Jupiter Project

Chapter 10

That night we had one of our godawful Socials. The psychers have this theory: As kids approach the teenage years, there’s this natural tendency to clump. Girls in one group over here, and the boys in that gang over there. You can’t get them together in the right kind of social way without an effort, they say. So every month they have a Social and every teenager in the Can has to come. There’s no option. No begging off with a cold, no conflicting job. Nothing will get you off the hook.

I got there as late as I could. Everybody does. Good music was floating out of the corners of the H-deck rec room. A couple of adults were welcoming kids as they came in the door. The adults were basically good people, warm and understanding and always willing to talk to you. Everybody knows they’re part-time “adolescent specialists”—you can look it up in the Can work chart—but that’s okay, because that’s what they’re honestly interested in. It’s no fake. “Good evening. Matt,” Mr. Neugyen murmured to me. “I believe the correct theme for tonight is a quiet, reflective time.” He gestured to the rec room. “We are all saddened by the passing of Ishi. But to reaffirm our—”

“Yeah, you’re right,” I said, mostly to cut him off.

Dr. Matonin turned to me. “I know it has affected you greatly.” she said.

I scuffed one shoe into the other. “Uh huh.” They were only trying to help, and they were right, but I didn’t want to talk about it. “Uh, I think I’ll get something to drink.” I said, and moved off with a kind of phony smile.

It was just like every other Social. A knot of boys was talking, occasionally letting out a bark of laughter. The girls sat around low toadstool-shaped tables, the kind you can knock a drink off of with your knee if you’re not careful. They looked bored and uncomfortable. Just a few hours earlier we’d all seen them in jumpers or skinsuits or overalls. Now they had on dresses and long floaty skirts. And they’d done something to themselves. I mean, we’d been seeing the same dresses for years, redone to keep up with Earthside styles. But tonight the girls managed to look different—softer and curvier and sexier somehow. I don’t know how they did it.

I went over to the punchbowl and got a cup of the usual yellowish stuff. No alcohol in it, of course. Nothing more exotic, either. I’d never heard of anybody in the Can using any of the mild euphorics, such as cannabis or Lucogen. Those are legal on Earth, but reality-twisting isn’t allowed out here.

“Hey, got one for me?” Jenny said at my elbow.

I handed her my cup. “Oh, I didn’t see you.” I poured myself another.

“Or didn’t try to, ummmm?”

“Aw, come on.”

“Well, I wondered if there was some reason. Do you realize that you never approach a girl at these things?” She sipped her punch, holding it in two hands, and peered over the cup at me.

“Let’s be precise,” I said, “I don’t very often, okay, but not never. I…well, there’s something I don’t like about these things.”

“They’re not the greatest,” she admitted.

“Why can’t we have square dances instead?”

She shrugged. “Dr. Matonin says these are part of the, the socialization program.”

“That’s right.” Dr. Matonin said. “Socialization.” She had come over at the sound of her name. We smiled and exchanged a few pleasantries. Then I looked straight at her and said, “Look, we already know each other. Why do we have to go through these dances?”

Dr. Matonin has a motherly look and smiles a lot. It’s impossible not to like her. Her face crinkled with concern. “Social dancing is the way boys and girls learn to, ah, interact with each other.”

“We interact every day,” Jenny pointed out.

“I mean in a context that will develop and grow in later years. We want to bring you youngsters together in a way that will break down the tendency you have to avoid the other sex during adolescence.”

“But we get along fine.” I said.

“In a more sophisticated way, I mean, Matt.”

By that I guessed she meant the long ritual of dating and engagement and marriage, with a dollop of sex thrown in somewhere along the way to keep your interest up. Playing the game, Zak called it.

“Why can’t they be square dances, then?” Jenny asked. “We used to have those and they were fun.”

I nodded. I liked square dancing. It wasn’t such a hassle. You could wear anything you felt like. That usually meant the guys wore whatever they had on at the moment, and maybe half the girls did the same. The other girls came in skirts. For square dancing the skirts made sense—they were cooler. In fact, it always seemed too bad that boys couldn’t wear something like a skirt, too. I mean, to have some freedom of dress.

“I agree, they were fun.” Dr. Matonin’s face lit up. “But you young men and women are getting older and it is time to move on to other kinds of, ah, socialization processes.”

“Like this?” I waved a hand at the decorations and subdued lighting.

“Yes, indeed. This seems to us to be what is needed.”

“Needed by who?” Jenny asked.

“By the less mature among you. They do not easily make contact with the other sex. There are shy people, you know—they’re not all like you, Matt,” she said merrily.

