“A lab rat!” exclaimed Angelica.
“Not really, Angelica. Chiddy says Patterns have a wonderful time. They have people paying attention to them all day, every day. They get to see things other people of their races may never see. They get the best of everything, amusements, housing, food . . .”
“How long will he be gone?”
“He should be back within two to four years. And he’ll be in demand, Angel. I should imagine he’ll be offered a book deal, at the very least. You may expect to see him on 20/20 orPrimetime.”
“Wow,” she said doubtfully. “I can’t believe it’ll be Carlos.”
“I can tell you’re glad for him. Ah … I’ve got some news. Your father’s back. He’s in a glusi support program back in Albuquerque. I’ve got the number, if you want to call him.”
“A program for the needy? Oh, Mom, that’s sad.”
“Well, so far as I’m concerned, he always was in a program for the needy, and I was it! I could go back to supporting him, I suppose, Angelica. I can’t see that it did him any good before.”
“Oh, no, no. Don’t you dare! I’m just . . . sorry for him, that’s all. My father in a program for the needy! Well.”
So far as Angelica and the rest of the human race was concerned, glusi meant “needy” or “homeless.” That’s what Chiddy had defined it as, and only Chad and Benita and the people who’d read Chiddy’s journal knew it had ever meant anything different. Everyone knew, of course, that glusi included former drunks who couldn’t drink anymore and former nutters who had been smoothed out enough not tobe ag onized or dangerous, but otherwise left to do precisely what they chose. It included the occasional displaced person, for whom assistance could be both immediate and effectual, and also the occasional tormented eccentric for whom some form of mediation with the world was necessary, though the attempt was always made to ease the pain without interfering with creativity. The Confederation had a high regard for Earthian creativity, particularly in the graphic, musical and theater arts, and though suffering as a way of life was foreign to the Pistach, they had accepted that a certain amount of excruciation often went along with imagination.
Glusi also included runaway children, a no-longer-frequent category, along with women whom Chiddy still called “erotic stimulators for hire,” who wished to do something else. Erotic stimulators for hire who liked their work, however (and a surprising number did), had their own support network offering medical and social benefits and assistance.
Angelica and Benita talked a while longer, though Angelica seemed unconvinced about Carlos, still finding it hard to believe he was doing anything important.
Benita had no sooner hung up than the phone rang. Chad.
“How are you?” she cried, joyously. “Haven’t seen you in … weeks.”
“Well, I’ve been . . . occupied,” he said in a strained voice. “Merilu decided to come back. With the boys.”
She took a deep breath. “Well . . . Chad. That’s . . . what is that? Wonderful?”
“Ah . . . yes, in a way. She’s written herself a new life-script, and it fits her to a tee. You know, behind every famous man there’s a woman? Well, she’s it.”
“And you’re the famous man?”
“If she has her way, I will be. As she keeps pointing out, I’m one of only two people who’ve ever seen a number of other planets. Since we have a ten-year probationary period before humans will be allowed to travel to other worlds, except the patterner, that is, no other human will see other planets for at least that long, and she’s working on a book deal for me. ‘Chad Riley as told to Merilu Riley.’ Either that, or she wants to go to Pistach-home so we can write it together. She thinks with my influence, the Pistach would be happy to take us there. I’ve tried to explain, but she’s not listening.”
“Tell her about the toilets.”
“The ones on Pistach-home?”
“Right. And tell her about the iglak, and what the food is like. All those squirmy things you have to eat to be polite. And how they won’t let her wear anything but caste clothes, and how receptors are rather low caste . . . you get the idea.”