by Tal Turing
“Don't say such a thing when you are so upset. The pain will pass and you'll always have her memory, right?”
“I don't WANT it to pass, it let's me see. Why should I wait until the clarity can fade from my little brain and I am once again just a corporate drone, blindly doing their bidding year after year, working for a day when I'll be free to..free to do WHAT. It doesn't matter, I see it and I just want to go away. Help me, please, you understand.”
“I don't. Is this about your mother or is this about something else?”
“If you won't help me then leave me alone!”
With that Cynnamon walked out of the berth.
Lynda did not follow her. She was a bit concerned about some of the things that had been said, but Lynda also knew it was not unhealthy to rue the facts of life and death. It was when one ruminated on the spirits of what only might be, that was much more concerning.
After a while, Lynda went and looked for her. She would not try to talk to her any more this evening, but the girl should not be alone. She checked all the storage berths, expecting to find her in one of them but she wasn't. Neither was she in either passenger cabin, Lynda checked carefully each area.
Finally, with no other recourse, Lynda entered the cockpit. Edwyrd was in one seat and in the next one was Cynnamon, her long bronzed legs curled up beneath her, her hair in her face and her eyes closed. Lynda stood, surprised.
“Everything okay?” she whispered. Ed gave her a helpless look but waved her in.
“I'm not to let you near her,” Ed explained.
“I can have that affect on people,” Lynda whispered back with a smile.
“Will she be alright?” Ed asked. “Does she need to go to a hospital?”
“Oh, no” Lynda sighed reassuringly, “I don't think there's anything wrong with her that isn't wrong with all of us. We are all broken in some way and we all are healing at the same time. It doesn't always line up. I think she'll be much better when she wakes up. Some wounds need to be bandaged right away and some need to bleed out, this is the latter type.”
“Are you a psychiatrist?” Ed asked seriously.
“I have some related degrees, but I'm not a doctor. I do a lot of counseling, especially with corporate assets, they are my focus. They are often so isolated, so alone. My goal is to help them realize that their situation is part of how they feel, that there is much less difference between them and us then society would like them to believe.”
“Doctor? Do you ever take corporate patients?”
“Please don't call me anything except Lynda. I do have a title but it is only relevant for those that attend the church to which I belong. Now, are you asking for yourself?”
Ed smiled grimly.
“No! I promise you, Doctor...er Lynda...I am too vexing a case for you to waste your time, no I am asking for my brother.”
“This is Bradley? We have met.”
“Yes, they are saying he's possessed, at least that he believes so.”
“It's a great example of a word that has meaning only when you are speaking of the symptoms.”
“Exactly!” Ed blurted and then softened his voice, “I thought the same thing.”
“Well, I don't normally see corpers but I will have some time before our building is back up and running. If you decide that his doctors are not making progress, then you can bring him to our building, but he will have to stay there during treatment. It might be that some external source is introducing or even re-enforcing his condition, I would want to remove that possibility right away. But he would be in good hands, you could visit once a week, but no more.”
“Okay, I appreciate that.”
Lynda looked over again at the sleeping asset. Cynnamon had not stirred and now they could hear her breathing through the silence and the soft hum of the equipment.
Lynda opened her mouth to speak, quietly.
“I...I didn't realize you two knew each other so well”
She looked over at the Deputy whose expression was hard to read.
“I am as surprised as you are, Lynda. I mean, we knew each a long time ago, in corporate training, but have not kept in touch. And there is good reason for that, I was worse than cruel to her. Frankly I am surprised she speaks to me.”
Lynda nodded and shrugged.
“I have not known her all that long, but she doesn't seem the trusting type, I really expected to find her locked up in one of the storage compartments, but she is here. Nothing personal, but you are a senior officer with the company who owns her sponsorship, it amazes me that she stepped inside this room, no matter how irritated she was with me, and I'm doubly surprised she felt so comfortable that she would fall asleep...are you sure that the two of you were not close at one time?”
“Doctor,” Ed whispered, his serious face blotched with mortification. “Please, I promise you, we took some classes together and when I wasn't ignoring her or criticizing her, I was bullying her or worse.”
Lynda nodded.
“Perhaps she has forgotten things you remember, the reverse might also be true.”
Return
Cynnamon arrived at the grand reception hall only a few minutes late. She had an early morning meeting with Ann that had taken her by surprise, even if she shouldn't have been. Now she regretted that the two of them had not spent more time together; and that they had fought as much as they had.
She was dressed in formal Transom corporate attire, all black, shiny boots and some meaningless service medals pinned to her lapel. With the black AI glasses and her hair pulled back, she looked like many of the other female officers present although she didn't wear the common red lipstick.
The full executive of Transom - New Berlyn had turned out to meet the Techview delegation. There was music and refreshments and plenty of attending hospies while Cyn and the other operational assets watched from the wings.