I stared at her. She’s a tremendously bright fusion physicist, sure. But she didn’t seem to see that I felt awkward at these Socials, just like everybody else. I had a sudden moment of insight there, catching a glimpse of how other people saw me. A little jolt of unreality.

I was kind of brash and self-confident, I knew that. But underneath I had doubts and uncertainties. There were moments when I was nervous or shy or afraid to say things. But from what Dr. Matonin said, I guessed that nobody saw me clearly at those moments. They didn’t think that a kid who was good at his job and pretty fast with his mouth could have any problems. Well, I had news for them.

“But. but,” Jenny said, “there’s more social contact at anything else than here.” She gestured and we looked around. Sure enough, girls were still looking bored and guys were against one wall, muttering in subdued voices. Nobody was dancing.

“Well, it’s early yet,” Dr. Matonin said. “There’s something you older teens have got to understand, as well,” she went on seriously. “These dances are basically for the sake of the girls. They like them, even if perhaps a few of the older girls don’t.” A nod at Jenny. “They like a chance to dress up and show off. They like making their own special clothes.”

“We could wear them anywhere we wanted. Not only to dances.”

Dr. Matonin nodded slightly. “But you don’t. You see, Jenny, the Can is a very special kind of environment. We don’t dress or act the way people back on Earth do. But Mr. Neugyen and I and the others are trying to make these Socials as much as possible like the way things are on Earth. This is the way life is, Jenny. It’s not all work crews and astronomy and computers. And we had better remember that. We will all have to go back and live on Earth someday, and we will have trouble adjusting. And you will have the worst time of all, because you’ve spent almost all of your lives in the Can.”

“Ummm,” Jenny murmured in the way that meant she wasn’t convinced.

“So go ahead, get on out there,” Dr. Matonin said brightly, gently taking each of us by the elbow and steering us onto the dance floor. “And enjoy yourselves.”

I’m no smoothie, but I can negotiate a simple box step without breaking an ankle. I took Jenny in my arms and we danced through several numbers. It wasn’t bad. I liked the smell of her, a kind of rich fragrance that blotted out the rec room and the clumps of guys and the syrupy music. Jenny smiled and I held her closer and it was not bad at all. It still felt phony, but I managed to forget about that part of it.

We talked some more about what Dr. Matonin said. Jenny didn’t think any of the girls really liked the Socials, despite Dr. Matonin’s theory.

Jenny and I danced on. I saw Zak wandering around the place, cup in hand. When we all took a break Jenny went off to the john. I wandered over to where Zak was leaning in a corner. He’s the Can’s Number One word magician in ordinary conversation, but I’ve noticed that he doesn’t stand out much at the Socials. He hardly ever dances and he doesn’t say much.

“What’re you doing hiding over here?” I asked.

“Passing the time.”

“Eyeing the girls, you mean. Why not ask one to dance? They don’t bite. Not often, anyway.”

“I’m sizing them up. Picking out the target.”

“Target for what?”

“Remember Ishi’s Lady X?”

“Oh.”

“She’s got to be in this room. Right in front of us.” He gestured dramatically.

“Maybe.”

“No maybes, she’s here. Unless she was some twenty-year-old.” His eyes widened at the implications. “Say, you don’t suppose he might’ve—”

“Look, who can tell? That information’s lost.”

“Ah. my friend, but the Lady X is not. All I have to do is find her.”

“I think you’re looking at this the wrong way.”

“How so?”

“It’s not a rabbit hunt. I mean, you don’t just put her in your sights and whammo, there you are.”

“Why not?”

“Well…” I wasn’t sure quite what I did mean. “Look, it’s got to mean something more than that.”

He smirked. “Old romantic Matt.”

“Maybe I’ve just got higher standards, huh?” I growled.

Zak shrugged. “We were discussing technique, not principles.”

“No, look, I don’t even think your approach will work. If you zoom in on some poor girl, right away she’s going to suspect what you’re after. She’ll turn off, fast.”

Zak shrugged again. “We’ll see, we’ll see.”

I pitied the girl Zak came on with. He’d stand offshore and try the familiar verbal barrage to soften her up. Then he’d follow it with a vigorous assault on the beaches. She’d push him right back into the sea, I was pretty sure of that. Still… I looked around at the hundred or so kids in the rec hall. Somewhere in here was Lady X, Zak was probably right about that. Which one? Even if I figured out who she was, there were always some goddam chaperones around. It did make you think, though…

I shook myself. Come on Matt.

