Hartan Expanding Ch. 02

As soon as she also raised her eyebrows, more consciously it seemed than the first girl, she turned back to her work and buttoned her shirt up again.

This definitely meant something, but I had no clue what it was.

I had breakfast period next, and then a half-period of chorus. There were always fewer guys in chorus and we were all different ages, but we were mostly an island of guys in a sea of girls, maybe 60 of us in a room together. There wasn't much room for interaction, though, since we sat in sections, SATB, and obviously all the basses and at least half the tenors were guys.

About halfway through rehearsal, though, we broke up like we sometimes do into '4-part' groups, 8 people to a group, usually only with one tenor and one bass, though, so really it was six to a group. I could always sing low and always had the bass parts, even years ago, but this time there was an odd roil when people were deciding which 4-part they were going to be in. I had seen this before, lots of times, but I figured it had something to do with some people not liking each other.

Turns out, there was a circle of discussion, someone stepped in, and it sorted out. Six girls separated from the huddle and came over to Tim and I. As we got ready to sing our parts and arranged ourselves, all six girls pulled down their ties and unbuttoned their top 2 buttons. What the fuck was going on, I thought. Something, for damn-sure, but I had no idea what.

I'd seen this before, innocent me, had just figured they wanted to get more comfortable with the music. Around the room, some other girls did it, too. One by one, during the singing, I got an eyebrow and half-smile from each of the girls. I smiled back, obviously showing confusion on my face, since I figured that was the safest expression to portray. After each of these, the girl would go back to singing and absent-mindedly button up her shirt again.

All of them had the gold chains on. One, a black girl whose skin was so dark it was almost blue-black, had an Islamic crescent on her chain instead of a Cross or Star. On her, the gold stood out so starkly because, with the black shirt and tie, it was the only color visible on her skin. Her eyes, bright and lively, danced as she looked at me.

Tim, singing next to me, obviously knew what was going on and smiled to himself as he was singing. I could tell he was in on something, too, but politely ignored it and kept his eyes on his music. Tim was older than me, and had a great tenor voice despite being a really kind of tall guy, 6'4" or so. I'd seen him walking with several girls at one time or another, and he seemed pretty popular.

As we broke up and had the director had us sit back in our assigned seats, Tim stuck out a hand to me to shake, wordless, casually, like a congratulations thing. The thing was, there wasn't anything going on.

We shook hands briefly, he didn't even look at me, he wanted it to be subtle, and it was since we were behind several other girls at the time.

After chorus, more classes, all day, people were doing this to me, the eyebrow-raise, the eye contact and half-smile, and then turn away and straighten up again. Almost all had gold chains; a few didn't, it seemed, but it could have been they were hidden from view for some reason.

In biochem lab, Alissa was all business. We got our work done, and wrote up our results quickly. I kept my mind on my work, mostly. There, as in other classes, I was a bit distracted in that my mind kept going back to the feeling of Maria's warm skin on mine, her kisses, all that.

Midday, I got a message on my device to skip my next class and come to a specific building and office instead.

Getting there, it was the old professional-services building that had held any number of insurance brokers, accountants, and some-such. Now, it was tightly-packed office spaces with lots of desks and mini-walls to separate them. I found the assigned desk, and who did I see?

It was my dad!

We hugged. I hadn't seen him in a couple of weeks, between his overworked schedule and my school never overlapping, and Mom had mentioned he'd gone on some business trips. We caught up for a couple of minutes, and I told him about school in very general terms, what I was enjoying, what sucked, etc.

"Son, we have two things to do here. First, you need to sign up to change next cycle's classes, and I have to approve. Because it's late notice for this cycle it helps if a parent or house-owner approves it, and, well, I wanted to see you anyway. The organizational stuff for school with this thing is complicated. You understand."

"Sure."

"Second, we have to talk about the more ...Complicated... things that are happening. This conversation is being recorded," he nodded towards his device, which was on, "so we have to speak clearly." His eyebrows went up when he said, 'clearly'. On the paper in front of him, he wrote, "NOT". "So, Son, let's get moving. Not a lot of time, lots to discuss."

"Sure, Dad." I was worried. This wasn't anything close to a conversation I was used to having.