There was also a contingent from the villages, Pol was among them and so was Lynda. Cyn doubted she would get to speak to either. She had said her good-byes to all the previous night. Soon she would board the return hugger while the officers and executives finished their discussions. Given all that had happened, Cyn was certain those meetings would run very late.
She sighed and closed her eyes. Was it really over? Was she really going back to Techview? She never thought she would miss that place as much as she did. Perhaps there would be someone on the hugger who could tell her what had been happened in Techview since she had left.
As the Techview executives moved on for some private meetings, Cyn's eyes were drawn immediately to a remaining lone figure. Short, with straight reddish hair, the woman walked casually in simple attire. Her hands were stretched out to the side, both encased in a AI glove. Her AI was identifying the person only as a Transom Operations Lead but Cyn recognized Mother, or someone who liked almost exactly like her.
“Impressive,” commented a male voice from behind her, “Patron has bodyguards and spokespeople but he doesn't have clones to fill in for him.”
Her eyes darted over to the Deputy of Transom Security who had appeared beside her before returning to scrutinize the figure who was now speaking with Patron.
“Really?” she responded in an impressed tone. “I didn't know...you think she is a clone?”
“Would you tell us even if you did know? Our best information is that she has many such assistants now. But we don't believe they are clones, just very dedicated assistants, but who knows?”
“Interesting, but are they just representing her or are they also in contact with her...” Cyn spoke out loud, pondering the question.
“Well, I can think of only one company which is rumored to be able to communicate between cities, across large distances.”
Cyn nodded. Daneel. It was such a small, intertwined world they lived in.
Cyn kept her eyes forward. She was aware that they were quickly approaching the end of her time in New Berlyn. She had said her good-byes. She had apologized to both Lynda and Edwyrd for
her meltdown. She was ready to leave.
“You didn't tell us that Mother herself is your handler...” Ed commented with a hint of amusement.
“It's true,” Cyn replied, “but only because she fired the previous one and didn't want to pay for a replacement.”
“After she's done skewering Patron, I am to take you to her, at which point she will accept your transfer back.”
Cyn nodded. “How do you know Mother is working him over?”
“He's my father. I can tell when someone is making him nervous,” Ed laughed.
She smiled at that and turned to him.
“In all my time here, I don't think I've ever seen anyone make you nervous, Deputy,” she remarked. His eyes were dark, his expression not relaxed but not intimidated either.
“Then you need some practice. I am plenty nervous now.”
But she couldn't tell anything from him. She never could. She looked back.
“Why? Don't worry about Mother, I'll keep her off you.”
“Because I owe you...an apology...as if it could ever be enough..”
And there it was. Her nostrils flared from the air that rushed into her. She saw Patron wave them over.
“You were one of the few that took me seriously...sir.”
“You know what I mean. You...you might have been killed.”
It was good they were getting this out of the way. She waited until she was sure he had no more to say. She ignored Patron. She could afford to wait for Mother to turn to them as well.
“I have a request.”
She waited. Patron gave a second indication for them to approach.
“Are you going to tell me what it is?” Ed prompted.
She turned to him, slowly and nodded, looking past him.
“Who knows if our paths will ever cross again and if we'll meet as allies or enemies. Such is corporate life and we both have our loyalties.
So when you ever remember me, if you do, I want you to remember me as I was this time, the last couple weeks. Remember the day in your office, when you visited me in the hospital, the hugger lessons, the picnic under SkyTran Dome, and letting me cry myself to sleep while you drove us home. I know it sounds silly, but if you'll remember that Cynnamon, I'll remember this Eddie Harilla. Let time bury it's ghosts.”
Mother had turned to them and Cyn did not wait but walked toward the head of Transom Operations – Techview, leaving Ed Harilla to follow.
“Ah, you are returning our asset, very good,” the woman croaked giving Cyn a look up and down. “But not in the same pristine condition as I left her?” Cyn still had some cuts and bruises, one from the previous evening in the cemetery.
“We had some troubles down here as you know, your asset was very helpful” Patron added.
But Mother's eyes drilled into those of Cyn who returned a shrugging look. Business happens. No harm, no foul.
“We will modify the fee for wear-and-tear then,” the woman smiled as she turned back to Patron. “So she was useful, then? Can I presume you will need no further consulting from Techview Ops? The baby walks on its own?”
Patron smiled diplomatically.
“Well, she did the best she could given her unfamiliarity with our unique procedures and methods. Still, some of her unique perspectives did provide fuel for some new ideas.”
“I am delighted.” Mother purred. “She was the only one I had available but I was reluctant to do so given her relative inexperience and acumen. But it amused us to send you back one of your own.”
“Then perhaps you would like to make a trade, we have a special interest in those with New Berlyn blood, no matter the talent level.”
Mother rolled her eyes and looked back at Cynnamon.
“I must decline. After all, an entire dome was lost during her short time among you, I shudder to think what bad luck she might bring you over a full year.” With that, the Mother-clone turned back to Cynnamon. “I will remain here, child. You will leave on the hugger straight away. My clone will debrief you when you arrive in Techview.”
