Evolution (11 page)

L
iving
in the penthouse that overlooked the most influential city in the world had a seductive way of distorting reality. For all of Sam’s wealth and position, he knew the truth about himself. People struggled hard to achieve what had been dumped in his lap. The history of those families carried a sobering lesson: few of those born to such riches surpassed their elders in accomplishments.

The mental dump of Jillian’s resume into his brain by Lev, so long ago, didn’t help. She’d abandoned school in favor of seeing the solar system. Not a bad plan, but not one to recommend to the twins.

Sam wished the girls could pursue Jess’s example of learning about life in the village. It’d still be a year before
Leviathan
was in orbit around Earth. But even when the village did return, what they had to offer his girls wouldn’t prepare the twins for Rendition or the foundation he and Jess had set up. And if they had to live on Earth, they were going to have to learn about it firsthand.

Sam longed for the breakfasts in the village when the family talked about the day ahead. Today the fight with his girls about their future made him lose his appetite.

“I don’t see why we have to go to school,” Emily said. “We’re busy teaching Ellie and Joshua about touching things. It’s not like we don’t have anything useful to do. Just because you had to go, that shouldn’t mean we have to.”

His sweet, precious daughters were becoming willful.
Teenagers.

“We’re not forcing you into an institution,” Jess said. “Learning can be anything you want it to be, but certain fundamentals are important.”

Emily pushed her plate away. “But why? I get the answers from the lens. If I wanted to be a mathematician, I could see the reason for learning algebra. But I don’t.”

Jillian thumbed through the online syllabus on her transparent computer screen. “It stretches your brain. Learning math, history, or science. It isn’t just about the subject matter. They’re different directions for your thoughts to explore. I gave up too easily, but then, no one explained the reasoning to me.”

Jess got up from the table. Her long nightshirt straightened out to her knees. “Ellie and Joshua, would you mind joining us?”

No matter how many times the family did it, talking to an empty room, expecting the Tobes to materialize, still seemed like a magic trick. The brother and sister appeared on the couch, also wearing pajamas.

Sam continued the conversation as if they’d been there the whole time. “What passes for education of the next generation these days?”

“Well, it’s not what you remember, that’s for sure,” Ellie said. “Between us taking over jobs no one wanted, the ease of access to information via the lens, and a general freeing of people to do what they want, education has become more about what someone wants to learn than anything else.”

“But there must be some core education,” Jess said. “Even in the village, children needed to learn how to read, write, do math—basic building-block type subjects.”

“Sure, but I’d assume even there not everyone learned the same.” Ellie looked at the twins. “Just from our brief time with you two, I know a couple of things. Sara, you like to know stuff. You like books and information and figuring things out. With someone like you, we just open the information doors and let you explore—kind of like turning you loose in every museum and library that ever existed. You’ll have helpers if you get lost, metaphorically speaking. But mostly, we trust you to find what interests you.” She turned back to Jess. “Sara will figure things out much faster if she’s searching for books that intrigue her.”

“That sounds magical.” Sara’s love of books had started long before the family’s arrival on Earth.

“Well, I can’t say Sara was ever a concern when it came to learning,” Jess said. “Our biggest problem on Chariklo was not having enough for her to dig through.”

“That won’t be a problem here,” Ellie said. “We see ourselves as curators, or maybe manning a help desk for people like Sara.”

Emily kicked at a leg of the dining table but declined to make a comment about her sister’s intelligence.

Joshua changed his attire from flowing silk pajamas to khakis and a cotton shirt as he stood up. “We’d like to show you something, Emily. Lud had it built into his home. It’s kind of a classroom of sorts, but seeing it would make more sense. I suspect Jillian might find it interesting as well.”

At that moment, Lud entered the penthouse. “Didn’t mean to interrupt, but Joshua sent me a message. Lydia, my wife, says she’d love to show off her studio. We can head over as soon as everyone gets changed.”

* * *

J
illian’s eyes
swept the converted seventy-eighth-floor residence. “I can’t imagine living in an old office like this. Your home is amazing.”

Sam too found the remodeled building something of a design miracle. Rather than the grand, open spaces of Rendition, the redeveloper had chosen to keep as much of the original charm as possible. Antique gray-and-blue carpet with a swirling design reminiscent of water filled the entry and living room. Large glass windows separated the interior spaces into what must have been offices but now functioned as quiet areas for reading, sleeping, eating, and all manner of activities.

Emily and Sara politely looked around.

Lud pointed to a large room, a forerunner of the type Rendition used for board meetings. “I’m afraid you’ve caught Lydia still in class, but we can sneak in. I think she’s just about done.”

The windows to the central room were turned to a dark gray. The projected class members, however, shown as bright, fully formed holograms, moved about the room.

“Why don’t they look more real, Dad?” Sara asked. “I mean if the Tobes can manifest so well, why can’t humans?”

A soft-faced woman in an old-fashioned cooking apron appeared from around the corner, the smell of freshly baked cookies following her. “That’s partly our doing and partly restrictions from the government. No one wanted to mistake human projections for actual people. I’m Mary. I just wanted to pop in and say hi. If you want, you can go on in. I’ve already lensed Lydia that you’re here.”

As Lud led them into the darkened room, Lydia blinked her eyes once. All the human projections continued moving about the art studio, but Lydia was no longer a part of the action.

Without waiting for an introduction she threw her arms around each stranger as if she’d known them all her life. Jess accepted the embrace with an equally enthusiastic hug.

Lydia beamed at the family. “It’s so good to finally meet you all. Please make yourselves comfortable. Mary’s already getting you some drinks. I just want to catch this last demonstration. Pottery is so cool.”