"First, your entering of 18Club means you have new classes this cycle that will displace some things. There's a required reading list for these classes that is extensive and will suck up time, so schedule yourself lightly. There's also 3 mid-day breaks you've got to build in. I already have Maria's schedule integrated, so the decision process here is short."

He wrote some notes on the paper, names of classes, and had me put Agile Fibonacci number difficulty estimations next to the classes I was signed up for, and then timeline cruciality estimates likewise. We sorted it out, ranking classes. Initially, I wanted to put 2 of the mid-day breaks together, but he said, No, those have to be separated evenly and away from start of day and end-of-day, and before gym and after workout.

I decided to be blunt, "Dad. What are these mid-day breaks for? I don't want to be wasting time. Am I going to need all of that time for supplemental reading?"

He laughed at me, his eyes lit up, and he gave a real belly-laugh, tears coming out of his eyes. People around looked over at us, amused at him, but I got the feeling they knew each other since they worked together.

"No, Son. Ah! That's great. Gotta tell your mom about that. No. Those are what are called, officially, 'respite' periods. You'll be assigned a room proximate to your classes, or you can choose a different one if it's available. Officially, again, respites are for 3 stated goals, 'discovery', 'peer counseling', and 'calisthenics'. Do I need to go on?"

I got the message. "Umm... Really? During the day?"

"Yep. You'll cover the why in your 18Club classes." He started reading from his screen, "You will also have three 18Club classes. Additionally, there will be a required curriculum class, psych-314 -- that's Human Sexuality 6. You've had the first 5 already. The biology and anatomical classes covered that material. Level 6 covers sociology and interpersonal conflict resolution, and includes new age-appropriate material."

His single eyebrow raise told me to infer that meaning and I got it perfectly.

Then he circled what I'd chosen as classes again, and said, "Are you good with this schedule?"

I said, "Sure." I knew it was being recorded. I continued, "Sounds good. I'm good with this. Let's lock it."

He got out a keypad device, a lot different than the computer keyboards we had scattered around. I'd seen them before, from a distance, but his was modern and sleek looking. It had a set of holes for fingers and thumbs to go in, both hands at the same time. As he started with it, text started appearing on the screen really fast. He typed incredibly quickly with it, it seemed.

I looked at it, and he said, "It's a 'towkey', for tower keyboard. Helps that it looks a little like a bong, toke-ee, right? It's a little funny." He chuckled. "Anyway, you'll start seeing these more and more. Robot factory is churning them out now, and we got a couple of containers of them. You'll have to use them in all your classes. Better for zero-g typing. Integrated set of joystick controls, too. Pretty fun, once you get used to it." He seemed pretty upbeat as he set it up, kind of a change from his earlier demeanor. I could tell that life, and the work schedule, was really weighing on him. It weighed on all of us.

Finishing, he'd selected all the classwork we'd talked about, and put in notes with Maria's name and number as well on various screens. "Okay. Almost done. retscan, here."

I leaned over the desk and opened my eye, and the device registered my retinal scan as I said my full name. Three beeps, and I was registered.

Putting away his "Now, next topic, really quick. Here, let me clear these papers."

He didn't move any papers, he just started writing on them. He wrote, "Ethical choices now are VITAL." He underlined 'vital' 3 times. Conversationally, he said, "So, last bit was about the extracurriculars you're doing now. Just want to say congratulations, and... something else." He looked me at me seriously, with some compassion in his eyes, "I'm sorry."

I was confused, but said nothing.

"You're having to grow up a lot faster than anyone should ever have to. Fucking Hartans. You need to know something."

"What?"

"You should probably be aware of something major that people aren't talking about much when it comes to the lottery to go offplanet. I'm not in the lottery, and I'm not on any list."

"What!?!?!?!?!" I was aghast, flabbergasted. What a bombshell! "Oh, my God!"

"Keep it down." He motioned with his hands. "Conversations like this need to be... private." He wrote the word 'ostensibly' on the paper, and settled back in the chair, a small tear forming in his eye.

My heart was pounding. I knew the stakes were high, and I knew I couldn't talk about that. I said, "But, everyone is in the lottery!"

"It's almost common knowledge, there was a law passed last year. All public officials, civilian at least, are barred from participation in the lottery. I have a role in recommending people for the merit selections, so I can't be seen as possibly recommending someone that could recommend me. Also, people would think we were cheating if a public official won. It would cast doubt on the fairness for everyone. So, no chances for me."

