The Human Division #10: This Must Be the Place by John Scalzi Page B

so he feels.”
    “Oh, boy,” Hart said. “This will make it a cheerful Harvest Day.”
    “Yeah, he’s been moody,” Brous said. “Your mother has been keeping him in line, but you’re going to have the whole family at home this Harvest, and you know how he gets with the whole clan there. Especially with Brandt rising in the Unionist party.”
    “The Schmidt boys,” Hart said. “Brandt the traitor, Hart the underachiever and Wes…well, Wes.”
    Brous smiled at that. “Don’t you forget your sister,” he said.
    “No one forgets Catherine, Brous,” Hart said. “Catherine the Unforgettable.”
    “They’re all already there, you know,” Brous said. “At the house. They all got in last night. All of them, all their spouses and children. I’m not going to lie to you, Hart. One of the reasons I came to get you was so I could have a few minutes of quiet.”
    Hart grinned at this.
    Presently the Schmidt family compound came into view, all 120 acres of it, with the main house set on a hill, rising above the orchards, fields and lawns. Home.
    “I remember when I was six and Mom came to work here,” Brous said. “I remember driving up to this place and thinking there was no way one family could live in that much space.”
    “Well, after you arrived, it wasn’t just one family,” Hart said.
    “True enough,” Brous said. “I’ll tell you another story you’ll find amusing. When I was in college, I brought my girlfriend to the carriage house and she was amazed we had so much living space there. I was afraid to take her up to the main house after that. I figured she’d stop being impressed with me.”
    “Was she?” Hart asked.
    “No,” Brous said. “She became unimpressed with me for other reasons entirely.” He switched the car to manual, led it up the rest of the driveway and stopped at the front door. “Here you are, Hart. The entire family is inside, waiting for you.”
    “What would it cost for you to drive me back?” Hart joked.
    “In a couple of days I’ll do it for free,” Brous said. “Until then, my friend, you’re stuck.”

    “Ah, the prodigal spaceman returns,” Brandt Schmidt said. He, like the rest of the Schmidt siblings, lounged on the back patio of the main house, watching the various children and spouses on the front surface of the back lawn. Brandt came up to Hart to give him a hug, followed by Catherine and Wes. Brandt pressed the cocktail he had in his hand into Hart’s. “I haven’t started on this one yet,” he said. “I’ll make another.”
    “Where’s Mom and Dad?” Hart asked, sipping the drink. He frowned. It was a gin and tonic, more than a little heavy on the gin.
    “Mom’s in with Magda, fussing over dinner,” Brandt said, going over to the patio bar to mix himself another highball. “She’ll be back presently. Dad’s in his office, yelling at some functionary of the Phoenix Home Party. That will take a while.”
    “Ah,” Hart said. Best to miss out on that.
    “You heard about the latest elections,” Brandt said.
    “A bit,” Hart said.
    “Then you’ll understand why he’s in a bit of a mood, ” Brandt said.
    “It doesn’t help that you continue to needle him about it,” Catherine said, to Brandt.
    “I’m not needling him about it,” Brandt said. “I’m just not letting him get away with revising recent electoral history.”
    “That’s pretty much the definition of ‘needling,’” Wes said, laconically, from his lounge, which was close to fully reclined. His eyes were closed, a tumbler of something brown on the patio itself, by his outstretched hand.
    “I recognize I’m telling him things he doesn’t want to hear right now,” Brandt said.
    “Needling,” Catherine and Wes said, simultaneously. They were twins and could do that from time to time. Hart smiled.
    “Fine, I’m needling him,” Brandt said, took a sip of his gin and tonic, frowned and went back to the bar to add a splash more tonic. “But after so many