This Perfect Day Read Online Free Page B

classification I’ll get, the one I’m right for. And the assignments I’ll get, the ones that the Family needs me to do. There’s only one assignment anyway, helping to spread the—”
    “‘Helping to spread the Family through the universe,’” Papa Jan said. “I know. Through the unified UniComp universe. Come on,” he said, “let’s go back up above. I can’t take this brother-fighting cold much longer.”
    Embarrassed, Chip said, “Isn’t there another level? You said there—”
    “We can’t,” Papa Jan said. “There are scanners there, and members around who’d see us not touching them and rush to ‘help’ us. There’s nothing special to see there anyway; the receiving and transmitting equipment and the refrigerating plants.”
    They went to the stairs. Chip felt let down. Papa Jan was disappointed with him for some reason; and worse, he wasn’t well, wanting to argue with Uni and not touching scanners and using bad language. “You ought to tell your adviser,” he said as they started up the stairs. “About wanting to argue with Uni.”
    “I don’t want to argue with Uni,” Papa Jan said. “I just want to be able to argue if I want to argue.”
    Chip couldn’t follow that at all. “You ought to tell him anyway,” he said. “Maybe you’ll get an extra treatment.”
    “Probably I would,” Papa Jan said; and after a moment, “All right, I’ll tell him.”
    “Uni knows everything about everything,” Chip said.
    They went up the second flight of stairs, and on the landing outside the display hallway, stopped and folded the blankets. Papa Jan finished first. He watched Chip finish folding his.
    “There,” Chip said, patting the blue bundle against his chest.
    “Do you know why I gave you the name ‘Chip’?” Papa Jan asked him.
    “No,” Chip said.
    “There’s an old saying, ‘a chip off the old block.’ It means that a child is like his parents or his grandparents.”
    “Oh.”
    “I didn’t mean you were like your father or even like me,” Papa Jan said. “I meant you were like my grandfather. Because of your eye. He had a green eye too.”
    Chip shifted, wanting Papa Jan to be done talking so they could go outside where they belonged.
    “I know you don’t like to talk about it,” Papa Jan said, “but it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Being a little different from everyone else isn’t such a terrible thing. Members used to be so different from each other, you can’t imagine. Your great-great grandfather was a very brave and capable man. His name was Hanno Rybeck—names and numbers were separate then—and he was a cosmonaut who helped build the first Mars colony. So don’t be ashamed that you’ve got his eye. They fight around with the genes today, excuse my language, but maybe they missed a few of yours; maybe you’ve got more than a green eye, maybe you’ve got some of my grandfather’s bravery and ability too.” He started to open the door but turned to look at Chip again. “Try wanting something, Chip,” he said. “Try a day or two before your next treatment. That’s when it’s easiest; to want things, to worry about things . . .”
    When they came out of the elevator into the ground-level lobby, Chip’s parents and Peace were waiting for them. “Where have you been?” Chip’s father asked, and Peace, holding a miniature orange memory bank (not really), said, “We’ve been waiting so long!”
    “We were looking at Uni,” Papa Jan said.
    Chip’s father said, “All this time?”
    “That’s right.”
    “You were supposed to move on and let other members have their turn.”
    “You were, Mike,” Papa Jan said, smiling. “ My earpiece said ‘Jan old friend, it’s good to see you! You and your grandson can stay and look as long as you like!’”
    Chip’s father turned away, not smiling.
    They went to the canteen, claimed cakes and cokes—except Papa Jan, who wasn’t hungry—and took them out to the picnic area behind the dome. Papa