Free Uncharted Territory by Connie Willis Page A

and monograms?”
    “Gifts the male gives to the female are symbols of the male’s ability to amass and defend wealth or territory,” Ev said. “By collecting fines and purchasing manufactured goods, Bult is demonstrating his ability to gain access to the resources necessary for survival.”
    “Shower curtains?” I said.
    “Utility isn’t the issue. The male burin fish collects large quantities of black rock clams, which are of no practical value, since the burin fish only eats flora, and piles them into towers as part of the courtship ritual.”
    “And that impresses the female?” I said.
    “Ability to amass wealth is indicative of the genetic superiority of the male, and therefore the increased chance of survival for her offspring. Of course she’s impressed. There are other qualities that impress her, too. Size, strength, the ability to defend territory, like that shuttlewren we saw this afternoon—”
    Which the female shuttlewrens probably hadn’t been very impressed with, I thought.
    ”—virility, youth—”
    Carson said, “You mean we’re here freezing our hind ends off because Bult’s trying to impress some female?” He stood up. “I told you sex can louse up an expedition faster than anything else.” He grabbed up the lantern. “I’m not gonna end up with frostbite just because Bult wants to show his genes to some damn female.”
    He went stomping off into the dark, and I watched the bobbing lantern, wondering what had gotten into him all of a sudden and why Bult wasn’t following him with his log if what Ev said was true. Bult was still sitting out by the ponies—I could see the lights on his umbrella.
    “The indigenous sentients on Prii built bonfires as part of their courtship ritual,” Ev said, rubbing his hands together to warm them. “They’re extinct. They burned down every forest on Prii in less than five hundred years time.” He tipped his head back and looked at the sky. “I still can’t believe how beautiful everything is.
    It was presentable-looking. There were a bunch of stars, and the three moons were jostling for position in the middle of the sky. But my teeth were chattering, and there was a strong whiff of ponypile from downwind.
    “What are the names of the moons?” he said.
    “Larry, Curly, and Moe,” I said.
    “No, really. What are the Boohteri names?”
    “They don’t have names for them. Don’t get any idea of naming one after C.J., though. They’re Satellite One, Two, and Three until Big Brother surveys them, which it won’t anytime soon since the Boohteri won’t agree to satellite surveys.”
    “C.J.?” he said, like he’d forgotten who she was. ‘They don’t look anything like they did on the pop-ups. Nothing on Boohte has, except you. You look exactly like I thought you would.”
    These pop-ups you’re always talking about? What are they? Holo books?”
    “DHVs.” He got up, went over to this bedroll, and squatted down to get something out from under it. He came back, holding a flat square the size of a playing card, and sat down beside me.
    “See?” he said and opened the flat card up like a book. “Episode Six,” he said.
    Pop-ups was a good name for them. The picture seemed to jump out of the middle of the card and into the space between us, like the map back at King’s X, only this was full-size and the people were moving and talking.
    There was a presentable-looking female standing next to a horse made up to be a pony and a squatty pink thing like a cross between an accordion and a fireplug. They were having an argument.
    “He’s been gone too long,” the female said. She had on tight pants and a low-slung shirt, and her hair was long and shiny. “I’m going to go find him.”
    “It’s been nearly twenty hours,” the accordion said. “We must report in to Home Base.”
    “I’m not leaving here without him,” the female said, and swung up on the horse and galloped away.
    “Wait!” the accordion shouted. “You