Free Hylozoic by Rudy Rucker Page A

trip,” said Thuy, not liking it. “Great way to spend the first night of your honeymoon. And I hear you saw flying manta rays yesterday, too. Tell me, Jayjay, are you going nuts?”
    Jayjay stared down into his cup, his face stubbornly blank. “The coffee looks wrong.”
    Thuy leaned over to peer into the cup, wanting to stay right on top of Jayjay’s doings. The cream was spreading as an orderly white ellipse. No tendrils, no eddies, no chaos. The bland vibe of the coffee’s silp filled her with unaccountable despair.
    â€œEverything’s horrible,” she said. “I’m hungover and you’re strung out and it’s gray outside—oh, Jayjay, are we gonna blow our chance to be happy?”
    â€œI shouldn’t have spaced out on you last night,” admitted Jayjay. “Sometimes I get this stupid idea that I’m missing something. I always think that when I network into Gaia, I’ll get more. I’m sorry I didn’t stay around.”
    â€œDon’t be sorry for me,” said Thuy. “Be sorry for you.” She made a gesture that included the forest, Vrilla, and herself. “This is where it’s at.
This
is what you don’t want to miss.”
    â€œYes,” said Jayjay, pulling himself together. “I’m here. I’m not crazy. Maybe I imagined the manta rays, but I’m pretty sure the pitchfork was real.” He managed the reckless smile that Thuy loved. “I’m ready to surf with you,
phu nhân
. Let’s hop!”
    â€œOkay!” But now Thuy remembered her fight with her mother last night. “Oh gosh, you better go down to Ond’s alone and I’ll meet you there. I have to stop by—”
    â€œâ€”your house to apologize to Minh,” said Jayjay, completing her thought. “Keep it light. Don’t let the old dragon ruin your day. Tell her we have to catch a particular tide at, like, nine thirty, so you have to be with me in five minutes.”
    â€œGood idea,” said Thuy. She liked it when Jayjay’s thoughts meshed with hers. Their private little hive.
    Â 

    Â 
    Whatever had been wrong with Thuy wore off quickly once she’d left the Yolla Bolly gloom. It was sunny in San Francisco, a beautiful second day of May. The trees bobbed enchantingly in the morning breeze. Her father, Khan, was in the family’s kitchen eating noodle soup with his sister. He smiled when he saw Thuy.
    â€œCongratulations on the party. A real housewarming.”
    â€œThuy?” croaked her mother from the bedroom. Thuy squared her shoulders and marched in there. Now that she’d left misty Yolla Bolly, her emotions were bouncing back.
    Minh’s lips were trembling, preparing for speech. She made a feeble gesture with the hand that wasn’t a paralyzed claw.
    â€œI’m sorry for being mad at you yesterday, Mom,” said Thuy.
    â€œAlways mad at me,” said Minh. It was annoying how Minh never accepted apologies. Instead she just used them as starting points for further attacks. It crossed Thuy’s mind that she herself had been doing the same thing to Jayjay.
    â€œYour husband very drunk last night,” put in Minh, following Thuy’s thoughts. “More than drunk. I teep him lying on the ground this morning.”
    â€œI wish you wouldn’t spy on us.”
    â€œI worry about you,” said Minh. “I miss my daughter sometimes.”
    â€œOh, Mom.” Thuy squeezed her mother’s hand and kissed her cool, smooth cheek. Mom smelled bad. It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t her fault.
    â€œYou want to stay for the day?” asked Minh.
    â€œOh—I can’t!” said Thuy, standing up and starting to breathe again. “We’re going surfing. And the tide is changing in five minutes.”
    â€œHe told you to say that,” said Minh. “That bad boy.”
    â€œMom—” Thuy stopped herself before saying