Connie Willis - Futures Imperfect

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Futures Imperfect
Connie Willis
Futures Imperfect
UNCHARTED TERRITORY
REMAKE
BELLWETHER
map
Uncharted Territory
expedition 183: day 19
We were still three kloms from King's X when Carson spotted the dust. "What on hell's that?" he
said, leaning forward over his pony's pommelbone and pointing at nothing that I could see.
"Where?" I said.
"Over there. All that dust."
I still couldn't see anything except the pinkish ridge that hid King's X, and a couple of luggage
grazing on the scourbrush, and I told him so.
"My shit, Fin, what do you mean you can't—" he said, disgusted. "Hand me the binocs."
"You've got 'em," I said. "I gave 'em to you yesterday. Hey, Bult!" I called up to our scout.
He was hunched over the log on his pony's saddlebone, punching in numbers. "Bult!" I shouted. "Do
you see any dust up ahead?"
He still didn't look up, which didn't surprise me. He was busy doing his favorite thing, tallying up
fines.
"I gave the binocs back to you," Carson said. "This morning when we packed up."
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"This morning?" I said. "This morning you were in such an all-fired hurry to get back to King's X
and meet the new loaner you probably went off and left 'em lying in camp. What's her name again?
Evangeline?"
"Evelyn Parker," he said. "I was not in a hurry."
"How come you ran up two-fifty in fines breaking camp, then?"
"Because Bult's on some kind of fining spree the last few days," he said. "And the only hurry I've
been in is to finish up this expedition before every dime of our wages goes for fines, which looks
like a lost cause now that you lost the binocs."
"You weren't in a hurry yesterday," I said. "Yesterday you were all ready to ride fifty kloms north on
the off-chance of running into Wulfmeier, and then C.J. calls and tells you the new loaner's in and
her name's Eleanor, and all of a sudden you can't get home fast enough."
"Evelyn," Carson said, getting red in the face, "and I still say Wulfmeier's surveying that sector. You
just don't like loaners."
"You're right about that," I said. "They're more trouble than they're worth." I've never met a loaner
yet that was worth taking along, and the females are the worst.
They come in one variety: whiners. They spend every minute of the expedition complaining—about
the outdoor plumbing and the dust and Bult and having to ride ponies and everything else they can
think of. The last one spent the whole expedition yowling about "terrocentric enslaving imperialists,"
meaning Carson and me, and how we'd corrupted the "simple, noble indigenous sentients," meaning
Bult, which was bad enough, but then she latched onto Bult and told him our presence "defiled the
very atmosphere of the planet," and Bult started trying to fine us for breathing.
"I laid the binocs right next to your bedroll, Fin," Carson said, reaching behind him to rummage in
his pack.
"Well, I never saw 'em."
"That's because you're half-blind," he said. "You can't even see a cloud of dust when it's coming
right at you."
Well, as a matter of fact, we'd been arguing long enough that now I could, a kicked-up line of
pinkish cloud close to the ridge.
"What do you think it is? A dust tantrum?" I said, even though a tantrum would've been meandering
all over the place, not keeping to a line.
"I don't know," he said, putting his hand up to shade his eyes. "A stampede maybe."
The only fauna around here were luggage, and they didn't stampede in dry weather like this, and
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anyway the cloud wasn't wide enough for a stampede. It looked like the dust churned up by a rover,
or a gate opening.
I kicked my terminal on and asked for whereabouts on the gatecrashers. I'd shown Wulfmeier on
Dazil yesterday when Carson'd been so set on going after him, and now the whereabouts showed
him on Starting Gate, which meant he probably wasn't either place. But he'd have to be crazy to open
a gate this close to King's X, even if there was anything underneath here—which there wasn't, I'd
already run terrains and subsurfaces—especially knowing we were on our way home.
I squinted at the dust, wondering if I should ask for a verify. I could see now it was moving fast,
which meant it wasn't a gate, or a pony, and the dust was too low for the heli. "Looks like the rover,"
I said. "Maybe the new loaner—what was her name? Ernestine?—is as jumped for you as you are
for her, and she's coming out here to meet you. You better comb your mustache."