“Hey, isn’t that—hot damn, it is!” Zak cried, and then chuckled.

I looked toward the door. Yuri was standing there, halfway in. He was wearing some breeches that looked like leather, and a flowery, ruffled shirt, with cuffs that flared open. “Geez, what’s that?” I said in wonder.

Then I noticed that a slightly shorter man was gesturing for Yuri to come on in. Yuri’s father. I’d seen him around.

Zak said, “Looks like some costume from the Middle Ages.”

Yuri’s father called, “Dr. Matonin, I propose a new event for these Socials.” He smiled broadly and tugged Yuri through the hatchway. By now everybody had noticed Yuri’s getup and the whole room was quiet. “A traditional Ukrainian dance, the sava-bodnaya. I think the children will enjoy it just as much as your more western dances.”

Dr. Sagdaeff looked a little red in the nose and he was perspiring freely. I guessed maybe he’d had a little bit to drink. Yuri stood beside him, looking like he’d rather be a thousand klicks away. In fact, being dead wouldn’t be a bad alternative, either.

“Well, I suppose later we can try a few steps,” Dr, Matonin said diplomatically. “This is a social dancing occasion, but…”

“Yuri here, I had him put on the traditional costume. Brought all the way from the Ukraine, it is.”

“So I see.”

“It will help to get in the mood. Show her, Yuri.”

Yuri bit his lip. He stood frozen, the breeches too tight for him. His eyes raced around the room and his face was red. “Papa. I…”

“Yuri! Dance!” His father’s voice was suddenly harsh.

“Papa—”

“Come!” Dr. Sagdaeff began clapping loudly and stomping one foot a quarter-note off the claps. It made a pleasant contrapuntal effect. “Come!”

Yuri started to do a little jogging dance. The steps were intricate. The rhythm picked you up, though. It was a good dancing beat. I found my own foot tapping along.

It was fine as long as you didn’t look at Yuri. The big lug bounced around, feet busy, face rigid. You could tell he was embarrassed. On somebody smaller the costume would’ve looked odd, but interesting, and maybe exotic. On Yuri it just looked funny.

Jenny came over and gave me a sidelong glance, grimacing.

Zak whispered, “Good grief, it’s agonizing to watch.”

“Yes,” Jenny said. “How can a father make a public exhibit of his son that way?”

“He must have Yuri on pretty tight reins.” I murmured.

“Looks like it,” Jenny agreed. “That might explain a lot.”

I said, “Like what?”

“What makes Yuri run, Matt-o,” Zak put in.

“You mean his father?”

“Might be,” Jenny said. “Something’s driving Yuri to compete. A father who can force you to, well—”

Zak supplied, “Make a fool of yourself in public.”

“Yes. Well, a father like that can egg you on to succeed, win every contest, be the best on every test. This certainly fits the pattern and helps explain it.”

“Shrewd analysis,” Zak said.

I thought about it. It didn’t make Yuri any more likable, but maybe it did clear up some mystery about why he was always such a dorp. Parents can do you a lot of damage.

By now Yuri was grimacing and glaring around at everybody, as if daring them to say something. His father was gaily clapping and stomping, oblivious to it all. He probably was remembering some childhood dance of his own, back in the sunny-speckled wheat fields of the Ukraine. It didn’t seem to matter to him that Yuri didn’t share his fondness.

Jenny murmured, “That’s part of the Yuri riddle, all right. But, y’know, sometimes I think guys who are big bruisers act that way because that’s what we expect of them. There’s some truth to that, too.”

I frowned, trying to puzzle that one out. Jenny sees these things clearer than I do. Hell, I was beginning to think everybody did.

Dr. Matonin raised her voice. “Dr. Sagdaeff? Dr. Sagdaeff!” The clapping slowed and stopped. Yuri quit dancing with obvious relief. “I’m sure we would all be interested in learning such a dance…later, after we have had some social dancing. We thank you very much for the demonstration. If you could help us learn it later?” Then she smoothly guided some couples into a Latin American number as the canned music swelled up again.

Jenny said reflectively, “Actually, it is an interesting looking dance.”

“Kind of like square dancing,” I said, “but harder.”

“Ummmm,” she mused. “Look at Yuri. Does he look awkward.”

Yuri was standing around, looking at the couples. His peasant costume or whatever it was had looked okay while he danced and while he moved around. Standing still, he just looked silly. “Yeah,” I said.

“You know,” she said, “your smirk doesn’t have to be that superior.”

“C’mon, let’s dance,” I said. But she was right. It did feel good to gloat.