As Related by Briscoe Berkley, Minister at Large
« I took the milk to the FroYo Emporium, » says Quennel. « They have active yogurt cultures. »
« And Cillian is almost thawed, » says Barnabas. « As soon as he’s functional, we’ll be leaving. »
« I’m staying with the expedition, » says Stephen. « A little more adventure wouldn’t come amiss, and you guys might be able to use the extra help. »
I don’t have to be hooked in to read between the lines. What Stephen has said is I’m staying the hell out of the way of Ethan and Barnabas and Davy and Manasseh. Stephen is basically a good guy.
Why did he dump me?
It’s probably not me. It’s probably that the gulf between us now is too wide to cross. He could at least say something about it, couldn’t he?
I can’t stand it. I can’t stand being alone. I keep thinking about what it’s like in the nul-chamber, and I don’t even have Ailann to share that with now.
« I’m staying too, » says Quennel. « Evan is fine. He’s really involved with his music right now, and as long as we can…»
His voice trails off, not saying…as long as we can share everything anyway, and he isn’t shagging another emanation on the side, we’re okay. But it’s still surprising. Quennel isn’t the adventuring type.
Quennel shakes Ethan’s hand. « Thanks for everything, » he says.
« It’s not like we’re never going to see each other again, » says Ethan, laughing. But their eyes meet, and there’s something that wasn’t there before – respect. Because they milked a fucking kau together. This is like a nightmare exercise in team building.
« This shouldn’t be too bad, » says Rand. « We do the harvest, the gyros, and I finish the seven metals. So let’s keep moving along the train route until we’ve got the gyro ingredients. We can keep the rambat meat in the freezer until we get back. »
Rand is optimistic, but both Rand and I have dealt with crisis situations where Tara was in danger and our very civilization was at risk. This is nothing, a minor inconvenience. Even being cut off from the grove is minor, not like being in a nul-chamber. Not like Rand emanating with no memories into an imminent crisis.
It’s nothing. Why do I feel so miserable?
Cillian emerges from the cryodome, cracking his knuckles. « Fuck it all, I feel stiff, » he says.
Barnabas claps him on the back. « Man, it’s good to see you, » he says. « We were really worried. »
« It’d take more than a bullet to kill me, » says Cillian. « Not when I’ve got Tara to protect, and Ailann. I coulda gone back to Mt. Ouroboros right away, and then I could’ve told Thomas I was okay, but then I would’ve been sidelined for the whole fight. I figured that I’d hitch a ride with Ailann, but that compost-snorter didn’t even realize that I was there. »
« Well, we missed you, » says Ethan, giving him a brief hug.
The rest of us are in awe of him. He’s so much older, stronger, more experienced than we are.
As they’re getting on the train back to New Merenis, Cillian comes up from behind and throws his arm around my shoulder. « An operation never goes as smooth as it should, » he says. « You know that, right? »
I know it’s just the air moved by the speeding train, but it feels like a vacuum left by the loss of Cillian’s enormous presence, and I hug myself against the chill.
*****
Our train arrives soon after. We’re grateful to see that there’s a transit line map on the wall above the door. The next stop is in the State of Shock, a place called Oakley City.
« Wait a minute, » says Quennel.
« There’s a city named after you, » says Stephen. « How about that? »
« I thought that there should be cities named after us, » says Quennel. « I thought that. Apparently, the pleroma responded. That city wasn’t there when Ailann took his team up to Ophion. »
« Like it responded to Davy with Squirrelworld, » says Stephen. « We are, to a certain extent, creating this place. Oh, and there’s something else. Tarlach wants us to map as much of the pleroma as possible to make it easier on new emanations who’ll have to complete their own achievements. »
« Then we shouldn’t go into the State of Being towards Ophionia in the State of Amazement, » says Quennel. « We should go further east and explore the coastal regions. »
I close my eyes. There’s a gentle feeling of constant movement through air. Blue grasses below us. Tara’s hands. Wanting to touch. Stephen. If I only had a car. Something about the horizon.
I jolt awake. Maybe I was dreaming? I can’t get used to having to sleep.
Next to me, Rand is snoring. Vassali is staring out the window, looking tired. He’s had problems with insomnia before. Quennel is looking nowhere in particular, his eyes glazed, a little grin on his face, and I know he’s talking to someone, probably Evan. Stephen just stares at the floor.
« Ah hell, » he says, standing. « I’m supposed to be the bold one. » He sits on the other side of me.
He takes off his leather cap, runs his hand through his hair. « I just can’t do this now, » he says. « When we…when I…I don’t mean to be insulting…didn’t you feel alone? It was…and then when I could feel everyone again, I just needed to touch someone, and so did Barnabas, and that probably wasn’t the wisest thing because Ethan. »
« It’s okay, » I tell him, even though it isn’t. « It was only sex. It’s not like you’re obligated to me or anything. »
« But I like you, » he says. « I do. Man, I’ve really fucked this up. I’ve fucked everything up. I didn’t mean to tread on Davy’s roots. »
A flicker of concern crosses Quennel’s face even though he’s pretending to ignore us. He’s pretending to ignore us, but Stephen knows damn well he isn’t ignoring us, and it’s all for the benefit of me and perhaps Vassali. In all of the grove, only what – eight of us left out? Fuck, I’m bitter.
« It’s more like Davy treading on your roots, if I’ve got the story straight. »
« But I don’t have to own Manasseh! That’s stupid. I haven’t been a branch for long, and still I know it’s stupid. »
« We keep having the same conversation over and over, » says Quennel, no longer pretending not to listen. « It’s because we’re human, too, and humans learn through repetition. »
« That’s inefficient, » says Stephen.
