Holy Fire - Bruce Sterling [151]
“Darling, if we could organize, we wouldn’t be acting oddly in the first place.”
“You should talk to the others. Network with them.”
“I don’t have net access. And I bet they don’t, either.”
“Mom, why not? You should be calling us. Really, Harry and I, we’ve both been worried sick about you. Haven’t we, Harry?”
“It’s true, Mia,” said Suhaery loyally. “We are concerned.”
Chloe drew a breath. “I can see that you’re not human any longer, and I can accept that. It’s fine, it happens. But you are my mother. You can’t run off and do this to us. It’s unconscionable.”
“Your father did it.”
“No, he didn’t. Dad left you, but he never left me. Dad talks to me whenever I ask Dad to talk to me. And at least I always know where Dad is. I never know where you are anymore. Nobody knows. You know how long we’ve been searching for you on these back roads?”
“No. How long?”
“Long enough,” Suhaery said, smiling. “Maybe too long. Your daughter and I are very patient people.”
“Can’t you just call us, at least? So we won’t fret so much. Please, Mom. I don’t mind if you want to walk around, but Mom, you can’t ever walk away from your dharma and karma.”
“Look, I don’t have any money.”
Suhaery slipped his brown hands neatly into his creased trouser pockets. “That’s no problem. Twenty marks a week? Would that be too much?”
“Twenty marks? …” said Maya. “Wow.”
Suhaery nodded happily. “Take a little money. What’s wrong with that? It’s not enough money to make any trouble for any of us. A little allowance, Mia. A family remittance. We are your family, you know. It would make us so happy.”
“What do I have to do for this allowance?”
“Nothing! Just call us. Talk to us. Sometimes. That’s all. Is that so much to ask?”
Chloe nodded eagerly. “You need some looking after, Mom. We can do that now. We can set up a little account for you. We’re good at that now.”
“Well …”
“You’d have done that for me. Wouldn’t you? Heck, Mom, you did do it for me. Remember that allowance you gave me when I was on probation?”
“Did I?” Maya paused. “Well, okay, I guess that makes sense. Okay, have it your way.”
Chloe wiped her eyes sentimentally. “Oh, I’m glad now.… It’s funny to see you so pretty.”
The allowance made a difference of sorts. Maya was no good at all at controlling money now, but a steady dribble every week bumped her up from wanderjahr status to the crumbling lower edges of society. She still had no more possessions than she could carry, but she bathed more often, and ate nicer things, and sometimes accessed networks.
Networking was not without its risks, however. Networking was how the dog found her in Des Moines. Maya found the city of Des Moines much nicer than its press would indicate. Des Moines had some very interesting buildings, the regional Indianapolis influence. Paul had been a little cynical and shortsighted on the subject of modern architecture, she could see that now. Once you learned to look for modern architecture, you could perceive waves of architectural influence percolating right through the old urban structure; a cornice here, a door there, a fungarium windowbox, even the manhole covers.…
She spotted the postcanine dog and his producer having breakfast as she prepared to leave the hotel. She recognized the dog at once, and she felt sorry for him. She felt quite certain that the dog would continue to follow her if she somehow escaped the hotel. But she wasn’t afraid of the dog; she was no longer afraid of much of anything. The dog and his producer looked so sad to be in a cheap American hotel in Iowa, confronting flapjacks and a battery of specialized multicolored syrups.
She went to their booth. “Ciao Aquinas,” she said.
“Hello,” said the dog, startled. His normally perfect suit looked rumpled, perhaps because of the guide collar. His producer was blind.
The producer