As one might imagine, the series of events had taken quite a toll on us. “When Suzanna returns, the Ministry of Protocol is going to be quite busy analyzing the footage taken by the microcams,” said Lucius. “Until then, I hope I don’t make any more gaffes.”
“You didn’t make any mistakes, Lucius,” Tara said, popping open a bottle of champagne. “It sounds like they were deliberately hazing the newcomer. Here, I think you’ll like this – it’s bubbly. Those beings are supposed to be the most advanced life-forms in the universe, and they act like a fraternal order at a university. Hey, want a biiskit?”
“No, but I’ll have one of those puddins.”* Lucius took the champagne flute. “Well, Advanced Sentients value a sense of humor. I suppose it’s essential, considering some of the communication issues. They’re all so different – Tara, I know how you’re going to react to this, but the most agreeable one is Thoughtful 45. At first, I thought his name referred to the fact that he’s a thinking machine, but I’ve come to realize that he was programmed to be especially considerate. He’s just a genuinely nice guy.”
“It’s an illusion,” said Tara, plopping down on the couch. “The key word is programmed. He’s a tool of the StoneStolids. He doesn’t have any sort of independent being.”
“Aren’t I programed by the Mover? And isn’t the Mover programmed by you?”
“It’s not the same. The next thing you know, Roger will ask for vacation time.”
Lucius knew better than to argue with her. “Anyway – some of the others – I can’t even understand what they are. Take Phil, for instance. I asked Cuinn what an articulate particle living inside a Calabi–Yau manifold must be like, and he responded with a five minute explanation more obscure to me than Poklok-kinniped’s poetry. The only conclusion I could draw was that Cuinn was right about theoretical physicists having a lot of umlauts in their names. I really feel like I’m in over my head.”
“Not that again,” said Tara. “Why don’t you just let Cuinn spell his name the way he wants?”
“Dermot says that we can’t change the names that we were born with. And then Seth says that the problem is that it might mess up the gematria.”
“The what?”
“Sacred numerology. For example, the name Ashtara, spelled in the ancient Hebrew alphabet. Your name, Tara is tau-aleph-resh-aleph or 602. Ash, which literally means fire, is aleph-shin, or 301, exactly half of Tara. Thus Ashtara is 903, or three times Ash, mirroring the three tongues of fire on the letter shin. Seth says it’s probably the original correct form of the god name of which Astarte and Ashtaroth are corruptions.”
“Lucius, do you think that Seth is a little weird?”
“After what I’ve seen lately, a little weird is a pretty relative concept.” He pulled himself slowly out of his seat. “I’d better find something to wear.”
Besides, interjected Suibhne, you can only apply gematria to the names of Goliath’s branches. It’s completely non-applicable to the Celtic names utilized by Atlas.
“You’re not seriously planning on attending that dinner party?”
“I don’t think it would be good to snub Lady Geverna. It’s bad enough that she’s expecting Patrick, but that’s not happening. Honestly, if I had the strength to change emanations now, I’d become Chase so that I could sleep.”
“Can we just send out for room service?” Tara took Lucius by the hand. “You’re still not well, are you?”
“No, I’m going. We don’t want to draw attention to my weakness.”
“Tom O’Bedlam’s was bombed. The media is playing it like an assassination attempt – which it was. There’s a good reason for us to stay away. Or why don’t I go by myself? I’ll make your excuses. Ailann is always being called away by matters too lofty for human comprehension.”
“I’ll be fine. I don’t want to make trouble for you.”
“Lucius! Lilith and Esau are still out there. They could have more of those nullets. You could be a target for a sniper.”
“Then I’m safer with you, since the Mover can see into your future more clearly than his own. Besides, it’s like you said last night. We must be paying those SSOps people for something. Surely they can manage to protect us?” Lucius made his way stiffly to the wardrobe. He stared at the contents. “What should I wear? I’ve never worn dress clothing before.”
“I didn’t see a point in asking you not to go to the Combine meeting this morning. I knew how important it was – and also, if there were trouble, it would be Suzanna’s problem, not yours. Your body was here, safe, in the hotel room. But Lucius, I don’t ever want to go through an experience like last night again. And there’s something else. I had Clive use our new RR-3 lab to analyze that weapon. It’s an ordinary projectile-style gun. The only difference was the nullet. It’s some kind of matter we’ve never seen before, so let’s assume Cuinn’s right, that it’s from the nul-universe. Clive says that when he did a nul-energy scan, he saw that it was radioactive. The particles it emits won’t interact with the particles in this universe, so it’s harmless on that level – except to Nau’gsh. It might even affect the Arya. Which leads me to the question – did it do any permanent damage to Ash?”
