Part 47 (1/2)

The reporters are going to be a bigger problem than the court, uncle Denys had said. uncle Denys had said. The reporters will pull up a lot of the old pictures of the first Ari. You have to expect that. They'll talk about a little girl Reseune birthed a long time ago, a PR off Estelle Bok. It didn't work right. You've beaten all that little girl's problems. If they say you're like that other little girl they're being nasty, and you answer them that you're you, and if they doubt that they can wait and see how you grow up. I've no doubt at all that you can handle that sort of thing. You don't have to be polite if reporters start being nasty, but you can get a lot more out of them if you act like a nice little kid. The reporters will pull up a lot of the old pictures of the first Ari. You have to expect that. They'll talk about a little girl Reseune birthed a long time ago, a PR off Estelle Bok. It didn't work right. You've beaten all that little girl's problems. If they say you're like that other little girl they're being nasty, and you answer them that you're you, and if they doubt that they can wait and see how you grow up. I've no doubt at all that you can handle that sort of thing. You don't have to be polite if reporters start being nasty, but you can get a lot more out of them if you act like a nice little kid.

It sounded like a fight. That was what it sounded like. She figured that. It was one of the only times uncle Denys had ever talked to her about Working people, but uncle Denys was good at it, and she was sure he knew what was what.

The Enemy cheats, Catlin always said.

It worried her, about whether the Court ever did.

”Sera,” Catlin had come to whisper in her ear that night when they were all going to bed, Florian and Catlin on their pallets, and herself in her own bed with her arm propped up again, ”sera, who's our side in this?”

Florian was usually the one who asked all the questions. That was one of Catlin's best ever.

And Catlin waited while she thought about it, and motioned Catlin up close and whispered back: ”I am. I'm your side. That's all. You never mind what anybody says, that's still the Rule. They can't say I'm anybody else, no matter what.”

So Catlin and Florian relaxed.

She looked at the papers uncle Giraud had given her to study about what the reporters and the judges could ask, and wished she she could. could.

iii There was very little work getting done in Wing One, or likely anywhere else in Reseune on this morning, and if there was a portable vid no matter how old not checked out or rented anywhere in the House and the Labs, it was well hidden.

Justin and Grant had theirs, the office door shut-some of the junior designers were cl.u.s.tered together in the lounge downstairs, but the ones in some way involved with the Project sealed themselves in offices alone or with closest a.s.sociates, and nothing stirred, not even for phone calls.

The cameras were the official ones in the Supreme Court, no theatrics, just the plain, uncommentaried coverage the Supreme Court allowed.

Lawyers handed papers to clerks, and the Court proceeded to ask the clerk if there were any absences or faults in the case.

Negative.

There was a very young girl sitting with her back to the cameras, at the table beside Giraud, not fidgeting, not acting at all restless through the tedium of the opening.

Listening, Justin reckoned. Probably with that very memorable frown.

The news-services had been right on it when the plane landed, and a single news-feed from the official camera set-up at the airport reception lounge had given the news-services their first look at Ari Emory, no questions allowed, until after the ruling.

Ari had stood there with her good hand in uncle Giraud's, the other arm in a cast, wearing a pale blue and very little-girl suit, with black-uniformed Florian and Catlin very stiff and looking like kids in dress-up, overkill in mimicking elder Ari-until a piece of equipment clanked, and eyes went that way and bodies stiffened like the same muscle moved them.

”That'll send chills down backs,” Justin had muttered to Grant. ”d.a.m.n. That is them, no way anyone can doubt it. No matter what size they are.”

The news-services had done archive filler after, brought up split-screen comparisons between the first and second Ari and Catlin and Florian, from old news photos; and showed a trio so much like them it was like two takes in slightly different lighting, Ari in a different suit, standing beside Geoffrey Carnath instead of Giraud Nye.

”My G.o.d, it's right down to mannerisms,” he had murmured, meaning the frown on Ari's face. On both Ari-faces. The way of holding the head. ”Have they taught taught her that?” her that?”

”They could have,” Grant had said, unperturbed. ”All those skill tapes. They could do more than penmans.h.i.+p, couldn't they? -But a lot of us us develop like mannerisms.” develop like mannerisms.”

Not in a CIT, had been his internal objection. had been his internal objection. d.a.m.n, they've d.a.m.n, they've got got to have done that. Skill tapes. Muscle-learning. You could get that off a d.a.m.n good actress. to have done that. Skill tapes. Muscle-learning. You could get that off a d.a.m.n good actress.

Or Ari herself. No telling what kind of things Olga recorded. -Are they going that far with the Rubin kid?

He watched that still, attentive little girl at the table, in front of the panel of judges. They had not let Florian and Catlin sit with her. Just Giraud and the team of lawyers.

”Reseune declines to turn genetic records over to the court,” the Chief Justice observed. the Chief Justice observed. ”Is that the case?” ”Is that the case?”

”I need not remind the Court,” Giraud said, rising, Giraud said, rising, ”that we're dealing with a Special's geneset. ”that we're dealing with a Special's geneset. ...” ...”

The Justices and uncle Giraud talked back and forth and Ari listened, listened very hard, and remembered not to fidget, uncle Giraud had told her not.

They were talking about genetics, about phenotype and handprints and retinal scan. They had done all the tests but the skin sample already, when she checked in with the court ID office.

”Ariane Emory,” the Chief Justice said, ”would you come stand with your uncle, please?”

She got up. She didn't have to follow protocols, uncle Giraud said, the Court didn't expect her to be a lawyer. She only had to be very polite with them, because they were lawyers themselves, the ones who solved all the most difficult cases in Union, and you had to be respectful.

”Yes, ser,” she said, and she gave a little bow like Giraud's, and walked up to the railing, having to look up at them. There were nine of them. Like Councillors. She had heard about the Court in her tapes. Now she was here. It was interesting.

But she wished it weren't her case.

”Do they call you Ari?” the Chief Justice asked.

”Yes, ser.”

”How old are you, Ari?”

”I'm four days from nine.”

”What's your CIT number, Ari?”

”CIT 201 08 0089, but it's not PR.” Uncle Giraud told her that in the paper she had studied.

The Justice looked at his papers, and flipped through things, and looked up again. ”Ari, you grew up at Reseune.”

”Yes, ser. That's where I live.”

”How did you get that cast on your arm?”

Just answer that, Giraud had said, about any question on her accident. So she said: ”I fell off Horse.”

”How did that happen?”

”Florian and Catlin and I sneaked out of the House and went down to the Town; and I climbed up on Horse, and he threw me over the fence.”

”Is Horse a real horse?”

”He's real The labs birthed him. He's my favorite.” She felt good, just remembering that little bit before she went over the fence, and the Justice was interested, so she said: ”It wasn't his fault. He's not mean. I just surprised him and he jumped. So I went off.”

”Who was supposed to be watching you?”

”Security.”

The Justice looked funny at that, like she had let out more than she intended; and all the Justices thought so, and some thought it was terribly funny. But that could get out of control and make somebody mad, so she decided she had better be careful.