The train doesn’t go to the Mental Jungle, and slogging through the Mental Reserve proves a lot harder than we thought. After Cyrus almost gets sucked down in quicksand, I send him back with Pallav to wait in the safety of the station. Now Oliver and I are trying to keep up our spirits as we walk through fog-covered moors which seem to stretch on forever.
When Tara returns to Universe Prime, I suggest to Oliver that we relieve the monotony by riding along with the emanation. I’m practiced enough to keep half an eye on where we’re going. Oliver takes my hand; his body follows woodenly as I lead through the fields.
Oliver has never ridden with an emanation before, so he’s shocked more than most when Hyde suddenly emerges. But we’re all surprised, first at the unexpected expenditure of precious energy, and second, at Hyde himself. The switch from X’khaim’s structured, practical thinking to a persona entirely governed by feelings and appetites is jarring, even for someone as experienced as I am. I tell Oliver that both X’khaim and Hyde are very different from the norm – but what is the norm anymore?
Speaking of X’khaim, where is he? asks Cillian.
I think he ended up back at Ophionia, says Benbow.
Then he’s up there alone. Somebody ought to go and get him.
You’re closest, says Ross. And Oliver is X’khaim’s friend.
But who knows when we’ll meet up with Theo’s party? I don’t even know how long we’ve been walking – I wish that we had a timekeeper.
You know, says Chase, startling us – Chase is always present, but he’s usually so high he doesn’t say anything – if that Julian guy is in trouble, maybe it would be faster if we used the mecha.
That would be the obvious solution, wouldn’t it? mutters Mickey, embarrassed that he didn’t think of it himself.
If you can take Julian back in the mecha, then I can go to Ophionia to find X’khaim. Why don’t you meet us at the edge of the Mental Jungle?
I’m on it, says Chase.
Make sure Theo brings back that relic, says Dermot. I’m curious about its existence – how could he find a remnant of a past civilization inside of the pleroma? Is it a symbol of life in the nul-universe?
You think too damn much, says Cillian. It’s a fake archaeological relic, just like Suibhne’s got a fake Rembrandt.
Maybe it’s a real relic that somehow got transported into the pleroma. It’s hard to tell since we don’t have an archaeologist, suggests Cüinn.
An archaeologist might be useful, Ethan chatburls. Unlike some of these new emanations. A secretary? Doesn’t everyone just use their datapads for voice transcription?
Suibhne wants to know when being useful became the most important thing. A handwritten note has gravitas. Dictating a screed into a datapad is not nearly as impressive as scrawling letters that can hardly be deciphered.
I’ll remember that if I ever need to write a lunatic manifesto, replies Ethan.
I think that Hyde’s doing well so far, says Mickey, changing the subject. I know we had our doubts about him, but his emanation was brilliant. There were all kinds of wild rumors going around…that the reason Patrick vanished was that he had been assassinated, and it was being covered up because the trees aren’t really immortal, or Patrick isn’t the real Archon, and all of Tara’s different husbands are a smoke-screen to cover up the fact that the Archon is a lie, or not willing to be seen in public, or only a creepy mothman, and if real humans knew the truth, they’d think that Tara’s alien marriage was repugnant, so she always goes around with handsome human males, like X’khaim, who is just an imposter. That transformation laid it all to rest.
If I was gonna make up a lie about I and I, I could come up with a much better one than the mothman is six trees is 67 human emanations is really an energy-being from the nul-universe, says Cillian. I’d come up with something a lot simpler, and a lot more scary.
In the IndWorlds, there’s nothing like us, says Dermot. The only sentient aliens they really know are Floatfish, and honestly, the Floatfish lifecycle is much more similar to humans – animal, two sexes, limited lifespan…
The thought that the Floatfish are fundamentally closer to Tara than we are is pretty fucking depressing, says Lorcan.
That’s the point, says Dermot. If Tara chose a Floatfish for her mate, she’d never realize her destiny. There wouldn’t be enough distance for her to evolve.
