Purpose:
Aran was still upset. He was nowhere to be found when I woke, which meant he was probably sulking in a maintenance closet or something. Fine.
I was bored, so I flipped through the media push. The top of the push was a documentary on GalMedi entitled “The Javamelon Conspiracy.”
“What!” I said, sitting up in my chair.
The program opened with a clip subtitled “Emmet Severin, Professor of Nutrition, Vadkin University.”
“The javamelon is a food that no human should ever eat,” he began. “It isn’t a melon at all. It’s all empty calories, nothing but starch and caffeine. I know it will grow anywhere, and it’s being touted as a solution to galactic hunger, but it isn’t a solution to anything.”
“Look, we’ve known for literally thousands of years that the perfect human food is broccoli. Root vegetables like carrots, legumes, salad greens – that’s really all we need to eat. But the people pushing this program aren’t human. They’re trees. It’s a political program. Look at the diet they’re advocating, all fatty meats and fructose. It’s horrifying! Of course, it’s fine for the elite who they’ve made immortal, but for the rest of us? It will take twenty years off our lifespans.”
The scene switched to another testimony, this time by “Phara Maddock, Tasean political activist.”
Wait, Phara Maddock?!? “Cillian, I knew you should’ve killed her,” I snapped.
“That’s the first thing we saw when the oppressors came back,” she said. “NBAI everywhere. Everybody knows they’re connected to the oligarchy. They’re a subsidiary of RR Labs, and RR Labs owns Big Tree Enterprises, and the CEO of that is one of Ashtara’s emanations! They don’t give a damn that the food they’re selling is unethical, as long as it lines their pockets. But it’s worse than that. That javamelon was developed by RR Labs, by Cüinn Cleary and Davy Gannon – they’re Ashtara too, connect the dots, people! And it won the PanGal Prize, which gives it respectability, and just when the Prize Ceremony was being held on Eirelantra. Set up, that’s all I can say. How many palms did they cross with silver? Bottom line: we don’t know what the hell is in that javamelon. How do we know they aren’t using it for mind control?”
In a fit of pique, I kicked the datapad across the room. “Ow,” I said, “my toe.”
I called for Lady Magdelaine. “Bring me that datapad,” I commanded regally.
“My, aren’t we getting lazy?”
The truth was that my toe hurt, and Ash wasn’t around to fix it. I didn’t want to admit that I’d brought my troubles on by my own bad temper. “Lady Madonna,” I began.
“Oh my!” she said, stooping to retrieve it. “Listen to this!”
“…Push displacement by this emerging story…Earth’s government has fallen! Amidst persistent reports for the past week that President Gweseki was making a surprise inspection of the 29th fleet in Sector 4, the story broke late last night that the remaining members of the Cenetariat had evacuated the Capital Station and were on their way to the colonial planet of Memehaven. We’ve just received confirmation that a rebel coalition has taken control of the station, and is claiming the liberation of the Sol system.”
Lady Magdelaine slid the datapad onto a table and positioned herself next to me on the couch. We stared, dumbfounded, at the holographic projections unfolding before us. “I never would have imagined this,” she murmured.
“I never would have imagined any of this – would you?” I replied. “I was supposed to be freezing my ass off on Volparnu with a brood of Merkht’s snot-nosed brats.”
“You were supposed to be exactly where you are. Elma predicted it.”
“…message of victory to be delivered within the hour by President pro tempore Bartholomew Tellick…”
“What!” I jumped out of my seat and onto my bad toe. “Ow, ow, ow, damn it! How did that little weasel end up in power?”
There was a chime at the door. “It’s Lord Danak,” Lady Lorma reported.
“I know,” I said before he could speak. “Let’s call an emergency meeting of the High Council.”
Aran didn’t even bother to show up, which was strange – very strange, considering what happened next.
For a while, the council was glued to the push coverage, which predictably became inane and repetitious. You’d think we would have given up and gone to have a drink after watching the same clip of the rebels invading the station for the twentieth time, and hearing the commentators start to critique the new president’s hairstyle. But it was the story of a lifetime, and we were desperate for any particle of information.
The Domha’vei had a very schizophrenic relationship with Earth. The Skarsian Matriarchy had been founded on the model of an Earth that never existed, a mythohistory where some of Earth’s most disenfranchised groups –Africans, Celts, Native Americans – had retconned events to suit their sense of cultural identity. Life in the Domha’vei was a curious mishmash of Feudal Era attitudes towards aristocracy and honor, and Exploitation Era attitudes towards media and commerce.