“Clone, Mother?”
But the woman just winked and turned away.
Taking the cue, Cyn nodded respectively to Patron and then spun quickly on her heel and held her hand out to Edwyrd Harilla.
“Thank you again for your help, Deputy,” she said quickly.
They shook hands and Cyn gave him a quick smile before turning toward the waiting hugger. Her AI was already letting her know who was on the hugger and she beamed when she realized that both Carla and James, somehow, were on board.
She resisted the urge to run the rest of the way. Instead, the Transom asset strode to the door and waited while her AI did the rest.
The door of the hugger opened and she stepped in.
The Exiles
Donnie stared at the time-release bar which bound his ankles together. There was a similar device holding his wrists firmly behind him. The timer was not yet running; it wouldn't be activated until they reached their final destination, wherever the hell that was.
He looked over at many of his friends and supporters who were bound in a similar manner. When they left New Berlyn, the security was even tighter; they had worn special helmets which kept them from seeing, hearing or even speaking. The only exception had been the short time each of them had spent with that holier-than-thou chaplain.
But once they reached New Chicago, conditions improved. The helmets were removed and they were given food and water. He hadn't been hungry but he drank all the water in large gulps. To his great relief, as they started the second trip, the helmets were left off perhaps because the original crew of the hugger had been replaced. They did not stop him when he spoke quietly with the others.
"As far as I know, we are still going to Palenque, I wish I had paid more attention to that old story but, as I remember, the city lasted for about a year. Apparently, they did not manage resources well and they were over-extended; eventually the energy drain from the domes became too much to sustain. The domes fell and the villagers fled. I heard one story that the villagers had some warning and were leaving even before the collapse. So there should be tunnels, equipment and whatever is left of the buildings."
They continued some idle speculation among themselves but were finally told to stop talking.
Donnie was still able to look around the cabin. He did not see Miriam from his chair. Perhaps she was still feigning illness; that ploy could work only so long. In thinking more about it, he decided he would not be cruel in his revenge. The girl was intelligent and capable;traits that would be needed, in his children as well. Some things would not be optional.
Most of the view port windows had been closed, but one was left half-open. As they approached Palenque, Donnie prayed that the crew would be too busy to notice that he was furtively obtaining a peek at their surroundings.
The ground had become flat and barren, almost impossibly so and his heart sank at the thought that they would be left in the center of some great desert. But there were breaks in the ground; large rocky formations which pushed out from the earth. The vehicle descended and now he realized that the formations were giant. By luck, his eye found the one which would be their new home.
Palenque looked like a thick piece of amber glass that had fallen from the sky and split and splintered upon impact. The hugger rose and passed over the sharp teeth of the formation, a maw too hostile to cross, until it found a crater in the center.
The exterior darkened significantly as they descended and he could see the steep sides of the crater, covered with dry, golden grasses. There they hovered while the cargo, in large, colored, metal bins, were lowered and scattered on the floor of Palenque crater.
Then, without so much as an announcement, the hugger rose again and approached one of the grass covered valley walls. The cargo door was opened and a prisoner was brought to the edge, their restraint release-timer was activated and they were pushed through the door. That infuriated Cabb but he could do nothing as he watched the p
rocess repeat for every one of his people. One of the crew was keeping count.
Then Donnie heard a commotion. One of the prisoners had decided to fight it. She was pleading and protesting that it was all a mistake. Of course it was. But when he took a second look he realized that the woman was not one of theirs, but he recognized her. It was the chaplain, the one who had asked him all of those inane questions about his feelings.
“I'm not with them! Ask the captain!” the woman looked frantic and he enjoyed seeing her previously calm and controlled facade fall away. Her eyes caught his and they pleaded with him to say something. But why should he? As far as he was concerned it was the more the merrier. They would need every able body to survive.
He happily watched her ineffectual struggles and listened to her cries before she too went out the door.
The guarded muttered a number. Thirty-six.
He watched as the rest went by. He had already decided they would use the cargo containers for shelter on their first day. Who knew what type of storms might visit them, he would have them huddled close together, entrances facing inward.
Suddenly, he realized he had not seen Miriam still. Had he missed her? There were only a few prisoners left and now they were coming for him, pulling him to his feet. He heard another guard counting as each person went out the door.
Forty-six.
Forty-seven.
Forty-eight.
Forty-nine.
And then there was just him left. Even as they spun him around he realized that the chaplain was an extra, so that should make fifty-one. He should be the fifty-first prisoner to go through the door!
Fifty.
It came to him with the anger and frustration of having accidentally bitten into one's own tongue. Miriam had escaped. Somehow, she had replaced herself with the chaplain. He should have said something!
He opened his mouth to issue an expletive when he felt a savage blow to his chest. He saw the bright yellow sky of rippled clouds just before he landed hard onto the ground and began first to slide and then to roll down the steep, grassy wall of the crater.
The End