“I don’t think so. Once the nullet was removed, the Mover’s wound healed in parallel with Seth’s. But it was an exhausting process. Tara, this is not good. Where did they get that material?”
“Good question. It’s possible that they picked it up on Eden when they invaded. Or that they’ve found another rip somewhere else, which is even worse.”
Tara wandered over to the window. “You can see the club from here,” she said. “It’s a mess.” But reconstruction had already begun. Tara had money – we didn’t have to wait for the insurance. And Eloise was eager to get back to work, despite being warned that she might still be a target. Of course, she wouldn’t be dealing any Gyre in the near future, which was apparently one of CenGov’s aims. “If we hadn’t been screwing in the tub, Lucius, a lot of people would’ve died. I think that there’s a lesson in that somewhere.” She turned back to face him. “Just stay home tonight.”
“I can’t allow you to go someplace where I can’t protect you.”
“And at this moment, where exactly could you protect me? Tell me that you can emanate Ailann. Tell me that if you try, Ash won’t fall back to Goliath until he recovers. I’m not a child. Remember, I’m the one who saved you last night.”
“Do you think we would forget that? The look on your face when you found us was in Seth’s mind all night while you were sleeping. Tara, please let’s not fight. I have enough going on in my head. Cillian says that we should uproot Lilith.”
“What? That’s a horrible thing to say about his own daughter.”
“On the one hand, I agree with you, but on the other, she’s a lost cause. She chose our enemy. We can’t change what she is.”
“But we can change Esau. He’s Edom St. John’s son. We have to capture him – and probably brainwash him, which won’t be easy, since he’s a telepath.”
“What?”
“Oh, I didn’t tell you. Let me replay the messages from last night.”
We were shocked, to say the least. Esau can’t be a telepath, said Hurley. I would’ve noticed immediately. Telepaths don’t have dreams.
Which makes it even more confounding, said Dermot. How could Lilith possibly be attracted to a man without any dreams?
This just convinces me that I’m right, said Cillian. That fucking asshole turned in his own parents, leading to their deaths. And now he’s made Lilith in his image. If we don’t uproot her, she’ll come after I and I again, you watch.
Depressingly, most of us agreed that he was probably right. Lilith was a bad seed, evil to the root.
I don’t think we can conclude that, said Seth. For one, she didn’t seem to want to kill me. For two, Lorcan’s poem.
Tara’s right, said Cillian. You are a fucking weirdo. What does Lorcan’s messed-up poetry have to do with this?
It posited that the nature of evil has to do with the inability to attain the good, causing a feeling of incompleteness and despair that leads to transgression. I’m currently entertaining that hypothesis. If he’s right, I doubt that Lilith is evil. It’s quite likely that she sees herself as doing good by eliminating the drug trade and assisting the man she loves. It’s also quite likely that Esau saw himself as doing good by betraying his parents – that loyalty to the state and its ideal of an abstract “good” had to supersede his loyalty to family. The most common models of moral reasoning would tend to support his conclusion.
Those models only apply to humans, though, said Dermot. For a Cu’enashti, n’aashet n’aaverti is the ultimate moral standard. I can easily see why the SongLuminants have discounted morality as a measure of the advancement of species.
Can we please take action without all of this fucking bullshit? said Cillian. The longer Lilith is out there, the more trouble she’ll cause.
In other words, you want us to kill her before we have the time to reflect on it, says Tarlach. Because you don’t want to consider the emotional ramifications.
We can’t, said Cillian. She’s a threat to Tara.
She hasn’t threatened Tara at all, says Evan, even when Tara pointed that gun at her head. I think Tarlach is right. I don’t think we should be too hasty.
And now you want to get involved in this, said Cillian, and it’s all your fault.
Huh? said Evan, genuinely puzzled, as were the rest of us.
You were supposed to write the stupid poem. What the hell kind of stupid-assed move was it to give the Combine a poem from Lorcan?
I can’t write without music, said Evan. I’m a bard. Besides, Lorcan’s poem was actually pretty good. The SongLuminants liked it.
Let’s not get off topic, said Ailann. The problem is this – Cillian is right in that Lilith is basically our responsibility. However, I really don’t think that a system of moral reasoning can be developed without the inclusion of compassion. Perhaps the Combine finds compassion to be extraneous, but I don’t. It’s intrinsic to us.
Why not take a vote? suggested Patrick. Who is for uprooting Lilith, and who is for capturing them and trying to convince Esau that he’s wrong?
Only four of us voted for uprooting: Cillian, Lorcan, Ari and Lugh. Lorcan’s decision was obvious. Ari believed that we couldn’t take any chances with a potential threat to Tara. But Lugh – gentle Lugh – we were amazed that he would advocate uprooting.
