Peony Willis swept into the garden, greeted Merripen, and motioned with one hand. A kobold with golden hair carried a glass of wine to him, then withdrew.
Merripen sipped his wine while Peony seated herself. Two young men appeared, dressed only in orange loincloths. They leaped over the grass, performing backflips and handsprings while Merripen tried not to look bored. One of the men danced near him and smiled, but Merripen ignored him. The pair had been bred by Peony for gymnastics and dance and flirting; Merripen, in his sexual encounters, still preferred at least the illusion of free will.
Peony waved the young men away; they bowed and left. She adjusted her orange robe and frowned at Merripen, who was wearing a red shirt. She lifted her chin and lowered her eyelids, making slender crescents of her black eyes.
“I spoke to Leif Arnesson,” she said. “You asked him to go outside for you, and he went, and he found nothing, and the people he saw turned on him and chased him back here. Are you satisfied?”
He did not answer.
“You won’t find your children, Merripen. That’s what you call them, isn’t it?”
“But I spoke to Teno. I was told that they were coming back here, that they …” He paused.
“And how long ago was that? Before the wall was built. Even the cyberminds can’t find them, because they speak only to the minds of other Citadels.”
“I have to find them.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know if I can explain it to you. We talk about the Transition as if it’s something that happened in the past. But it isn’t over, Peony. It’s still going on. I’m convinced that my children are planning something important.”
“And maybe they’re not,” she said. “And what will you do then?”
“I must find them.”
“You’re becoming obsessed. You can’t go out there.”
“I can’t go out there,” he said slowly, “because of what we’ve done.”
“Is that what you think?” She gripped the arms of her chair. “What would you have had us do? It’s the hostility of others that keeps us here. Life must find its niche. Would you have had us destroy the creatures we made? Don’t they have a right to live?”
“We went too far.” He twirled his empty glass, not knowing what to do with it. The kobold reappeared at his side and took the glass away. “We didn’t think, we didn’t consider.” The scent of the orange flowers was too sweet, the trilling of the tiny birds was becoming odious. In his mind, he was wrestling with Peony on her tidy lawn, pulling at her long black braids, scattering the birds as he pulled her robe from her body and nuzzled her breasts. He thought of plucking the flowers and dropping them on her smooth olive skin.
Peony lifted one slender arm and extended a finger, as if about to scold him. “Am I listening to Merripen Allen? Are you sure you’re not an imposter? I thought you were the one who started it all. Now you don’t believe in what you’ve done, and you’re looking for some sort of justification. Well, I won’t help you. I won’t have you confusing me or anyone else with your doubts. You’ll have to look for them all by yourself.” She smiled. “And I don’t think you have the courage to do that. You’re safe here, doubts and all. Think about that.”
Leif and Merripen were walking near the north wall. The hills of the Citadel, protected by the shield above them, were still green. Beyond the hills, Merripen could see the glassy pyramid that housed the wombs and the nursery. The nursery garden was empty; briars were growing among the untrimmed shrubs. Near it, the research center, a sprawling rectangle with glittering golden facets, seemed tarnished.
Leif lifted his foot, peering at his healing ankle. “There’s something I should tell you,” the blond man murmured. “I didn’t mention it before because I didn’t want to raise your hopes, and I didn’t tell Peony because—well, you can guess.”
Merripen took his arm. Leif shook his hand away. “I met a woman named Seda in that town, before I had to make my abrupt departure. She said a visitor had come through there a long time ago. She remembered the visitor because he seemed so young, and because he was so unemotional. A cold fish— that’s how she put it. Androgynous appearance. Very reserved.”
Merripen tensed. “It sounded like one of them to me, too,” Leif went on. “She asked where he was going, and he said something about joining friends, then left soon after. She felt that there was something not quite right about him, but obviously he wouldn’t have wanted anyone there to find out if there were.”
Leif stopped and sat down on a stone bench, stretching out his legs. Merripen sat next to him. “When did she see this person?”
“She didn’t know; the memory was vague. Keeping track of time isn’t our strong point. I doubt that she would have remembered him at all if I hadn’t been asking questions which just happened to jog her memory. I worried about whether I should tell you this or not.” Leif s voice sounded sharper. “If I’d mentioned it to Peony, I’m sure she would have told me to keep it from you.”
Merripen was silent.
“Try to understand her. She’s trying to hold it together here, what little is left. Too many people are gone. She doesn’t want you to leave, and if you do, she might not let you come back.”
“She can’t do that.”
“Why not? She’s still the Director. A useless title in some ways, but it does give her certain powers. She could keep you out if she feels it’s in our best interests. You could go to another Citadel, of course, but even they might not welcome you once the word gets around. You have to understand your place. You were the pioneer; you’ve given our Citadel a certain legitimacy. If you start questioning what we’ve done and go wandering off, then anyone might.” Leif sighed. “When I was younger, a lot younger, I stuck my nose into everything. I was a zealot. It took me a long time, but I finally learned patience. Let them fight it out beyond our walls, let the Rescuers hunt souls and the others form their isolated little groups. Some will live, and others won’t, and we can wait it out. I owed you a favor, so I went outside for you. Wait it out, Merripen.”
