Realware

"Listen," whispered Yoke after a minute. "They're talking about Onar!"

"Typical American, a loudmouth, always bragging," the New Zealand Kiwi was saying. "A real name-dropper, mentioned HRH. He was asking what's the most valuable and marketable element, pound for pound. What would you guess, Nuku?"

"Hundred dollar bills!" said the Fijian.

"Oh that's no good, you silly bugger. Every bank note has a DIM in it; each and every one of them is registered with the gimmie like a pedigreed dog. You can't just make up serial numbers for bills that don't exist. I said what's the most valuable element, meaning primitive chemical substance, don't you know."

"Carbon!" said the Fijian. "In the form of a very big, very beautiful diamond." The Kiwi made a negative, fishlike face. "Bottom's dropping right out of the diamond market, it is. I hear Mbanje DeGroot's selling a bulk nanomanipulator that makes the price curve linear instead of exponential. No, my friend, the top four elements are rhodium, platinum, gold, and palladium. The market for palladium and rhodium's a bit thin and illiquid, and platinum's a shade high-profile. I told Onar that gold's the best bet. Metals are safe from all that nanotech fiddling, don't you know. There's no way to convert one kind of element into another, is there?"

"How about black people eating white people?" The Fijian gri

"So where is Onar?" Phil asked Yoke.

"Well!" said Yoke. "When Cobb and I came up from meeting the aliens at the bottom of the ocean, I suddenly realized that I didn't have to deal with Onar anymore. I mean, here he'd gotten me to do something really dangerous, and like why? I don't owe anything to him. He was trying to get me to give him the alla, and I was all 'Go to hell.' " Yoke paused and looked at Phil round-eyed over a spoonful of vanilla ice cream.

"And then?"

"Cobb and I ditched Onar and flew back to Nuku'alofa. But I still wanted to look around Tonga, you wave. I mean I came here to do some diving. And I guess Onar uvvied the King, because the King called me up and said he'd let me use his island in the Vava'u harbor if I'd please just use my alla to make him some gold and imipolex. So I'm like why not. But it's not working out well. I might have to bail on Tonga pretty soon."

"Back to San Francisco?" asked Phil. "I just got here. The ticket cost a lot. There's still so much for us to do and see."

"Maybe back to the Moon," said Yoke. "I should show the alla to my family and friends back there. It's such a radical change. Too big to discuss on the uvvy. But you're right, Phil, I'd like to enjoy Tonga some more with you."

"If you leave, please take us with," said Josef out loud, his little voice deep and strong.

"I don't know about that," said Yoke. "Six aliens? Where's your new node anyway?"

"Oh, it's on Vava'u," said Josef. "Somewhere."

On the way out, Phil and Yoke asked the cashier about the local sights.

"You might like the singing at the church up the road that way," said the woman behind the counter "But that walk's all in the sun. And they're nearly done. If you go the other way it's shady, and in a mile you come to Mount Talau."

"How tall is Talau?" asked Phil.

"One hundred thirty-one meters," said the woman proudly.

"I can handle that," said Yoke.

They walked along under strange tropical trees, trees like Phil had never seen before: some with ferny leaves and masses of orange blossoms, some with purple flowers, some with doughy-looking trunks. Josef kept quiet, letting them enjoy themselves. They walked by a school and many little houses. The road petered out and became a dirt track. They passed a stripped, rusted-out car with a solemn goat standing inside it. A little farther on, a muddy trail led up a steep hill: Mount Talau. They scrambled to the top; there were a lot of trees up there and a bit of a view. The great open sea. They kissed for a while. Phil loved the smell and feel of Yoke. And her bold eyes. Looking around the hilltop, Phil found a giant bean pod hanging down from a tendril that vanished up above into some high trees.

"That's a serious bean," said Yoke. It was a lovely pale green and nearly three feet long.

Phil tried to snap the bean loose. He twisted the fibrous vine, bent it back and forth, but it wouldn't give. Finally he chewed the tough stem in two. The bean had a wonderful curve to it, and it bulged out in seven great pouches around its hidden seeds. It was like a bean in a fairy tale or a comic strip. Phil and Yoke laughed about it a lot.

On the walk back down, Josef suddenly told them to duck around behind one of the native's houses. Peeking around the corner, Phil saw a bronze moldie go racing by, ru

"Tashtego," breathed Yoke.

"Malo e lelei," said a voice behind them. It was an old man walking across the yard from another house. His shirt had several buttons missing, many of his teeth were missing as well, and he was carrying a small aluminum tub holding a big fillet of fish. He struck up a conversation with Phil and Yoke, talking about his sister in California. His name was Lata. Phil asked Lata about the bean he'd found.

"Lofa bean," Lata told him. "If you wait and pick when it's ripe, you can use the seeds for--dancing."

"I think he means castanets," said Yoke, clicking her fingers. Lata invited Phil and Yoke into his house to look at his seashells. They took off their shoes, sat on his couch, and Lata brought out his trove, a little plastic bag containing shells wrapped in paper. The shells looked shiny and well-loved, as if the old man had gathered them and admired them over many years.

"Take some," he offered. "As many as you like."

"Oh no," said Phil at first, but soon it was clear that it would be rude to refuse the hospitality. Yoke picked out a big whelk, two brown cowries, and two tooth cowries.

"Right now is the good time to be walking back down," said Josef, using the uvvy this time. So they started saying good-bye.

"That was so touching, him offering us his treasure," said Phil back out in the shady street. Lata was still on his porch, kindly watching them. "Maybe you should make him something with the alla, Yoke."

"HRH said none of the Tongans is supposed to know," said Yoke.

"Look, you can do what you like, Yoke. See that rusty old bicycle leaning against Lata's house? Why not make him a nice new one? Make it out of titanium. Give it a basket and a bell."

"What do you think, Josef?" asked Yoke.

"I am content to observe," said the beetle.

"I'll do it," said Yoke, and took hold of her alla. She turned her back to Lata as if to hide the miracle --though it was kind of hard for someone not to notice a brand new bicycle being formed out of a shimmering web of magical air. In making the bike, Yoke tweaked the stored realware so that the frame had anodized gold cowry-shell patterns on top of the titanium. She wheeled the beautiful bicycle across the little yard and presented it to the old man. He accepted the gift with joy and dignity. In the grand scheme of things, a bicycle was, after all, a fitting exchange for his shells.

When they were halfway back to Neiafu, Lata rode past them, jingling his bell. And then things started to go crazy. Somehow everyone in every house they passed had heard of their miraculous gift. Men, women, and children streamed out, mostly in good Sunday clothes, offering presents. Shells, flowers, woven mats, even cans of beans and meat. It became hard to move forward. Just to get the people to back off, Yoke recklessly popped a dozen bouncy kickballs out of her alla, each with a different pattern, followed by gallons and gallons of ice cream. But the people were clamoring for something really good. Yoke made some gold bracelets and then --the biggest crowd-pleaser of all -- a score of brand-new uvvies. Many of the Tongans didn't have uvvies yet.