He wasn't paying any attention. He was still rummaging in his pack, looking for the binocs. "I laid
'em right next to your bedroll when you were loading the ponies."
"Well, I didn't see 'em," I said, watching the dust. It was a good thing it wasn't a stampede, it would
have run us over while we stood there arguing about the binocs. "Maybe Bult took 'em."
"Why on hell would Bult take 'em?" Carson bellowed. "His are a hell of a lot fancier than ours."
They were, with selective scans and programmed polarizers, and Bult had hung them around the
second joint of his neck and was peering through them at the dust. I rode up next to him. "Can you
see what's making the dust?" I asked.
He didn't take the binocs down from his eyes. "Disturbance of land surface," he said severely. "Fine
of one hundred."
I should've known it. Bult could've cared less about what was making the dust so long as he could
get a fine out of it. "You can't fine us for dust unless we make it," I said. "Give me the binocs."
He bent his neck double, took the binocs off, and handed them to me, and then hunched over his log
again. "Forcible confiscation of property," he said into his log. "Twenty-five."
"Confiscation!" I said. "You're not going to fine me with confiscating anything. I asked if I could
borrow them."
"Inappropriate tone and manner in speaking to an indigenous person," he said into the log. "Fifty."
I gave up and put the binocs up to my eyes. The cloud of dust looked like it was right on top of me,
but no clearer. I upped the resolution and took another look. "It's the rover," I called to Carson,
who'd gotten off his pony and was taking everything out of his pack.
"Who's driving?" he said. "C.J.?"
I hit the polarizers to screen out the dust and took another look. "What'd you say this loaner's name
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was, Carson?"
"Evelyn. Did C.J. bring her out with her?"
"It's not C.J. driving," I said.
"Well, who on hell is it? Don't tell me one of the indidges stole the rover again."
"Unfair accusation of indigenous person," Bult said. "Seventy-five."
"You know how you always get mad over the indidges giving things the wrong names?" I said.
"What on hell does that have to do with who's driving the rover?" Carson said.
"Because it looks like the indidges aren't the only ones doing it," I said. "It looks like now Big
Brother's doing it, too."
"Give me those binocs," he said, grabbing for 'em.
"Forcible confiscation of property," I said, holding them away from him. "Looks like you could've
taken your time this morning and not gone off in such a hurry you forgot ours."
I handed the binocs back to Bult, and just to be contrary, he handed them to Carson, but the rover
was close enough now we didn't need them.
It roared up in a cloud of dust, skidded to a halt right on top of a roadkill, and the driver jumped out
and strode over to us without even waiting for the dust to clear.
"Carson and Findriddy, I presume," he said, grinning.
Now usually when we meet a loaner, they don't have eyes for anybody but Bult (or C.J., if she's
there and the loaner's a male), especially if Bult's unfolding himself off his pony the way he was
now, straightening out his back joints one after the other till he looks like a big pink Erector set.
Then, while the loaners are still picking their jaws up out of the dirt, one of the ponies keels over or
else drops a pile the size of the rover. It's tough to compete with. So we usually get noticed last or
else have to say something like, "Bult's only dangerous when he senses your fear," to get their
attention.
But this loaner didn't so much as glance at Bult. He came straight over to me and shook hands. "How
do you do," he said eagerly, pumping my hand. "I'm Dr. Parker, the new member of your survey
team."
"I'm Fin—" I started.
"Oh, I know who you are, and I can't tell you what an honor it is to meet you, Dr. Findriddy!"
He let go of my hand and started in on Carson's. "When C.J. told me you weren't back yet, I couldn't
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wait till you arrived to meet you," he said, jerking Carson's hand up and down. "Findriddy and
Carson! The famous planetary surveyors! I can't believe I'm shaking hands with you, Dr. Carson!"
"It's kind of hard for me to believe, too," Carson said.
"What'd you say your name was, again?" I asked.