You’re going to change the thing she loves into something entirely different, said Lugh, or maybe find a way to stop her from loving it. She’d be better off dead.
Lugh, we need to talk, said Tarlach.
Fuck off, said Lugh.
We don’t have time for your fucking perversity right now, said Cillian. If we don’t uproot her, then we need to find her as soon as possible. Seth’s cover is blown, so we might as well use Mickey. He has the best chance of getting it right.
Phil was right about Galaxy 42, said Cuinn, randomly ignoring all previous subjects. The nul-universe is bleeding through into it in numerous places. It would be an ideal place to conduct the experiments that Owen and I have designed to investigate the possibility of projecting nul-energy through wormholes.
Oh? said Ailann. I guess Lucius did win something worth having.
When life gives you shrivelly little citrus fruits, use the peel to make an exotic and expensive liquor, said Cuinn. Can I have my umlaut now?
Not this again, said Cillian.
Is it even worth arguing about? asked Whirljack. Tara said to let him spell his name the way he wants.
While we were having this conversation, Lucius was going through a rack of dress uniforms. There were dozens – but nothing would suit him. “Patrick’s are too broad in the shoulders to fit me,” he said, “and Cillian’s are just too big entirely.”
“You can’t go then,” Tara snapped, and then more softly, “Why don’t you just alter them to fit? That’s what the others do.”
“I’m sorry, Tara. I’m too drained.”
Tara came over to the wardrobe, resting a hand on his shoulder. “This reminds me of before Ailann emanated and became Archon, when Patrick lived on Eirelantra and had to pretend to have anemia to cover up his energy deficit. You know, he used to drink Root Riot, and it helped a lot. I’ll call for a tailor, and then I’ll fix you a glass.”
Tara was really worried about him. It was quite moving. Act distressed, like you’re going to faint, I advised Lucius. Give her an excuse to nurse us.
I can’t do that, Lucius replied. I don’t want to be any trouble to her. “Cuinn wants to know if it’s really okay with you to spell his name with an umlaut: C–ü–i–n- n. We’re not quite sure how it would be pronounced.”
“I’m going to call him the same thing I always have. He can spell it however he likes.” Tara handed Lucius a tumbler filled with a blue fizzy liquid. “Root Riot and tonic. After that time Davy drank the bath salts, I decided we’d better bring some everywhere as a mixer. It’s a good thing I did. Outside of Dolparessa, it’s just sold as a gardening supply, and I think most of the gardens here are hydroponic.”
“Thank you,” said Lucius, his eyes filling with tears of gratitude. For a moment, he held the glass like it was a precious gift. But Tara was watching expectantly, so he downed it quickly. “That hit the spot. I’m feeling much better,” he lied.
*****
Sometimes I wish our lives were as glamorous as they are made out to be in the media push. In reality, Tara’s existence consists mostly of attending state social functions with incredibly boring and pompous people, and participating in legislative meetings, arguing fine points of politics and economics with incredibly boring and pompous people. “You’re absolutely certain that you want to go?” Tara asked. “The thought of this dinner party makes me nostalgic for our war against the Cybrids.”
Fortunately, while Lucius was doing his best to be polite to the boring, pompous and extremely demanding Lady Geverna, the rest of us could continue to consider our situation.
That Lilith would choose Esau, said Ailann, doesn’t make any sense. We’re wakened into consciousness by a human’s dreams. The way CenGov makes telepaths is by eliminating the subconscious mind. Telepaths don’t dream.
I’d sooner make love to a cardboard box, said Hurley.
I have a theory, Cüinn said.
Great, said Cillian, rolling his eyes. I’m having a beer.
Anyone else want anything? asked Chase. There was a flurry of contraband distribution.
Once we had obtained our pill, cigarette or potable beverage of choice, we felt far better prepared to listen to Cüinn. His theories are jumpstropp,** to say the least.
Okay, here’s my idea, Cüinn began. When Tara played back that message from Raoul, something caught my attention. Raoul said something about how he thought at first Esau was Kaman. Well, Seth kept thinking Esau was Tara, remember? And Mickey didn’t even notice him at that café. Don’t you think we would’ve noticed some guy perving on Tara?
Hey, what gives? said Cillian. That almost made sense. I haven’t had that much beer yet.
That is pretty strange, said Dermot. Both our delusional perceptions of Esau, and that Cüinn said something intelligible. But to what end?
Well, CenGov knows that Hurley can detect telepaths because of the time he spotted Molly in the council chambers, right? So what if Esau is disguising himself? Remember at the café – Mickey thought some woman in a hat was sitting at Esau’s table. Maybe he just picks up on the dreams of the people around him and projects them back. Like dreamland camo.
