Descending Road - SMART CLOTHES CHANGE THEMSELVES by Dana W. Paxson

SMART CLOTHES CHANGE THEMSELVES

1562 4D

The Luces, Arlen thought. He put his palm against the shifting wall image as if to stop it. What a frustration they’ve been. City upstarts, escapees. How did they get from DurCorp the one piece of land that had the ores I needed, mineral rights and all? It cost me millions in delays. I missed the last shipment up the Loft for another year. That’s what Durlow likes to do to me when he can.

Arlen‘s nails pressed into the wall, leaving fading rings of spectral color. He smiled. Durlow knew something. Durlow had mined bits of the land before Luce had bought it, looking for alien ship propellant. So how much had Durlow learned?

Arlen closed the curtain over Tariall‘s face. “Carchesme, come in now.” A few breaths, and the great steel doors swung open. Carchesme, fresh from dividing her time between Arlen‘s materials research labs and the bisexual dives of Poly Town, strode in. Her eyes looked levelly into Arlen‘s. Creamy coils of hair bounced and straggled across her reddish-brown face.

“You kept me waiting longer than usual,” she said as she flopped into a soft chair and stretched out a long leg onto Arlen‘s low table in the middle of the room. A small puddle of thick liquid formed on the table’s polished surface under her shoe heel.

“Get that off my table,” he ordered her.

Carchesme withdrew her foot and pulled a pad from her green coverall’s waistpouch. She bent forward and dabbed up the liquid, watching curiously as threads of it broke free and drifted in the air. She snatched at them; a few swirled higher and flew toward the walls. “That’s amazing stuff,” she said. “Plasm thread. Gotta try that in a plush. Smart clothes. They’ll change themselves.”

Arlen‘s irritation at her utter self-absorption brought words from him. “If you can’t get a grip on your mouth and your manners, get a grip on your mind,” he snapped. “Is the new N-meter ready yet? I’m still trying to track Andrew Luce, and you were supposed to have it ready for me today.”

Carchesme studied the shifting patterns the wall displayed, and rapidly braided a long knot in a few strands of her cream-colored hair. “I told you the size would be a problem. We can’t make it any smaller than that room the first one was in, or the collisions get lost in the noise. It’ll be a cross between a stonehoser and a house in size.”

What a disappointment she was. But she’d built the first successful N-meter. Maybe, when she’d gotten this one done and he’d extracted Luce‘s little secret, she’d make a good match for Tariall, in a box on the chamber wall. He stood over her, his arms folded. “You told me you had a smaller—“

“Yes, I know I did. It didn’t work.”

“But how can you tell, if there’s no N-emission source to test it with?”

She smirked. “We calibrate the soliton detectors with reticulo-neutrinos. If the detectors can pick them out of the blizzard, they can get your N-emissions. As it is, the damn detectors overload the compfabric. Even a billion nodes can’t compute what we need to reduce the noise and sort out what’s left. You want us to make it bigger instead?” As she spoke, her restless hands reached around under the tabletop; she found a drawer, the one Indrio used, and drew out a shaft the thickness of her wrist and the length of her forearm. As she held it, the tip swelled luxuriantly and vibrated. She grinned. “Now this I wouldn’t want any smaller.”

“Damn you, put that away!” Arlen slapped the shaft to the floor. Carchesme stared up at him, sudden anger burning in her eyes. These women. Somehow he kept drawing them around him, and then regretting it. “I want you to concentrate on just one thing: getting that meter working the way I want it. You’re the physics team head. You know what’s waiting out there if we can pin it down.”

“We’ll never pin it down. It moves, I told you that. When you had that Luce guy up in the mountains we tracked the emissions with the big meter. They wander around.”

“But he never moved.”

“Not in 4-space, he didn’t. Do you have any idea how much room there is in 12-space? We had to pour all the data down the main net and wait nine days to compute a probable trajectory. And then you had to let him go. Might as well hunt for a single atom in a galaxy.”

Arlen paused as Carchesme got up. He hated to think she was right. He’d thought his people could keep track of a near-dead man, and instead they’d nearly lost him. The damn underground had killed some of his people. “Your job is to finish what you committed to. Come up with a new approach if you have to, and fast. I want the stuff the N-emissions are coming from. If it’s as info-rich as you said, it’s worth more than this whole city and everything in it.” Like an itch, the music drifted to him again.

“I’m working on it,” Carchesme said. “I’d get more done if you’d stop dragging me up here and—“

“Yes, I know.” Arlen smiled. “Now look at this.” He strode to Tariall‘s box and swept the curtain aside. “Someday I’ll leave you with this box and it’ll tell you a story. Won’t you, Tariall?”

“Yes, Arlen.” The face in the box blinked and nodded rapidly. Arlen covered it again and looked at Carchesme. Her eyes hung wide open, staring at the box; her richly-toned skin had grayed slightly.

Arlen pronounced her name slowly and carefully, “Now, Carchesme, I want that meter just the way I asked for it. Do you understand me?”

She nodded slowly.

“Now leave.” Arlen looked down at the biocarpeted floor. The steel doors opened.

She left. The doors closed.