“You’re not going to help me search, are you.”
Leif shook his head. “Not any more. I discovered something useful out there, namely that I no longer have my old adventurous spirit. I’d rather be safe.”
“And you know I haven’t got the courage to go out there alone. And so does Peony. You might as well not have gone at all.”
Leif stretched out a hand, but Merripen refused to take it. “I didn’t have to tell you anything. I could have lied and told you that they’d left Earth altogether. If you’re that determined, I can give you some advice. I think there’s someone here who might go with you. At least you could ask.”
“Who?”
“Andrew Aguilar.”
Merripen frowned. “I don’t think I know him. You’d think I’d know everyone. We aren’t exactly overpopulated.”
“You must have seen him anyway. He came here about fifty years ago. He’s not a biologist, which is why Peony won’t be concerned with whether he leaves or not.”
“What’s he doing here, then?”
“He followed Terry. She used to say that wherever she was, he’d turn up sooner or later. Don’t you remember?”
An image appeared in Merripen’s mind; a small man, dark brown hair, features with an Asian cast to them. Somehow the memory felt unpleasant. He tried to get a fix on it; he must have seen the man at Terry’s house. He tried to recall when he had last seen her; she was usually distracted by some project in the aviary, a place he never went. “I don’t know,” he said. “I guess he didn’t leave much of an impression.”
“Andy might go with you. He wants to get away for a while—he just needs an excuse. Ask him.”
“I will.”
“But before you do, think about it some more.” Leif got up and looked down at him. “I think if you leave, you’ll never come back.”
Merripen rose. He hadn’t considered that. The world outside seemed formless, th
e society inside the Citadel secure and safe. He wondered if he should give up that safety on a whim, for a discontent he did not really understand. It was not just the Citadel he might lose; he could lose his life. He shuddered. He clung to this life, as everyone did, however valueless it was.
“I’ll come back,” Merripen said.
Terry Lamballe lived in a small cottage near the nursery. Merripen had passed it several times and had been inside infrequently; the dwelling always seemed abandoned, closed up and shuttered. He had thought of calling first, then decided to take a chance and walk over. If Terry were busy, she wouldn’t be there to answer or would ignore his signal, and he did not want to make his proposal to Andrew Aguilar over the holo.
The cottage was, as usual, shuttered. The pine trees next to the house cast shadows over the roof and made the place seem hidden away, a place of secrets. He approached the door, knocked, and waited. He knocked again.
“There’s no one home.”
He turned. A man stood in the shadows under the trees. He came closer to Merripen and stopped at the bottom of the front steps. Merripen recognized him now. Andrew Aguilar was short but muscular; his legs were knotted by muscles. He wore a short-sleeved yellow shirt and shorts.
The unpleasant memory was at last jarred loose. Andrew and another man had fought. Merripen could not remember what the fight had been about, and doubted he had ever known, but it had disrupted Terry’s party and sent her guests home hastily.
“I wasn’t looking for Terry,” Merripen replied. “I was looking for you. You’re Andrew Aguilar, aren’t you?”
Andrew did not answer. Merripen retreated from the door and came down the steps. Andrew backed away a bit, circled, then stood on a flat piece of rock near the path; his brown eyes were now almost level with Merripen’s.
“You are Andrew Aguilar,” Merripen said again. “I believe we met some time ago. I’m Merripen Allen.”
“And you say you’re looking for me?”
Merripen nodded.
“Whatever for?”
Merripen was wary. The smaller man was intimidating; he stood on the rock watching him as though waiting for a confrontation. Merripen’s shoulders ached; he found himself longing for his usual aimless, placid discussions with others. “I need some help on a project I’m planning.”
“A project? Help from me? How novel. I’m not a biologist: I can’t help you.”
“It’s not that sort of project.”
“I’m surprised any of you would ask my help on anything.”
Merripen was irritated. “Why do you say that? You’ve been here long enough to find something to do. You’re free to become a biologist or researcher any time you choose. I’m sure Terry told you that.” He was no longer sure he wanted to travel anywhere with this resentful, hostile man.
Andrew sighed. His shoulders sagged and he smiled faintly. “You’re right, of course. I have been helping Terry train some of her birds, the falcons. They’re hard to train, and she doesn’t have the stomach for it.” Merripen frowned; he hadn’t known that Terry raised falcons. “They always fly away, though. I release them outside the wall when they’re ready. They have to fend for themselves sooner or later.” He paused. “I’ve been thinking of following them myself. So I might not be able to help you.”
“But you can. I’m looking for someone to travel outside the Citadel with me.”
Andrew widened his eyes slightly and raised an eyebrow. “Travel?” he said softly. “When were you last outside this place?”
“I can’t remember.”
“Are you planning to leave for good?”