Tara mating with a Floatfish? Cillian grimaces. Dermot, I ought to punch your lights out just for that mental image.
Cüinn chimes in: It couldn’t even work. Floatfish females lay eggs in water; the males spray them with semen. Since they don’t practice penetrative sex, they have tiny penises.
You’re right, Cillian realizes. Tara would never marry a Floatfish.
Oliver has been monitoring the conversation with interest. « Do you guys always talk about stuff like this? »
« Not always. A lot, though. »
« In one way, the pleroma is so much more than I could ever have imagined, but in other ways…well, I expected something grander and more mystical than…»
Fish dicks? asks Cillian.
Patrick, why don’t you show him something a little more relevant than this idle banter? suggests Tarlach. Let him get a sense of the interpersonal dynamics of the grove.
In other words, Tarlach is gonna teach you how to spy on people, says Cillian.
As our resident therapist, I consider it my duty to monitor our relationships, observing the manner of their evolution. And in truth, there is no such thing as privacy in an organism such as ours.
« I did get that impression, » says Oliver.
Even a so-called private chatburl is private only by the virtue of others being unaware of its existence. Anyone can go into any other emanation’s branch and read all his chatburls. However, from a social point of view, sometimes the illusion of privacy is nice. It’s perhaps a quirk we’ve picked up from our interactions with humans. Thus, it’s best to assume that everybody knows what’s going on with everybody else, and it’s also polite to pretend you don’t know unless someone shares it with you. For example, we should pretend to know nothing about the fact that Lugh is currently trying to console Ethan, who has been feeling a little down lately due to relationship troubles with Barnabas.
« I would have known nothing about it, if you hadn’t told me, » says Oliver.
Ethan has been a fucking prick, says Cillian. He gets like that. I think it’s on purpose because Lugh doesn’t have a mean bone in his body.
Let’s just take a quick peek, says Tarlach.
« Is this really all right? » says Oliver.
« Your function within the pleroma is to be a mediator, » I remind him. « When you were recognized, you were given the title ambassador, and everything you’ve done so far seems to support that. That means you’ll need to know as much about us as possible. Still, there are ways of being tactful about it, as Tarlach suggested. Lugh is entirely open about everything that happens to him. On the other hand, Ethan is private. »
« So look in Lugh’s branch, not Ethan’s, » says Oliver, understanding instantly.
I guide him to the place in Lugh’s wood where new memories are being formed. We’ll be able to experience them directly with only a second’s delay. Again, Oliver is taken by surprise – Lugh’s perspective is very different from either X’khaim or Hyde. I nod knowingly, « That’s the whole point. Through us, I and I is trying to simulate as many different human responses as possible. The only limitation is that these personas have to be capable of loving and being loved by Tara. »
Lugh has gone up to Ethan’s workshop to see if he can be of assistance. Seeing the two of them together, Lugh and Ethan, it strikes me how remarkably similar they are, which only makes sense as Davy constructed the branches of Ethan and Barnabas by modelling them on Lugh and Owen. Yet they’re very yet different: one’s blond handsomeness is brilliant and the other’s foreboding. Lugh has a pompadour and is wearing a stylish jacket of blue canvas over a crisp black tee. Ethan’s hair is carelessly slicked back and falls forward into his eyes, his chin is covered with stubble, and his clothing is stained with various industrial lubricants and coolant chemicals.
« Just don’t. I don’t need pity, especially not from you, » Ethan says.
« I don’t want you to make the same mistake that I did. There was a time when Owen and I broke up, and I was pretty bitter, » Lugh replies.
« I’m not you. And I’m not a charity case that you have to look after. »
« I know you take pride in being different from me, but do you always have to be so mean about it? »
Ethan runs his hand through his messy hair. He didn’t intend to be short with Lugh; he’s just stewing in his own compost. He tries again. « Fuck. I know you mean well, but…the thing you’ve got with Owen, me and Barnabas were never like that. When we were cut off from each other, we couldn’t cross that gulf. »
« Barnabas is your brother, » says Lugh. « You might think that you can make a clean break, but you can’t. »
« I don’t want to hear it, » says Ethan.
