Swans and Klons (10 page)

Chapter Fourteen

Rubric felt filled with energy. She was eager to do something productive after being such deadweight the day before. In addition, she was quite hungry. She found all the oatmeal Salmon Jo had been hoarding and left the tent as unobtrusively as possible, which turned out to be not very. Salmon Jo slept on.

It looked to be quite early, earlier than Rubric had thought. It was maddening to have no timekeeping device. Salmon Jo wore a watch pendant around her neck, but Rubric was used to looking at her handheld screen.

She was sitting on a stump eating oatmeal and gazing at birds in the leafless shrubbery when Salmon Jo emerged. She handed her a spoon.

“Thanks,” Salmon Jo said, digging into the oatmeal.

“I hope you weren’t planning to hide out on this mountain for the rest of our lives?” Rubric asked.

Salmon Jo shook her head.

“This isn’t real wilderness,” Rubric said. “People come here all the time. Ranger Klons patrol the mountain. If someone was looking, it wouldn’t be too hard to find us.”

“We didn’t bring enough oatmeal to last the rest of our lives,” Salmon Jo said, her voice scratchy from sleep.

“I wouldn’t even want to be in the real wilderness anyway. I’d get lost without paths. I don’t know how to gather nuts and berries and all that stuff. Probably I’d eat a poisonous mushroom and die.”

“There is no wilderness like that,” said Salmon Jo. “Not in Society. Maybe outside the fence, where the Barbarous Ones live.”

The birds were singing raucously. Rubric wondered where she had gotten the idea that nature was quiet and peaceful. “So what’s the plan?” she asked.

Salmon Jo took another spoonful of oatmeal. “First of all, I just woke up maybe three minutes ago. Second of all, I don’t really have a plan. Getting here was as far as it went.”

Rubric realized she had been depending on Salmon Jo to come up with all the answers for a while now. It was her turn to step up to the plate. “I forgot to thank you for all that. I thought I did, but I was actually asleep.”

“Don’t mention it,” Salmon Jo said, looking down at the pot and stirring the congealing porridge. The tips of her ears turned pink. She was always embarrassed when someone thanked her. It was incredibly cute.

“We need to figure out what our goals are,” Rubric said. “To get the truth out about the Klons? To topple Society?”

“Wow, you’re really full of pep this morning. I’m not sure if I’d be very good at those things,” Salmon Jo said.

Rubric considered. “Probably no two people will be very good at that,” she said. “I think we need to get some more recruits.”

“There are probably other people like us out there somewhere,” Salmon Jo said. “Who know the truth. Although I have no idea how we would find them. I’m picturing hanging a banner off the Karela Bridge:
If you know that the Klons are actually human, come talk to us, except we can’t tell you where we are.
What a logistical nightmare.”

Rubric laughed.

“I’d like to think we could just tell Filigree Sue and our other friends, but in truth, I don’t think they’d care,” Salmon Jo said.

“People like us out there somewhere,” Rubric mused. An inspiration blossomed in her head. “You know who
are
people like us?”

Salmon Jo gave her a look. Her just-tell-me look. She didn’t understand rhetorical questions. Rubric couldn’t break the habit.

“Our Jeepie Similars,” Rubric said.

“What, like Panna Madrigal? Or, gee, Panna Stencil Pavlina. Please.”

“I was thinking Jeepie Similars our age. Our Klons who are our Jeepie Similars. The girls out there who are exactly like us but they’re enslaved.” Rubric felt a surge of elation. She felt like she had found her purpose in life. The Klons needed her help. “Let’s free them!”

“Hmmm,” Salmon Jo said. “How is that possible?”

“It’s totally possible!” Rubric said. “It’s the right thing to do. It’s the only choice. Because we are the only ones who know. We have to help our Jeepie Similars!”

“Okay, I hear you,” Salmon Jo said. “But how exactly do you propose we do this?”

“First, I guess we have to go to another city,” Rubric said, thinking as she spoke.

Most people found it disconcerting to see Klons who were their Jeepie Similars. Populations were planned accordingly, so as to separate the two groups. In their home city, there were probably a couple hundred humans of Rubric’s Jeepie Type, but no Klons of her Jeepie Type. While in another city, there would be no humans of Rubric’s Jeepie Type, but plenty of Klons. There were exceptions to this rule. Some people ended up moving to a faraway city where there happened to be Klons of their Jeepie Type. And some celebrities liked to have personal Klons who were their own Jeepie Type, but in general that was considered poor taste.

