"Perhaps that is best. She knows that I have been in touch with you, but does not know your identity or that you have died, and I will not tell her if you prefer."
"Do not tell her," Orlene agreed. "I have sown enough pain already! But do tell me—if you are the companion of the Incarnation of Nature, how is it that you had occasion to interact with others, such as my mother or myself?"
"I am bound to Gaea by my drop of blood, the sole remaining vestige of my mortal body. But she is busy with many things which are hardly my concern, and gives me leave to go where I wish and do what I wish. I always return to her when she needs me, but most of the time I am on my own, and so I meet many folk, living and dead. At the moment I am engaged in a project to locate suitable candidates to become Incarnations, and this is a most challenging enterprise."
"Incarnations! They are looking for replacements?"
"Not precisely. They merely want to have a pool of excellent candidates to draw from when the need arises. The candidates in the pool are not notified, they are merely observed, and then when the occasion should come, one of them may be tapped. It is better than allowing it to continue at random. I was observing a man in France, not far from my mortal residence, when I felt your dying. The observation is long-term and can wait, while your death was immediate, so I came right away."
"I would not want to keep you from your job! Once I am reunited with my baby, I have little care for what happens to me. I would rather be in Hell with him than in Heaven without him." She was evidently sincere.
"I will help you find him; my time is not pressed." Jolie looked at the ghost. "But, if I may, let me get you into better shape."
"Shape?"
"You look exactly as you were when you died. This is not kind". It might be better to restore you to your aspect of health."
"I can have no joy until I find my son, Gaw."
"Who?"
Orlene smiled. "He was named after his legal ghost father, Gawain. Gaw for short, or Gaw-Two."
"Gaw," Jolie agreed, understanding. "Come, here is a mirror." She stood, beckoning Orlene to a full-length mirror set in the living wall. It was formed of level water, tilted vertically; Gaea preferred natural things, with some leavening of magic.
The woman looked, and was appalled. "I look awful!"
"Your grief caused you to waste away. You might have died in due course even if you hadn't taken poison. But as a ghost you may assume any appearance, and it would be pointless to remain gaunt."
"But I have sinned by killing myself, and should pay the penalty."
"By the existing standard, yes, you have sinned. But your appearance can neither aggravate nor atone for that. If you are to recover your baby, it may be best to assume an appearance that does not advertise your grief. We may have to query many folk."
Orlene, gazing at herself, seemed inclined to agree.
Like most lovely women, she was conscious of appearances. "How can I—?"
"As you become experienced in your present condition, you will gain proficiency in form changing. But for now, why don't you just lie down and rest or sleep, while I investigate the location of your baby? Think of the form you wish to assume, and your body will gradually approach it."
"But I must search Gaw out myself!" Orlene protested. "And so you shall! But there are queries I can make most readily by myself, such as with the Purgatory Computer, which is in a public region. Let me do this while you rest; I promise that you will be the first to know anything I learn."
Orlene wavered. "Can the dead sleep?" Jolie laughed. "The dead can do what they choose! I slept for centuries when my husband associated with Hell. I did not truly come awake until Gaea took me. I had much to catch up on then! Part of it I learned while being your friend, in your dreams, for you were a girl of the modern world."
"My friend," Orlene echoed. "Those dreams—I forgot them by day, but they were wonderful by night! We did so much together!"
"So much," Jolie agreed. "It was almost like being alive again."
"And now I am dead," Orlene said sadly. "Already I regret my foolishness. I wish I had had your advice, before I..."
"I wish I had been watching!" Jolie said. "It is my fault as much as yours." Indeed, she felt the guilt! To allow this woman, of all those alive, to die so pointlessly—Jolie felt she had been criminally neglectful. She dreaded the revelation she would at some time have to make.
"I think I will lie down," Orlene said. "So much has happened! I never expected the Afterlife to be like this. It will take time to adjust."
Jolie led her to a guest chamber in the residence. There was a bed of roses, literally, fragrant and soft. "Rest, here, and I will return shortly," she said. "Remember, you are absolutely safe here; no one, mortal or immortal, will intrude. Only Gaea and I can enter without challenge—or those we bring."