"Dr. Parker," he said, grabbing my hand to shake it again. "Dr. Findriddy, I've read all your—"
"Fin," I said, "and this is Carson. There's only four of us on the planet, counting you, so there's not
much call for fancy titles. What do you want us to call you?" but he'd already left off pumping my
hand and was staring past Carson.
"Is that the Wall?" he said, pointing at a bump on the horizon.
"Nope," I said. "That's Three Moon Mesa. The Wall's twenty kloms the other side of the Tongue."
"Are we going to see it on the expedition?"
"Yeah. We have to cross it to get into uncharted territory," I said.
"Great. I can't wait to see the Wall and the silvershim trees," he said, looking down at Carson's
boots, "and the cliff where Carson lost his foot."
"How do you know about all this stuff?" I asked.
He looked back and forth at us in amazement. "Are you kidding? Everybody knows about Carson
and Findriddy! You're famous! Dr. Findriddy, you're—"
"Fin," I said. "What do you want us to call you?"
"Evelyn," he said. He looked from one to the other of us. "It's a British name. My mother was from
England. Only they pronounce it with a long e."
"And you're an exozoologist?" I said.
"Socioexozoologist. My speciality's sex."
"C.J.'s the one you want then," I said. "She's our resident expert."
He blushed a nice pink. "I've already met her."
"She told you her name yet?" I said.
"Her name?" he said blankly.
"What C.J. stands for," I said. "She must be slipping," I said to Carson.
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Carson ignored me. "If you're an expert on sex," Carson said, looking over at Bult, who was heading
for the rover, "you can help us tell which one Bult is."
"I thought the Boohteri were a simple two-sex species," Evelyn said.
"They are," Carson said, "only we can't tell which one's which."
"All their equipment's on the inside," I said, "not like C.J.'s. It—"
"Speaking of which, did she have supper ready?" Carson said. "Not that it makes any difference to
us. At this rate we'll still be out here tomorrow morning."
"Oh. Of course," Evelyn said, looking dismayed, "you're eager to get back to headquarters. I didn't
mean to keep you. I was just so excited to actually meet you!" He started off for the rover. Bult was
hunched over the front tire. He unfolded three leg joints when Evelyn came up. "Damage to
indigenous fauna," he said. "Seventy-five."
Evelyn said to me, "Have I done something wrong?"
"Hard not to in these parts," I said. "Bult, you can't fine Evelyn for running over a roadkill."
"Running over—" Evelyn said. He leapt in the rover and roared it back off the roadkill, and then
jumped out again. "I didn't see it!" he said, peering at its flattened brown body. "I didn't mean to kill
it! Honestly, I—"
"You can't kill a roadkill just by parking a rover on it," I said, poking it with my toe. "You can't even
wake it up."
Bult pointed at the tire tracks Evelyn'd just made. "Disruption of land surface. Twenty-five."
"Bult, you can't fine Evelyn," I said. "He's not a member of the expedition."
"Disruption of land surface," Bult said, pointing at the tire tracks.
"Shouldn't I have come out here in the rover?" Evelyn said worriedly.
"Sure you should," I said, clapping him on the shoulder, " 'cause now you can give me a ride home.
Carson, bring in my pony for me." I opened the door of the rover.
"I'm not getting stuck out here with the ponies while you ride back in style," Carson said. "I'll ride in
with Evelyn, and you bring the ponies."
"Can't we all go back in the rover?" Evelyn said, looking upset. "We could tie the ponies to the
back."
"The rover can't go that slow," Carson muttered.
"You've got no reason to get back early, Carson," I said. "I've got to check the purchase orders, and
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the pursuants, and fill out the report on the binocs you lost." I got in the rover and sat down.
"I lost?" Carson said, getting red in the face again. "I laid 'em—"
"Expedition member riding in wheeled vehicle," Bult said.
We turned around to look at him. He was standing beside his pony, talking into his log. "Disruption
of land surface."
I got out of the rover and stalked over to him. "I told you, you can't fine somebody who's not a
member of the expedition."
