Purpose [Reported by Her Eminence Tara del D’myn, Matriarch of Skarsia]:
Days passed into weeks. I was on the most beautiful planet in the galaxy with the man I loved. I took Rand’s words to heart, relaxing, enjoying the time we had.
He accompanied me everywhere. It was impossible to get him to wear a ceremonial uniform for the affairs of state, but I talked him into at least wearing the jacket with his jeans and athletishoos. Wherever we went, from official functions to simple meals at the garden café, we were approached by curious citizens and members of the press. The presence of an Ashvattha emanation was a novelty. Rand didn’t seem very regal in his bearing, but he was genial, honest and sincere, and soon won the people over. Lord Danak began to encourage public appearances, saying, “Let’s use Prince Rand while we have him – who knows when we’ll end up with Suibhne again?”
I did, actually. I had the table of evocation.
But lazing in the balmy weather couldn’t last. Soon it would be time to move my court to Eirelantra, to conduct the official business of the Skarsian Matriarchy.
Something was on my mind. I broached the topic with Rand. “I’ve been wondering if perhaps, before we leave to go to Eirelantra, we might want to do one more experiment? You haven’t heard anything, have you?”
Rand shrugged. “Nothing. But I suspect that Ashtara is waiting for you to make the first move. He wants you to feel comfortable. We’ve performed just over half of the proposed experiments, and it’s already been a lot for you to process.”
“I promised myself that I’d work on the issue of nau’gshtamine production. I have discovered a few things – for example, the apples that were produced during my encounters with the mothman, whether self-pollinated or no, produced almost twice the average amount of nau’gshtamine. This was true regardless of the tree or branch I sampled.” I went over to the stasisstorer to retrieve a bottle of Rand’s juice. “Hmm. Almost out.”
“I’ve made arrangements for Macbeth to ship some of Ashvattha’s apples from Shambhala to Eirelantra. He’s working out quite well – it was a great idea by Sir Kaman to train the K’ntasari to maintain the more distant trees in the grove.”
“Since he’s officially in your retinue, we should give him a title. How about Gentleman of the Branches?”
“Then you should grant the same title to Roy of the Hreck, who does the same for Yggdrasil.”
I closed my eyes, feeling the first effects of the nau’gshtamine. Rand’s juice was wonderful, a warm sensation, like being held. It was always like that with him – every moment, I felt his unswerving devotion. It was a gift, Ash’s gift to me, like so many others.
“It occurs to me,” I said, “that I’ve been too bitter to be properly grateful.”
“I think that’s pretty common for humans,” Rand replied.
“But I need to give something back. That’s why we have to continue with the experiments.”
“Then you have to take the initiative. Summon one of the experimental subjects.”
“You don’t mind?”
“I’ve taken the Golden Vow, remember? If one of us wins, we all win.”
I’d already reached a conclusion about the correspondence tables. I had initially rejected the idea of choosing at random, but now I thought about what Wynne would tell me. He would tell me to trust my luck.
I sorted through the cards, removing the emanations who had already participated in experiments. “Shuffle these for me,” I said to Rand, handing him the remaining stack.
He understood my purpose, rifling the cards and then fanning them out, face down, for me to choose. I squinted so as not to cheat by reading the statistics on the backsides.
I examined the card in my hand. “Cüinn.”
“Cüinn it is,” said Rand, raising his arms. “This ought to be good.”
Cüinn appeared a moment later. “Wow,” he said. “I’m really surprised that my experiment got picked right now. Then again, it is a good one, both because of what you want to do, and the things that have been happening lately. See, you’ve been doing a really good job of keeping track of things – an excellent job. And because everyone went receptive during the great mothman pollen-poof, we’ve got data on the nau’gshtamine production of all the branches, except for Lorcan. Lorcan still won’t fruit.”
“That’s disturbing to me,” I replied, “but it strikes me as the sort of thing I’d better not push.”
“That’s probably wise. Anyway, I’ve been able to do some great data-mining. And I found something that bugged me, so I thought I’d investigate. Lucius’ nau’gshtamine production is a lot lower than average, and there isn’t an immediate reason. He’s not emotionally traumatized, he doesn’t have any weird addictions, no damage to his branch, etc. But when the Big Guy wrote that message on the piano, I got to thinking. Cüinn, I said to myself, there were some emanations that weren’t made specifically for Tara. Or rather they were made to serve some function that you needed, but they weren’t made to please you or communicate with you like the rest of us. I’m thinking Lucius and Till. They’re also unique in being a little off the human template. So I wondered if that had anything to do with it. But there was no real way to compare since Till is still a virgin. I’m thinking that could substantially throw off the readings. So basically, stage one is that Till gets laid, and then we compare apples. If Till’s nau’gshtamine production is normal, we go back to the drawing board about Lucius. If it isn’t, then we try to figure out a stage two intervention.”
“That’s actually the most logical experiment we’ve done since…well, since the first one.”
“We’ve also got complete cooperation. As you might imagine, Till is really up for this. And when I showed the data to Lucius, he was concerned. He went to Tarlach for a complete psychological exam. Turns out that Lucius is amazingly well-adjusted. Especially considering. I think if I had to deal with the Combine as much as he does, and spend all that time walking around in Sweet Blonde Suzanna’s body, I’d be a little off my roots.”
“And how is your nau’gshtamine production?” I asked, moving closer to him.
“Oh, it’s good, a little better than average.”
“It doesn’t need a boost or anything?” I asked, moving very close to him.