Our attitude towards Earth itself was hostile. Despite our incredible nostalgia for “home,” we despised the Central Government which we felt had sold out humanity, trading individuality and self-expression for conformity and mechanization. The situation was made worse, obviously, by the conflicts between our government and CenGov in the past century. Secretly, in our hearts, we had wanted CenGov to fall because we had some fantasy of taking Earth back.
But that was ludicrous. Along the way, something remarkable had happened, and quite by accident. We stumbled onto an alien civilization – the Cu’endhari. Out interaction with them changed us forever. Ironically, the self-proclaimed preservers of humanity were in the process of evolving into something beyond human. We couldn’t go home again – nor should we want to. The images on the screen showed us Earth as it is today – blackened and desolate with war, pollution and poverty. The elite had lived above all of it in their sky stations. The fall of Earth was more about economics than political oppression – but wasn’t that always the truth?
We had Dolparessa – the most beautiful place in the galaxy, the shining spires of Eirelantra, and Skarsia, a perfectly serviceable homeworld at least the equal of Earth in its glory days. Even broiling Sideria and frosty Volparnu had been made habitable through our efforts. I’d rather live on Volparnu than Earth. Volparnu had a pristine beauty, a hostile magnificence. Earth was just run-down.
Nevertheless, there was going to be an outbreak of jingoism fueled by nostalgia. I could see in the eyes of some of my companions – ambitious lords and restless battlequeens – they were considering the idea of conquering Earth. It was folly. The last thing we needed was to get embroiled in that mess.
The Archon needed to make a statement. Where the hell was Aran?
The door opened. It wasn’t Aran though. It was Clive Rivers.
Huh. I had been so wrapped up in the holographic coverage that I hadn’t even noticed he was missing – Clive, who, of all my council, had the most stake in the fate of Earth.
And then, with the sort of stiffly arrogant flourish that only Clive could manage, he produced an identicard. “In light of my services to the revolution, I’ve been appointed official ambassador from the People’s Earth Government to the Skarsian Matriarchy.”
“Ambassador?” I squeaked. “How are you qualified to be an ambassador? You couldn’t negotiate a discount lunch at the plebian commissary.”
“I beg to differ,” Clive sniffed. “My long history of opposition to the tyrannical Centralized Government, combined with my extensive experience working with the Matriarchy, make me an ideal candidate for the job.”
“In other words, you get to feel like you’re doing something for Earth, while you enjoy the luxuries of the Domha’vei.”
It wasn’t a fair statement. Clive had, after all, lost much in his early years of sedition, then gone home to fight at the front lines of the revolution. He had been wounded and would have died without Ash’s assistance, so there was a good reason he had come back here. The truth was probably something more like this: Tellick knew that Clive was a gadfly, and wanted to keep him as far away from the real center of power as possible.
“You’ve obviously confused me with Johannon,” Clive retorted. “I suppose one Earth man looks pretty much like another to you. Your bedroom antics must be a blur.”
“You wound me, sirrah,” said Abbot Deverre. “My religious conversion is sincere and unquestionable.”
“We all know that Her Eminence is a slut,” said Tenzain Merkht. “If either of you were real men, you’d find it a smear on your own reputations to discuss it in public. Now can we talk about something of real importance – like using this moment of weakness to invade Earth?”
“No!” I said, wondering what had ever possessed me to include my former spouse and two ex-lovers on the High Council. And where was my fucking husband?
“Earth has nothing to do with my people,” said Heavensent. “Getting involved would be a disaster.”
“I agree,” said Lord Danak. “The Archon had better say something definitive, though.”
“I’m going to find Aran,” I decided, leaving the chamber before I kicked something else with my injured toe.
When I returned to our suite, Ash was there, but Aran wasn’t. He was a man I’d never seen before – cute, thirtyish, with chestnut brown hair.
He had a mustache.
“Hello,” he said. “I’m Solomon.”
Of course he was. Solomon was needed for the final experiment. I had just envisioned an older man, perhaps with a beard. Cute and mustache were not words I associated with the name Solomon.
“Maybe you should shave,” I said. “We already have Till to communicate with the giant space-centipedes.”
“I can’t help it,” he said. “Blame Davy. How did you bruise your foot?”
“Never mind my foot,” I said. “I don’t mean to be rude, but we’re in the middle of a crisis. This isn’t the best time for a new emanation.”
“Aran recorded a holo before he left. I sent it to Lord Danak, along with the instruction that we were not to be disturbed.”
“Solomon, I want to be disturbed. The universe is falling apart…”
“All of the real action is over. There’s nothing we can or should do about it. Everyone needs to relax and cool down. Aran also arranged for us to meet in the morning with Clive for a debriefing. He’ll have better information by then, much better than the media push.”
