The Octagonal Raven Read Online Free Page B

slid the racquet into its case, then blotted my forehead. “But as I get better, so do you. And you are lucky, you know.”
    “That’s life.” He grinned. “I’ll take the luck any day.”
    We walked off the court and down the magnolia-shaded walk of the Contra Tennis Club. Father never believed in private luxuries like tennis courts. The only exceptions were our house and the pool behind it, and Father justified both on the grounds that so many family members enjoyed them that neither was really a totally private luxury.
    As we continued down the path to the glider-bark, I had to blot my forehead again. Gerrat didn’t. For all his words, he hadn’t worked as hard, and he didn’t sweat as much. Maybe people who are blond don’t, or maybe his pre-select profile included less active sweat glands.
    We were almost at the end of the walkway, where the ramp turned into steps leading onto the flat thick grass of the glide-park, when someone on the other side of the hedge spoke—in a low voice, not meant for us.
    “There go the modern gods.” The words were whispered, and tinged with bitterness.
    I let my head turn, and my eyes swept over the two youths. Then I realized that they were norms who had been watching the match. They were probably within a year or two of my age, although they could have been even older, even if neither stood much higher than my shoulder, let alone to Gerrat’s. Gerrat stood nearly two meters; I was a good three centimeters shorter, and fractionally stockier.
    I let my head keep moving, not to embarrass them, and followed Gerrat down the low steps.
    “…the best genetics and nanites creds can buy…”
    “They’re people.”
    “No…they’re not. They can bend iron bars bare-handed. Could you have raised your racket before one of their serves went by you?”
    The murmur that was almost silence was answer enough.
    I couldn’t conceal a frown. Better genetics didn’t mean that much. Not in a world where brawn had limited usefulness. Besides, the Federal Union genetic selection program operated by Genetic Services was open to anyone who wanted to pay for it. I knew that from all the times Father had drummed into us—too often, for me—how deferred payments were available even for the poorest couples.
    “You guide,” Gerrat said, settling into the passenger side of the glider and leaning back under the canopy.
    “This time. Next time it’ll be you.” I grinned.
    “Maybe.” He just spread his hands before adding, “You’re the one who’s always fiddling with it.”
    “That’s because I don’t like not knowing how things work.” I checked the systems before easing the glider around.
    The loser always controlled the glider on the way back to the dwelling, not that the trip was that long, only about two klicks. I would have just as soon used a magscooter, but Father wouldn’t have them in his household. So we’d walked to the tennis club until Gerrat was old enough to use a glider, even if he didn’t understand how it worked, and later, until he could set it up so I would drive him.

Chapter 6
    Raven: Vallura, 458 N.E.
    My lungs still burned if I took too deep a breath, and I kept smelling, intermittently, an acridity that made everything taste a shade bitter, but I was back in my own dwelling, back in my own study, looking out over the valley, past the empty bird feeder that I needed to refill, and toward the red Navaho sandstone ramparts of the East Mountains—and too far behind in my contract work for OneCys. I sat down behind the flat surface that served as desk, console, snack table, and whatever, and called up the comm plan I’d been working on. I still had a week, and I could probably make the deadline.
    OneCys had decided to invest the resources in a comp analysis of all the profit centers of UniComm—from the porndraggies to high opera VRs, from double-bluff chat salons to Gate-dropping interstellar space combat simmies—not that the Federal Union had ever had