Read Online The Dreaming Void by Peter F. Hamilton - Free Book Online Page B

yes!” Tilly exclaimed. She was bouncing up and down on her chair.
    â€œBut you have to be exceptionally good. And I will find out; your mother will tell me.”
    Both girls immediately directed huge smiles at Lizzie.
    Half an hour later the bus slipped down out of the sky, a long turquoise regrav capsule that hovered just above the greenway outside the house where the road had been centuries before. The Delivery Man walked his daughters out to it, both of them wearing cloaks over their red blazers, the protective gray shimmer warding off the cold damp air. He checked one last time that Tilly had her swimwear, kissed them both goodbye, and stood waving as the bus rose quickly. The whole idea of riding to school together was intended to enhance the children’s sense of community, an extension of the school itself, which was little more than an organized play and activities center. Their real education would not begin until their biononics became active. But it still gave him an emotional jolt to see them vanishing into the gloomy horizon. There was only one school in London these days, south of the Thames in Dulwich Park. With a total population of barely a hundred fifty thousand, the city did not need another. Even for Highers the number of children was low, but then, Earth’s natives were notoriously reserved. The first planet to become truly Higher, it had been reducing its population steadily ever since. Right at the beginning of Higher culture, when biononics became available and ANA went online, the average citizen’s age was already the highest in the Commonwealth. The elderly downloaded, and the younger ones who were not ready for migration to a postphysical state emigrated out to the Central worlds until they chose to conclude their biological lives. The result was a small residual population with an exceptionally low birth rate.
    The Delivery Man and Lizzie were a notable exception in having three kids. But then, they had registered a marriage as well and had had a ceremony in an old church with their friends witnessing the event; a Christian priest had been brought in from an External world that still had a working religion. It was what Lizzie had wanted; she adored the old traditions and rituals. Not enough to actually get pregnant, of course; the girls had all been gestated in a womb vat.
    â€œYou be careful on Oronsay,” she told him as he examined his face in the bathroom mirror. It was, he acknowledged, rather flat with a broad jaw and eyes that crinkled whenever he smiled or frowned no matter how many anti-aging techniques were applied to the surrounding skin areas, Advancer or Higher. His Advancer genes had given his wiry muddy-red hair a luxuriant growth rate that Elsie had inherited. He had modified his facial follicles with biononics so that he no longer had to apply shaving gel twice a day, but the process wasn’t perfect; every week he had to check his chin and dab gel on recalcitrant patches of five o’clock shadow. More like five o’clock puddles, Lizzie claimed.
    â€œI always am,” he assured her. He pulled on a new toga suit and waited until it had wrapped around him. Its surface haze emerged, a dark emerald shot though with silver sparkles. Rather stylish, he felt.
    Lizzie, who never wore any clothes designed later than the twenty-second century, produced a mildly disapproving look. “If it’s that far from the Central worlds, it’s going to be deliberate.”
    â€œI know. I will watch out, I promise.” He kissed Lizzie in reassurance, trying to ignore the guilt that was staining his thoughts like a slow poison. She studied his face, apparently satisfied with his sincerity, but that only made the lie worse. He hated these times when he couldn’t tell her what he actually did.
    â€œMissed a bit,” she announced spryly, and tapped her forefinger on the left side of his jaw.
    He peered into the mirror and grunted in dismay. She