“We’re heads of state, Solomon. People need to see us at a time like this.”
“If you’re out in public, everyone – from journalists to aristos – will ask you to commit to some course of action. That’s something we absolutely don’t want. We have troubles at home to face, let alone some knee-jerk reaction to inject ourselves into Earth’s politics. Besides, we have one last experiment to perform before the coming storm.”
“Experiment? Get real! We don’t have time for…”
“It’s the one thing we must have time for, Tara.”
I tried to gather my fraying wits. “Solomon – Ash. I’ve gone along with this so far, but you haven’t been on the level with me. What the hell are you trying to do?”
“The Mover has known for quite some time that something big and bad is on the horizon. The fall of Earth is peripherally involved, but it’s far more than that.”
“War.”
“Yes. A civil war, and one we don’t have a hope of winning unless we understand why it’s happening. It’s about the Cu’endhari, about what we are. And it’s about what we’re becoming – the Mover, Self, the grove…”
“It seems to be a lot about kinky sex.”
Solomon laughed. “That, too. It seems humorous from a human perspective, since your sex drive is often belittled as an interference with your daily business. But to the Cu’enashti in particular, it’s our reason for existence. Is it any wonder, then, that the Mover is using a kind of autoeroticism to unite the schism in his own being?”
“You’re talking about the emanations.”
“Tarlach has theorized that twenty-five is about as many as a single tree can manage. It seems that the Mover got around that limitation by clonally reproducing his tree. Now he faces another problem – a potential separation and rivalry between the various trees. The initial cross-pollination experiment was much more important than it seemed – if the trees can pollinate each other, then they have a stake in each other’s survival. He was also inspired by the way you’ve reacted to your interactions with the various pairs of brothers. So a lot of the experiments focused on pairs of brothers – Lugh and Owen, Ethan and Barnabas, or the two Jacks. The Mover concluded that since you respond favorably to eroticism between men, He could expand its usage beyond Lugh’s self-preservation instinct by exploiting the pollination stimulus discovered by Patrick, thus forming emotional bonds as well.”
“I thought you were all on the same team.”
“We need to assure that. We need to make certain that there aren’t any divisions that our enemies could exploit. At the same time, the Mover never loses sight of his ultimate objective – intensifying his union with you.”
I flopped into one of the upholstered chairs in the anteroom. There was a moment of awkward silence. What he was saying made sense, but I was still angry – angry at Aran for not facing me, at the stupid hack journalists at GalMedi, at President Bartholomew Tellick and the problems he was certain to cause me in the days to come. But mostly I was angry that our days of peace were drawing to a close. As strange as the experiments were, we had learned so much, and they had brought us closer together.
A new emanation now – Ash’s timing was rotten, but it wasn’t Solomon’s fault. I had better do something. “Solomon, huh? Say something wise.”
“You’ve forgotten your training as a scientist,” he said. “Stop worrying about having all the answers. Answers are tentative anyway. Start thinking about asking better questions.”
Well, he was cute, facial hair notwithstanding. “Do men with mustaches have bigger cocks?”
“That’s the sort of thing best answered with empirical data,” he replied. “We could check my stats against the other trading cards.”
“I’ll check it myself,” I said, shoving him back on the bed. “I’ve learned from experience that virginity just causes problems. I need to juice you as soon as possible.”
“It’s wise to learn from experience,” he said wriggling out of his trousers. “I have a hypothesis, though. If there were a correlation, I’d be in trouble if I shaved. But in that case, my name would be Samson, not Solomon.”
I stared at him, naked against the sheets. “That’s exactly the sort of logic Ash would use,” I said, climbing on top of him.
“I’m really more of a wise guy than a wise man,” he said as I settled on his cock.
He didn’t try to impress me; he just let me ride. And I rode him hard. I was still angry.
I exhausted my desire and my fury. When I collected myself, he was staring at me with his enormous blue eyes. “I’m sorry I took you by surprise,” he said.
“I wish I’d known you were coming. I would’ve ordered a nice romantic dinner.”
He reached over to the night table, grabbing the stack of trading cards. “Take the top one,” he said.
It was Solomon’s card.
“Suibhne makes the card as soon as he knows, which is 24-48 hours before a new emanation unless there’s an emergency. He always puts the new one at the top of the stack. If you get into the habit of checking it periodically, you’ll have time to prepare yourself. Emotionally, I mean. I don’t want or need anything more than your company.”
“Ash is trying, isn’t he?”
Solomon nodded. “He’s doing his best,” he said. “You need to go inside now. Davy will explain the last experiment to you.”