“No, I’m fine,” he said as I placed my hand on his ass. “And it won’t affect the parameters of the experiment…but yeah, you know that, and Cillian is screaming that I’m an idiot because that’s not what this is about, is it?”
“Cüinn,” I said. “You have a Gold Card. And it’s been ages since I’ve seen you in the flesh.”
In an instant, he was nude, except for the lab coat. “I feel naked without it,” he confessed.
Experiment 10A
Participants:
Cüinn Cleary, Lucius del Eden’d, His Most Sublime and Eminent Radiance Till del N’stl’d, Archon of Nightside.
Materials:
A luxury spa.
Hypothesis:
When the “Virginity Effect” is corrected for, the alien hybrid emanations will still have a lower average nau’gshtamine amide-t production than other branches.
Procedure:
Roy would’ve been more than happy to send the apples, but the fastest way to do this was for me to ride to Nightside with Ash. I hadn’t seen the mothman since the smoking piano incident. As one might expect, Lady Madonna was upset about how the antiquity had been ruined, but I refused to allow it to be restored. The lettering on the top wasn’t at all affecting the sound.
So it was with both excitement and a touch of anxiety that I prepared myself on the morning of our trip. I was nervous about the mothman; I was also conflicted in my feelings towards the journey. Nightside is about as remote and desolate a place as one could imagine. The last time I had been there with Beat, I spent only a few hours. Yet I wanted to see Yggdrasil again, and I had missed the company of Bisque, Thermidor, Roy and the other Hreck. I had grown quite fond of them. As a species, they seemed so much more trustworthy than humans.
When I returned from the shower, Ash was there and so was Lady Madonna. She had come to lay out my clothes. Ash was wearing the prototype body – and no loincloth. Lady Madonna was staring rather impolitely, her jaw hanging completely slack.
“Remember when you told me three men were best?” I said. “This is an improvement in efficiency. Cuts one out of the loop.”
Lady Madonna backed quickly out of the dressing room.
“I thought that body was supposed to be private. Now how am I supposed to lace this corset?”
Ash crossed the room, moving behind me. He stepped gingerly, but I could see he had been practicing. His walk was almost normal – almost, except he still made no actual contact with the floor. He pulled the corset tight and began to lace, expertly, adjusting a bit, tightening a little at a time. Of course he did – if Evan and Aran could do it, why not Ash?
And then I was raw energy, and we were soaring through the skies together. We dove into the heart of the Atlas tree, snaking through the roots and into the nul-universe, then into the stable wormhole – the ra’aabit hole- that bridged the gap between the Milky Way and the Tucana Dwarf Cluster.
We emerged through Yggdrasil. Thermidor knew to expect us; as he hurried to greet me, Ash folded into the body of Till.
My eyes tracked movement above me. I looked up to see the Denolin Turym racing towards the station, flailing their tentacles and making playful figure eights. I stepped back, startled, but realized that as hideous as they were, they were only being friendly. I plastered on a game smile and waved.
There were a lot of them, though, flocks and flocks. I looked down the length of the station to see that from the five original Bhavashti, hundreds had been cultivated. Our plan was a success. I just had to ignore the writhing mass of space-centipedes filling the skies.
It occurred to me that I should get used to them, that I should come to Nightside more often. Like the Cu’enashti, the Denolin Turym had reached the conclusion that in order to evolve, they needed to mate with other species. Perhaps I could learn from them.
Till squeezed my hand, then raised his arms, his body half-fading into a deep red glow. The Denolin Turym responded, their own bodies flashing in and out of manifestation.
“What did you tell them?” I asked.
“Oh, just hello, how’s it going, that sort of thing,” he replied. “I am their God, after all.”
“That nonsense Johannon was spouting – they take it seriously?”
“They do. Look at it from their perspective. It really is a new age for them – an end to isolation and war, a promise of love, of evolution, of taking their place amongst the Advanced Sentient Species. We did a good thing here.”
“I see.” I’d have an easier time believing that if only the Denolin and the Bhavashti weren’t so damn creepy.
I really need to get over this, the marrow-mindedness of my human perspective. Things aren’t good just because they are cute. I swear that the ELFF got a pass into the Combine just because she’s so beautiful – otherwise, she’s a completely useless ditz.
Thermidor waved an antenna to get our attention. “We have a surprise for you,” he said through his voice synthesizer.
He led us down to our quarters. In our absence, the Hreck had taken me at my word, furnishing and decorating the room using the material swatches I had left behind. Unfortunately, the Hreck perception of design, unrestrained by the minimalist SongLuminant aesthetic, was rather different from human, as one might expect of pink and green furred crustaceans. They had no way of knowing that I hadn’t intended for all of the swatches to be used. Fortunately, I had been contemplating muted colors, beige and pale lavender, to harmonize with Lorcan’s screaming horror of a bed. Nevertheless, the room was a startling collision of design, striped walls meeting floral upholstery, plaid lampshades, and Navajo-patterned tiles.
“It’s incredible,” I gasped. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“A great feast is planned in your honor,” said Thermidor proudly. “We’ve imported the large left claw of the late Senator M-7226009-tyj, considered to have been one of our people’s greatest orators. It was he who gave the noted “Swim to Sentience” speech after our induction into the Combine. For this occasion, we’ve soaked the tender meat in dairy liquids taken from the bovoid proto-mammals of Tewaar III, and topped it with a sauce made from fermented Bhavashti peaches.”
“That sounds wonderful,” said Till. “Give us a little time to settle in before dinner.”
Thermidor scuttled away happily. “We’re supposed to fuck,” I said, “but this wallpaper is inducing a seizure.”