Rubric could remember once watching a tennis match on a big screen with her friends. A scene of the crowd in the stadium was briefly shown, and there had been a Klon selling sausages who looked a lot like Rubric. Everyone laughed and said, “Oooh, Ru, it’s you! There’s your Jeepie Similar Klon!” It had given her the strangest feeling.

“The only problem will be finding where specifically our Jeepie Similar Klons are,” Rubric said.

Salmon Jo smiled. “I found out what a hacker is! It means people who are able to trick systems into giving them information. I bet I have some atavistic ability at this. I need to learn how to hacker. And maybe we need to change our appearances a bit to keep from being apprehended.”

Rubric giggled. “In ancient literature, people who disguise themselves always dress up as males.”

“We have to be careful when we approach the Klons,” Salmon Jo warned. “If we just come right out and say we want to rescue them, they might fink on us.”

“Why would they do that? Of course they want to escape!”

“If I were enslaved, that would make me go veruckt. But Klons don’t seem veruckt. They seem regular. So they must have some sort of mindset about their lives that allows them to get on with things. It must be just as disturbing for them to find out their worldview is totally wrong.”

Rubric remembered Nanny Klon. “I guess we need to find our Jeepie Similar Klons who are disgruntled and ready to pop.”

“What job would make you most disgruntled?” Salmon Jo asked.

“I dunno, donating organs.”

“That’s not a job, that’s just on an as-needed basis,” Salmon Jo objected. “For me, it would be driving a trolley. I don’t even really like being a passenger on a trolley. And the traffic patterns give me a headache.”

“Then maybe they don’t make your Jeepie Type Klon into a trolley driver,” Rubric said.

Salmon Jo lapsed into thought, staring into space.

We just sound like thicko kids,
Rubric thought.
We don’t know what we’re doing. We’ve hardly left our campus more than a dozen times, we’re playing at camping out in the woods, and now we’re supposed to travel to other cities and set Klons free without being captured.
The whole thing was ridiculous. She looked moodily at the oatmeal-caked pot. If she left it much longer without washing it, it would be really hard to get the crust off. Rubric had never washed a pot in her life, and she had no idea where there was any water. Maybe she should just go turn herself in for treatment, and then she wouldn’t have to worry about the washing up.

Salmon Jo must have been thinking something similar because she said, “I’m not trying to criticize your plan, but I feel hopeless. All our lives, we were wrong about what Klons are. How many other things are we wrong about? I can’t trust any of the information I have in my head. I’m supposed to be a scientist! And I fell for all this flimsy propaganda about ‘engineered at a molecular level.’ What if we go to another city, and the city doesn’t even exist? How are we supposed to know what’s true and what’s not?”

“You really do have a good nose for lies,” Rubric told her. “We only figured this out because you kept rabbiting away about some boring numbers. You’re an exceptional human being.”

“I don’t feel like a human being at all,” Salmon Jo said. “I feel like I gave up my human-identity card. When I see how people treat the Klons, I feel so mad. And I was exactly the same way until two weeks ago. If I’m not the same person I was, who am I?”

This was a lot of emoting for Salmon Jo. She was usually pretty low-key when it came to discussing her feelings. Rubric put down the oatmeal pot, scooted closer to her, and put her arm around her.

“I feel—what’s the word for when you feel like an alien?”

“Alienated,” Rubric supplied.

“Yeah, that.” Salmon Jo leaned her face into Rubric’s neck.

“You’re my alien,” Rubric said, smoothing Salmon Jo’s wavy bangs off her forehead. “Let’s be two aliens together. We’ll be all right as long as we’re together.”

She was just saying it to make Salmon Jo feel better, but she felt a weight fall away from her heart. She realized it was true. They might be all alone in the world now, but Salmon Jo was all she needed.

Rubric brought her face level with Salmon Jo’s. Their lips met, and the world vanished. They twined their fingers together, and still they kissed. Rubric forgot all their troubles until an early-morning hiker startled them with some witty remarks about young love.

Chapter Fifteen

Rubric couldn’t believe they were back in the city again after all the fleeing they had done.