I meet with Davy in Daniel’s room. « It’s crowded in here. Why don’t we go to my place or yours? »
« Your room is pink, » says Davy. « And we have a lot of work to do. »
« So what are we doing? Or is it another case of guess the experiment while it happens? »
« It’s a beta test using sexual positions. »
« What? »
I’m suddenly aware of all the men in the room who are casually pretending not to stare at me.
Davy rolls his eyes. « It’s a beta test using sexual positions, » he repeats.
« That’s not an experiment. That’s an excuse to get laid. And how many sexual positions does this involve? »
« I did a lot of research. »
« I was afraid of that. »
« The most thorough historical sources seem to be the Kama Sutra and Cosmopolitan, but both of those were incorporated into Jazkitt’s Erotica Database, a reference widely available in the IndWorlds. »
« And how many sex positions are there, according to Jazkitt’s? »
« 10,487. »
« I was afraid of that. »
« But the good news is that most of them are only slight variations. We were able to reduce the number to 101 major positions. »
« I see where this is going, » I reply. « Absolutely not. »
« But Tara…»
« Malachi will have it all color-coded, and the next thing I know, it’ll be burn-the-midnight-blue-candle because it’s Moonday and I have to boink Tommy on the hood of a hovercar. Just no. Part of the fun of sex is the spontaneity. »
« You have to make sure that everything is up to standards before we roll out the new model. »
« You had better fuck Axel, » says Cillian, who is lounging on his leather couch. « We can’t afford the luxury of a virgin if there’s going to be another war. »
« I’m a little afraid to question the logic behind that statement. »
« I’m not happy about that, » he continues. « I mean the war, not that you need to fuck Axel. Hell, you should’ve fucked Axel a long time ago. But I really thought we could avoid another war. I should’ve known that nothing is gonna get handed to us on a silver platter. »
Quennel passes me a silver platter full of truffles. « I recommend the ones with the blue X on top, » he says. « Nau’gsh crèmes. »
Ross hands me a note. « It’s from Ellery», he says. « It’s private. »
Now I have a platter in one hand, and a note in another.
« You can grow another set of arms, if it’s helpful, » says Davy.
I stuff the note in my bodice, take a chocolate, and pass the plate back to Quennel. Then there is an impact near my foot, accompanied by a loud, splintering noise.
It is Suibhne, who is on the floor, playing with models of ancient aircraft, the sort with multiple wings and propellers. He throws one into the air, and it comes crashing to the ground, shattering in a dozen pieces.
He looks up at me, a tear rolling down his cheek. « No matter how hard I try, I can’t teach them how to fly, » he says.
« Let me see that, » says Davy. The fallen plane reassembles in his hand. He glances at it, turning it over to see every angle. « It’s too big, » he pronounces.
He opens his hand, and a walnut-sized red triplane flies out. Suibhne claps his hands in delight.
« Did you use fleshiwood? » I ask.
Davy shakes his head. He opens his other hand and a tiny yellow biplane flies out. « There, » he says. « I’ll never make the same mistake I made the first time with that blue angel moth. Now I always make a boy and a girl. »
« Right, » I reply, deciding that the less I say, the better.
« Compost! » says Cillian, jumping off the couch. « Once those things start to mate, they’ll infest everything. » As if to make a point, the red plane swoops cheekily around his head.
« Suibhne, there really isn’t room in here, » says Daniel. « If you want pets, you have to keep them in your flat. We’ve been over this before, with the penguins. »
« Okay, » says Suibhne. « I’ll be back. »
« Wait, Suibhne has penguins in his room? »
« Yeah, » says Davy. « Why not? »
« I couldn’t teach penguins to fly, either, but at least they kind of bounced, » says Suibhne as he leaves.
Then I notice Chase slumped in the corner. I grab him by the hand. « Let’s go to your place. »
« I’ve never been there, » he says. « Where is it? »
« Wait, » says Davy. « The beta test. »
« Later, » I call back to him, pulling Chase into the hall.
If I understand the logic of the Atlas treedominium, Daniel’s apartment is on the second floor, and everyone else’s goes upwards in order of emanation. Since Chase is the 22nd emanation, his flat had to be on the 23rd floor. We get on the hilift.
The door to Chase’s flat opens when I placed my hand on it. « It’s dark, » Chase says.
« There must be a light somewhere, » I reply, fumbling.
« It’s cold, » says Chase. « I don’t like it here. Let’s go back down to Daniel’s room, with the other guys. »
It’s weird that the lights didn’t come on automatically when we entered. I grope at the walls – if the room is a retro design, it is just possible that the lights might be controlled by a switch.