“We could turn the lights down to improve the ambience,” Till suggested.
“I just wanted it to be special,” I said. “I remember my first time – Daniel made dinner, and bought flowers, and gave me the locket.”
“It isn’t every day that I get to eat the tender claw of a celebrated orator,” Till said.
I laughed. “I’m sorry this is so awkward,” I said. “I used to think that sex with a handsome stranger was fun, but I’ve gotten a little jaded. I’d like to know more about you.”
“There isn’t much to know. The Yggdrasil emanations were created as functions, not as personae. It was promised that if we survived, we’d be allowed to develop. Not that I’m complaining. I don’t need you to redesign me, like Constantine. Both Beat and Lens have gone in very interesting directions on their own. Actually, it’s exciting. There’s a whole universe in front of me to discover. There’s food I’ve never tried, music I’ve never heard. I want to see the Hall of History in Vuernaco and the Science Museum in Matriarcha City. I want to go to the Grand Carnivale on Vesper and ride the Wormhole Turbo at Hyperland.”
“I’ll go with you. I’ve never been to an amusement park.”
“Never? Even as a child?”
“Are you kidding? It would have been beneath my dignity to rub shoulders with the plebes. Besides, I was too busy doing battle exercises.”
“I’d make one now, but I’d like to experience one first, so that I know what I’m doing.”
“Make one? You mean an amusement park? Here?”
“Why not? The station is huge, set up to eventually accommodate an orchard large enough for all of Denolin civilization. There’s plenty of empty space, and I’ve got the power of the Archon. In fact, Yggdrasil was designed to be a war-engine. I’ve got power coming out my ears. You know, there’s something I can do. I’m commandeering a room. Why not? I’m God.”
Till grabbed my hand and led me into the hall. He was right – there are all sorts of empty rooms. Most of the Hreck are stationed on the levels below us. He opened the door to the room next to ours.
In the center was an enormous bath of steaming water. Behind it was a sauna, along the right wall, a group of exfoliation stalls, along the left wall, a series of massage tables. It was an impressive room, all rose marble and gilt.
“A full-service spa,” he said. “You know, Nightside would make a great luxury hotel.”
“What?”
“I’m serious. The Hreck could learn to run this. They were designed to be servants, so they’d make great hotel staff. It would be good for them to develop an identity separate from the SongLuminants, and make a little money to boot.”
“You’re joking. Why would anyone want to come here?”
“It’s a frontier. You can’t tell me there aren’t plenty of humans who would just love to see a different galaxy. Plus, the Denolin. Did you see them showing off earlier? They could do performances, like a water-ballet in space. The Hreck are quite adaptable too – you saw that acrobatic troupe they developed just for the Combine Gala.”
“You’re joking.”
“I’m not. The best thing that ever happened to the Cu’endhari was the Tarlach Tadgh Show. If humans think that everything in the galaxy is happy, friendly, and exists for their amusement, they won’t try to kill it.”
“You are serious.”
“How about a bath and a massage before dinner?”
I examined the cabinets on the right side of the room. “Here’s a service menu. Salt and Ruby Dust Scrub. Chocumber Body Soufflé. Swedish, Thai and Cybaen Massage. Ecstasy Foot Rub and Laser Pedicure. Rejuvenating Special: Sonic Exfoliation followed by Greengrain Body-brushing. Where did you come up with this stuff?”
“You’ve been in enough luxury hotels in your life.”
“True. Ooooh, hot stones. I love hot stones.”
We got into the bath. “It’s one of those insta-temp units. I’ve set it for steaming, but we can go hotter or colder.”
I stripped quickly, but Till took his time. Of course he did. He wanted to show himself. He was beautiful, and he was trying to seduce me. “Can you actually do all of these things?”
“I’m offended. If Cüinn could learn trans-universal geometry in two days, I can certainly manage an herbal facial.”
I sunk into the water, leaning back against him. “I see that you’ve very cleverly positioned yourself to be summoned more often.”
“You noticed.”
“You’re the Archon, though.”
“So is Aran, and he does your hair. The attitude of the aristocracy that hired strangers and servants should perform these intimate functions has always baffled us. Why would I want someone else touching my wife?”
I turned back towards him. His body was sleek with water, his dark hair dampened with steam. I kissed him. He responded, deep and unhurried. It felt natural, like I had an exciting new boyfriend, and our date had taken an unexpectedly serious turn.
I did want to go to the Science Museum and the Carnivale with him. I wanted to do all the things I had missed in the youth that was so miserably stolen by my uncle, by the 5th Matriarch, and by Tenzain Merkht. Maybe that’s a little pathetic for a woman my age. Then again, I’m the fucking Matriarch. I can do whatever I want.
Data:
| Emanation | Nau’gshtamine Content of Apples (average) |
|---|---|
| Lucius | 213.19 mg |
| Till | 228.25 mg |
| Mean value of all emanations | 269.22 mg* |
*Mean value disregards one anomalous piece of data, a fruit on Whirljack’s branch pollinated by Patrick containing 823mg of nau’gshtamine amide-t.
Results: Both Till and Lucius have a below-average production of nau’gshtamine.
Experiment 10B
Materials:
Blue Moth Mushroom Extract, Till-Lucius juice cocktail, Hyperland.
Hypothesis:
As demonstrated in an earlier experiment, the ingestion of blue moth mushrooms tends to increase nau’gshtamine production when used by pollinating branches. The same is theorized of the use of these psychoactives by the receptive branch.