« In a way, but it also keeps them from accidentally programming something unwanted, » says Quennel. « Only trauma leaves an immediate impression, and that can even be overcome by repeated deconditioning. »
« So what would stop our stupid jealousy? » asks Stephen.
Stephen and Quennel break out into hysterical laughter and the same time. I know that they’ve heard something, and it burns to be left out.
« It’s Tarlach, » Quennel explains. « He says that the best treatment would be a kind of exposure therapy where the two jealous partners have a positive sexual experience with a third, then one of the partners is allowed to watch a sexual encounter between the other and the third, and so on. He said this should be repeated as often as possible, in as many combinations as possible, and that he’s going to enlist Tara’s help to implement it. »
« That is so obviously a scheme to cruise for pollen partners, » I mutter.
« Maybe when Sloane gets home, if Evan still wants to hang out with those guys, we should get involved with the PPP scene, » Quennel muses.
I close my eyes, pretending to sleep. And I can, because they can’t feel that I’m not. Privacy solves so many problems, but it creates so many more.
What I’m really thinking about is what those orgies at Sloane’s must be like. To think that at one time, I just could’ve reached into someone’s branch and known for sure. Fuck, it’s probably up on Tommy’s media push channel.
It must be nice to be part of a group like that, even without the debauched sex aspect. And then it occurs to me that no matter how badly I’m taking it, it must be so much worse for Constantine, who is also one of the unlucky eight.
And then I must have been sleeping because Vassali is shaking me gently by the shoulder. We’re in Oakley City.
« I don’t know about finding a harvest here, » says Stephen.
It’s a metropolis made of fabric, impossible swirls of silk and tulle and chiffon. It defies common sense and gravity, and it seems improbable that the whole thing doesn’t come tumbling down in a heap, or won’t be shredded by the next strong wind.
Quennel shrugs. « It’s easy enough to scaffold something like that, » he says. « The real difficulty in fashion design is to make something this elaborate able to move naturally on a humanoid form. Structures like these are permanently on the rack. »
As we dismount onto the train platform, Stephen consults the schedule for the next departure. « There’s an eastbound line later today, » he says.
I look more closely at the schedule. It’s made of seed beads. « The detailing is incredible, » says Quennel.
The detailing is incredible. The turnstiles are made of stamped leather. The station itself is a sleek black velvet that wouldn’t be out of place on an evening gown. The ceiling is speckled with tiny diamonelles.
« This came out of your mind, » I say to Quennel, awestruck.
« But where did my mind come from? » he replies. « Surely not that impulse towards discrimination from which arose my consciousness. »
« Dermot says that the impulse to dream came from the trees, » Stephen replies, « and the substance of the dream came from Tara. Tara wanted a man who would be able to imagine this. »
If Tara wanted this from Quennel, what did she want from me? I told her once that I only appeared to be ordinary. Was that an idle statement? Here I was, a knight on a quest…to make a sandwich?
I am so lacking in imagination. All I wanted was her hands. To be touched by her. To touch in return. I came out of the nightmare, the darkness that fell when Ailann was cut off from the collective. The emanation wasn’t a random choice. It never is.
At the far end of the station, I see Vassali, alone again. He still hasn’t synchronized. But the template is here, standing on the platform with him. The template is Stephen. Vassali needs to spin at 81.5 times Stephen’s frequency.
« Vassali! » I cry. He’s startled. I run down the platform and grab him by the hand. The others watch in surprised silence. They have no idea what either of us is feeling, and it’s disconcerting to them.
Vassali follows as I lead him back down the platform. I’m running as fast as I can, but he’s loping at a lazy gait. It seems like he is either incapable of effort, or that everything will, of its own course, be effortless for him.
Everything but this?
But it seems to me like he’s trying. He’s trying very hard. And that’s inimical to his nature.
« Stop trying to synchronize! » I scream at him. « Kiss Stephen instead! »
Stephen is just as surprised at this odd commandment as Vassali. But I’m waving my arms, wild-eyed, and Vassali gives a shrug as if to say, Why not?
Stephen hesitates, and I finally understand that what he’s most afraid of is another kiss that he is incapable of sharing. I did this to him. But then again, he crossed that bridge, and I’m the one left shouting on the other side.
I want them to touch. I want to touch and be touched. Stephen meets my eyes, and then he takes Vassali into his arms. He has to, because I’m speaking from the deepest truth of my nature, and that’s impossible to resist. Just as bolts of fabric will weave an entire civilization if Quennel commands it, I will weave this.
“Briscoe Berkley, Minister at Large. 50th to emanate, 83 in the color scale, resonates to 431. 1.723 meters tall, cock size 16.51 cm when erect, apparent age 25. Troubleshooter. Totem is Betula papyrifera, the paper birch, fixed star is Vega, falling, also called Whetu o Te Tau, the year star, Dayan-same, judge of heaven, Tir-anna, life of heaven, Dilgan, messenger of light, or or Zhi Nü, weaving girl. Esoteric symbol is the Minchiate trump La Terra, the Earth. Dessert is nau’gsh cider beignets with birch syrup. Function is exegetic initiation, proto-conscious tendency is connection, designated Birch. Blazon is lozengy argent and birch, a birch tree sable.”
« That’s just weird, » says Wynne. « Briscoe got #97, “Build a bridge over a raging river.” Is it a mistake? »
« I think it’s allegorical, » says Stephen.
Vassali is leaning lazily against the velvet wall with eyes half-closed. Even the wind seems too weary to blow through his hair. « Is that all there was to it? » he sighs.
Stephen and I think the same thought at the same time: he’s hot.
« Didn’t Tarlach say something about threesomes? » asks Stephen, rather rhetorically.
Further Curious Tales of the Chevalier’s Arbor: Meat, or Boys Will Be Boys