It’s really weird that the lights aren’t on. The only dark place I have ever seen in the pleroma is the tunnel to Ashvattha. Since all of this is a mental construct, there is no reason to lack illumination. It isn’t like it reduces the power bill to turn it off when not in use.
« Enough is enough, Ash, » I demand, « Chase really needs some light. »
The lights go on. It is actually a very nice place, stylish, modern, opulent in an understated way, but the furniture is covered with tarps. I pull one back to reveal an overstuffed couch next to a brass table which holds nothing but a ceramic vase. I can tell from the subtle pattern of the glaze that it is hand-crafted.
« I can’t imagine living somewhere like this, » Chase says.
« Chase, I don’t know whether your addiction is causing your problem or vice versa, but I do know that Black Opium-27 is about the worst drug there is. It warps the neurochemistry, creating addictive tendencies in people with neuro-normative brains, and rendering the kind of genework used to cure other substance addictions useless. The Ennead engineered it to be like that. »
There is a pause.
« I’m not really addicted, » he says.
« You’re in denial. »
« No, really. I’m not human. I can’t get addicted any more than I can be poisoned. If I wanted to, I could just stop. »
« It may not be a human addiction problem. But using is keeping you from fulfilling your potential. »
« I’m okay. »
« I want your life to have meaning to you. »
He scratches his head. « My life does have meaning. It’s n’aashet n’aaverti. You need someone like me. I and I needs someone like me. If that wasn’t true, I would’ve already changed. Like Lorcan. »
« Maybe I’m forcing the situation. But it really seemed to help with Jack. »
« It took twenty years before Jack was ready, though. » Chase cups my chin in his hand so that I look straight into his eyes – Ash’s eyes. « Trust me, » he says. « No, trust I and I. You used to be a Gyre addict. I and I needs to understand that. He has to see what it’s like to be in the gutter so that he can keep you out of it. That’s why Seth gets it, and Tarlach doesn’t. Seth understands temptation. He understands the attraction of gravity. »
Chase pulls the tarp back over the furniture. « You know, this stuff wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t supposed to live here someday, » he says. « Someday I’ll be the kind of man who can live here. But not yet. »
I hug him. The room goes dark.
We hop on the hilift. On the way down, we run into Suibhne. « Come look at my room, » he says.
Honestly, I have my hesitations. Knowing Suibhne, the room is liable to be filled with ping pong balls and volcanos spewing out Lemonzaid gelatin, and a melting watch or two, perhaps.
Before I can answer, we pass the third floor. I can hear Driscoll screaming: « You don’t need me anyway! »
I’d better check this. It sounds like trouble.
The third floor is Sloane’s residence. Just as we arrive at the door, Jamey is on his way out. I’m going to water my plants, he signs. I’ll be back after the fireworks.
The apartment is almost as crowded as Daniel’s flat. Whirljack, Blackjack and Seth are at the bar. Sloane, Beat and Tarlach are hanging out in the living room. The yelling is coming from the bedroom.
« Fine! » yells Lorcan. « Why don’t you go to Patrick? »
Driscoll storms out of the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. He looks at me, sniffles a little, and exits.
« A fine performance for your behalf, » mutters Lorcan from the bedroom doorway.
« This happens every few days, » says Tarlach. « Usually he goes down to his apartment and paints. Sometimes he goes to Daniel’s and looks wistfully at Patrick. »
« The only one it upsets is Jamey, » says Seth. « Jamey hates loud noises. »
« Hey, Tara, » says Beat, « are there any plans to continue with cross-fertilization? »
« In the future, perhaps. I have the feeling that this upcoming war is going to screw everything up. I wish we could avoid it. »
« Oh, » he says, looking downcast. « I’d just really like to continue my relationship with Harsh. I’ve been worried about him. Lately, he just stays on the island. »
« First Ellery, and now Harsh. This is getting ridiculous. I’ve been meaning to talk to him since your note. I’ll stop by his place. »
« Cross-pollination has so many advantages, » says Tarlach. « The problem is that it’s a time-consuming and elaborate process. I wish we could automate it somehow. »
« The grove needs bees. Bees equipped with holepunchers. »
« Or airplanes tiny enough to use trans-galactic teleportation, » says Suibhne. « Like the fokkerflies. »
« What? »
« What? » says Tarlach.
« What? » says Beat.
« The fokkerflies will pick up your pollen as long as you entice them with a little droplet of German heavy benzin that has a specific gravity of 0.748 and 67.5 composite octane, » Suibhne replies. « Of course, it stinks like hell, so I sealed mine hermetically in a little bead of wax. »
« How do you get them to deliver pollen to the right flower? » asks Tarlach.