Procedure:
We gather in Cüinn’s flat, which unsurprisingly contains a research laboratory. Till and Lucius are present, and Cüinn had also asked that Tarlach be in attendance, in case psychological factors were involved.
« I’m really nervous, » says Lucius. « I hope there isn’t something permanently wrong with me. »
« I have faith is science, » says Till. « It isn’t to Self’s advantage to have slackers in nau’gshtamine production. »
« We still haven’t narrowed down the problem enough, » Cüinn replies. « We don’t know whether the issue is that your emanations weren’t created specifically to interact with Tara, or whether it’s the alien-hybrid factor, or whether it’s something in your psychological makeup. »
« I’ve had both of them complete my newly-designed Nau’gsh Inventory of Personality, Psionics and Intelligence, » says Tarlach. « According to NIPPI, these are two very stable emanations. »
« I would tend to discount the first hypothesis, » I tell them. « After all, there were other emanations created with intents different from direct interaction with me. Owen, for example. »
« That’s true, » muses Cüinn. « Owen’s nau’gshtamine production is exceedingly robust. »
« Their interactions with me are fine. Lucius is a porn star, and Till gives a mean Cybaen massage. »
« Then it is about how we’re made, » says Lucius. « That’s depressing. We might not be able to do anything about it. »
« We need more information, » says Cüinn. « My suggestion is that Tara drink a juice cocktail made from the apples of Till and Lucius. First, that will tend to bring them more in alignment with her. Second, it might give her insight into some unifying factor between them that we’ve been overlooking. During the course of that week, Tara should keep a journal. Then at the end, we pollinate, and examine the apples again. »
« Sounds good to me, » says Tarlach.
« Being that you’re my half-brother, » says Lucius, « you’ll go into pollen-receptivity, too. Is there a conflict of interest? »
« I can maintain scientific objectivity, » Tarlach assures us.
« Tarlach’s nau’gshtamine production is exactly average, » says Cüinn. « Which is pretty remarkable, if you think about it. No one is ever average. »
« Is that a clue, though? Tarlach was designed to be stable, so that he could analyze the functions of the other branches. Which brings me to another point: if we raise the nau’gshtamine production of Till and Lucius, they’ll increase the average. Will that simply improve their standing relative to the other branches, in which case there will be some losers out of this, or will it increase everyone’s nau’gshtamine production, and thus maintain the status quo? You’re using the mean as your benchmark, which implies that there will always be some who fall below it. »
« It would be nice if we could improve everyone’s nau’gshtamine production, » muses Cüinn.
« Yeah, but I see what she’s saying, » says Till. « We might go through all of this only for Lucius and me to end up back where we started. And if we don’t, you’ll have two other branches needing therapy. »
« Using the mean as our standard is problematic, » Tarlach decides. « We need to rethink this. We should set a benchmark for everyone to achieve. »
« Patrick’s production is highest, » says Cüinn. « 359.84 mg. Suibhne is a close second, at 355.64 mg. »
« Set 300 as the benchmark, » I suggest.
« That’s quite a bit above average, » says Tarlach, clearly miffed.
« Well, you’ll just have to get off your leaves and work at it. »
« The juice idea is a good one, » says Lucius, « but why can’t we just take the blue moth mushrooms? They’re proven to increase productivity. »
« It would be inconvenient to be tripping every time you want sex, » Till replies.
« Not for Chase, » says Cüinn. « But we could try having the emanated one take low doses of BMM extract on a daily basis. Then we could compare the score of the one who did with the one who didn’t. »
« You are aware that real science is generally performed on groups much larger than this? »
« Yeah, » he replies, « I know reliability is an issue. But it’s all we’ve got. We don’t honestly know what applies to the grove applies to any other Cu’enashti. Then there’s the problem with Tarlach’s gender research. Those people who have sex outside of their preference – are they deluding themselves, deluding the world, experimenting, being playful, or maybe the labels assigned to them are just inadequate? Behind every number is a story that gets lost when it gets quantified. »
« That’s not science, » says Tarlach. « That’s literature. »
« I know, » says Cüinn. « But we’ve got to be aware that science doesn’t show the whole picture. »
We decided that Till would be the one to emanate. Sorry, Lucius, but you had emanated quite a number of times before, and Till and I were having too much fun. Lord Danak was a bit taken aback when I informed him of our intention to go to Hyperland.
“The best thing would be to reserve the entire park,” he said. “I’m sure we could arrange it for after the court concludes and you return from Eirelantra.”
“Today,” I said. “We can go incognito. Even though Till is the Archon of Nightside, he’s never emanated in the Domha’vei before. The only image of him is the holo in the Cu’endhari disclosure.” I was very thankful that Ailann hadn’t called a press conference to introduce the recent emanations, like he did with Goliath.
“And what about you?”
“I’ll dress down. It worked for Henry V.”
“It will be a security nightmare.”
“What do I pay those slackers in SSOps for? Shaking down highweed dealers? Besides, I’m more concerned about the press than I am about assassins. If I move spontaneously, there’s no chance of a leak.”
After he had gone, I turned to Till. “There would’ve been an advantage to renting the whole park,” I said. “We could’ve fucked on the hovercoaster.”
“I’m serious about creating a theme park at Nightside.”
“But with all the Hreck there, it should be a water-park. You could also capitalize on the newly-opened Floatfish tourism market.”
I went over to the stasisstorer to retrieve my juice cocktail. I had to pour slowly, to wait for the fizz to settle down.
“It’s carbonated,” said Till, puzzled.
“Lucius’ juice always has bubbles. This is a bit less fizzy considering your juice is mixed with it.”
