This Perfect Day

A man named Lars introduced himself. He ran a school for immigrant children there in New Madrid. He had been brought to Liberty as a child, and had been there for forty-two years. Ashi came, holding Lilac by the hand. "Chip, come see my studio," he said.

He led them from the room into the passage walled with paintings. "Do you know who you were speaking to?" he asked Lilac. "Julia?" she said.

"Julia Costanza," he said. "She's the General's cousin. Despises him. She was one of the founders of Immigrants' Assistance."

His studio was large and brilliantly lighted. A half-finished painting of a native woman holding a kitten stood on an easel; on another easel stood a canvas painted with slabs of blue and green. Other paintings stood against the walls: slabs of brown and orange, blue and purple, purple and black, orange and red.

He explained what he was trying to do, pointing out balances, and opposing thrusts, and subtle shadings of color. Chip looked away and drank his whiskey.

"Listen, you steelies!" he said, loudly enough so they all could hear him. "Stop talking about furniture for a minute and listen! You know what we've got to do? Fight Uni! I'm not being rude, I mean it literally. Fight Uni! Because it's Uni who's to blame—for everything! For lunkies, who're what they are because they don't have enough food, or space, or connection with any outside world; and for dummies, who're what they are because they're LPK'ed that way and tranquilized that way; and for us, who're what we are because Uni put us here to get rid of us! It's Uni who's to blame— it's frozen the world so there's no more change—and we've got to fight it! We've got to get up off our stupid beaten behinds and FIGHT IT!"

Ashi, smiling, slapped at his cheek. "Hey, brother," he said, "you've had a little too much, you know that? Hey, Chip, you hear me?"

Of course he'd had too much; of course, of course, of course. But it hadn't dulled him, it had freed him. It had opened up everything that had been closed inside him for months and months. Whiskey was good! Whiskey was marvelous!

He stopped Ashi's slapping hand and held it. "I'm okay, Ashi," he said. "I know what I'm talking about." To the others, sitting and swaying and smiling, he said, "We can't just give up and accept things, adjust ourselves to this prison! Ashi, you used to draw members without bracelets, and they were so beautiful! And now you're painting color, slabs of color!"

They were trying to get him to sit down, Ashi on one side of him and Lilac on the other, Lilac looking anxious and embarrassed. "You too, love," he said. "You're accepting, adjusting." He let them seat him, because standing hadn't been easy and sitting was better, more comfortable and sprawly. "We've got to fight, not adjust," he said. "Fight, fight, fight. We've got to fight," he said to the gray-eyed beardless man sitting next to him.

"By God, you're right!" the man said. "I'm with you all the way! Fight Uni! What'll we do? Go over in boats and take the Army along for good measure? But maybe the sea is monitored by satellite and doctors'll be waiting with clouds of LPK. I've got a better idea; we'll get a plane—I hear there's one on the island that actually flies—and we'll—"

"Don't tease him, Bob," someone said. "He just came over."

"That's obvious," the man said, getting up.

"There's a way to do it," Chip said. "There has to be. There's a way to do it." He thought about the sea and the island in the middle of it, but he couldn't think as clearly as he wanted. Lilac sat where the man had been and took his hand.

"We've got to fight," he said to her.

"I know, I know," she said, looking at him sadly.

Ashi came and put a warm cup to his lips. "It's coffee," he said. "Drink it."

It was very hot and strong; he swallowed a mouthful, then pushed the cup away. "The copper complex," he said. "On '91766. The copper must get ashore. There must be boats or barges; we could—"

"It's been done before," Ashi said.

Chip looked at him, thinking he was tricking him, making fun of him in some way, like the gray-eyed beardless man.

"Everything you're saying," Ashi said, "everything you're thinking—'fight Uni'—it's been said before and thought before. And tried before. A dozen times." He put the cup to Chip's lips. "Take some more," he said.

Chip pushed the cup away, staring at him, and shook his head. "It's not true," he said.

"It is, brother. Come on, take a—"

"It isn't!" he said.

"It is," a woman said across the room. "It's true."

Julia. It was Julia, General's-cousin-Julia, sitting erect and alone in her black dress with her little gold cross.