She walked up to the professional artist and, without so much as a word of request, sat down into his virtual projection. Hands, heads, and bodies bobbed in and out of sync. Lydia’s fingers did their best at following the same lines as the potter’s.

Other members of the class also sat into the artist, disappearing from sight, or randomly stood up out of him—like ghosts—to move around and inspect the vessel’s progress from other angles. Sam shook his head in confusion at the spectacle.

Jess nudged him. “You should see this through the lens. Every movement is broken down. Everything Lydia does is analyzed. The pot she’s making doesn’t even look like the one the potter’s making. Every time her fingers miss the mark, the pot changes slightly.”

Sam received one of his telepathic messages from the Tobes.
You can see what they’re seeing.

No, to see with the help of the Tobes was too big a temptation. Once Sam allowed Tobes full access to his mind, they might not know where and when to stop—no restrictions, no filter, a connection so personal neither would be able to sever it. The class ended with Sam’s head buzzing with unheard information.

Jillian whispered in Sam’s ear, “They’re putting on the full sales pitch for that lens. Tempting as it is, the fact they’re working so hard to convince me is only putting me off.”

“I’m sure it’s unintentional.” He couldn’t imagine why they’d want her connected so badly. But making a point of telling her she’d be interested in Lydia’s studio—when clearly the lens would be needed—did sound a bit like peer pressure.

Lydia smiled with pride at her attempt to throw a pot. “Someday we’re going to put a ceramic studio in the house. Mary’s already looking into the best location and construction method. We’ll probably have to hire an actual human construction firm, but that’s okay. Now that cost isn’t really an issue, it’s just a matter of how fancy I want it and how long I’m willing to wait.”

“So you wouldn’t have to pay for it?” Emily shared the same confusion Sam felt but still had the youthful innocence to ask.

“No, we do pay for it. But with most jobs taken over by the Tobes—and most economic needs met—we can pick people who really like doing this kind of work. The market exchange is more like trading something I like to do for something they like to do. I actually really like paying people now. Do you remember when we used to tip a waitress or hairdresser for doing a good job? Like we were saying
thank you
in some tangible way for someone caring about their job? Well, now every time I pay someone for something, like building me a pottery studio, it’s like I’m just saying
thank you
a lot.”

Lud smiled at his wife. “All we need to do now is decide which studio you want built, my love—pottery, photography, or painting.”

“Oh hush, Lud. It’s not like you suffer from my hobbies.” The couple shared a smile about some hidden understanding. Jess gave Sam a wink, indicating she suspected she knew the inside joke.

“So this is the third class you’ve taken?” Sam wanted to know about this new form of education. But he wanted to hear it firsthand from a student and not from the school catalog.

“Actually, it’s my fourteenth. Most of the classes are like this one where the teacher is just working at his profession. Laurence is a full-time potter, and that was his studio we were in. The Tobe that works with him breaks down his actions, and Mary works my lens—giving me the lesson in ways I find the most interesting and useful. For Laurence, it’s just another day making pots. He does sometimes interact with us. Every teacher’s different. Some just love talking all day long to anyone who’ll listen. Others, like Laurence, are chatty sometimes but mostly just like doing what they love to do. If there’s a question Mary can’t find in her database, he’ll perk up and answer. And there are times when the class just feels like one big social circle. Other times, like today when he’s teaching something pretty advanced, we end up focusing on our own individualized presentations. You can’t imagine how fast I pick this stuff up.”

Jillian looked dubious. “But is it really the same? I mean you can see what’s going on, but you can’t really feel the clay. Knowing how to do something and actually doing it are still pretty different things, aren’t they?”

Lydia rubbed the virtual clay off her hands and onto her artist smock. “Being Lud’s wife does come with certain advantages. My studio just got the latest upgrade this week. I’ll bet Sara and Emily could guess what it was.”

Emily walked up to the projection of Lydia’s pot still spinning on the wheel. Extending a finger, she drew a line on the vase. She stared intently at her finger covered in the red mud. “I could feel it. The clay was wet and slippery just like the mud on a riverbank.”

Sara had to sample the new Touch technology as well. By the time they’d finished exploring the sensations, Lydia’s pot had collapsed and was flapping all over the place. Wet clay splattered the girls. As they stood up, the red slop dripped off their clothes.

“So long as you’re in the studio, anything that happens remains as is,” Lydia said. “You can ask Mary to wipe the scene clean, or you can step out the door. Either will clean you up.”

Jess touched the drying clay on Lydia’s smock. “Must be nice to not worry about dirty clothes after you’re done. But is it really the same as physically making a pot?”

“Oh no, of course not. Part of the class has me spending one day per week in a real ceramics studio. Not Laurence’s unfortunately. He’s in Spain, so that’s not really convenient. But there are numerous little art studios popping up all the time.”

“You’d be surprised how fast people adapt to new ways of sharing what they love,” Lud said. “These little teaching pods, coupled with real-world studios and similar workstations, are all the rage. Surprisingly, Rendition has nothing to do with them.”

It was a relief to know his company didn’t have its hands in everything. But then, Sam knew there was usually a pretty good reason. “Why isn’t Rendition involved?”

Lud hunched his shoulders. “Joshua was pretty vague on that point. I have asked. I think they want to foster a desire in humans to go out and discover something new. I know firsthand Tobes can come up with new innovations. But most of what they do create is very linear. Like two plus two equals four. The big leaps in understanding still elude them. I think that’s why so many of these arts-and-crafts pods get so much attention. The Tobes want us to be more creative. By watching how that happens for humans, they hope to learn something about it themselves. And like any good scientist, they don’t want to insert themselves into the experiment.”