The Apex Book of World SF 2 Read Online Free PDF

of Africa. The proper name for the block was an Arcology. Every
basic need was met within the arcology, apart from their schooling. Tamuka wasn't
sure exactly why school was outside Mbare, but it was also something to do with
that psychological-well-being stuff. Inside Mbare was a huge interior mall,
thirty storeys high and filled with all the shops, cinemas, playgrounds, gyms,
sports grounds, restaurants, nightclubs, lakes and parks one could ever need.
Quite a few of the adults—including his parents—worked here, too. Some had
never left the arcology and were quick and proud to say so.
    Although the idea of
forever living in Mbare was not for Tamuka, he could understand why others
could do so. It was, he supposed, like living in one huge, close-knit village. People
could know you, and you them, for your whole lifetime. Families often made
deals to move their apartments closer together. Tamuka's closest friend,
nicknamed Chinhavira, was surrounded by no less than twenty apartments, all
belonging to members of her extended family. They were strict traditionalists
and her father, Mr Tonderai Mpofu, held a senior position in the Tsvangirai
Height's People's Council. Chinhavira already had an apartment that was being
rented out until she married. It seemed to Tamuka that she had no choice either
in her parent's choice of apartment, or her future genetically-selected,
arcology-born marriage partner.
    Tamuka slurped the
last of his noodles down, opened the atomiser by the sink and threw the cold
cup inside. He flicked the lid down and it automatically locked in place with a
vacuum hiss. A muffled bang came from inside as the cup was atomised and sucked
away. Gone, forever. Like his grandfather, even if his parents said he was with
all their ancestors, watching over all their living family.
    "Can you hear me,
Grandfather?" Tamuka whispered, half expecting, half dreading an answer. The
apartment remained silent.
     
"Tamuka!"
     
    His mother's call
jerked Tamuka rudely awake on his bed where he had fallen asleep while reading.
He leapt up and tossed the digital screen-reader to the bed. Quickly, he wiped
his face and straightened his clothes. It would not do for mother to know he
had been asleep, on top of whatever else was obviously bothering her. He
hurried out of his bedroom; if she had to call twice, there would be hell to
pay.
    Mrs Kundiso Zimudzi
was a formidable woman when stirred to the occasion. His father often said that
it was this fiery quality that had drawn him to her in the first place. But the
look Tamuka got as he rounded the corner into the kitchen made him wish his
father had found another, less dangerous quality. Most people did not recognise
the danger signs—distracted by her jet-black eyes and slim elegant eyebrows,
neatly shaven head and skin the colour of burnt wild honey. Her short body was
fit and generously proportioned. Her bland grey domestic worker's coveralls
were always touched with a bit of colour and individuality. Today, Tamuka
noticed that it was in the form of a fake but beautiful golden scarab beetle
brooch. All these attributes could—if you did not know her well enough— keep
you distracted until she suddenly had you at her mercy. Tamuka knew her all too
well.
    "Perhaps you would
like to tell me why Mr Goop is in the capsule, and won't come out when I call?"
she asked. She placed her hand on her hip and Tamuka's danger meter shot up
about ten points. She hardly ever did that!
    He took pains to be
totally honest, and yet very careful. "I'm not sure," he replied tentatively, "we
had some trouble on the way home and Mr Goop carried me; perhaps it's just
tired…?" He turned away, trying to look anywhere except at his mother.
    "Not boring you, I
hope?" asked his mother lightly.
    Of course, what she
was really saying was, if you don't look me in the eye right now and fully
answer my questions, there's going to be hell to pay. He turned and looked her
squarely in the eyes. It was no easy