Weir Annadetcall
"What was that all about?" Dy called from the next garden.
Weir's gaze followed after the woman who rode away. She wore slick pale-green: cushion-soled
shoes, tight pants with pockets front and side, and a hip-length, collarless jacket also with
numerous pockets. Wide, white stripes followed the side seams of pants and jacket. The outfit
strongly reminded him of a Nurse's uniform, but it didn't match the images he'd studied of
Byukan-Hamil's combine here in Ganj Dareh.
Quite a contrast to the baggy trousers and double-breasted shirt-coats that his combine had
adopted. Color and fit varied among the members, from Melha dapper to Lotche unkempt, but when
together, their uniformity suggested a combined mission.
Weir wagged his head and answered Dy with a shrug. The double-suns westering over her shoulder
reminded him of the day they'd all spent trudging around this neighborhood.
He pointed toward the other side of the house-row. "Meet you out front!"
She nodded and reached for the backdoor of the house she was inspecting. Weir drew his llevar from
its clip on his right hip and sent out a recall ping to the rest of his team. Their
acknowledgments arrived immediately, telling him he'd read the lateness accurately. With a grin,
he pushed through the gate behind the garden gone-to-seed. The path on the other side showed the
skidmarks from the — Nurse-in-Training! that's what the uniform was — who'd challenged him. Her
behavior still puzzled him as he sauntered back down the path to the end of the house-row. People
were supposed to welcome strangers, not challenge them.
#
"Plenty of vacancies, lots, houses — separate, clusters, rows, and hills," Lotche said with a
gesture that took in the whole neighborhood. "But everything here and occupied seems well-kept,
well-supplied, even plush."
"Must be the recession. Keeps other neighborhoods from filling in and these folks from spreading
out," Melha added.
Weir and his team, six altogether, stood at an intersection of paths. Behind them, the house-row
hung at the end of its own shadow, thrown long by the dipping suns. In the other direction, an
interchange in the Web of Public Transportation was mildly busy as people returned home from work
or headed out for the evening. Beyond it, the drome could be inferred from growls, clanks, and
other noises muffled by the berm cresting off to the north. The berm itself sat as a stately
barrier to adventure and intrusion.
"I like the house-row." Weir faced the building, sitting weathered in its feral grounds.
"Let's build something," Sier Tiaubelleisa, one of his Nurses, protested. "It doesn't take much
longer than repair, and we can really make a statement."
"Would we really end up with something that stands out?" Weir asked. "Their Pattern Language
isn't fundamentally different from ours."
"Sure it would," Lotche Balynerose, the Nurse-in-Charge of his clinic, responded, his voice not
quite facetious. "The smell of epox-plaster alone tells you something's brand new. Plus the bits
of flake you always leave lying about. Bet it'd be the first new construction in this neighborhood
for quite a while."
"On the other hand," Melha Duvier-Oli, Weir's coordinator and alternate team-leader, said. "Repair
to something everyone's familiar with — that would stand out even more. Does it have the sections
we want?"
Weir nodded.
"Does it have the power-grid we need?"
"No' yet," Weir said. "This was a residence, after all, making only enough power for living, no'
working. We'll also have to add reception, emergency entrance, and a few other extensions." They
weren't opening a full anshin facility: no police station because they didn't have true authority;
nothing involved in regulating the Collective; no counseling beyond emergencies because they didn't
have the time for follow-up; but there was always room for another medical clinic. "Almost as much
new as repair, Sier." He grinned. "We'd get some of the stench Lotche's so fond of."
Laughs came, genuine, relaxed.
"What do you think, Dy?"
"Either way, Weir," said Dy Rouyvette, the counselor on his team. "This location gives us good
access to the rest of the community, the direvnya, even the continent for that matter."
Weir went on to talk about other considerations. He doubled back on the topics, using their own
suggestions as probes, until he felt agreement coalescing. No one strongly resisted his campaign
— if one had, he would have scrapped the house-row immediately. They just wanted to get the
decision made so they could get to work, but none acquiesced just because he or she was tired.
"Accepted," Weir concluded. "I'll make the deal with the Collectives pertinent. Pietz, that would
be ...?"
"Neighborhood, Community, and Direvnya," Pietz Lilaina, his techniker, answered. "Just be glad
Byukan-Hamil hasn't added their name to the top of the list."
"In person or by llevar?"
"You have to drop in on the Neighborhood's — what do they call it?" Pietz checked his own llevar
and after a few taps, said, "Skeinswift? Neighborhood Skeinswift. Anyway, go to their combine for
administration. They'll forward the application to the others electronically. Response comes back
the same way."
"Think there'll be some problems in the neighborhood, Weir?" Dy said. She went on to explain their
visitor to the others. "I wonder how far her clinic is from here."
"Could be short," said Dy. "Could be long. I hear people on this continent ride their bikes clear
across town, since they left vehicles personal — and all that supposed grief — out of their
Pattern Language."
"Does it matter?" Lotche snorted. "Near: the contrast makes us look good. Far: the need makes
us popular."
"Do we worry about the neighborhood, Weir?" Dy persisted.
"I hope not," Weir said and started across a sward toward the interchange. "It's no' in the
project-plan." He flashed around a grin. The others returned it in their own ways.
Melha spoke up: "Think we can sleep here tonight? The gong-she gave me notice this morning."
Others chorused the concern.
Weir waved their comments away. "I arranged an extension. One more night." He shambled toward
the evening. "We move in here tomorrow." He listened for more misgivings, but they followed him
without another word.