“I should take mine, too,” he said. “Cüinn recommended one drop sublingually, taken twice daily for the first three days. Then increase the dosage to two drops.”
A few seconds later, the room started to buzz and twinkle. “Are you sure that’s dilute?” I asked. “I’m getting a contact high from drinking the juice.”
“Cüinn says that he thought he’d compensated for the difference in dosage between the raw mushrooms and the extract, but the extract is a little stronger than he’d anticipated. A little.”
“Do you still want to go to Hyperland?”
“Why not? It might be fun in this condition.”
“Yes, but if you look too obviously zotted, their security will toss you out. It’s a family attraction.”
“I’ll behave myself.”
I looked at him skeptically. I could see it now – bouncers dressed like Pova-bear coming to dance him firmly towards the exit – and SSOps agents jumping out of the bushes, opening fire. It had the potential to become a massive fiasco.
Did that stop me? Has age made me any wiser? I imagined terrified mothers grabbing their children and ducking for safety behind the vending stands for overpriced chik-henn pretzels. I started to laugh. “Wear shades,” I advised. “I’ll get a wig.”
I remember watching Pova and Lusey when I was a child. Now, despite the prevalence of holome, there was still some life in the classic morph-media franchise, due in large part to the cutting-edge series of amusement parks scattered throughout human space. Hyperland was one of the most popular, situated as it were on lovely Dolparessa, where the weather was as predictable as a neutron clock.
Once we’d paid the exorbitant admission, an app was uploaded to our datapads. The idea was that we’d register for the rides we wanted to try, and then we’d be summoned when it came our turn to stand in line. This is the way that the park kept its promise – never more than an hour’s wait in line. The wait between lines was not mentioned.
“We could go on the boat tour,” I suggested. “There’s no wait for that.” I was beginning to regret not taking Lord Danak’s advice. If I had rented the entire park for myself, I’d get to be first on every ride.
“I want to go on that one,” said Till, gesturing towards the center of the park.
It was Hyperland’s newest, most popular attraction: The Galaxy Tree. It was obviously meant to be a nau’gsh, enormous, towering over all the other rides. It wasn’t a fifth of Atlas’ current size, though. Three years ago, Atlas and Goliath had been declared natural wonders of the galaxy. I had been considering building a palace in Atlas’ branches, but I found myself attacked by conservationists, a battle Ross was still fighting. He argued that Ash had a right to do whatever he wanted with his body, a line of reasoning immediately struck down by the court. “It will undermine the foundation of the heresy laws,” said the judge. “First you build a treehouse, then the young ones will want robot arms for branches.” Ross immediately changed his tactic: he was now arguing that a rational being could not be declared a galactic heritage object. “Your grandmother could end up in a museum,” he argued. “It seems to be the sort of ass-ended logic that particular judge understands,” he explained later. The ruling was still out on the case.
“We’ll be lucky to get in line for that ride by sunset,” I said.
Till pulled out his datapad. I had no idea what he was doing. “I’ve got it taken care of,” he said. “Let’s just sit here and watch the colors drift by for a few minutes.”
A few minutes later, our datapads beeped. We were being summoned to the line for the Galaxy Tree. “How did you manage that?”
“I messaged Clive Rivers. I told them there was no way he was good enough to hack the reservation servers at Hyperland. He told me he could get me on the most popular attraction in under five minutes. I told him to prove it.”
I was coming to the conclusion that Till was clever, manipulative, and a bit underhanded, all rather dangerous traits in an Archon.
Standing at the end of the line, it was possible to see how the enormous attraction worked. The participants were propelled upwards, through the “trunk” of the tree, contained in a force bubble. The bubbles were then fired at massive speeds through a series of ramps and tubes laced through the branches. Of course, there was a good deal of anti-inertial padding in the inner bubble-field, preventing the riders from being inconveniently pulverized against the side of the bubble on the downward journey.
“But I don’t get how they aren’t leaving their meals for the last three days scattered amongst the leaves,” I muttered.
Just then, an employee dressed as Lusey-beast came up the line. “Anti-nausea injection,” she announced. “Mandatory for this attraction.”
Another Lusey followed. “Opium-ADH,” she announced. “For bowel and bladder control.”
“Somehow, I’m not encouraged,” I tell him.
“The opium is compounding the effects of the mushroom extract,” said Till. “And vice versa.”
“No, I’m really not happy about this.”
“But Chase is. It’s like choirs of angels announced the millennium.”
The management were obviously confident in the effectiveness of their drugs, because a few minutes later, vendors came down the line, hawking food and merch to the captive audience. We bought two “bluedogs” (Sucksow sausages on a stick, dipped in turquoise cornbread batter and plasma-fried), and a Pova and Lusey badge, which Till pinned to his leather jacket.
“This isn’t as much fun as I’d imagined,” I said as the line crept forward. “They should limit the amount of entry tickets and up the price.”
“Then what about those little ones desperate to see Pova? Their parents can’t afford to spend half a year’s income on a park admission. It costs enough just to go to Dolparessa these days.”
“I’ll establish a scholarship for the underprivileged. A combination of merit and economic need. For Volparnian children. If they can score in the 99th percentile of the annual exams, I’ll send the child and three other family members on an all-expense trip to Hyperland. That might be a better motivator than a new life in the colonies. Pova and Lusey are still very popular on Volparnu – they think holome is a little risqué there.”
“Carambola,” said Till. “Plastic magazine muff-divers. Over there.”