« A packet of castor oil at the receiving end, » says Suibhne. « Rotary engines tend to burn off lubricant, so they always need a fresh supply. »
« I want to try it, » says Seth. « Where do I sign up? »
« We need a policy, » muses Tarlach. « Let’s have everyone fill out a request form to the CCPR explaining which branch they want to cross-pollinate and why. »
« You do that, » I tell him. « I think I’d better talk to Harsh. »
« Then will you come see my apartment? » Suibhne pleads.
Of course, that means getting through the tunnel on my own. When the elevator gets to the underground lobby, I remember Rand’s directions: just go straight. I wish that he were here to guide me, but I didn’t see him either at Daniel’s or at Sloane’s.
I open the door to the tunnel. The passage is perfectly well-lit. There is a faint blue-white light emitting from the walls themselves.
« Ash, you are crazy, you know that? » I scream. « And now my sex life depends on the behavior of tiny animate airplanes? You are so fucking weird! »
I start to laugh, laugh so hard that the tears roll from the corners of my eyes. My husband, the incomprehensible alien with godlike powers, has an incomprehensible sense of humor. How very human.
Harsh is waiting for me at the doorway of his chamber. « I’ll be fine, » he says.
Harsh’s room looks completely different from the last time I was there. It reminds me of a bordello. Everything is bathed in red light; there are pillows strewn all over the floor, curtains hang from a central point in the ceiling and drape across the octagonally-shaped room. There’s a thick carpet and heavy velvet wallpaper, all in rich hues of red and orange. It’s comforting and cloying at the same time.
« It’s sweet of Beat to be concerned, » he says, throwing open a heavy brass shutter. Instantly, the room is transformed. The sun shines through the window; the breeze floats through the silk curtains which now seem light and airy. The pillows, the curtains, the wallpaper are all a gentle cream color once the red light is gone; the décor seems vaguely Moroccan. It’s an amazing trick.
« He’s been so very kind to me, » Harsh continues. « I just need to work on self-improvement. Maybe I should go to Tarlach for that PRAT/PIT treatment. »
« You should go to Sloane’s and have a few cocktails. I’ll bet it’s as effective as the treatment. »
He shrugs. « I don’t really like to go to Atlas anymore. It’s not like they ever come here. The only one who used to come here was Quennel, but lately he’s preoccupied with Evan. »
« The island is a bit isolated. You should make an effort. The Ashvattha emanations are getting a reputation of being stand-offish. »
« We are a bit isolated, » Harsh replies sharply. Immediately he looks rueful. « I don’t mean to complain. It’s just that those Atlas emanations go way back, and all the Goliath emanations have brothers on Atlas. It’s difficult for the rest of us, especially considering…»
His voice trails off. He looks miserable. « Go on, » I encourage, placing my hand on his arm.
« It’s not like they can pollinate us, so they’re not really interested. I’ve talked about it with Beat – it’s pretty much the same situation over at Yggdrasil. »
« That’s not true, » I protest. « And besides…»
There is a knock. It is Malachi. For a moment, Harsh brightens, then droops. « You’re here to see Tara, of course, » he says.
« Tara, we need to get going on the beta test, » says Malachi.
« Is that for real? »
« Davy is so bad at explaining things. but his original plan was inefficient anyway. It would’ve been very time-consuming, and also, I have my doubts whether individual sexual encounters with you would uncover any bugs at all. Every emanation would have been on his best behavior. »
« Of course, » I reply, despite the fact that I have no idea what he is talking about.
« The beta test is broken into a number of stress tests, » he continues. « The most efficient thing might be for you to divide us into working groups, like we did for the experiments. But we should use different groups this time, see how differing combinations handle the pressure. »
There is another knock at the door; Harsh steps forward excitedly, then wilts. « It’s for you again, » he says. « It’s Tarlach. »
« Tara, we need to call an emergency meeting of the CCPR Board to review the cross-pollination requests, » he says, handing me a datapad. « It shouldn’t be too difficult. There’s surprisingly little overlap. »
« Emergency? What’s the rush? »
« Axel. Cillian was right – it’s essential that he lose his virginity soon. And that presents an excellent opportunity for cross-pollination. It would be a shame to let it go to waste. »
« Wow, » I mutter, glancing at the requests. « Axel wants to get with Suibhne. That’s so weird I have to see it. »
« Put them in the same working group, » Malachi suggests.