"But! That condemns you!"

He was dismissive, and wrote as he talked. "Aw! Hush about that kind of stuff..." He wrote, "Correct". Aloud, he continued, "There's lots of places underground that are opening up. Mining equipment in the last couple of years has gotten massively more efficient, they're churning out cubic meters a second per machine now." His pen went back to the word, 'ostensibly' and tapped it.

I nodded, and said in a noncommittal voice, as much as I could at least, "I guess that makes sense. Everybody just hopes anyway. There's no way of knowing how many people are going, and where."

"Oh, the numbers are public. And they're mostly right, as far as I can tell. But, there's one more thing I need to talk with you about, a friend of yours, Amy Weisburdenn, next door, she asked me to ask you something...." He reached out and picked up BOTH his device and my device, sitting next to each other, "... Just a second, I need to get a drink..." He carried the devices over to the kitchenette countertop across the room, right next to the fan they had sitting there, then walked back to me and sat down, leaning in. "Kid, I can't talk now. I can't almost talk anytime, but even more now, mostly because I'm kept way too busy. But, there are big things afoot, you know that, right?"

I nodded quickly.

"The family matter is big. I have to be direct here, so take this in and react to it later. Don't discuss it with anybody but your primary handler, and make sure there's no devices in the room when you do, okay?"

Again, I nodded, "'kay."

"Genetic and health testing put me in a pool of 'specials'. They call us, 'Ghosts', for Genetic, Health, Offworld Special Talent. I'm not sleeping at home because I'm busy... procreating. I have a high IQ, emotional stability, all that, so I have to 'donate genetic samples' regularly. The radiation damage from dust in Asia is pretty bad, and it's causing a lot of infertility in males. As a fertile male, and a smart one, I'm in demand... Gotta be quick here. Summing up: Mom knows. Don't talk about it. To indicate to her you know, use the word 'panache' about me, she'll understand."

I nodded, serious.

"There are plans in place, other things. You'll find out next year, if all goes well. In everything you do, Son, no matter how hard it is, keep calm and act with absolute ethics. If you're not sure what the right path is, ask, debate, listen, document it all if you need to. Of course, be happy, take joy, but, Son..." His face emphasized the seriousness, "as much fun as you want to have, have it, but that school stuff -- I can't say this strongly enough -- you'd better LME the living fuck out of everything. You've got a month to mess around, this cycle is for exploring, and we all know that. But... You just don't have any idea, and I'm not allowed to tell you - how Absolutely Deadly Important your classwork is. LME, LME, LME! Deadly important. Move fast. Focus." His eyes burned into mine, eyebrows up.

I said, my eyes strong with understanding, nodding, but my voice as casual and lighthearted as I could make it, "Okay."

"Oh, yeah -- one more thing. Do your 18Club research. Look, in the app under 'Ratings'. Find ratings, find pictures and info, ages 19 is best for you. Find the highest rated girl you can, no matter her appearance. Make friends. See if you like them, then maybe ask her to be your next handler. Don't be too obvious that you're seeking them out, but most people know it happens. Find girls with bragging-rights, special talents -- fencing, tuba, applied physics, exo-agriculture, whatever. Cultivate friendships with 'em. Not necessarily handler ones. Glom up their knowledge-base, get mini-tutoring sessions out of every conversation you can, odd hours, before, after school, during some other physical activity. Make it happen." He looked around, and stood up. "Got that? Go Fast. There's an urgency."

I could just say, "Okay." I didn't know what else.

Leaning into me, he said, "There may be a draft here. We don't know. Even if I did know, I couldn't say, to absolutely anyone, or I'd be shitcanned to a Nicaraguan bauxite mine so fast you'd never get a chance to say goodbye. As it is, we don't know when our last meeting will be. Ever. That's life now. We just have to say, 'I love you', and hope that sticks. It does stick, with me. I do love you, son, Always have, always will, wherever we both may be, forever. I'd do anything to help you, but I'm also... otherwise obligated, too."

That I understood. "I've always admired that about you, Dad. I love you, too." A tear may or may not have appeared in my eye.