“No.” Merripen was beginning to fidget. He pulled at his mustache, then put his hands into his pockets, trying to keep them still. “I might as well be honest with you. I’m a little worried about traveling alone, and you’ve been outside more recently than I have. There aren’t many others here I could ask.”
“I see. You need a bodyguard of sorts. Why not take one or two giants? You’d be protected that way.”
“You must know why. There are too many places where a man traveling with their kind wouldn’t be welcome. I need to find some information. I don’t know my destination yet. If you don’t want to go, that’s fine. Just tell me, and I won’t bother you again.”
Andrew waved a hand. “I haven’t said I wouldn’t go.” He walked over to the steps and sat down, motioning to Merripen to join him. Merripen sat, noticing that Andrew had not asked him inside. “Tell me why you want to leave this sanctuary.”
Merripen folded his hands, trying not to move them as he spoke; he often got carried away, waving them wildly as he gestured, forcing others to back away. “I’m looking for someone. For a group, actually. A long time ago, centuries past, in fact, I had a project. I got together a group of people who wanted to be parents. The children they had were their own—I used their genetic material—but they were different. They were to be more rational, without certain of our instincts, and hermaphroditic. My hope was that they could adapt to extended life more successfully than many of us have.”
Andrew nodded. Merripen glanced at him; the brown eyes were expressionless.
“Eventually, the children grew up and went their own ways. They separated and lived among others. Occasionally, one or another would contact me, perhaps out of duty—I was never able to tell whether they had any special feeling for me, or for anyone.” He was gesturing with his hands again; he forced himself to keep them still. “A while back, I heard that they were gathering here somewhere, and since then I’ve heard nothing. I want to find them, see how they’re doing. Leif Arnesson went out to see what he could discover, but he’s given me little to go on. He suggested I ask you.”
“In other words, you want to travel around looking for a group without knowing where they are, or even if they’re anywhere around here.”
“Yes.”
“Why don’t you just wait until they contact you again?”
“It’s hard to explain.” Merripen felt it again, the apprehension tinged with anticipation; his stomach fluttered and his muscles grew tight, while his face began to perspire. He was impatient. He wasn’t used to impatience. He was surprised that he could still feel it. “I don’t want to wait. I want to find them now. I can’t help thinking that it’s important for me to do so.”
Andrew draped an arm over his knee. “It sounds like a dubious adventure. I don’t know.” Merripen opened his mouth, and Andrew raised a hand quickly, silencing him. “I haven’t decided yet; I’m just thinking out loud. The only safe way to travel is with a lot of planning, and the willingness to feel your way as you go. You can fly, but I think a hovercraft is safer, even if it’s slower and exposes you more. You have to make your plans and still be willing to change them quickly if you need to. We could get information from other Citadels, but I doubt we would learn much more than we already know about what’s out there, so essentially we’d be traveling into unknown territory.” He frowned. “That was the first project, wasn’t it? Yours, I mean.”
Merripen nodded.
“Terry told me. Terry won’t work with human genes.”
“I know that.”
“She’ll only work with birds, and even there she’s conservative. She doesn’t approve of most of the things you’ve done. She only stays here because it’s easier to do her work here, and because …” Andrew looked away. “She’s safe. Safe from others and from herself.” He smiled. “I’ve known Terry since I was a child.”
“Really?”
“I always come back to her.” He stood up. “I’ll probably go with you. I suppose we’ll need time to prepare. We should wait until spring; it’ll be easier then.” He turned, went up the steps, and disappeared inside the cottage.
Merripen rose. As he walked under the pines, he wondered again about Andrew. But he had to travel with someone; Andrew was his only hope.
He should wait. The Citadel would protect him. If he couldn’t find his children, and if Peony refused to let h
im return, where would he go? He shook his head. He was scaring himself for no reason. There were other Citadels, and Peony would soften in time, forgetting her disagreement with him.
He would be able to return. He had grown too fearful, he who had once wanted change. Now he was afraid to alter his life even for a moment; there was too much time in which he would have to live with the results of his decisions.
Merripen had fallen into the habit of meeting with Andrew to discuss their journey. He had hoped that they would not only plan, but would also use the discussions as a way to grow accustomed to each other’s presence. But Andrew remained opaque. Merripen could not figure out why he had decided to leave, or why he had remained in the Citadel for so long with so little to do. He never spoke of Terry and never even made the conversational digressions so common among others. He spoke of equipment or routes, then went his way.
Merripen’s Bond signaled; someone was calling. He put down his glass and turned on his holo, expecting to see Andrew’s image, or possibly Leif’s. Instead, Terry appeared.
“Merripen?” She rushed on, heedless of ceremony. “I want to talk to you.”
He sat up on his couch. “Talk away.”
“Not like this. I’ll come over. I’ll be there right away; I’m nearby. Is that all right with you?”
“Certainly,” he said, and her image was gone before he could say more. He leaned back. He did not know Terry well and had always considered her an anomaly here, with her birds and her barely disguised disdain for almost everyone. He supposed that she wanted to talk to him about Andrew. Maybe she did not want him to leave.
The Golden Space Page 20
