Sidris took his hand. “Hi, Tony. How’s your mother, dear?”
“Just fine.” He added in a whisper, “I’m Jock.”
“Sorry.” Sidris said quietly to me, “Stay on her,” and took Jock into a tuck shop.
She came out and joined me. Jock followed her licking a lollipop. “‘Bye, Auntie Mabel! Thanks!” He danced away, rotating, wound up by that little redhead, stood and stared into a display, solemnly sucking his sweet. Sidris and I went home.
A report was waiting. “She went into Cradle Roll Creche and hasn’t come out. Do we stay on it?”
“A bit yet,” I told Wyoh, and asked if she remembered this kid. She did, but had no idea who she might be. “You could ask Finn.”
“Can do better.” I called Mike.
Yes, Cradle Roll Creche had a phone and Mike would listen. Took him twenty minutes to pick up enough to give analysis–many young voices and at such ages almost sexless. But presently he told me, “Man, I hear three voices that could match the age and physical type you described. However, two answer to names which I assume to be masculine. The third answers when anyone says ‘Hazel’–which an older female voice does repeatedly. She seems to be Hazel’s boss.”
“Mike, look at old organization file. Check Hazels.”
“Four Hazels,” he answered at once, “and here she is: Hazel Meade, Young Comrades Auxiliary, address Cradle Roll Creche, born 25 December 2063, mass thirty-nine kilos, height–”
“That’s our little jump jet! Thanks, Mike. Wyoh, call off stake-out. Good job!”
“Mike, call Donna and pass the word, that’s a dear.”
I left it to girls to recruit Hazel Meade and did not eyeball her until Sidris moved her into our household two weeks later. But Wyoh volunteered a report before then; policy was involved. Sidris had filled her cell but wanted Hazel Meade. Besides this irregularity, Sidris was doubtful about recruiting a child. Policy was adults only, sixteen and up.
I took it to Adam Selene and executive cell. “As I see,” I said, “this cells-of-three system is to serve us, not bind us. See nothing wrong in Comrade Cecilia having an extra. Nor any real danger to security.”
“I agree,” said Prof. “But I suggest that the extra member not be part of Cecilia’s cell–she should not know the others, I mean, unless the duties Cecilia gives her make it necessary. Nor do I think she should recruit, at her age. The real question is her age.”
“Agreed,” said Wyoh. “I want to talk about this kid’s age.”
“Friends,” Mike said diffidently (diffidently first time in weeks; he was now that confident executive “Adam Selene” much more than lonely machine)–“perhaps I should have told you, but I have already granted similar variations. It did not seem to require discussion.”
“It doesn’t, Mike,” Prof reassured him. “A chairman must use his own judgment. What is our largest cell?”
“Five. it is a double cell, three and two.”
“No harm done. Dear Wyoh, does Sidris propose to make this child a full comrade? Let her know that we are committed to revolution. . . with all the bloodshed, disorder, and possible disaster that entails?”
“That’s exactly what she is requesting.”
“But, dear lady, while we are staking our lives, we are old enough to know it. For that, one should have an emotional grasp of death. Children seldom are able to realize that death will come to them personally. One might define adulthood as the age at which a person learns that he must die. . . and accepts his sentence undismayed.”
“Prof,” I said, “I know some mighty tall children. Seven to two some are in Party.”
“No bet, cobber. It’ll give odds that at least half of them don’t qualify–and we may find it out the hard way at the end of this our folly.”
“Prof,” Wyoh insisted. “Mike, Mannie. Sidris is certain this child is an adult. And I think so, too.”
“Man?” asked Mike.
“Let’s find way for Prof to meet her and form own opinion. I was taken by her. Especially her go-to-hell fighting. Or would never have started it.”
We adjourned and I heard no more. Hazel showed up at dinner shortly thereafter as Sidris’ guest. She showed no sign of recognizing me, nor did I admit that I had ever seen her–but learned long after that she had recognized me, not just by left arm but because I had been hatted and kissed by tall blonde from Hong Kong. Furthermore Hazel had seen through Wyoming’s disguise, recognized what Wyoh never did successfully disguise: her voice.