That’s a whack theory, said Cillian. How would it explain Lilith?
If he projected her own dreams back to her, said Dermot, she might think he was the perfect mate.
Do we even have dreams of our own? asked Manasseh.
Of course not, said Ari.
But it must be possible, countered Dermot, or no tree would ever become a Cu’enmerengi.
Trees exist in a world of dreams, said Malachi, but I’d assumed that the substance of those dreams was simply flower and fruit, sunlight and water. Complex fantasy becomes possible only with sentience.
Falling in love is a result of the projection of an idealized mate, said Tarlach.
In our case, said Malachi, the ideal is determined by the form of the Chosen. It’s not internal. It doesn’t exist before the choosing.
I repeat, said Dermot, some sense of self must pre-exist, or there would be no Cu’enmerengi.
These are some great theoretical and philosophical speculations, said Owen, but if we actually captured Esau, maybe we could find out for certain? Run some tests or something?
Let me get this straight, interrupted Cillian. What you’re saying is that this creep is some kind of fucking con-artist who has convinced my baby that she’s found Mr. Right? Vivisection is too good for him.
I note the lack of emotional detachment, said Tarlach.
“Have you heard a thing I’ve said?” Lady Geverna interrupted, quite annoyed.
“I’m very sorry,” said Lucius. “It’s just rather loud in here.”
“And I thought you trees were supposed to have good hearing. I’m not impressed.” While this internal debate raged, poor Lucius had been dealing with the tetchy aristo, who had been rather in a snit all evening for being snubbed by the popular Patrick. She’d really been hoping to get Ailann to put in an appearance, but she knew that was unreasonable. The Archon put in a showing for only the most important occasions. It was absolutely ridiculous, but a hierarchy had formed around the social lives of I and I’s emanations, and the aristos judged their status by who could command the presence of a seemingly “important” one. It pissed Tara off to no end, and so she usually made a point of bringing the “low-status” emanations to her own galas – like Callum, her sex slave, or Mickey, back in the day when everybody thought he was just her personal trainer.
“The flowers are lovely,” said Lucius, in an attempt to be polite. They really were – a kaleidoscope of colors and exotic blooms hanging from the ornately disguised support struts and atmospheric pressure units. The better sections of Dalgherdia rivaled Eirelantra in their artifice, but most of the domed city was built for utility, with few frills. CenGov’s scientists had little use for aesthetics. I suppose that will all change now that Skarsians are taking over the station. Skarsians have little tolerance for a lack of culture. “Were they grown here in the hydroponic facilities?”
“Imported from Eden. Can’t you tell?”
Lucius hadn’t really been paying attention, but the flowers weren’t from any species native to Dolparessa nor derived from the gene banks brought by the original colonists from Earth. They were Davy’s original creations.
“I knew the K’ntasari were farming, but I thought it was just foodstuffs,” Lucius replied. “I suppose it makes sense.”
“The quality and variety of produce has jumped astronomically since Eden was opened up. They’re so close to us, we receive all the bounty.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, how did you come to live on Dalgherdia?”
“You mean, what’s an aristo doing in this dump? My family is one of the oldest in the Domha’vei. The 4th Matriarch granted my great-great-grandmother a number of asteroids as her allotment. It was a way of getting her out of the way. Making her the Duchess of Silvermine effectively removed her from Skarsian politics. So basically, I own Dalgherdia, and everyone here pays rent to me.”
During this conversation, Lucius could feel Tara’s concerned eyes on his back. To him the sensation was solid; her compassion was a warm prop that allowed his exhausted body to stand.
A servant approached with a tray of hors d’oeuvres. “Prawns,” said the lady, “I love prawns. You do eat prawns?”
“I enjoy a broad variety of dishes,” said Lucius. He thought it best not to get into the internal dietary debate. Lately, Ari, Valentin and Aran seemed to be going out of their way to shock the Atlas emanations by consuming nuts and other edible seeds.
“I had them shipped from Skarsia. Why don’t the K’ntasari do any fishing?”
Because I forgot to put fish in the oceans, said Davy. Ooops.
“It’s an untapped resource,” said Lucius. “I’ll suggest it to them.”
*Despite the similarity of the words “biiskit” and “puddin” to the 21st century English words “biscuit” and “pudding,” the Galactic Standard homophones have nothing to do with the foodstuffs designated by these nouns in either the US or UK. A puddin is a thin, savory cracker, and a biiskit is a slice of flash-fried vegetable matter, similar to a chip/crisp – trans.
**“Crackfic” is probably the closest 21st Century approximation – trans.