Part 16 (2/2)
”We want spontaneity.”
”Absolutely.”
Carnaiva was the last stop on the line. The town was surrounded by trees, the only ones in sight anywhere in that otherwise-bleak landscape. They acted as a s.h.i.+eld against the bitter winds that blew in from the north.
The town was a haven for old families that had known one another for centuries. n.o.body moved into Carnaiva; but those who moved out, according to local tradition, inevitably came back. It was a place, the locals said, where it was still possible to live close to nature. That was certainly true. If you liked hard winters, flat prairie, subzero temperatures, and fifty-kilometer winds blowing out of the north, Carnaiva was the town for you. The locals were proud of the frigid weather. I heard stories about how people sometimes wandered out in the storm and weren't seen again until spring.
The town had money. The houses were small, but flamboyant, with heated wraparound porches and a variety of exotic rooftop designs. They were closer together than you'd usually see in a prosperous community. I suspected that was because, once you got past Carnaiva's perimeter, once you walked out through the trees, the world went on forever, absolutely empty in all directions. So the herd instinct took over.
The population was listed at just over eight thousand. Its sole major business enterprise was a plant that manufactured powered sleds. It was also the home of the annual Carnaiviac, where kids of all ages came to race their sleds in a series of wildly popular compet.i.tions.
There was a church, two schools, a synagogue, a modestly sized entertainment complex, a handful of stores, a few restaurants (like Whacko's and the Outpost), and two nightclubs. n.o.body could remember the last time there'd been a felony crime, and Carnaiva was the only town on the continent to make top score in the annual Arbuckle Safest Place to Grow Up Survey. The view from the train station suggested it was also the quietest place on the continent.
Everything was within walking distance. I'd brought a bag, which I checked into a locker. Then I stopped for lunch at the Outpost.
I wasn't sure I wanted to try Whacko's.
The s.p.a.ce Base covered several acres of forest along the edge of Lake Korby, which was located two kilometers south of the town, and which, the townspeople claimed, was frozen except for a few weeks in the middle of the summer. I rode out in a taxi and pa.s.sed above a sign identifying the place. It carried a silhouette of an interstellar, with the watchword, NO LIMIT. The fact that piers and boathouses lined much of the lakefront suggested that the locals were p.r.o.ne to exaggeration. The lake was was frozen when I was there, however, and the boats were apparently stored for the winter. frozen when I was there, however, and the boats were apparently stored for the winter.
In a cl.u.s.ter along the sh.o.r.eline were a brick two-story building that served as school, chapel, and meeting place; a pool and a gym, both covered by plastene bubbles; and a couple of swings for the hardy. Cabins, which served as living quarters for the kids and staff, were scattered through the area.
The taxi set down on open ground. ”Mr. Cavallero's usually over there,” ”Mr. Cavallero's usually over there,” the AI said, indicating one of the cabins. It was fronted by a sign that read ADMINISTRATION. More swings stood off to one side. Two girls, both about twelve, were just coming out of the cabin. They were bent into the wind, each trying to hang on to an armload of ribbons and posters. the AI said, indicating one of the cabins. It was fronted by a sign that read ADMINISTRATION. More swings stood off to one side. Two girls, both about twelve, were just coming out of the cabin. They were bent into the wind, each trying to hang on to an armload of ribbons and posters.
I paid up, climbed out, and said h.e.l.lo to the girls. ”Looks like a party,” I added.
One, dressed in a bright red jacket, smiled. The other laughed. ”Victory celebration,” she said.
”Sporting event?” I asked.
”Cross-country.”
We talked for a minute or two. The event hadn't happened yet. There'd be eighteen kids competing. Only one of them would win, but the entire organization would celebrate. ”We have a lot of victory parties.”
I walked up to the front door. ”Good morning,” ”Good morning,” said the AI. said the AI. ”Can I help you?” ”Can I help you?”
”I hope so. My name's Chase Kolpath. I'm working on a research project, and I'd like very much to speak with Mr. Cavallero.”
”One moment please, Ms. Kolpath.”
A cold wind rattled the trees, and a few snowflakes dislodged from the rooftop and the trees and blew around. Branches creaked, though the swings never moved. I wondered if they were frozen in place.
The door opened, and a redheaded man in a heavy white s.h.i.+rt looked up from behind a desk. He gave me an expansive smile and got to his feet. ”Ms. Kolpath,” he said. ”I'm Hal Cavallero. What can I do for you?”
”I'm doing some research,” I said. ”I'd like to ask a few questions, if I may. I won't take much of your time.”
A fire burned quietly.
”We don't often get beautiful strangers in this part of the world. Sure, I'd be happy to help.” He looked older than I'd expected. Sallow cheeks, lots of lines around his eyes. There was something in his expression that suggested he was fighting a headache. Two children, a boy and a girl, were on the floor playing cards.
I explained that I was a staff a.s.sistant at Rainbow Enterprises.
”Okay,” he said, growing serious. ”Who's Rainbow Enterprises?”
”We do historical a.n.a.lysis, among other things. We're currently working on a study of the touring industry as it was at the turn of the century.”
”I see.” The girl, who'd been watching me, waved. I waved back.
”I'm sorry to tell you this,” he continued, ”but I don't see how I can possibly be of any help.” He took a moment to introduce the kids, Emma and Billy. ”Our newest acquisitions.”
”They look as if they're enjoying themselves.”
”Oh, yes. They always have a good time. Where are you based, Ms. Kolpath?”
”Call me Chase.”
”Chase, then.” He chewed on his lip for a moment, trying to decide, I guess, whether we'd both go on a first-name basis. He must have decided against it. ”Where are you from?”
”Andiquar.”
”You've come a long way. I'm surprised you didn't check with me first. Or just call.”
”I was in the area. We're talking to a lot of people.”
”I see.” He pushed back from the desk. ”I'm glad you didn't come all this way just to see me. I really don't think I have much to contribute.”
”This is a lovely operation. The kids here are all orphans?”
”Not all. Some were abandoned.”
”Well, when things go wrong, it's nice that there are people like you to pick up the slack.”
He looked embarra.s.sed. Shrugged. ”I'm doing it for selfish reasons. I enjoy the work.”
The door opened, and a girl about seven looked in. ”Mr. Cavallero, they're ready,” she said.
”All right, Sola. Tell Ms. Gates I'll be there in a few minutes.” She smiled brightly and left. ”They're playing broom hockey and need another referee.”
”Broom hockey?”
”It's very popular here.” He instructed the AI to look after Emma and Billy. Then he said good-bye to the kids and turned my way. ”I have to go, Chase. But there's no reason you can't watch if you'd like.”
Two groups of second-grade girls, wielding short brooms, took each other on. Cavallero and one of the teachers refereed the action. The kids, five on a side, giggled and screamed as they charged up and down the floor, trying to put a sponge into one of the small cages at each end of the room. Everybody had a good time, and at the conclusion of the game, they celebrated with ice cream. ”What other job,” he asked me, ”could give so much pleasure?”
We went back to the cabin, and he settled in behind his desk. I sat down on a love seat. The children were gone. ”Okay, Chase,” he said, ”what did you want to know?”
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