« An excellent idea, » Tarlach enthuses. « As Harsh has attested, the isolation of the outer grove is becoming problematic. There’s nothing like a little cross-pollination icebreaker orgy to facilitate inter-branch bonding. »
« Wait, what? »
« This is exactly what Solomon was talking about, » says Malachi. « As usual, Davy’s creation of the fokkerflies seemed like whimsy, but it’s actually a very logical solution to the isolation problem. Solomon really should be part of the beta-test. Did he put in an application? »
« Someone has to stay outside, » Tarlach replies.
« It shouldn’t be him, » insists Malachi. « He’s new. Put someone outside with known and stable parameters. »
Tarlach sighs. « I’ll go outside, then, » he says. « It’s my professional responsibility. »
« Tarlach, you shouldn’t have to miss out either, » I tell him. « There has to be another solution. »
« A pair of brothers, » suggests Malachi. « They can keep each other company. »
« Whirljack and Blackjack, » I decide, scanning the datapad. « Whirljack doesn’t look too interested in cross-pollination anyway, and Blackjack says that what he really wants is to set up a dual-emanation pollination, like we did with Owen and Lugh. In return for bowing out on the orgy, I’ll make sure that at some point, when it’s safe, I’ll fulfil Blackjack’s request. »
« It’s a wonderful solution, » says Tarlach. « The orgy is on! »
I suddenly realize that I’ve been manipulated, again.
« All right. I’ll make the assignments. But first, I promised Suibhne that I’d look at his flat. It shouldn’t take long. »
Malachi and Tarlach break into laughter.
« Have you seen Suibhne’s place? » asks Tarlach.
« Obviously not. »
« It’s…roomy, » says Malachi. « In fact, why don’t we all just arrange to meet there? »
« What’s the theme for the orgy? » asks Harsh. « I want to make sure that I’m dressed appropriately. »
« The theme? »
They nod expectantly. I am unprepared, and grasp at straws. « Sin, » I decide.
It seemed like a decent enough theme for an orgy. I should’ve known better. I should’ve known how seriously they take anything I say.
Participants:
Davy Gannon, Solomon del Eden’d, Axel del N’stl’d
Materials:
Survey on cross-pollination (included in appendix to this chapter). Ancient Russian palace (imaginary). The complete beta-test consists of nine component elements designed to introduce stresses into the system to determine whether proposed alterations will meet the desired new product specifications.
Procedure:
An emperor penguin wearing a bowtie greets us at the door. I take one step into Suibhne’s apartment and gasp. We are at the foot of an enormous marble staircase in a vestibule frosted with Italianate plaster flourishes. Hanging above my head is a massive chandelier.
Suibhne descends. He is wearing a simple monk’s robe, completely out-of-place in this rococo environment.
« Rather than being a madman who thinks he is a historical figure, I’d thought I’d try being a historical figure who was probably mad, » he says. « I picked Rasputin, cause he’s cool – or at least I thought he was until I found out he didn’t like baths. Anyway, this is the Yusupov Palace on the Moika, the scene of his murder. If you could see it from the outside, it would be a bright yellow. Halfway between Lemonzaid yellow and sunburst yellow. I was originally trying to recreate the murder scene, but then I decided that I liked it here. And I thought that if the Ashvattha guys could have a palace, why not me? It’s only a little palace. »
I’m stunned. « This is all historically accurate? »
« It’s an exact reproduction, » says Suibhne. « Well, maybe 99% accurate. Or something. Except…»
He shuffles his feet.
« There’s ah, no real confirmation that Rasputin kept penguins. But there’s no proof that he didn’t, either. I’m thinking that he probably got them from Siberia or something. From a shaman as a totem animal during a ceremony of initiation. »
« Well, this place is certainly impressive. »
« I’ll bet you thought that I lived someplace weird. Like Davy. There’s a reason Davy didn’t want you to look in his room. It’s weird. »
« Right, » I murmur, wondering exactly what Suibhne would consider weird.
The stair goes up one level, then splits to ascend on either side, curving back to a landing in front of an enclosed area. Behind the arched windows, the emanations have all gathered – everyone but Ellery. I’d forgotten his message. Perhaps it was an excuse for his absence?
Just as I move to retrieve the note from my bosom, Tarlach takes one arm and Malachi takes the other, and they lead me into the party.
When we enter, Lugh is asking Suibhne about the palace. « Seriously, » says Lugh, « this was some kind of museum or space for governmental functions, right? People didn’t really live here. »
« They did, » Suibhne insists, « until the peasants revolted. The people who were living here escaped, but most of the other aristos were exiled to Siberia and eventually shot. Actually, the Yusupovs owned 57 palaces. This was a small one. »
I have four palaces, plus small homesteads on Eden and Shambhala. I’ve always thought I had two more palaces than I needed. I use the little apartment at Nightside more than my mother’s estate at Kyrae. Now I don’t know whether to feel inferior or appalled.