This was the best plan they had been able to come up with: they would pretend to be artists making a documentary film about Klons. That way, they might be able to talk to Klons alone. For this to work, they needed, at the very least, a camera. Procuring this was Rubric’s job. And they needed the locations of their Jeepie Similar Klons. It was Salmon Jo’s job to get those.

Rubric was going to requisition the camera at the art-materials center. But she could not use her card. Even if she had been able to, academy students were not given enough rationing credits to be able to requisition an item as dear as a camera. So she planned to impersonate someone else. She had decided to use Society’s weaknesses to her own advantage. Klons were trained to be deferential, even obsequious. She would exploit that. And security in Society generally was lax. Rationing-credit fraud was the only commonplace crime in Society, but she thought she could get away with it.

Rubric sailed as imperiously as she could into Pearl. She headed straight for the tech desk. “Bring me a vid camera,” she told the Klon at the art-tech desk, in the most high-handed manner she was capable of.

“What kind, Panna?”

Rubric knew from nothing about cameras.

“The most basic model,” she bluffed.

“Certainly, Panna.” The Klon bent over and rummaged in a cabinet for a scant few seconds before producing a black cube with a round bit at either end. Rubric picked it up and pretended to inspect it but cut her inspection short because she wasn’t even sure which way was up. Now that she had seen one, she thought she could make a dummy version and paint it black if she had to.

“This is exactly what I need,” she declared. “Put it on my account. I am Panna Stencil Pavlina.”

It was possible that Stencil Pavlina was well-known at Pearl. In that case, Rubric’s plan was to run.

“Does the Panna need a battery charger?”

Oh. “Naturally! And an extra battery!”

It took the Klon longer to find a battery and a charger. Then she began poking her clunky handheld screen, the basic kind Klons were given if they needed it for their jobs.

“I’m sorry to say Panna does not have enough credits for an extra battery,” the Klon said apologetically. “It’s more dear than you would think, and everyone is getting fewer rationing credits this month.”

“This will suffice, then,” Rubric said. She was trying to project aloof and crazed, like the real Stencil Pavlina, but she obviously wasn’t doing a very good job because the Klon engaged her in conversation.

“I apologize again. I’m sure you’re doing a big project. If you don’t mind my asking, Panna Stencil Pavlina, what kind of project are you working on? I hope you don’t think it’s intrusive, but I love to hear about the different art masterpieces that the patronesses are creating. That’s one of my favorite things about my assignment in Pearl.”

“Well,” said Rubric, wanting a chance to practice her spiel but afraid it would cast suspicion on her. “You might be interested.” Her heart ached for this Klon, clearly bright and creative, who had to be happy that she was able to work in the art-materials center when she should be making her own art. The Klon was really cute. She was pale, but her face flushed when she talked. She was zaftig and had long, straight hair.

“I’m actually making a documentary about Klons,” Rubric said.

The Klon’s face closed. That would be the only word to describe it. The open friendliness that had been evident a second ago was now gone. The replacement expression was guarded, with a false willingness to please.

“It’s going to show what makes…um, humans different, um, from Klons, or not so different,” Rubric floundered.

“Fascinating,” the Klon said. “Your card please, Panna?”

Rubric slapped the pockets of her cloak. “Why, I have left it at home. No matter. I’ll bring it next time.” She laid one hand casually on the camera.

“I abase myself, but you must know, Panna, that with all the rationing-credits theft lately, I must have your actual card. It’s terrible how a few hooligans who don’t understand the Golden Rule have spoiled it for all the other Pannas, but that’s just how it is. I’ll put your things aside, and you can get them another time.”

Rubric laughed haughtily. “Nonsense!”

“It’s for your own protection, Panna Stencil Pavlina,” the Klon said. “Why, just imagine if one of your Jeepie Similars tried to steal your identity! Maybe some young academy student who knew no better.”

Rubric felt her overbearing manner begin to crack. She had picked dozens of Centaurea knapweed flowers up on Mount Sileza and decorated her hair with them, a style that only older women wore. But of course she still looked sixteen.

“Call your Kapo Klon then,” she said. “She can vouch for me.
She
could tell me apart from my Jeepie Similars! And while she is here, I will certainly complain about your rude and unhelpful attitude. I’ll advise her to send you for treatment! You’ll speak more respectfully after you come back from treatment. If you can speak at all!”