Realware

Babs leaned over the plant examining it. "I'm impressed," she admitted. "I like it. This gives me hope. And you know, come to think of it, I can't bear the thought of losing my alla. I was just scared to admit it before. This could really work." Babs laughed happily. "Yes. I have this image of some dook turning a beautiful woodsy hilltop into a gross puffball McMansion with three stories and forty thousand square feet. And then his greenie neighbor turns the house back into a woodsy hilltop. Back and forth all day long. Maybe the dook would only put up his house at night."

"There'd still be zoning laws in any case," mused Yoke. "That would put some limits on the houses. If the gimmie could enforce them. And there's a limit to how big a volume the alla can transform at one go. A cube something like forty feet on a side."

"But even so, everyone would build out to the legal max," said Babs. "They'd alla up their giant houses one section at a time. And homeless people would pitch houses for themselves just anywhere, even though they don't own any land. But that's actually good, isn't it? No more homeless."

"Squatters deluxe," mused Randy. "They wouldn't need no plumbing hookups. Use the alla to fill your bathtub, and use it again to make the dirty water go away. Wouldn't be so bad. You could put up a house anywhere. Use the alla to make batteries for any electricity you needed."

"But what kind of kinky kilp would psychos make?" said Babs. "A thousand ton turd in the middle of Union Square! A statement turd, you wave? And of course there'd be giant crucifixes everyplace. And just imagine solid, three-dimensional graffiti. You try to open your front door and there's a fifteen-foot solid chrome freestyle 'Yuki 37' in the way." Babs laughed again.

"Actually I can't wait to see it."

"People could alla that kilp back into air," said Yoke. "If everyone did it as a matter of course, then cleaning up wouldn't have to be anyone's full-time job. It wouldn't be as hard as picking up litter, you wave. You'd only have to look at something and wish it away. You said turds, crosses, and graffiti? You forgot porno and political ads. Uh-oh, I'm seeing another problem. What if someone allas something that you like into air. Like your new car, Babs --someone could vaporize it because they don't like the way it looks. Just like you'd get rid of a giant turd."

"If she saved a software map of her buggy, she can alla it back whenever she needs it," suggested Randy. "Parkin' is hell in this city anyhow. Just turn your car back into air instead of parkin' it. Long as you got the alla and the software map, you only need to bring back your realware when you actually wa

"This is making me dizzy," sighed Babs, putting her hands to her head. "It's like a beautiful dream. If only people can -- oh, wait, what about nuclear explosions?"

"That could be the biggest problem of all," said Cobb. "It would be easy to alla up a twenty-five-pound ball of plutonium. A supercritical mass. Instant atomic bomb."

"Shit," said Babs. "There's got to be a way out. Will the alla actually make plutonium? Let's check."

Randy, Babs, and Yoke uvvied inward, examining their alla catalogs, and sure enough, plutonium was listed.

"Don't try making any of it," cautioned Cobb. "It's highly poisonous, even in small amounts."

"We have to get the aliens to talk to Om," said Yoke. "To tell Om not to let the allas make nuclear fuel. Uranium, plutonium--no evil heavy metal. Om ought to be able to control what the allas can do. They're all co

"Yes," said Babs. "And then everyone gets an alla."

"Here we are gettin' all worked up," said Randy. "And we don't know how to copy no alla in the first place.

"The Metamartians do," said Cobb. "Remember, Yoke? Josef said they know how to use the alla to make an alla. We should ask them how to copy the allas and at the same time get them to tell Om to not let allas make uranium or plutonium. Let's go to the Anubis now!"

"Have you ever been on the Anubis before, Babs?" said Yoke.

"My brother and I went there right before I moved in here," said Babs. "Just to look it over. It seemed kind of sad. Lots of xoxxy people. If we go over there, I think we should have a plan. We're supposed to beg the aliens to tell us how to make an alla with the alla? And to block plutonium?"

"Begging is about all we can do," said Yoke. "We can't really threaten them or anything. I mean, they have built-in alla power, and they can see a little way into the future. No way we can hurt them."

"Maybe I can get Siss hot for me," said Cobb. "When Randy and I got onto Kleopatra and Isis the other night, Kleopatra said I was good. I think Siss is kind of interesting."

"Who knows, Babs, if we beg, maybe the Metamartians will help us," put in Randy, eager to move the conversation forward. "From what Yoke and Cobb say, Om does plan for everyone to get the alla. And it's not like she's out to destroy the planet. All Om wants is to memorize us each and every one. It's like the allas are the ultimate reward for filling in your questio

"Do you think you can handle being on the Anubis, Randy?" asked Babs. "Without going on another sporehead cheeseball rampage?"

"If you with me, girl," said Randy sticking out his hand. "You all I see. We'll leave Willa Jean here to watch over things."

Phil, February 23-25

Phil spent four days in the powerball -- from the Monday when Yoke flew back to San Francisco through the Thursday when things came to a head on the Anubis. The first three days went as follows:

MONDAY

While his dad guzzled wine with Darla and Tempest, Phil pulled himself to the other end of the oak tree. Right near the last branch was the flaw in their hyperspherical space. Things looked fu

His viewpoint swung about with uncontrollable rapidity, like the view from a video camera left ru

Phil's eye fell on the Humpty-Dumpty doll, big as a watermelon. It was made of good moldie imipolex and could, in principle, serve as a spacesuit. But would he be able to get it to stretch itself over him? It didn't look very intelligent. Silly Putters weren't exported to Earth from the Moon, so Phil had never actually handled one before. They were said to be poised halfway between DIMs and moldies in intelligence. Supposedly, the famous inventor Willy Taze had developed an algorithm to keep them from unexpectedly tu