Bult looked at me. "Inappropriate tone and manner." He straightened some finger joints at me. "You
member. Cahsson member. Yahhs?" he said in the maddening pidgin he uses when he's not tallying
fines.
But his message was clear enough. If either of us rode back with Evelyn, he could fine us for using a
rover, which would take the next six expeditions' wages, not to mention the trouble we'd get into
with Big Brother.
"You expedition, yahhs?" Bult said. He held out his pony's reins to me.
"Yeah," I said. I took the reins.
Bult grabbed his log off his pony's saddlebone, jumped in the rover, and folded himself into a sitting
position. "We go," he said to Evelyn.
Evelyn looked questioningly at me.
"Bult here'll ride in with you," I said. "We'll bring the ponies in."
"How on hell are we supposed to bring three ponies in when they'll only walk two abreast?" Carson
said.
I ignored him. "See you back at King's X." I slapped the side of the rover.
"Go fahhst," Bult said. Ev started the rover up and waved and left us eating a cloud of dust.
"I'm beginning to think you're right about loaners, Fin," Carson said, coughing and smacking his hat
against his leg. "They're nothing but trouble. And the males are the worst, especially after C.J. gets
to 'em. We'll spend half the expedition listening to him talk about her, and the other half keeping him
from labeling every gully in sight Crissa Canyon."
"Maybe," I said, squinting at the rover's dust, which seemed to be veering off to the right. "C.J. said
Evelyn got in this morning."
"Which means she's had almost a whole day to give him her pitch," he said, taking hold of Bult's
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pony's reins. It balked and dug in its paws. "And she'll have at least another two hours to work her
wiles before we get these ponies in."
"Maybe," I said, still watching the dust. "But I figure a presentable-looking male like Ev can jump
just about any female he wants without having to do anything for it, and you notice he didn't stay at
King's X with C.J. He came tearing out here to meet us. I think he might be smarter than he looks."
"That's what you said the first time you saw Bult," Carson said, yanking on Bult's pony's reins. The
pony yanked back.
"And I was right, wasn't I?" I said, going over to help. "If he wasn't, he'd be here with these ponies,
and we'd be halfway to King's X." I took over the reins, and he went around behind the pony to push.
"Maybe," he said. "Why wouldn't he want to meet us? After all, we're planetary surveyors. We're
famous!"
I pulled and he pushed. The pony stayed put. "Get moving, you rock-headed nag!" Carson said,
shoving on its back end. "Don't you know who we are?"
The pony lifted its tail and dumped a pile.
"My shit!" Carson said.
"Too bad Evelyn can't see us now," I said, holding the reins over my shoulder and hauling on the
pony. "Findriddy and Carson, the famous explorers!"
Off in the distance, to the right of the ridge, the dust disappeared.
interim: at king's x
It took us four hours to make it into King's X. Bult's pony keeled over twice and wouldn't get up, and
when we got there, Ev was waiting out at the stable to ask us when we were going to start on the
expedition. Carson gave him an inappropriate-in-tone-and-manner answer.
"I know you just got back and have to file your reports and everything," Ev said.
"And eat," Carson muttered, limping around his pony, "and sleep. And kill me a scout."
"It's just that I'm so excited to see Boohte," Ev said. "I still can't believe I'm really here, talking to—"
"I know, I know," I said, unloading the computer. "Findriddy and Carson, the famous surveyors."
"Where's Bult?" Carson asked, unstrapping his camera from his pony's saddlebone. "And why isn't
he out here to unload his pony?"
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Evelyn handed Carson Bult's log. "He said to tell you these are the fines from the trip in."
"He wasn't on the trip in," Carson said, glaring at the log. "What on hell are these? 'Destruction of
indigenous flora.' 'Damage to sand formations.' 'Pollution of atmosphere.' "
I grabbed the log away from Carson. "Did Bult give you directions back to King's X?"
"Yes," Ev said. "Did I do something wrong?"
"Wrong?!" Carson spluttered. "Wrong?!"
"Don't get in a sweat," I said. "Bult can't fine Ev til he's a member of the expedition."