Perhaps I should inject here that the term brother means something entirely different to a Cu’enashti than a human, says Tarlach. I say this because humans have a taboo against sexual relationships between descendants of the same genetic parents. Ethan and Barnabas, however, are branches which share the same wood. So technically, their relationship is not incest. It is the same as any relationship between two branches on the same tree – entirely natural, since we’ve got to pollinate somehow. In any case, judging another species by using strictly human morality is inappropriate. For this reason, I feel it is important to be as open about our sexuality as possible. It is not something to be ashamed of or hidden.
You’re a narcissist who gets off on oversharing and self-publicizing, says Cillian.
I’m a successful talk-show psychologist.
My point, says Cillian.
I wish Ethan would come to me, but unfortunately, he tends to be very distrusting of therapy. On the other hand, there’s Lorcan. A few years ago, he was practically psychopathic; no one would have ever guessed what a social contribution he’d make. His reaction to the X’khaim situation is typical. Let’s look in on something unfolding between Lorcan and Rainier. Rainier is another one who had a bad start in life but is starting to get his act together.
« Rainier is socially awkward, » I advise Oliver. « On the other hand, Lorcan creates drama just to get attention. » Oliver nods, taking the hint and slipping into Lorcan’s branch. His eyes are distant and yet intently focused; he is processing all the information he obtains for later use.
Lorcan’s sensorium is a novelty for me as well, since for a good portion of our existence Lorcan’s perspective was quarantined from the rest of us. Tarlach is not wrong about him – he is certainly making up for lost time. It seems a lot of his predatory instincts have been sublimated into searching for new sexual partners. Well, I’m certainly in no position to criticize.
Lorcan approaches the hapless Rainier, who is alone in the planetarium, staring up into the faux-stars, wearing the tweed jacket which has been the characteristic uniform of university professors since antiquity. « Something is bothering you. »
Rainer barely glances back at Lorcan. « What went down with X’khaim…I can relate. It’s tough to be a new branch. But I didn’t say anything, and now I feel guilty. »
« I used to be alone, » says Lorcan. « More alone than you’ll ever be. And when I found out what I was missing, I swore I’d never be alone again. Fortunately, I learned something important from humans: just because you’re an asshole doesn’t mean you won’t have friends. In fact, some of the biggest pricks have the most friends. Like me. So this is how I do it: anyone who reaches out to me, I reach back. I cultivate that loyalty, and I don’t let go of it. Now who has reached out to you? »
« You. »
« Other than me. »
Rainier pauses for a moment. « Maybe Tielo. »
« So why haven’t you reached back? » Lorcan presses.
« He kind of scares me, being the Archon of War and everything. And that thing he did during the telepathic attack, drawing all our power from Yggdrasil even when we were cut off from the grid – it was amazing. But he went a little nuts after that. »
« Rainier, why do you think that Tielo is such a loner? Everybody feels that way about him. But he’s proud, and he’s strong, and he can’t ask for help. »
When I recruited Lorcan to help with the Big Budders program, I had no idea he’d turn out to be such a good judge of character, injects Tarlach. But watch how slickly he manipulates this situation. Rainier is thinking about it. Rainier is starting to see his point.
« How much do you know about him? » Lorcan continues. « If you can get past his reputation, he’s actually a fun guy. He’s building an amusement park at Nightside. He knows how to do aromatherapy massage. Here’s the thing – he can’t ask for help, but he’s happy to give it. So if you start hanging around him, asking for advice… »
« You’re saying that if he thinks I’m the weaker party, he’ll open up to me. »
« And then you can invite him to Sloane’s, and there will be hot oil rubs for everyone. Can you think of a better way to be of service to your brothers? Plus, if you get your friends to join the scene, you’ll look more popular. »
« In other words, if you help me help Tielo, you’ll get pollination opportunities. Man, I don’t know how to read you. Are you a force for good or for evil? »
« I cultivate that ambiguity. It lends to my mystique. »
Well, look who’s back, » says Cillian, interrupting the conversation.