Orlene lay in the bed. The bright petals rose up around her like the decoration on a fluffy quilt. She closed her eyes and in a moment was asleep.
Already she was looking better. The deep lines on her face were easing, and her gaunt body seemed to be filling out. She had been beautiful, very like her mother, and soon would be again.
Satisfied, Jolie faded out of the scene.
She went first to Gaea. This was easy to do; she merely relaxed, and her home drop of blood hauled her in elastically. In an instant she was there.
It was a biological laboratory. Gaea had assumed the form of a gallon of air, making her effectively invisible. Jolie didn't have to bother; as a ghost she was naturally invisible, unless she made an effort to manifest optically or sonically. Only another ghost or an Incarnation could perceive her now.
"Business settled?" Gaea inquired, spying Jolie.
"Only begun, it seems," Jolie replied. "My friend died because she lost her baby, and she wishes to find him. I told her I would help."
"By all means. You mean to check the Computer?"
"Yes, by your leave."
"Granted. As it happens, I have a spot of research myself. Perhaps you could check that at the same time."
Gaea was always polite about her requests. The truth was that she had complete power over Jolie, who was now one of her staff members, but she never abused it. Quite the opposite! It was possible that she did have research to do—but as likely that this was merely a way of legitimizing Jolie's mission. "Certainly. What do you need?"
"This is a genetic laboratory. The gene splicing is routine, but the project isn't. They have, they think, perfected a variety of fruit fly that will consume residual oil pollution, and they are breeding it in sufficient number to colonize the Gulf coastline where the spill of 'ninety-five still festers. My concern is that a random mutation could direct those flies elsewhere. Here is the key aspect of the pattern; have the Computer run a check for possible mutations within my specified tolerance." She held out a ghostly pebble.
Jolie took the pebble, knowing that the pattern was imbued; the Purgatory Computer would know what to do with it. "I shall be back shortly, Gaea."
"And perhaps, thereafter, we shall make a visit," Gaea murmured. "If you feel inclined."
"Always." They never spoke directly of this particular matter; it was an understanding of long duration.
The Purgatory Computer had not been changed in twenty years. At this point, the equipment of the mortals was far more sophisticated. But the Purgatory Computer had magic and personality, and it did the job, so there was no push to replace it. Jolie had come to know it well, in the course of her errands for Gaea; they got along just fine.
A GREETING, BRIDE OF SATAN, the screen printed as she entered its main chamber.
"And half a greeting to you, obsolescent machine," she responded cheerily. "Got a pain in your nuts and bolts?"
NOT UNTIL THIS MOMENT, GHOST GIRL.
"Watch yourself, or I'll kick you in your data base."
YOU CAN'T. IT WOULD BE ANACHRONISTIC FOR A THIRTEENTH-CENTURY PEASANT TO KNOW THAT TERM.
"I learn quickly, you overachievi
ng word processor."
ENOUGH OF THIS FOOLISH BANTER, EVIL EMISSARY. WHAT IS YOUR WILL?
"Two items, you arrogant device. Run this sample through your files and see what it matches." She fed the pebble into a little hopper.
The computer blinked. THERE IS A 15% PROBABILITY THAT THIS WILL MUTATE INTO A FUEL-EATING SPECIES WITHIN FIFTY YEARS. THE GREEN MOTHER WILL NOT LIKE THAT.
"She certainly won't! How much damage would occur if that happens?"
DEPENDS ON THE FUEL. BY THAT TIME THERE MAY NOT BE A LOT OF CRUDE OIL LEFT, BUT IF THE FLY GOES FOR SYNTHETIC OIL, THERE COULD BE A MAJOR DISRUPTION. IT CAN BE EXTREMELY DIFFICULT TO REVERSE SUCH A COURSE, ONCE ESTABLISHED.
"In other words, the mortals are playing roulette again?"
AGREED, SORCERESS.
Jolie sighed. The mortal realm could be a real pain in the buttock on occasion. But that was Gaea's problem; she might elect to force a prior problem that would wipe out the fly before it could mutate. The mortals would curse their misfortune, not understanding that they were being protected from worse.
