The city itself was huge. Toward its center, you couldn’t even tell you were on the ocean. Ashecroft was in the fashionable edge district however, and the first thing Vee saw when they emerged was sunlight sparkling cheerfully on the broad, blue Pacific. In the distance she could just make out three of the cordon ships that sailed in a ring around the city, serving as escort and border guard.
On the main deck, U.N. City was wide awake and in full swing. Crowds of people swarmed between the buildings and the parks. Their skins were every color, from snow white to midnight black. They wore all styles and colors of clothing and every possible level of body enhancement, both organic and mechanical. Some drifted between the boutiques, studying the holo-displays that took the place of windows. Some strolled along the city’s sculpted rail looking out at the calm, sapphire ocean, maybe hoping to see dolphins or, better yet, whales. Some just hurried from glide-walk mouth to glide-walk mouth, catching a few precious moments of sunlight between meetings and appointments down in the heart of the city.
How many of them are hustling to something related to the Venus Discovery? Vee felt a twinge of guilt at being happy for U.N. City’s restrictive public assembly policies. You could barely move in Chicago without tripping over another “citizens meeting” or “public discussion” about Venus’s underground chambers and their contents and what, if anything, should be done about them.
The Coral Sea Cafe was a few blocks from the railing, nestled in the corner between one of the observation towers and the Council of Tourism Welcome Center. The mirrored door scanned them both, found them admissible, and slid itself open. Vee stepped into the undersea-scaped interior with its wavery, water-scattered light, which she had fine-tuned for them. Schools of tropical fish swam lazily across the walls. The chairs and tables mimicked rounded stones or coral outcroppings.
“Just too-too,” murmured Rosa. Vee slapped her shoulder.
A woman almost as tall and thin as Vee emerged from the office door, probably alerted to their arrival by the door. She looked like she was in her mid-twenties, but Vee knew she was using body-mod to keep middle age firmly at bay. Not even forty, Nikki had already waved her rights to children and signed up for long-life.
Nothing like knowing what you want.
A circle of blue glass shone in the middle of Nikki’s forehead, probably concealing a personal scanner and database to let her know just who she was dealing with.
“Vee!” Nikki cried happily.
“Nikki!” Vee exclaimed, embracing the woman with the expected level of fervor. “Love the third eye. You look great.”
“And you look”—Nikki pulled back just a little—“subdued.”
“Ah.” Vee held up one, long finger. “Someone’s actually vetting me for a science job today.”
Nikki’s smile grew conspiratorial. “This is about the Venus thing, isn’t it? I heard your name on the lists.”
“Well surely, nothing important can happen without my name on it,” announced Vee regally.
“Surely, dear, surely,” said Nikki, grasping Vee’s hand.
Rosa coughed.
“Oh, right. Nikki, breakfast? Clock’s ticking.”
“Of course, dear.” Nikki ushered them to a corner room shaped like a supposedly cosy undersea grotto. “I’ll have your waiter over three seconds ago.”
“There’s a relativity problem there, Nikki,” said Vee as she slid into her seat.
“What?” Nikki’s face went politely blank.
“Science joke. Never mind.” Vee smiled sunnily. “Have to get back into practice.”
“Of course. Good luck, Vee.” Nikki squeezed her shoulder and breezed away.
Rosa was looking at her. “What?” asked Vee.
Rosa picked up her napkin and made a great show of smoothing it across her lap. “It just never ceases to amaze me how fast you drop into the artiste persona.”
“Hey.” Vee stabbed the table with one finger. “That persona has kept us both living very comfortably. I wouldn’t complain.”
“Never,” said Rosa flatly. “Just commenting.” She called up the menu from the tabletop display and began examining it.
The cafe was tony enough to have real humans as servers, but, fortunately, not so over-the-top as to put them in any form of swimwear. Rosa and Vee ordered coffee, white tea, rolls, and fruit cups from a young man in the ultratraditional server’s black-and-white uniform.
When he left, Rosa jacked her briefcase into the table and unfolded the view screen.
“How’re we doing today?” Vee asked. If Rosa heard her, she gave no sign. She just skimmed the display and shuffled the icons.