Wei Loon Jingsheng
Loon dragged her backpack down from the minibus and left it hanging awkwardly from her hand as she
turned to the fifth sleep-and-eat that she'd tried. She was just too tired to fight the load up to
her shoulder, which was chafed anyway.
The gong-she looked pleasant enough, low buildings sheltered by trees and shrubs. It wasn't that
far inside. She trudged up the flagstoned walk, under the grape arbor, into the entrance room —
and there was the agent-for-trade, its small, rugged foilscreen covered with the words "No
Vacancy."
Loon retreated, collided with a family, whose necks were craned for the same bad news. She waited
for them to pull back, then followed them to the street. The qi-che was, of course, gone. They
settled down to wait.
Her patience exhausted, Loon eyed the path running alongside the gong-she. Take a break, she
thought, take a walk. She set down her pack. "Keep watch over this for me, would you?" she asked
the squatting woman, who answered with a nod and a tired smile.
Loon caught the path and tromped along it, between the sprawling nest of the sleep-and-eat and a
row of neat houses. Young trees reached their concise shade over her from one side; on the other,
house gardens, each one somewhat different, perked up in their share of sunlight. It was all very
nice, but it excluded her, like there was some invisible barrier she just couldn't get through.
If only she could have called ahead, a quick can-hear to find an empty room, but the Em-Deh had
been closed. All the public entrances at the drome blinked with apologies about technical
difficulties. She had never heard of such a thing! Neither had anyone else getting off the train
with her. So now they explored zhuhndí what virtual reality would have made so easy. They'd come
far from the drome in the process, deep into this direvnya, where she knew not a soul.
What if I don't find a room? Will I sleep on the grass tonight? What if I don't find a job — not
just anshin, but any job — or a life here? What if —
Loon chuckled, forcing perspective into this scramble of fears. Such foolish questions. Of
course, there will be a room for me, somewhere, found with enough patience. Though a night spent
beneath the stars would not be so bad. Would it?
And if things don't work out here, I'll just hop another train and go home again.
Home! The word shivered through her. Her only home right now was the one she carried in her
mind.
At the end of the house-row, another wide path of packed earth merged from the right. The gong-she
stopped there, at a rough border of feathery trees, beyond which a single-story factory sprawled
amid stacks of raw and finished materials. And across the way, a cemetery, its waves of hills
lined with unassuming memorials.
Loon thought about heading back; another qi-che could come around at any moment.
A woman walked slowly out of the graveyard, glancing regularly behind her. Loon followed her looks
and found one toddler, then two — twins — churning along the narrow, gravelled path as fast as
their short, pudgy legs could carry them. Intense, adorable.
Loon turned away from them and — recoiled.
The mother stood right there, her almond eyes watching seriously. "Did you not
find the gong-she?" she asked.
Startled, her pulse pounding in her throat, Loon gulped her mouth shut, gestured weakly, then found
voice. "They're full."
Still gazing steadily, the other woman shook her head. "I'm really not surprised. Are you in town
for the rendezvous with the future?"
Loon nodded.
The twins burst onto the path in a flurry of giggles and fat-cheeked grins. Each grabbed one of
his mother's legs. She laid gentle hands on their heads and lifted her face once more.
"We have a room to rent," she said. "My father ... no longer needs it."
"May he go in peace," Loon whispered.
"Thank you. He lived according to Pattern. None of us can expect anymore."
"Nor any less," Loon completed the customary ritual. Everyone was taught the "Protect Your
Life-Expectancy — and That of Others" Pattern early and well. They should all live to be a
Three-Seven Tenner.
"Would you like his room?" the mother asked briskly.
Loon peered down at the little boys. They were from-Nihon, like their mother, with their pale
skin, their char-black hair cut square above dark eyebrows and even darker eyes, accented by slim
Asiatic folds, their flat faces. A lot like hers, but different.
"Yes." The word came out quietly; Loon tried again. "Yes!" She hadn't been worried — not really
— yet a knot she hadn't noticed suddenly unraveled in her neck.
"I am named Chi Unesugi Hara. I introduce Gerson —" the mother lifted a hand to indicate one
child, then the other "— and Hiroki." She gestured toward her left, behind the row of houses.
"We are this way."
"My bag — I left it in front of the sleep-and-eat."
"We will wait here while you fetch it."
In a few moments, they all moseyed down the path, their pace set by the twins, who toddled along,
scurried after fluttering schmetterlingen, and even scuffled with each other over wisps blowing
across the path.
"My own combine reports into Byukan-Hamil," said Chi Unesugi. "We do not announce the association,
though I suppose it is common knowledge. This ... fiasco with the rendezvous ... everybody on the
continent received the message. I remember thinking as I read it that they'd better be prepared
for a deluge of people. In fact, the facilities here, on Route 1 from the drome, have been full
for over a day. Yet, even now there is no sign of preparations, not even people to greet you and
help you find housing. Do you expect to find a job here?"
Loon shifted her backpack to avoid the tender parts of her shoulders. "I — I think so. I've just
finished Final Exams. It's all very new to me."
"I will message my combine's strategist. Perhaps she will know better where you can go for
enrollment ... or processing ... or whatever they're going to do with all you people."
"Thank you."
Their house stood on its own behind a short garden wall. Within, a tiled path led through
carefully raked sand set with boulders and a few desert shrubs. Beyond that, peeking around the
side of the house, but with its own entrance from the garden, a small cottage showed a stoop with
facing window.
"Go ahead," said Chi Unesugi. "The door's open." She gave a few instructions and set out the meal
times. Then, she added, "We are attending the Large Square Dance this evening. You are welcome to
come with us."
Loon ran her gaze over the house and its grounds, over the mother and her children. Will this be
home? I hope so. She said, "I'm not sure what that is, but I'd like to go along. Perhaps you can
explain it to me over supper."
"Yes," replied Chi Unesugi as she took her sons' hands. "We will do that."
