Read Online The Highest Frontier by Joan Slonczewski - Free Book Online Page B

lifted her hand, her thumb curved out from her exquisite fingers. Jenny pulled her legs over the bench, feeling awkward; there was no graceful way to sit.
    “Who brought the DIRG?” texted someone.
    In the corner stood a Monroe-faced DIRG. Jenny’s scalp crawled. Had her own mental printed itself out? It could do that if needed, if she ever tried to harm herself. But not this one, she realized; it was not her own mental, but someone else’s Monroe-style family DIRG. Some other chica who’d lost the fight with her parents.
    “The Brazilian solar heiress; it’s her bodyguard.” Solarplate covered most of the Amazon Death Belt.
    “No, it’s the Chinese banker’s son.”
    “ Tonto , no chico would have a Monroe.”
    “Did you see the new toyflick, Meet Me in Shanghai ? Newman and Monroe were estupendo. ”
    A quarter to seven already; nearly debate time. The menu appeared in her box. Jenny blinked chicken and green beans. They printed up from the table, including gravy for the chicken and butter on the beans. For dessert, Jenny found green jello.
    The bench thudded as Yola sat next to her, with Kendall beside. “Ready for practice?” Yola’s braids bounced, and she caught Jenny’s arm to wrestle.
    “Focus,” warned Ken. “Got your courses? Pick a tough load, or Coach will send you packing.”
    Yola frowned. “She’s taking Life, Kennie-boy. With Abaynesh. You want to kill her?”
    Jenny smiled. “So what do you recommend?”
    “Chaplain Flynn’s Renaissance Art,” said Ken. “Amazing. That Sistine chapel—it should be a slanball cage, so you’d float at the ceiling.”
    Viv leaned forward knowingly. “Tejedor,” she recommended. “The estilo cubano —you’ll see the world with new eyes.”
    “Hamilton,” added Reesie, nodding her own Newman chin. “My owl says he’s the top.”
    The food was chicken-flavored amyloid, and the beans were faintly bean-flavored. All came from sewage processed by the shell microbes and pumped back up. Jenny looked over at Anouk, who pursed her lips. “ Next time, let’s try a café.”
    Yola flashed her an EMS logo, the snake climbing a pole. “Nice job, out on the powwow ground. You got there before the heli.”
    “Are there many student volunteers?”
    “We’ll get in touch with you, once we see how you handle classes and slanball.”
    “ToyNews—From our box to yours.” Clive’s voice boomed as the toywall lit up. Within the toywall stood the ToyNews anchor and two armchairs seating the First Lady candidates.
    Cheers and whistles came from the students, especially the two motor club tables up front. The Red Bulls all wore red racing jackets and purple headbands. At the other table, the Ferraris wore black suit and tie, with just a gold ribbon at the lapel. Rafael was there, applauding politely.
    “Live from sunny Orlando.” A spliced tour of the refurbished seawall encircling the city, and Disney’s new cactus park. “Thanks to all our ToyDebate contributors.…” Soledad appeared with the Centrist cochair, Jeremiah Stone. “And now the ground rules…”
    The two First Lady candidates sat in their chairs with their legs crossed. In the dining hall the students quieted, but their windows filled.
    “Glynnis looks out of date—that was last year’s color.”
    “No, that’s on purpose, to show she wears stuff more than one year.”
    “What kind of cookies?”
    “The cookies,” texted Fritz Hoffman from the Red Bulls table. “No nuts, please.” Analysts said the nuts in the cookies had doomed Unity’s bid four years before.
    Clive leaned forward ingratiatingly to Anna Carrillo’s would-be first lady. “Glynnis,” he began, “I know you have something special to share with our studio audience.”
    Glynnis smiled with all her sparkling amyloid-plated teeth. Jenny crossed her fingers; Glynnis was known for sounding too sharp now and then. “Why, Clive, as a matter of fact I do.” She held up a plate of nicely browned cookies. “Oatmeal