"Second item: the present location of the infant Gawain Junior, otherwise known as Gaw-Two, who died ten mortal days ago."
NOX.
"What?"
THAT INFANT WAS TAKEN BY NOX, THE INCARNATION OF NIGHT.
"Oh, my!" Jolie breathed. She had not anticipated that. Usually babies were left to the Purgatory Playpen, because it took some time for them to achieve independent function. In the Playpen they could mature slowly; elsewhere they did not. "What does Nox want with a baby?"
NOX DID NOT VOUCHSAFE THAT INFORMATION TO THIS MACHINE.
Of course not! Nox allowed few to know her business. She knew all of the secrets of the world, and kept most of them. "Have you any conjecture?"
CONJECTURE: THAT BABY IS THE GRANDCHILD OF A PERSON SATAN LOVES, THEREFORE OF PROBABLE INTEREST TO HIM. NOX MAY HAVE SECURED THE BABY AS A LEVER.
"But Nox needs no lever! She can have her will of Satan—or any male Incarnation—anytime she chooses. I know, for I love Satan."
ADMITTED. IT IS AN INSECURE CONJECTURE. THE MOTIVE OF NOX IS UNFATHOMABLE TO A MERE MACHINE.
"Or a mere ghost," Jolie said. "How may Nox be approached?"
THROUGH THE REALM OF DREAMS—IF IT IS FEASIBLE AT ALL.
That was what she had feared. This simple quest had abruptly become a complicated one! Orlene was going to have real trouble recovering her baby—unless the Incarnation of Night chose to give him up.
She returned to Gaea, who was now back at the Treehouse. "Oops, I forgot to tell you about—"
"I saw her," Gaea said. "Your new ghost? I did not pry."
"My new ghost," Jolie agreed. "She suicided over bereavement for her lost baby. I have known her for years, and want to help her, so I asked her to sleep and resume a more healthy form, knowing that she was completely protected here."
"There is something you are not telling me," Gaea said.
"Yes. If I may, I prefer to handle this myself, though it may be complicated."
"Can it wait a few more hours?"
"Yes. It is better that she sleep until her recovery is complete. And—" Jolie hesitated.
"And there is more you need to ascertain before she wakes," Gaea said.
"Yes. In fact, I think my husband..." She did not finish, as was their convention. Jolie's husband was the current Incarnation of Evil, and all the other active Incarnations opposed him. Her marriage had been dissolved when she died, and he had later remarried, so she had no legal claim, but they chose to maintain an honorary designation. The truth was that there were private understandings—and Gaea was Satan's current spouse. This was a technicality, and the marriage had never been formally consummated, but the two were indeed in love, and had been for the better part of twenty years.
Thus Jolie was free to go to Satan, but because she was not evil, she was unable to manifest in his presence or in Hell. Gaea, with the powers of an Incarnation, could go to him, but did not because it would seem to be a conflict of interests. Both loved him, and he loved both, but they were unable separately to fulfill their desires. This was the origin of the unspoken compromise.
"When it is done, ask him, and I will tune out," Gaea said.
"Thank you. Orb," Jolie said gratefully. She used Gaea's private mortal name only when especially moved. What she could not say was that by her generosity and understanding, Gaea was also sparing herself pain, for Orlene was her natural daughter. She had been conceived before Orb became the Incarnation, and as an Incarnation she had deliberately neglected to keep track of her child, so that she would not be unduly influenced by purely personal considerations. She had not asked Jolie to do so, but Satan had, and that was what had brought Jolie to the child. Jolie had developed many other associations, as well as her program of observations of candidates for future Offices, so it was by no means obvious that it was Orb's daughter who had died. If Gaea had any suspicion, as she might when seeing the sleeping woman so like herself in outline, she kept it to herself. Jolie would tell her when the time was right.
But if Gaea had reservations about knowing the identity of her daughter, Satan had none. Orlene was the child of the woman Satan loved, and therefore he had an interest. If advice or action was needed, Satan would not hesitate to provide it. That was an advantage to being unbound by ethical considerations.
