Eberly on the shoulder and steering him to the door. “As you say, the good citizens of this habitat are woefully apathetic. Most of ’em don’t even bother to vote—as long as there are elections. But take away the elections and you’ll have trouble on your hands. Remember, as the incumbent, you have a powerful advantage. I doubt that you have anything to fear. Really I do.”
Eberly looked far from reassured as he said good night and Wilmot closed the door on him.
Damned schemer, Wilmot thought, as he headed back to his drink. Blackmailer. He’d do anything to hold on to power.
He sat heavily and took a long sip of the whisky. Feeling its warmth working its way through him, Wilmot relaxed somewhat. I’m out of it, he said to himself. I’m merely an observer now, nothing more.
He took another sip, then leaned his head back. It’s damned interesting, though. Ten thousand men and women locked inside this oversized sardine tin. The ideal anthropological experiment. Despite it all, I’m quite a lucky man.
Eberly, meanwhile, was walking along the corridor to his own apartment. There were plenty of people coming up in the other direction. Eberly was surprised to see that most of them looked tanned, even golden. What is this? he asked himself. A new fad that I haven’t caught onto?
Everyone who passed him recognized Eberly, of course, and greeted him with smiles and hellos. That made him feel better. They know me. They like me. They even admire me, most of them.
Wilmot’s not going to offer any support for amending the constitution, he realized. But then he brightened. Still and all, the old man won’t offer any opposition, either. His moral power in this habitat is nil. I’ve seen to that.
He quickened his stride as he headed for his apartment.
28 DECEMBER 2095: BREAKFAST
“ S o how serious are you about this bodyguard of yours?” Holly asked her sister.
The two women were sitting in Holly’s kitchen. She had invited Pancho for breakfast and a one-on-one talk. There were no eggs in the habitat, no chickens. Most of the protein came from aquaculture fish, frogs or shellfish, or from the genetically engineered protein the inhabitants of Goddard fondly called “McGlop.” Holly had microwaved a plate of the processed protein for them and added sliced fruits from the habitat’s orchards.
Pancho shrugged her slim shoulders. “We been livin’ together for a few months now. We get along real well.”
“In bed?”
“That’s none of your business, girl,” Pancho said. But she grinned widely as she said it.
Holly grew more serious. “You know I’m in charge of human resources here.”
“Very responsible position.”
“If you and Jake are going to apply for permanent residency, I’ve got to know as soon as possible.”
“Permanent residency?” Pancho’s face clearly showed surprise. “I hadn’t even thought about that.”
“You mean you just came out here to visit me?” Holly realized that she was surprised, too.
“Yep. I told you that, didn’t I?”
“You did. But I thought—”
“You thought I was bullshitting you?”
“Well …” Holly felt her cheeks burning. “Yeah, I guess I did. A little.”
Pancho glanced down at the protein slices on her plate. “I dunno, maybe I was. A little. Truth is, I don’t know what I want to do.”
“Malcolm’s afraid you’ll become a citizen and then run for his job.”
“Me? Hell no! I’ve had enough sittin’ behind a desk. I’ve made all the executive decisions I’m ever gonna make. Never again!”
She said it with such fervor that Holly wondered what was behind her sister’s outburst.
“Anyway,” Pancho went on, “I want you to get to know Jake. And I want to see more of this guy of yours.”
“Raoul?”
“Yeah, Raoul. Sounds like a flamenco dancer.”
Holly smiled. “He’s an engineer. From New Jersey.”
“Raoul,” Pancho repeated. “He looks like a real downer, you ask me.”
“I didn’t ask,” Holly
Eberly looked far from reassured as he said good night and Wilmot closed the door on him.
Damned schemer, Wilmot thought, as he headed back to his drink. Blackmailer. He’d do anything to hold on to power.
He sat heavily and took a long sip of the whisky. Feeling its warmth working its way through him, Wilmot relaxed somewhat. I’m out of it, he said to himself. I’m merely an observer now, nothing more.
He took another sip, then leaned his head back. It’s damned interesting, though. Ten thousand men and women locked inside this oversized sardine tin. The ideal anthropological experiment. Despite it all, I’m quite a lucky man.
Eberly, meanwhile, was walking along the corridor to his own apartment. There were plenty of people coming up in the other direction. Eberly was surprised to see that most of them looked tanned, even golden. What is this? he asked himself. A new fad that I haven’t caught onto?
Everyone who passed him recognized Eberly, of course, and greeted him with smiles and hellos. That made him feel better. They know me. They like me. They even admire me, most of them.
Wilmot’s not going to offer any support for amending the constitution, he realized. But then he brightened. Still and all, the old man won’t offer any opposition, either. His moral power in this habitat is nil. I’ve seen to that.
He quickened his stride as he headed for his apartment.
28 DECEMBER 2095: BREAKFAST
“ S o how serious are you about this bodyguard of yours?” Holly asked her sister.
The two women were sitting in Holly’s kitchen. She had invited Pancho for breakfast and a one-on-one talk. There were no eggs in the habitat, no chickens. Most of the protein came from aquaculture fish, frogs or shellfish, or from the genetically engineered protein the inhabitants of Goddard fondly called “McGlop.” Holly had microwaved a plate of the processed protein for them and added sliced fruits from the habitat’s orchards.
Pancho shrugged her slim shoulders. “We been livin’ together for a few months now. We get along real well.”
“In bed?”
“That’s none of your business, girl,” Pancho said. But she grinned widely as she said it.
Holly grew more serious. “You know I’m in charge of human resources here.”
“Very responsible position.”
“If you and Jake are going to apply for permanent residency, I’ve got to know as soon as possible.”
“Permanent residency?” Pancho’s face clearly showed surprise. “I hadn’t even thought about that.”
“You mean you just came out here to visit me?” Holly realized that she was surprised, too.
“Yep. I told you that, didn’t I?”
“You did. But I thought—”
“You thought I was bullshitting you?”
“Well …” Holly felt her cheeks burning. “Yeah, I guess I did. A little.”
Pancho glanced down at the protein slices on her plate. “I dunno, maybe I was. A little. Truth is, I don’t know what I want to do.”
“Malcolm’s afraid you’ll become a citizen and then run for his job.”
“Me? Hell no! I’ve had enough sittin’ behind a desk. I’ve made all the executive decisions I’m ever gonna make. Never again!”
She said it with such fervor that Holly wondered what was behind her sister’s outburst.
“Anyway,” Pancho went on, “I want you to get to know Jake. And I want to see more of this guy of yours.”
“Raoul?”
“Yeah, Raoul. Sounds like a flamenco dancer.”
Holly smiled. “He’s an engineer. From New Jersey.”
“Raoul,” Pancho repeated. “He looks like a real downer, you ask me.”
“I didn’t ask,” Holly
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