He gestured at a huge screen at the side of the ride. On it were projected the faces of the latest customers – faces engraved with fear and all the contorted wrangling that had been refused to their anesthetized digestive tracts. “It’s just a gimmick,” I told him. “They try to sell you the picture for a souvenir.”
Two magenta fizzies and a chocumber ice-cream cone later, we had finally reached the base of the massive attraction. They were sending one group of 4-5 people per bubble, and each bubble went at a ten second interval.
“That’s a minimum of 1440 people per hour. No wonder the line is so long. Maybe you were right about opening an amusement park at Nightside.”
“It’s amazing the way the music is in perfect harmony with the dancing butterflies.”
“Till, they want us to go with this family of three. So maybe you’d better not say anything about that.”
They were father, mother, and child. He was grey and downtrodden, she was made of iron, and the brat was exactly the sort of hyperactively freckled horror one would expect from such parentage. “Hey mister,” he said, yanking at Till’s jacket. “Aren’t you too old to wear a Pova-badge?”
“I’m only a little over two years old,” he said. “I was a virgin until yesterday.”
Iron-mother gave Till the cold stare of shrieking death.
Once again, I experienced the vision of a minor riot caused by our forcible expulsion from the park. But it didn’t really matter because we were in the fucking bubble, and there was no way to get us out until the end of the ride.
We shot to the top of the tree at unbelievable speed. It felt like I’d never travelled so fast in my life. Well, obviously, space ships travel much faster, but you don’t feel them accelerating like that. Somehow, they’d managed the acceleration without the g-forces, a marvel of engineering.
And then there was a click and a bump, and the bubble began to roll down the ramp. The brat screamed; his father screamed louder. “I understand everything,” said Till. “The color space is radial. It’s Lusey. Lusey in the sky with diagonals.”
“He’s having a strange reaction to the Opium-ADH,” I yelled. “I think I’ll take him to the park medic once we’re…”
The bubble launched into empty space. Of course, it was perfectly calculated to hit another ramp on its downward trajectory, but for a moment, it felt like we would be splattered halfway across the park.
“Not that the anti-diuretic isn’t a good thing,” I gasped.
And then the bubble whirled down some dizzying loop-de-loops before plunging into the inside of a branch, and into absolute darkness.
Suddenly, the lights were back, and we were floating in an electric pink mist. Holographic simulations of Pova and Lusey gyrated while Ganno the Holepuncher (a later, less popular character) did a can-can.
“These drugs are too much,” said Till.
“I hate to tell you this…” I began.
“My wife said she’d divorce me if I didn’t bring little Benny to Hyperland this year,” moaned the father, who had turned a deeper shade of gray. “Was my marriage really worth this?”
Suddenly, the bottom dropped out under us, and we were in free-fall again, plunging through clouds of winged Pova-holos. “Actually, this is an amazingly good simulation of my marriage,” I mused.
“You’re wearing a wig,” said Benny. “It’s super ugly.”
The bubble shifted. The brat used this opportunity to jump up, grabbing the stale blonde bun, yanking it, my hat and my sunglasses to the floor.
“Benny, apologize to the nice…”
It was too late. Years of battle-training took over. “It’s the Matriarch!” yelled little Benny in the instant before I kicked him in the shin. Just then, the cameras clicked the souvenir holo-pic.
The ride revved up for its final contortion, spitting us at breakneck velocity off the lowest branch and into a pool of water, torpedoed across the park until we finally bobbed up at the disembarkation platform. Where there were about six hundred thousand park visitors waiting.
Microcams hummed. “That’s Archon Till,” a woman screamed hysterically. “Kiss my baby, Archon Till.”
Till froze, pupils wide as saucers, staring at the chaos around him. “I don’t do babies,” he declared. “Ailann does babies.”
And then the woman tumbled to the ground, felled by an overenthusiastic bruiser from SSOps.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Lord Danak followed us through the halls, very much wanting to talk about it. “Didn’t I warn you? I warned you from the very beginning – a Living God is a public relations disaster waiting to happen.”
He thrust a datapad into my hands. At the top of the media push was the following headline: “Matriarch Attacks Child – Archon Rejects Infant: families brutalized in amusement park scandal.”
“We have got to do some damage control – now.”
I glanced at my husband, who was singing softly to the pictures he was tracing on the wallpaper. “Till is drifting somewhere in the Crab Nebula. Can’t we write it all off to a bad drug reaction?”
“Why was the Archon taking drugs at a family entertainment venue?”
I had to think quickly. “This is the official story, Danak. We were never there. Imposters went to the park with the intent of causing public malice. Release some holos of Rand and me playing croquet on the East Lawn.”
“No one is going to believe that.”
Till shook his head. “S’fine,” he said. “If we don’t shake ‘em up once in a while, people will start believing that the Archon and the Matriarch ought to behave the way they think their rulers should behave. Nothing like a nice scandal to remind them that a Living God gets to do whatever the fuck he wants.”
“I have been losing my edge lately,” I agreed. “Besides, it’s not nearly as bad as the time Aran turned that journalist into a Sumatran lar gibbon.”
Data:
| Emanation | Nau’gshtamine Content of Apples (initial) | Nau’gshtamine Content of Apples (experimental) |
|---|---|---|
| Lucius | 213.19 mg | 234.15 mg |
| Till | 228.25 mg | 241.89 mg (with BMM essence) |
| Chase | 209.33 mg | 278.22 mg (with BMM extract and Black Opium-27) |
| Mean value of all emanations | 269.22 mg |
Results: Tara’s use of the juice and Till’s use of the BMM extract produced a noticeable effect. However, neither Till nor Lucius were able to meet the average, let alone the baseline for good performance. An unexpected benefit was the marked improvement in Chase’s production, now beating the average, but still below the standard.