It’s Vassali. Now that is interesting. « Vassali has issues, » I explain to Oliver. « The circumstances of his emanation were difficult, and he still has some problems synchronizing. »
For one thing, he’s a virgin, and it doesn’t seem to disturb him in the least, says Tarlach. Compare that to yourself, or even your friends Cyrus and Pallav. Your mating instincts kicked in almost immediately.
Vassali is riding his eight-legged horse with the mane of flame. He’d most certainly rather burst through the door and rear his steed, raising his lance in a phallically significant gesture. Unfortunately, the front entrance of the Atlas-Goliath Tower is too small. Instead, he dismounts and strides into the entry, striking a dramatic pose. Cillian rolls his eyes.
« This time, you choose, » I say to Oliver. « Pick a perspective. »
As always there are quite a few branches gathered at Daniel’s apartment, but Oliver – prudently still testing the waters – makes an obviously safe choice: Tarlach. As he slips into the memories of the psychologist, Oliver breaks into a grin. Equal parts conniving and compassionate, sleazy and sensitive, Tarlach has unparalleled insight into the ways our branches intertwine.
« I have tidings! » Vassali calls.
« Good to see you, » says Tommy. « Why don’t you come up here and have a drink? »
Vassali ascends on the hilift. He strides up to Ailann and falls to one knee. « Greetings, milord. I bring a message from the Sultana. » He proffers a parchment scroll.
« The Sultana? » asks Cillian. « Who the fuck is the Sultana? »
« Actually, this could be important, » says Mickey. « The Sultana is mentioned in the list of quest achievements. »
Ailann unrolls the parchment and begins to read aloud: « To the Archons of the Pleroma, Greeting from Her Majesty the Sultana of Celadon. Our position is most desperate, our prosperity imperiled as our people are continually harassed by a brigand known as Nightingale the Robber. We reach out in friendship, hoping that you will provide aid to our suffering citizens. »
« Nightingale the Robber, » muses Dermot. « That’s an old Russian folktale. In the story… »
« Wait a minute, » Tommy interrupts. « The Sultana is a woman. How can there be a woman in here who isn’t Tara? »
« Not quite a woman, » says Vassali. “She’s a sultana. »
« I would think that a sultana is a subcategory of woman, » says Dermot.
« She’s a grape, » says Vassali.
« A what? » says Ailann.
« If you’re yanking my roots, I’m gonna deck you, regardless of your lance enchanted with the power of Tara’s panties, » says Cillian.
Vassali looks exasperated. « We’re branches on trees, » he says.
« That fact is well-known, » Ailann replies.
« Why is it so incredible that I spoke with a sentient grape? »
There is a moment of cold silence as we all try to process this. Finally, Ailann says, « I don’t think we can even begin to address that. »
Vassali sighs and proceeds undaunted. « I also heard a rumor that there are psychedelic toads in NEUranus. »
« Another quest achievement, » says Mickey.
This is clearly important news, but it’s superseded by something even more important. « Focus! » yells Tommy. « Hyde is gonna get laid! »
This could be a problem. Theo will go into pollen rut. I don’t know what could be worse: being alone for that experience, or how scandalized his as-yet-naïve companions will be by his uninhibited behavior. I chatburl him quickly. Theo, tell your companions something – anything – and come out to meet us.
« We’ll never reach him in time, » says Oliver.
« Ye of little faith. Given the way things work around here, we’ll find him in about… »
I was going to say ten seconds, but suddenly the fog clears. We’re at the edge of a forest, and Theo is headed in our direction.