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"What?" said Burt. "I haven't done anything!"
"Illegal growing of marijuana for black-market profit, sir," said the second one. "It would be safer not to resist arrest."
They walked Burt towards the gap in the fence. We all trailed silently along behind -- we couldn't understand what was happening.
As they came up to Veena and Bernice, Burt held out his arms. "Veena! How did this happen?"
"You fucking degenerate!" she said to him. "Hypocrite! Fornicator! How dumb do you think I am?"
"What are you talking about?" said Burt in a pleading voice.
"I guess you thought I was so high on that poisonous weed of yours that I couldn't see straight," said Veena. "But I found out. What you're doing with that cow Nuala! Not that she's the worst of it. You twisted asshole!"
"No," said Burt. "I swear! I never really ... I was just ..."
I was looking at Bernice: I couldn't tell what she was feeling. Her face wasn't even red. It was blank, like a chalkboard. Dusty white.
Adam One stepped in through the gap in the fence. He always seemed to know if there was something unusual going on. Amanda said it was just like he had a phone. He laid his hand on Veena's yellow baby blanket. "Veena, dear, you've come out of your Fallow state," he said. "How wonderful. We've been praying for that. Now, what seems to be the matter?"
"Move out of the way, please, sir," said the first CorpSeMan. "Why did you do this to me?" Burt howled at Veena as they pushed him forward.
Adam One took a deep breath. "This is regrettable," he said. "Perhaps it would be wise to reflect on our shared Human frailties ..."
"You're an idiot," Veena said to him. "Burt's been running a major gro-op in the Buenavista, right under your sacred Gardener noses. He's been dealing right under your noses too, at that stupid market of yours. Those cute bars of soap wrapped up in leaves -- not all of it was soap! He's been making a killing!"
Adam One looked mournful. "Money is a terrible temptation," he said. "It is a sickness."
"You fool," Veena said to him. "Organic botanics, what a joke!"
"Told you there was a gro-op in the Buenavista," Amanda whispered to me. "The Knob's in very deep shit."
Adam One said we should all go home, so that's what we did. I felt really bad about Burt. All I could imagine was that Bernice had gone back that day after we'd been so mean to her at the Tree of Life, and told Veena about Burt and Nuala having sex, and also about the armpit-groping, and that had made Veena so jealous or angry that she'd got in contact with the CorpSeCorps and made an accusation. The CorpSeCorps encouraged you to do that -- to turn in your neighbours and family members. You could even get money for it, said Amanda.
I hadn't meant any harm, or not that kind of harm. But now look what had happened.
I thought we should go to Adam One and tell him what we'd done, but Amanda said what good would that do, it wouldn't fix things, it would just land us in more trouble. She was right. But that didn't make me feel any better.
"Lighten up," said Amanda. "I'll steal something for you. What d'you want?"
"A phone," I said. "Purple. Like yours."
"Okay," said Amanda. "I'll take care of it."
"That's nice of you," I said. I tried to put a lot of energy into my voice so she'd know I appreciated it, but she could tell I was faking.
30
The next day, Amanda said she had a surprise that would cheer me up without fail. It was at the Sinkhole mallway, she said. And it really was a surprise, because when we got there Shackie and Croze were hanging around near the wrecked holospinner booth. I knew they both had a crush on Amanda -- all the boys did -- though she never spent time with them except in a group.
"Have you got it?" she said to them. They grinned at her shyly. Shackie had grown a lot lately: he was tall and rangy, with dark eyebrows. Croze had grown too, but sideways as well as up; he had the beginnings of a straw-coloured beard. Before this I hadn't thought too much about what they looked like -- not in detail -- but now I found myself seeing them in a different way.
"In here," they said. They seemed not scared exactly, but alert. They checked that no one was watching, and then we all crammed into the booth where people used to get their image spun out into the mallway. It was designed for just two, so we had to stand close together.
It was hot in there. I could feel the heat from our bodies, as if we were infected and burning with fever, and I could smell the dried-sweat and old cotton and grime and oily scalp smell from Shackie and Croze -- which was what we all smelled like -- mixed with their older-boy smell, a mushroom and wine-dregs blend; and the flowery smell of Amanda, with a musk undertone and a hint of blood.
I couldn't tell what I smelled like to them. They say you can never really smell your own smell because you're so used to yourself. I wished I'd known about this surprise in advance, because then I could have used one of my saved-up rose soap ends. I hoped I didn't smell like dirty underwear or cooped-up feet.
Why do we want other