Seth bows, handing me an elaborate-looking parchment. I am rather nonplussed; I’ve learned that when Seth produces a parchment, complications are sure to ensue.
« It is a divine foundation for this evening’s revels, » he says.
At the top of the parchment is the title Vices of Victory: An Official Archonist Dogma.
« Um, » I reply.
« I developed this in collaboration with Suibhne, » Seth continues.
« That doesn’t exactly increase my confidence. »
« Suibhne was telling me about Rasputin’s brilliant insight: in order to be saved, you have to sin first. »
« A convenient doctrine, » I muse.
« Having deeply researched the conception of evil, I was very familiar with the conception of sin. When contemplating Rasputin’s maxim, I found it difficult to believe that all the traditional sins could possibly provoke any sort of salvation. Envy, for example, is useless – it causes the sinner nothing but suffering. I realized that we required a list of officially approved Archonist sins leading to enlightenment. Then assignments were made to the working groups based on the list. »
| Vice of Victory | Working Group Members |
|---|---|
| Hedonism | Evan, Quennel, Daniel, Malachi |
| Cleanliness | Valentin, Mickey, Lucius, Lens, Ailann |
| Indiscretion | Wynne, Chase, Balin, Hurley, Driscoll, Ace |
| Vanity | Barnabas, Ethan, Owen, Lugh, Constantine, Ross, Tarlach |
| Equivocation | Davy, Manasseh, Axel, Suibhne |
| Intoxication | Tommy, Ari, Rand, Patrick |
| Gluttony | Beat, Lorcan, Seth, Sloane, Jamey |
| Tyranny | Cillian, Thomas, Harsh, Cüinn, Marius, Callum |
| Pride | Dermot, Till, Solomon, Aran |
« Why isn’t lust on the list? » I ask.
The emanations look at me blankly.
« I did come across a historical reference to lust being considered a sin, » says Seth. « It was so patently absurd that I was sure the data had been corrupted. »
« Also, I don’t quite understand how cleanliness is a vice. »
The emanations look at me blankly.
Growth comes from dirt, Jamey signs.
« And just think how many wars were caused, how many people died because some asshole had a bug up his butt about purity, » adds Cillian. « Racial purity, religious purity, sexual purity, all the same I’m-holier-than-you impulse. Name one evil dictator who lived in a messy household. They’d have the servants beaten for using the wrong floor polish. »
« But it’s an excellent choice for my list, » says Seth, « given the redemptive power of long hot baths. »
« With bubbles, » adds Lucius.
« That’s one thing I could never understand about Rasputin, » says Suibhne. « He didn’t bathe often. I really like baths – and so do the penguins. »
« Do we have to stay in this room? » asks Valentin. « It’s a little crowded. »
« Are you kidding? » asks Daniel. « Compared to my flat, it’s expansive. »
« Just stay inside of Suibhne’s palace, » I tell them. « Otherwise, I’ll never find you. »
Suddenly, everyone is in motion. Emanations run down the staircase or disappear behind a number of double-doors located at the sides and back of the room.
And then I am alone. At an orgy. My harem had deserted me.
How does that even happen?
My eyes fall on a statue of an angel positioned on a black lacquered cabinet. Before my eyes, the wings turn into moth wings, and she grows a pair of antennae.
Of course, I’m not alone. I am inside of the mind of the alien creature I call my husband. In the outside world, the eyes of the emanation never stopped watching me. But here, there is no need. « I get it, Ash. Everything in here, from Suibhne’s enormous chandelier to the lab equipment in Cüinn’s apartment are as much a part of you as Cüinn or Suibhne. »
« Not quite, » says Malachi, coming up behind me.
« You startled me. »
« The pleroma is a projection of the grove mind, and this palace is a projection of Suibhne’s mind. It’s similar to the way in which your dreams are a projection of your mind. The objects you encounter here are symbolic, patterns of I and I’s thoughts. »
« So why is Ash thinking about this? »
« If I had to guess, I would say it’s because this era of Russian history, and the Rasputin incident in particular, are an interesting study in just how much decadence and eccentricity people are willing to tolerate in their rulers. Like the Romanovs, you rely upon the support of an outsider, a miracle-worker. But unlike the Romanovs, you’ve managed the economy quite well, and unlike Rasputin, the Mover, in the persons of various emanations, has done much to garner the support of the aristocracy. You see, much of our historical assimilation is done by Suibhne. »
« Suibhne’s mad, » I point out.
« His obsessive traits and arationality make him very suitable for the task. Anyway, I was sent to invite you to our scene. We’re right next door. »