The Book of Strange New Things(23)

‘Grainger,’ she said.

‘Grainger,’ he said.

‘Christian names aren’t a big thing among USIC employees, in case you haven’t noticed.’

‘I’ve noticed.’

‘It’s a bit like the army. Except we don’t harm people.’

‘I should hope not.’

She revved the engine and steered the car back towards the airport complex. As she drove, she leaned forward, frowning in concentration, and even though the inside of the cabin was poorly lit, he spotted the tell-tale edges of contact lenses on her eyeballs. Beatrice was a contact lens wearer: that’s how he knew.

‘Did you come out specially to fetch me?’

‘Yes.’

‘Are you watching my every move? Keeping tabs on my every half-muffin?’

The allusion was lost on her. ‘I just dropped by the mess hall, and one of the guys said you’d gone out walking.’

‘Does that worry you?’ He kept his tone light and amiable.

‘You’ve just arrived,’ she said, not taking her eyes off the windscreen. ‘We wouldn’t want you to come to harm on your first foray out of doors.’

‘What about the disclaimer I signed? The one that emphasises in twelve different ways that USIC accepts no responsibility for anything that might happen to me?’

She seemed nettled by this. ‘That was a legalistic document written by paranoid lawyers who’ve never even been here. I’m a nice person and I’m here and I welcomed you off that ship and I said I would keep an eye out for you. So that’s what I’m doing.’

‘I appreciate that,’ he said.

‘I take an interest in people,’ she said. ‘Gets me in trouble sometimes.’

‘I’ll try not to get you in trouble,’ he said. The eerily lit cafeteria seemed to be moving towards them in the dark, as if it was another vehicle threatening a head-on collision. He wished he hadn’t been fetched back so soon. ‘I hope you understand that I didn’t come here to sit and read magazines in a cafeteria. I want to go and find the people of Oasis, wherever they are. I’ll probably live among them, if they’ll let me. So it may not be feasible for you to . . . uh . . . keep an eye out for me.’

She manoeuvred the vehicle into a garage; they’d arrived.

‘We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.’

‘I’m hoping to cross it pretty soon,’ he said, still maintaining a light tone. ‘As soon as possible. I don’t mean to be pushy, but . . . I’m going to be pushy. When are you available to drive me out of here?’

She switched off the engine, removed her small feet from the pedals. ‘Give me an hour to get things ready.’

‘Things?’

‘Food, mainly. You’ll have noticed that the mess hall isn’t serving right now.’

He nodded, and a ticklish trickle of sweat ran down his face. ‘I can’t really figure out how the day/night routine is supposed to work, if it’s dark for three days straight. I mean, right now, it’s officially night, yes?’

‘Yes, it’s night.’ She rubbed her eyes, but gingerly, so as not to dislodge the lenses.

‘So do you just let the clock decide when the days begin and end?’

‘Sure. It’s not much different than living in the Arctic Circle, I guess. You adjust your sleep pattern so that you’re awake when everybody else is.’

‘What about those guys in the mess hall right now?’

She shrugged. ‘Stanko’s scheduled to be there because he’s on night duty. The other guys . . . well, people get insomnia sometimes. Or they get all slept out.’

‘What about the people of Oasis – the . . . uh . . . natives? Are they asleep right now? I mean, should we wait until the sun comes up?’

She faced him with an unblinking, defensive stare. ‘I have no idea when they sleep. Or even if they sleep. To be straight with you, I know almost nothing about them, even though I probably know more than anyone here. They’re . . . kind of hard to get to know. I’m not sure they want to be known.’

He grinned. ‘Nevertheless . . . I’m here to know them.’

‘OK,’ she sighed. ‘It’s your call. But you look tired. Are you sure you’ve had enough rest?’

‘I’m fine. What about you?’

‘Fine also. Like I said, give me an hour. If, in that time, you change your mind and want to sleep some more, let me know.’

‘How would I do that?’

‘The Shoot. There’s a scroll-down menu behind the USIC icon. I’m on it.’

‘Glad to hear there’s one menu that’s got something on it.’ He meant it as a rueful comment on the mess hall, but as soon as the words left his mouth, he worried she might take them the wrong way.

She opened her door, he did the same on his side, and they stepped out into the moist swirling dark.

‘Any other advice?’ he called over the top of the vehicle.

‘Yes,’ she shot back. ‘Forget the denim jacket.’

The power of suggestion? She’d told him he looked tired and he hadn’t felt tired when she said it, but he felt tired now. Befuddled, too. As though the excessive humidity had seeped into his brain and fogged his thoughts. He hoped Grainger would escort him all the way back to his quarters, but she didn’t. She led him into the building through a different door from the one he’d used as an exit, and, within half a minute, was bidding him au revoir at a T-junction in the corridors.