Experiment 10C
Materials:
Survey to be administered to all emanations.
Hypothesis:
I left Chase sleeping in the study. It was rather a surprise when he showed up.
« He was right, though, » says Cüinn. « Now his production is above average. »
« Drugs aren’t the answer, » Till replies. « At least, not in the long run, although they might be occasionally useful. »
« The juice helped a little, but what would happen if Tara started to drink juice from the other emanations? » asks Lucius. « I’m starting to feel as though there’s no hope for me. »
« Real medical research can take years, even decades, » says Cüinn. « This isn’t some movid where the cure is found overnight. »
« It wasn’t a waste, » Tarlach refutes. « We need to ask Tara her impressions of the juice. »
« It was fizzy. »
They stare at me.
« No, really, I’m stumped. I can’t detect anything about Till or Lucius that would lead to a deficiency. But are you really sure that the problem is connected to their particular status, and not just random? They’re below average, but other emanations must be as well. »
« So you’re saying we should start over, casting our net wider? » asks Cüinn.
« Let me see all of the data. Hmmm, Whirljack is up enormously from the first time we sampled. »
« It makes sense, » says Tarlach. « Now that the split is healed, he’s more effectively able to share resources with Blackjack. »
« I’ve analyzed this in detail, » says Cüinn. « None of my theories panned out. It doesn’t have to do with gold status – Rand is below average. It doesn’t have to do with cock size, either. Ari is golden and hung like a Vorvan neutron moose, but he’s only slightly above average. »
« The closest correlation is with RBI, » says Tarlach, « but there are a number of anomalies. The top scorers – Patrick, Mickey, Tommy and Cillian, all did well above average, but the apples with the greatest nau’gshtamine content are actually from Patrick, Suibhne, Ellery, and Jamey. Ellery has only one RBI! And Owen and Lugh are both higher, on average, than either Mickey or Cillian. »
« But we do know that the pollen which fertilizes a flower also has a direct effect on nau’gshtamine production. Maybe the problem isn’t with the branch at all, but the pollinators. »
« We looked at average production, » says Cüinn. « There are highs and lows for individual fruit, but definite trends among the branches. »
« Calculate average by tree, » I instruct the datapad.
« This is interesting. The highest average is Canopus, followed by Atlas, Goliath, Yggdrasil and finally Ashvattha. All right – new hypothesis. It’s pollen receptivity. The branches with the highest mean nau’gshtamine count are all pollen-sluts. The trees are ordered exactly as you might expect, considering that a greater number of emanated branches will produce more pollination opportunities. Canopus is the exception, but Canopus can benefit from the pollen of any nearby tree in the grove. Quennel usually sits it under Atlas when he emanates. »
« What about the blue moth mushrooms? » asks Cüinn.
« They may have a physical effect, or simply be anti-inhibitory. The latter is my guess, considering that Chase got a better effect combining the BMM extract with Opium-27. He was just really getting off – I can tell you, he was really getting off. »
« But opium alone has the opposite result, » says Tarlach, « since it induces a sense of physical and psychological detachment. Well, if you’re right, the treatment may be psychological after all. »
Procedure:
Clearly, we needed more data. Tarlach’s first idea was to extensively interview the top nau’gshtamine producers to discover the secret of their receptivity. Unfortunately, Ellery refused to leave the boat, Suibhne told a story about how Napoleon was defeated by a penguin and a firefly, and Jamey proved woefully inarticulate. In the end, the only useable information came from Patrick.
A different approach was then taken: a written survey of all the branches, asking them to comment of the sexual desirability of the top two scorers on his own tree, and about the opportunity to cross-pollinate the top two scorers on the other trees. An initial baseline was established through Likert scale questions, followed by a few open-ended items.
Data:
On a scale of 1-5, where 1=greatly disagree and 5=greatly agree, please rate the following items:
| Emanation | Question 1 | Question 2 | Question 3 | Question 4 | Question 5 |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Balin | 2.2 | 2.1 | 3.2 | 1.6 | 3.2 |
| Beat | 3.1 | 2.7 | 2.9 | 2.5 | 3.4 |
| Constantine | 4.4 | 3.9 | 4.2 | 4.6 | 4.8 |
| Ellery | 2.1 | 1.2 | 5 | 5 | 5 |
| Lens | 3.8 | 3.1 | 3.1 | 2.9 | 4.1 |
| Malachi | 4.3 | 4.6 | 3.6 | 3.8 | 4.6 |
| Patrick | 5 | 5 | 5 | 5 | 5 |
| Quennel | 2.9 | 3.5 | 4.4 | 3.4 | 3.4 |
| Rand | 3.7 | 3.6 | 3.5 | 3.6 | 3.8 |
| Suibhne | 1.9 | 4.8 | 3.3 | 5 | 3.7 |
- Is warm and approachable
- Is someone I know well
- Has sexy flowers
- Seems like an easy pollination
- Is someone I’d like to play with during pollen release
What do you think makes a branch most likely to be pollinated?
- 23 responses of “Wide-open petals” or some variation on the theme.
- 15 responses of “Is well-liked” or some variation
- Other replies: A nice ass, kinky, sucks up to everyone, good-looking, develops a pollen-partner relationship, gets laid a lot – duh!, a Gold Card, helps you get off during pollen-release, is cute
Additional Comments:
- Why does Tommy always sit next to Cillian?
