doubt it,” she said with a slight sigh, perhaps also doubting her own wisdom in having asked the question. “As I said, it’s probably something utterly trivial. Two hours, then.” And then, having deftly planted the seed of an awful anxiety, she switched off.
* * * *
Chloe was still mentally lost in the ocean-depths, even though her body was peacefully slumped into an armchair in her cubby-hole. Dieter, though he probably wasn’t working at all, still had his systems programd to post DO NOT DISTURB messages in response to all inquiries. As soon as Rosa had finished her tutorial, though, she responded to Rick’s appeal for someone to talk to.
“Of course we don’t have any enemies,” she said, when he’d recounted the whole of his conversation with the doctor. “Who could possibly want to hurt our house—our nursery? It’s probably an innate fault in the system, which is only just beginning to show up. Have you checked the rest of the house?”
“All except the cellar,” said Rick. “But I wouldn’t know what to look for, would I?”
The house’s systems were arranged in the conventional fashion. The inorganic parts of its brain were in the attic-space under the roof; the pump controlling its various circulatory systems was in the cupboard under the stairs. Rick had opened both cubby-holes to look in, but there had been nothing visibly amiss. He hadn’t gone down into the cellar mainly because he didn’t much like the cellar, which was cramped and crowded. All the waste-recycling systems were down there; so were the knotted roots whose growing-points extended deep into the ungantzed substratum on which the foundations were built, scavenging for minerals and water. The lighting down there was minimal; it was the only part of the house that was actually gloomy.
“It has to be the new systems,” said Rosa, as though trying to convince herself. “It’s not right, though—it’s not as if we cut any corners cost-wise. Those nursery-fittings were the best we could afford. It’s not right.”
“It might be because they’re state-of-the-art that all the bugs haven’t been ironed out yet,” Rick suggested. “New technologies always have teething problems—just like babies.”
She didn’t seem to be listening. “You don’t suppose Dieter brought something back on his boots when he came back from Africa, do you?” she said. “He was carer last week, wasn’t he?”
“He was in the middle of the Kalahari desert,” said Rick. “That’s the last place in the world where you might pick up a bug capable of metabolizing dextro-rotatory proteins.”
“He came back on a plane,” she countered, combatively. “Planes these days are full of dr stuff.”
Rick couldn’t help thinking that Rosa wasn’t being as supportive as she might have been, and he felt let down. It was strictly taboo to love one of one’s co-spouses significantly more than the others, lest one be thought guilty of singling, but Rick always felt particularly vulnerable with Rosa. She wasn’t as good-looking as Chloe or Nicola, but there was something about her that always made his heart feel as if it might melt, and he didn’t like it when she was annoyed with him.
For once, he was grateful when Steven began to whimper; having someone to talk to didn’t seem to be helping much.
“I’d better feed him again,” said Rick.
“He can’t be hungry already,” Rosa complained. “It’s not time.”
“He didn’t have much last time,” Rick answered, apologetically, “and he burped some of that back again.” He realized even as he spoke that there just might be a sinister implication in what he was saying. “Oh pollution,” he said, softly. “I can’t just put him back in the nook, can I? Not if the nursery’s sick. What can I do, Rosie?”
“Take him to the dining-room,” said Rosa. “The main system can mix baby-milk just as well as the nursery-nook.”
“But it hasn’t got a teat!” Rick protested. “I can’t feed him with a spoon, can I?”
“Get the dispenser to mould one out of soft plastic,” she said. “There must be a program for it somewhere in the library. One that fits on to a bottle. It’s a bit twenty-first century, but it’s bound to work.”
“He won’t like it,” said Rick, mournfully.
“It’s not good for him to get bogged down in a routine of comforts,” said Rosa, sternly. Because she did so much work in primary ed she considered herself the household expert on child-rearing, although she was very particular about not doing more than her fair share of caring. “He needs a bit of innovation and improvisation occasionally—especially at the elementary level.
Steven had by now begun to amplify his whimpers, and was getting set for a full-scale bawl. Rick hurried away with him, hoping that he could find the requisite program, and that the dispenser could deliver the goods in time to save his ears from too much torture.
* * * *
“There have been some developments, I’m afraid,” said the doctor mournfully, when she arrived at the house. “The lab has completed the scan of the rose’s dr-DNA and the extraneous matter in the bathwater. It all looks a bit iffy. I’ve had to call in some help, but you mustn’t worry. We’ve caught the problem early, and it’s just a matter of backtracking to figure out how it started. When the other people arrive, we’re going to have to seal off the nursery for a while and usurp control of the house’s main systems. You’ll have to wind down any work you’re doing, and you might experience some localized control problems, but everything will be all right and with luck we’ll be out of here in a matter of hours. Don’t worry.”
The last piece of advice was difficult to follow, and it became even more difficult when the first of Dr. Jauregy’s “other people” arrived. His name was Ituro Morusaki and his ID declared him to be an officer of the International Bureau of Investigation. “I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about,” he said, breezily. “But we have to take precautions, whenever there’s a possibility that a crime might have been committed.”
“What crime?” asked Rick.
“Any crime,” answered the IBI man, unhelpfully.
“You mean software sabotage, don’t you?” said Rosa, with a keen edge of anxiety in her voice. “You think we’re the victim of a terrorist attack! But why us? What have we ever done to anyone?”
Officer Morusaki put up his hands defensively. “No, no!” he said. “We mustn’t jump to any conclusions. We simply don’t know what we’re dealing with, and it could be anything. Please don’t worry.”
He didn’t hang around to be questioned any further. He disappeared into the nursery, to confer with Dr. Jauregy.
By this time Dieter and Chloe had been alerted to the fact that something was seriously amiss, and they had joined Rick and Rosa in the main common-room.
“Well,” said Chloe, “I’m squeaky clean, greenwise. What did you get up to in Africa, Dieter?”
“Helping to reclaim the Kalahari desert is hardly an eco-crime,” Dieter countered, testily. “The Gaians can’t possibly have anything against me. What are Don and Nicola doing down in Amazonia? That’s the Gaians’ number one area of concern, isn’t it? Maybe they’ve done something to piss off Mother Earth’s Avengers.”