"But I don't understand," Ev said. "What did I do wrong? All I did was drive the rover—"
"Stir up dust, make tire tracks," Carson said, "emit exhaust—"
"Wheeled vehicles aren't allowed off government property," I explained to Ev, who was looking
amazed.
"Then how do you get around?" he asked.
"We don't," Carson said, glaring at Bult's pony, which looked like it was getting ready to keel over
again. "Explain it to him, Fin."
I was too tired to explain anything, least of all Big Brother's notion of how to survey a planet. "You
tell him about the fines while I go get this straightened out with Bult," I said, and went across the
compound to the gate area.
In my log, there's nothing worse than working for a government with the guilts. All we were doing
on Boohte was surveying the planet, but Big Brother didn't want anybody accusing them of "ruthless
imperialist expansion" and riding roughshod over the indidges the way they did when they colonized
America.
So they set up all these rules to "preserve planetary ecosystems" (which was supposed to mean we
weren't allowed to build dams or kill the local fauna) and "protect indigenous cultures from
technological contamination" (which was supposed to mean we couldn't give 'em firewater and
guns), and stiff fines for breaking the rules.
Which is where they made their first mistake, because they paid the fines to the indidges, and Bult
and his tribe knew a good thing when they saw it, and before you know it we're being fined for
making footprints, and Bult's buying technological contamination right and left with the proceeds.
I figured he'd be in the gate area, up to his second knee joint in stuff he'd bought, and I was right.
When I opened the door, he was prying open a crate of umbrellas.
"Bult, you can't charge us with fines the rover incurred," I said.
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He pulled out an umbrella and examined it. It was the collapsible kind. He held the umbrella out in
front of him and pushed a button. Lights came on around the rim. "Destruction of land surface," he
said.
I held out his log to him. "You know the regs. The expedition is not responsible for violations
committed by any person not an official member of the expedition.' "
He was still messing with the buttons. The lights went off. "Bult member," he said, and the umbrella
shot out and open, barely missing my stomach.
"Watch it!" I jumped back. "You can't incur fines, Bult."
Bult put down the umbrella and opened a big box of dice, which would make Carson happy. His
favorite occupation, next to blaming me, is shooting craps.
"Indidges can't incur fines!" I said.
"Inappropriate tone and manner," he said.
I was too tired for this, too, and I still had the reports and the whereabouts to do. I left him
unpacking a box of shower curtains and went across to the mess.
I opened the door. "Honey, I'm home," I called.
"Hello!" C.J. sang out cheerfully from the kitchen, which was a switch. "How was your expedition?"
She appeared in the doorway, smiling and wiping her hands on a towel. She was all done up, clean
face and fixed-up hair and a shirt that was open down to thirty degrees north. "Dinner's almost
ready," she said brightly, and then stopped and looked around. "Where's Evelyn?"
"Out in the stable," I said, dumping my stuff on a chair, "talking to Carson, the planetary surveyor.
Did you know we're famous?"
"You're filthy," she said. "And you're late. What on hell took you so long? Dinner's cold. I had it
ready two hours ago." She jabbed a finger at my stuff. "Get that dirty pack off the furniture. It's bad
enough putting up with dust tantrums without you two dragging in dirt."
I sat down and propped my legs up on the table. "And how was your day, sweetheart?" I said. "Get a
mud puddle named after you? Jump any loaners?"
"Very funny. Evelyn happens to be a very nice young man who understands what it's like to be all
alone on a planet for weeks at a time with nobody for hundreds of kloms and who knows what
dangers lurking out there—"
"Like losing that shirt," I said.
"You're not exactly in a position to criticize my clothes," she said. "When's the last time you
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FuturesImperfectConnieWillisFuturesImperfectUNCHARTEDTERRITORYREMAKEBELLWETHERmapUnchartedTerritoryexpedition183:day19WewerestillthreeklomsfromKing'sXwhenCarsonspottedthedust."W\hatonhell'sthat?"hesaid,leaningforwardoverhispony'spommelboneandpointingatnothing\thatIcouldsee."Where?"Isaid."Overthere.A...

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