"I have appointments four hours hence," Gaea said. "I will see that you return in time," Jolie agreed. Then Jolie moved to Gaea and into her, superimposing her ghostly essence on Gaea's solid one and animating Gaea's body. She could do this only with the permission of the living person and only with the active cooperation of an Incarnation. She had it. Gaea became a resident soul, and Jolie became alive in her stead.
She walked to the mirror. Her features shifted slightly, so that her semblance became her own instead of that of the host. Her clothing also changed, becoming that of her ancient mortal state: a long peasant skirt and rough blouse, unattractive in themselves, but becoming lovely because of the excellent proportions of her body. Jolie lived again, seventeen years old.
She drew on one of Gaea's powers of travel: she reached up, grasped the invisible corner of a page of reality, and turned it. Suddenly she was in the following page, which was Hell itself. The body of the host was proof against it: there was nowhere in the cosmos where Gaea could not go if she chose.
She stood before a massive desk, and a somber male figure sat at that desk. "Hello, Ozymandias," she said.
"Hello, Jolie," the ancient king replied. "Go to the bower; He will be with you in a moment."
She nodded. They knew her in Hell, and knew her business; no one here would bother her, and not just because they were aware of whose body she animated. She was Satan's lover, under his protection; woe betide the demon who molested her! She was also the only good soul they were likely to see here, and as such she was a considerable curiosity.
Jolie had deeply regretted dying young, and had in a fashion died again when Parry (as she had known him in life) was seduced by the demoness Lilah, for Jolie had been rendered unconscious by the presence of evil. But now, protected by Gaea, she was able to enter this dread realm freely, and she saw that it really was not evil in the way she had imagined. Hell was a place of punishment for evil, which was a different matter. The end purpose of Satan's work was the clarification and purification of imperfect souls, making them fit for Heaven, and in that fundamental sense it was not evil. Thus it was that her former husband, certainly a good man, was able to serve as the Incarnation of Evil, and she was able to love him still.
She walked to the bower. She could have conjured herself there, but she preferred to take her time and see the sights. There were no tortures in this region of Hell, perhaps by design; it was very like a giant hall, with curtains in the likeness of towering flames, and executive demons hurrying to and from the central command post. Ozymandias had been installed by Satan decades or centuries before—she had never inquired about the de
tails—and had fashioned it to resemble an infernal palace. It was actually rather grand.
The bower was a modern apartment, replete with conveniences. Once the door closed, it was impossible for an occupant to distinguish this retreat from one in the mortal realm. Both Jolie and Orb preferred it this way. She entered and sat on the plush bed.
Why was it, she asked herself, that to a man a liaison was always sexual? She would have been glad to come and chat with him about old times and new, requiring nothing more than time in his presence and maybe a kiss or two. But she knew from experience and observation that this was not the way of a man. He would not be good for much dialogue until he had completed intimacy. Well, thanks in part to the power of the Incarnation and in part to experience and in part to the sheer abandon of love, she was able to accommodate him readily enough. Her imperatives might differ from his, but she did enjoy these visits.
He appeared. He seemed to be about twenty-five years old and more handsome than she had known him in life. This was because he had chosen that age when he assumed the Office; he had been only eighteen when she died. He had developed confidence and aplomb in the ensuing centuries, and garnered a great deal of experience. She hated to admit it, but the demoness Lilah had been good for him, fashioning him into a very fine figure of a man in both appearance and action.
"Ah, Jolie!" he said, and the manner of the utterance sent a thrill through her, as it always did. He sat beside her, and put his arm around her, and drew her in for a kiss, and her heart went out to him, as it always did.
The man has magic. Orb thought, sharing the feeling. Their pretense remained, outwardly, but the inner truth was that both of them loved this man, and both thrilled to his touch. They forgot their disinterest in the purely sexual aspect, and soon were taken by the joy of the experience, thrilling to his penetration and culmination with much the same verve he expressed. There was indeed joy in sex, when it was right.
"I have only one regret now," he said as they lay cooling. "We can never have children."
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