Her eyes narrowed, staring hard at me.
«Now what?» I snapped.
«What's that on the back of your neck?»
My anger voided into some black chasm. «A dermal patch,» I said calmly. «It's there because I had an affinity symbiont implant this afternoon.»
«How could you?» She simply stared at me, completely expressionless. «How could you, Harvey? After all the Church has done for us.»
«I did it because I have to, it's my job.»
«We mean so little to you, don't we?»
«You mean everything.»
Jocelyn shook her head. «No. I won't have any more of your lies.» She put the clothes down gently on one of the pods. «If you want to talk, I shall be in the church. Praying for all of us.»
I didn't even know there was a church in Eden. It seemed a little strange given the current state of relations between the Vatican and the habitat. But then there's always that more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner piousness to consider.
I really ought to make an effort not to be so bitter.
Nicolette had slumped down onto the bed when I went back to her.
«You had a row,» she said without looking up.
I sat on the mattress beside her. She's a lovely girl; perhaps not cable starlet beautiful, but she's tall, and slim, and she's got a heart-shaped face with shoulder-length auburn hair. Very popular with the boys back in the arcology. I'm so proud of what she is, the way she's growing up. I wasn't going to let Earth stunt her, not with Eden able to offer so much more. «Yes, we had a row.» Again.
«I didn't know she was going to be so upset over the chimps.»
«Hey, what happens between me and your mother isn't your fault. I don't want to hear you blaming yourself again.»
She sniffed heavily, then smiled. «Thanks, Dad.»
«Use the chimps in here all you want, but for God's sake don't let them into the house.»
«OK. Dad, did you really have a symbiont implant?»
«Yes.»
«Can I have one? The orientation officer said you can't really expect to live here without one.»
«I expect so. But not this week, all right?»
«Sure, Dad. I think I want to fit in here. Eden looks gorgeous.»
I put my arm round her shoulders and kissed her cheek. «Do you know where your brother is?»
«No, he went off with some boys after the orientation lecture.»
«Well, when he comes in, warn him not to allow the chimps into the house.»
I left her to herself and went into the lounge. The bubble cube Zimmels had given me was in my jacket pocket. I settled down in the big settee, and slotted it into my PNC wafer. The menu with the file names appeared; there were over a hundred and fifty of them. I checked down them quickly, but there was no entry for Corrine Arburry.
Content I had at least one sympathetic ally, I started to review the masters of the revolution.
My second day started with Penny Maowkavitz's funeral. Rolf and I attended, representing the police, both of us in our black dress uniforms.
The church was a simple A-frame of polished aluminium girders with tinted glass for walls. I estimated nearly two hundred people turned up for the service, with about eighty more milling outside. I sat in the front pew along with the Governor and other senior Eden staff from the UN and JSKP. Father Cooke conducted the service, with Antony Harwood reading a lesson from the Bible: Genesis, naturally. I knew him from Zimmels's files, another of Boston's premier activists.
Afterwards we all trooped out of the church and down a track into a wide glade several hundred metres from the town. Fasholé Nocord led the procession, carrying the urn containing Penny's ashes. Anyone who dies in Eden is cremated; they don't want bodies decomposing in the earth, apparently they take too long, and as Eden hasn't quite finished growing there's always the chance they'll come to the surface again as the soil layer is gradually redistributed.
A small shallow hole had been dug at the centre of the glade. Pieter Zernov stepped up to it and put a large jet-black seed in the bottom; it looked like a wrinkled conker to me.
«It was Penny's wish that she should finish up here,» he said loudly. «I don't know what the seed is, except it was one of her designs. She told me that for once she had forgone function, and settled for something that just looks damn pretty. I'm sure it does, Penny.»
As Pieter stood back an old Oriental man in a wheelchair came forwards. It was a very old-fashioned chair, made from wood, with big wheels that had chrome wire spokes, there was no motor. A young woman was pushing him over the thick grass. I couldn't see much of her; she had a broad black beret perched on her head, a long white-blonde ponytail swung across her back, and her head was bowed. But the old man . . . I frowned as he scooped up a handful of ash from the urn Fasholé Nocord held out.
«I know him, I think,» I whispered to Rolf.
That earned me another of those looks I was becoming all too familiar with. «Yes, sir; that's Wing-Tsit Chong.»
«Bloody hell.»
Wing-Tsit Chong let Penny's ashes fall from his hand, a small plume of dry dust splattering into the hole. A geneticist who was at least Penny Maowkavitz's equal, the inventor of affinity.
Father Leon Cooke cornered me on the way back to town. Both genial and serious in that way only priests know how. He was in his late sixties, wearing the black and turquoise vestments of the Unified Christian Church.
«Penny's death was a terrible tragedy,» he said. «Especially in a closed community like this one. I hope you apprehend the culprit soon.»
«I'll do my best, Father. It's been a hectic two days so far.»
«I'm sure it has.»
«Did you know Penny?»
«I knew of her. I'm afraid that relations between the Church and most of the biotechnology people have become a little strained of late. Penny was no exception; but she came to a few services. When confronted with their approaching death, people do tend to show a degree of curiosity in the possibility of the divine. I didn't hold it against her. Everyone must come to faith in their own way.»
«Did you hear her confession?»
«Now, my son, you know I can never answer that. Even more than doctors, we priests hold the secrets of our flock close to our hearts.»
«I was just wondering if she ever mentioned suicide?»
He stopped beside a tree with small purple-green serrated leaves, tufty orange flowers bloomed at the end of every branch. Dark grey eyes regarded me with a humorous compassion. «I expect you have been told Penny Maowkavitz was a thorny character. Well, with that came a quite monstrous arrogance; Penny did not run away from anything life threw at her, not even her terrible illness. She would not commit suicide. I don't think anybody up here would.»
«That's a very sweeping statement.»
The tail end of the mourners filed past us; we were earning quite a few curious glances. I saw Rolf standing fifteen metres down the track, waiting patiently.
«I'll be happy to discuss it with you, perhaps at a more appropriate time.»
«Of course, Father.»
A guilty smile flickered over Leon Cooke's face. «I talked to your wife, yesterday.»
I tried to maintain an impassive expression. But he was a priest . . . I doubt he was fooled. «I don't expect she painted a very complimentary picture of me. We'd just had a row.»
«I know. Don't worry, my son, it was a very modest row compared to some of the couples I've had to deal with.»
«Deal with?»
He ignored the irony. «You know she doesn't belong in this habitat, don't you?»
I shifted round uncomfortably under his gaze. «Can you think of a better place for our children to grow up?»