He stood and motioned, and we walked over to the coffee counter together.

I said, "So, do we know if or when we'll have more housemates?" It was a noncommittal question everyone asked. The town was already pretty crowded, and our house was about average but still pretty full up.

"Oh, you never know. Probably in a month or two. He touched my shoulder and said, "There's probably going to be some reshuffling of who's staying in what house and ..." (tapping me on the shoulder exactly 4 times, like he was counting) "You'll have some more people in your room then, probably. Changes are afoot, I think, but then again, they don't tell me anything, I'm just supposed to do what I can with what I've got."

It was obvious our time was up, so I put on my coat, gave him a really big hug, and we held each other at arm's length for a minute. I said, "Thanks for everything, Dad. I love you."

He leaned in to me, hugged me again, and kissed me on the ear as he pulled away. His eyes were wet. "I love you, too, son. May your path be straight and long."

Dad said corny stuff like that sometimes, but I saw the tears in his eyes.

"Go ahead, you'll be late for your next class."

We parted, and I wondered how many times, or even if, I'd ever see him again.

== Chapter: Revolutions ==

After school, I walked out of my last class with two girls I knew. They walked with me to the street corner where I was going to wait for Maria. We chatted for a while, about the weather lately, how warm it had been, how there were still mosquitoes even though it was supposed to be winter soon. I hadn't chatted with them much before, but they were quite talkative now. They had each done the tie thing, separately. I decided not to ask them.

Maria showed up a couple of minutes later, having walked from farther away, and said hello to the girls. They both pocked me (a Point Of Contact card was like giving someone your number) and Maria as well, who was friendly towards them but somewhat amused by the process.

As soon as they left and we started walking, Maria said, "You know what that was about, right?"

"They want me to choose them?"

"Mostly that, yes. But also, to feel you out, if you're interested. They're busy watching your body language all the time, and you're giving off a vibe that says, "I'm clueless and single." That's a magnet around here, but it's a dangerous one, and they should know it. You are an unknown quantity, mostly, freshly 18 so relatively unreported on, no available handler info yet, no gossip, only some interest areas and basic ability ratings."

"I'm rated already?"

"About everything but relationships, yes, of course. The rest is being filled out as we speak by everyone that's interacted with you. Generally, though, it will be all cursory stuff since rating someone before they've done their 18-minors - your initial classes -- isn't really fair since you don't know what you're being graded on. Which, I noticed, you registered for today."

"Yeah! And I saw my dad!" I was excited. "I haven't seen him in a long time, weeks, I think. He's always busy."

"I know, I haven't seen him either. You need to know something." Her voice sounded like she was going to confess something.

"Okay?"

"An advanced 18Club class we girls take, I took about 8 months ago, earlier than normal because I was precocious. The class was about how to handle older men, old school, men who grew up in The Before, who haven't had all the classes."

"What?" I was confused.

"Your dad. You need to know, I was taking a class on dealing with older men. He was certified, I found out, he was rated, so I could approach him."

I was seeing where this was going. "You slept with my dad?"

"No! I didn't sleep with him. I ... I tried to, though."

"But... You've spent the last 3 years here, at least. Isn't he, like, sort of, a dad for you, too?"

"No, my father is... probably gone. I'll never know, really. He's ... almost certainly gone. That's my real dad. Your dad, our... our 'dad', he's mostly my ... my mentor, kind of. An older guy who lives in my building, kind of. I don't think about him like a dad. He's been nice to me, and very proper about everything."

"But you... did what?"

"I asked him if I could 'rish' with him. It's like, damn. Fuck it all. Gotta get this out there." She took a deep breath, and continued, "I had just taken AST. That's a 18Club class, psych-690, Applied Sexual Techniques. I wanted to practice a blowjob on a real guy, not the stupid dildos or strap-on crap we put on the dummies."

"Fuck! I didn't know they had classes like that?!?!"

"Sure. Have to! Life and death! People living in close proximity offworld, if you take 30 minutes giving a blowjob, you keep everyone else awake that long. It's a public health thing, and not in the way you think."

The wind was almost cold but my jacket was enough; the fresh smell and night air felt all the more sweet because we were walking and talking together and maybe, just maybe, there would be more than talking bout blowjobs later. Still, she was full of good stories.