- After I saw Balin in that contest with WJ, I thought to myself that I’d do him anytime, but I don’t think he’s interested in anyone he can’t pollinate.
- I’d put Ellery as my #1 if he’d just come out of the goddamn boat!
- Tara, please call Harsh. He’s really depressed – Beat
- I felt bad about rating Rand because I hardly know him. But then again, all those Ashvattha guys are a little stand-offish.
- Whose ass do you have to kiss to get cross-pollinated?!?
- I’ve been in love with Patrick for years, but he doesn’t even notice me.
Results:
« That was instructive. The rankings for “Seems like an easy pollination” are exactly the same as the ones for nau’gshtamine production. It’s depressingly similar to the way human males react in a bar. But what the hell is a pollen-partner relationship, and who’s secretly in love with Patrick? »
« The survey was anonymous, » says Tarlach. « Except for Beat. There’s always someone who just doesn’t get it. »
« We can just look it up in their branches, » suggests Cüinn. « We can watch everyone fill out the survey. »
« That defeats the purpose of making it anonymous, » Tarlach replies, annoyed.
« I don’t get his weird privacy fetish, » says Till. « My branch is an open book. Besides, I think that comment was a plea for attention. »
« Anyway, » says Tarlach, « a pollen-partner is someone you usually pair with during pollen release – then when one or the other becomes pollen-receptive, the partner has best access. Cillian and Callum have been doing it for years, even though Cillian denies that pollination is important. As consciousness has been raised about the benefits of healthy pollination, the popularity of having a pollen-partner has risen. Oddly, a lot of PPP is between emanations who can’t naturally pollinate each other – like Wynne and Ace. »
« PPP? »
« Pre-poof play, » says Cüinn. « And then some of the people on the list are just noted sluts – Patrick and Constantine are the worst. I wish I had a reputation like theirs. »
« That’s what we’re here to figure out, » says Tarlach. « Using these results, I will develop a plan of treatment. Till and Lucius will, or course, be my test subjects. »
Experiment 10D
Hypothesis:
Pollen Receptive Awareness Technique (PRAT) will increase nau’gshtamine amide-t production in the branch under counseling.
Procedure:
Till wanted to see the Hall of History, so we made a quick stop at the Grand Palace of Vuernaco before leaving on our trip to Eirelantra. Lord Danak could hardly complain about that.
“You really want to see all this Terran kitsch?” I asked Till.
“Really. I want to know about human history. Like this one,” he said, pointing to a painting. “It’s really haunting. ‘The Mona Lisa by Leonardo da Vinci,’” he read from the holo placard attached to the frame.
“Oh, that. It’s a joke. You wouldn’t believe how many times that image turns up in a satirical context – everything from cartoons to pillowcases to those little dangly air-fresheners hung in hovercars. It’s of great historical importance, though, as an early example of viral marketing.”
“I know so little,” Till murmured.
“How’s the therapy going?”
“I’m afraid that the data is hopelessly corrupted. I spent three days being coached by Tarlach on how to become pollen-receptive. We talked about how to loosen my inhibitions and how to make myself attractive to other branches. But the minute I showed up in Daniel’s room, the other branches were all over me. They all knew about the therapy – which translated in their minds into my being an easy dust job. I decided that the best way to increase my nau’gshtamine production was to spend some quality time with Axel, Beat and Lens.”
“Practical. How about Lucius?”
“Tarlach started by asking if Lucius felt sexually attracted to his brothers.”
“Tarlach is Lucius’ brother.”
“It went downhill from there.”
“You do realize that if Tarlach were a human therapist, they’d have burned him at the stake by now?”
Data:
| Emanation | Nau’gshtamine Content of Apples (initial) | Nau’gshtamine Content of Apples (after PRAT) |
|---|---|---|
| Lucius | 213.19 mg | 270.81 mg |
| Till | 228.25 mg | 275.33 mg |
| Mean value of all emanations | 269.22 mg |
Results [Reported by Tarlach Tadgh, PsyDC, Prince Consort of the Skarsian Matriarchy]:
Three days of PRAT resulted in a substantial increase. The emanations under treatment are now functioning at slightly above average levels. In order to reach the ideal, further therapy is recommended.
Debriefing:
Tara: That was a lot of work, but I think we’ve learned something. Everyone is happy except Lord Danak.
Cüinn: I helped my fellow branches, made a scientific breakthrough and got laid. All in all, a very satisfactory experience.
Lucius: I’d really like to thank Tara, Tarlach and Cüinn. I’ve made a great improvement, and understand how to keep moving in the right direction.
Till: I’ve had a long talk with Thermidor, and I’m positive we can build something much better than Hyperland. Vega Vids has recently acquired some very hot holome properties. Tervok the Squirrel is going to give Pova a run for the money.
Conclusion [Reported by Tarlach Tadgh, PsyDC, Prince Consort of the Skarsian Matriarchy]:
PRAT is a self-affirming course of treatment from which any emanation can benefit. The treatment combines psycho-sexual stimulation with interaction therapy. Each course of treatment is personalized: for example, Lucius’ treatment consisted in part of a public showing of his pornholo “Bubble Fun.” The emanations present took a survey before and after the showing, documenting that Lucius’ likelihood of being pollinated had increased after watching him be turned on by soapsuds.
PRAT is of especial effectiveness when combined with a course of Pruning Inhibition Therapy (PIT).
Future Investigation:
The possibilities of PRAT have only begun to be explored. It is suggested that any branch volunteering to participate in the PRAT study be advanced as a subject for cross-pollination.