Story List	SURPRISE ME	Author Page
USER SURVEY	PUZZLE ME	MAKE ELM MARK

HOVER Lucida Bright BARE	HOVER Lucida Bright FULL	HOVER Palatino Linotype BARE
HOVER Palatino Linotype FULL	HOVER Times New Roman BARE	HOVER Times New Roman FULL
PAD Arial BARE	PAD Arial FULL	PAD Lucida Bright BARE
PAD Lucida Bright FULL	PAD Times New Roman BARE	PAD Times New Roman FULL


	SMART CLOTHES CHANGE THEMSELVES 1562 4D The Luces, Arlen thought. He put his palm against the shifting wall image as if to stop it. What a frustration they’ve been. City upstarts, escapees. How did they get from DurCorp the one piece of land that had the ores I needed, mineral rights and all? It cost me millions in delays. I missed the last shipment up the Loft for another year. That’s what Durlow likes to do to me when he can. Arlen‘s nails pressed into the wall, leaving fading rings of spectral color. He smiled. Durlow knew something. Durlow had mined bits of the land before Luce had bought it, looking for alien ship propellant. So how much had Durlow learned? Arlen closed the curtain over Tariall‘s face. “Carchesme, come in now.” A few breaths, and the great steel doors swung open. Carchesme, fresh from dividing her time between Arlen‘s materials research labs and the bisexual dives of Poly Town, strode in. Her eyes looked levelly into Arlen‘s. Creamy coils of hair bounced and straggled across her reddish-brown face. “You kept me waiting longer than usual,” she said as she flopped into a soft chair and stretched out a long leg onto Arlen‘s low table in the middle of the room. A small puddle of thick liquid formed on the table’s polished surface under her shoe heel. “Get that off my table,” he ordered her. Carchesme withdrew her foot and pulled a pad from her green coverall’s waistpouch. She bent forward and dabbed up the liquid, watching curiously as threads of it broke free and drifted in the air. She snatched at them; a few swirled higher and flew toward the walls. “That’s amazing stuff,” she said. “Plasm thread. Gotta try that in a plush. Smart clothes. They’ll change themselves.” Arlen‘s irritation at her utter self-absorption brought words from him. “If you can’t get a grip on your mouth and your manners, get a grip on your mind,” he snapped. “Is the new N-meter ready yet? I’m still trying to track Andrew Luce, and you were supposed to have it ready for me today.” Carchesme studied the shifting patterns the wall displayed, and rapidly braided a long knot in a few strands of her cream-colored hair. “I told you the size would be a problem. We can’t make it any smaller than that room the first one was in, or the collisions get lost in the noise. It’ll be a cross between a stonehoser and a house in size.” What a disappointment she was. But she’d built the first successful N-meter. Maybe, when she’d gotten this one done and he’d extracted Luce‘s little secret, she’d make a good match for Tariall, in a box on the chamber wall. He stood over her, his arms folded. “You told me you had a smaller—“ “Yes, I know I did. It didn’t work.” “But how can you tell, if there’s no N-emission source to test it with?” She smirked. “We calibrate the soliton detectors with reticulo-neutrinos. If the detectors can pick them out of the blizzard, they can get your N-emissions. As it is, the damn detectors overload the compfabric. Even a billion nodes can’t compute what we need to reduce the noise and sort out what’s left. You want us to make it bigger instead?” As she spoke, her restless hands reached around under the tabletop; she found a drawer, the one Indrio used, and drew out a shaft the thickness of her wrist and the length of her forearm. As she held it, the tip swelled luxuriantly and vibrated. She grinned. “Now this I wouldn’t want any smaller.” “Damn you, put that away!” Arlen slapped the shaft to the floor. Carchesme stared up at him, sudden anger burning in her eyes. These women. Somehow he kept drawing them around him, and then regretting it. “I want you to concentrate on just one thing: getting that meter working the way I want it. You’re the physics team head. You know what’s waiting out there if we can pin it down.” “We’ll never pin it down. It moves, I told you that. When you had that Luce guy up in the mountains we tracked the emissions with the big meter. They wander around.” “But he never moved.” “Not in 4-space, he didn’t. Do you have any idea how much room there is in 12-space? We had to pour all the data down the main net and wait nine days to compute a probable trajectory. And then you had to let him go. Might as well hunt for a single atom in a galaxy.” Arlen paused as Carchesme got up. He hated to think she was right. He’d thought his people could keep track of a near-dead man, and instead they’d nearly lost him. The damn underground had killed some of his people. “Your job is to finish what you committed to. Come up with a new approach if you have to, and fast. I want the stuff the N-emissions are coming from. If it’s as info-rich as you said, it’s worth more than this whole city and everything in it.” Like an itch, the music drifted to him again. “I’m working on it,” Carchesme said. “I’d get more done if you’d stop dragging me up here and—“ “Yes, I know.” Arlen smiled. “Now look at this.” He strode to Tariall‘s box and swept the curtain aside. “Someday I’ll leave you with this box and it’ll tell you a story. Won’t you, Tariall?” “Yes, Arlen.” The face in the box blinked and nodded rapidly. Arlen covered it again and looked at Carchesme. Her eyes hung wide open, staring at the box; her richly-toned skin had grayed slightly. Arlen pronounced her name slowly and carefully, “Now, Carchesme, I want that meter just the way I asked for it. Do you understand me?” She nodded slowly. “Now leave.” Arlen looked down at the biocarpeted floor. The steel doors opened. She left. The doors closed.