosh, keening and hooting, filling everything with its continuo.
They talked quietly about tree houses. She told him all about the one in her backyard, her nights out, her tea parties, her cats, a neighborhood raccoon, a possum. “I thought it was a big rat. It scared me to death.”
Frank told her about his love for the Swiss Family tree house at Disneyland. “I had a plan to hide when the park closed. Tom Sawyer Island was divided by a fence, with a maintenance area north of the public part. I was sure I could swing around the fence and hide, but then I would be stuck on the island. I decided in the summer that would be okay, I could swim over to Frontierland and sneak through New Orleans to the tree. Clothes on my head, towel, the whole bit. I practiced swimming without my arms.”
She laughed. “Why didn’t you do it?”
“I couldn’t think of anything to tell my parents. I didn’t want them to worry.”
“Good boy.”
“Well, I would have gotten in such trouble.”
“True.”
Later she said, “Do you think we could open the tent and look at the stars? Would we get blasted by wind?”
“Somewhat. We can move halfway out and zip down the tent door. I do that a lot.”
“Okay let’s try it.”
He zipped open the tent. The cold poured in on them, and they bundled into the sleeping bag. Frank zipped it up until only their faces emerged from the hood of the bag. Set properly on the groundpad they started to warm up against each other. They kissed as much as Frank’s face could handle, which was not much. When they started to make love they fell into it more languorously. They moved with the sway of the tree in the wind, a slow back and forth, like being on a train or truly huge waterbed. But this was too perfect and they started to laugh, they had to break rhythm with the tree and they did.
Afterward he said, “What should I do about these chips?”
“I’ll leave you this wand. You can get completely clear, and they might not have this spot GPSed. Could you move to another tree, with stuff you’re sure is clean?”
“I guess