A. Warren Merkey

by Far Freedom

  “Not a damned thing!” Jessie declared with a laugh. “Bang, and I’m here!”

  ” You know you died.” I uncurled and sat up facing her.

  “I knew I was going to. They shot me! Is Sam okay? “

  “Dead. They all died.”

  “All of them ? ” Grief nearly strangled her words.

  “Do you really know who I am?”

  “I didn’t know for sure until you sat up.”

  “You knew what I looked like?”

  “You really know who I am?”

  ” You’d be surprised what I know. I dream a lot.” That didn’t seem to register well with Jessie but she was still struggling with the bad news I gave her.

  “Sam became a pretty good artist trying to describe Earth to us. And he must have drawn and painted a hundred portraits of you.” I closed my eyes and turned aside. It was a wonderful statement to hear. Too wonderful. I turned back to Jessie and stared into her innocent eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  “I wish you hadn’t said that.”

  “Why? It’s perfectly true.”

  ” It’s just the kind of crap I would put in a dream.”

  “This isn’t a dream, Milly.”

  “Are you sure?” I wanted her to understand it was an important issue for me.

  “Perhaps I’m not.” She looked again at the room full offamiliar faces, all of them enraptured. It was a wax museum, except they were breathing.

  “Anyway, poker was a survival skill in my family,” I said. “Protector just turned up a queen of hearts. I’m trying to find a way to raise the stakes.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Probabilities and possibilities. He was there from the beginning, nudging the probabilities.”

  “Who?”

  “The damned Protector!”

  “From the beginning? When? Where?”

  “At least since before Sam and I were married. He was on Earth.”

  “Then… the Protector knew where Earth was, all along!”

  “What year is it?”

  Jessie shrugged. I turned to Aylis.

  “Twenty-six eighty-seven.”

  “Twenty-six eighty-eight,” Setek corrected.

  “The woman who’s going to bring Sammy back.” I patted Aylis on the knee. Aylis didn’t seem to understand my affectionate humor. I was sorry about that. I realized I cared for Aylis a lot more than I thought I had the ability to care for anybody except Sunny. That triggered something in Jessie.

  “Could… could I see Sunny? Could I hold him?”

  I took a deep involuntary breath and let it out raggedly. Tears poured into my eyes like windshield washers. I took Jessie’s hands in mine. Here was where we began to torture-test reality. “She gave him to me, Jessie. Aylis made me his mother.”

  “Milly, that’s wonderful.” She said it with heartbreakingly ignorant sincerity.

  “Yes. It was.”

  “Is something wrong? You were lying on the floor… Where is Sunny?”

  Oh, God, here I was, holding her hands too tightly! The real memory was rising up like a thunderhead at night, its lightning blinding me, its thunder driving out all hope and reason. “Sunny… he… died! In my arms! In my arms.” I fell over against Aylis and wept as hard as I always wept for Sunny. Aylis held me like a sick daughter, trying everything to console me.

  I felt Jessie struggle free of my grip. I tried to kill my grief. It wasn’t necessary! There was hope for Sunny! It was just a traumatic experience, still too raw and powerful, that was assaulting me. I didn’t want to hurt Jessie but I could see she was absolutely devastated. She couldn’t speak. She could only look at me and Aylis in shock and horror.

  My eyes - damn it! - looked upward to Sunny’s little stasis coffin.

  In those last few milliseconds of suspension of belief in this reality, my nose made its acquaintance with the unwashed mother of a baby. The woman who held me smelled like sweaty armpits and sour milk. Ah, the lovely aroma of baby puke! What production value Protector gave the show! He must have an unlimited special-effects budget. “No!” I grabbed for Jessie as she rose to look into the coffin. Maybe the universe didn’t care if babies died, but I cared. I thought I was completely inoculated against hope but I had a lapse of logic. Protector must also care about Sunny. He must! Time to embrace reality or its clever facsimile. Protector had won. I choose life, asshole, even if I’m still in the blue soup!

  I came up with Jessie and hugged her from behind as she found Sunny. Jessie wept even harder than I. Or maybe I was adding my own blubbering to the duet. Snot - pardon me: mucous - was pouring from my nose. More production value! Or reality?

  “Don’t cry, Jessie!” I pleaded. “I’m sorry I upset you! Sunny will live again! He must! Sunny is what this is all about. It was always about him. What took you so long? Seven hundred years since Sam went bye-bye. So many miraculous things Protector must be able to do in a twinkling, but nudging the probabilities of genes must not be one of them.”

  “What do you mean? ” Jessie choked off her misery and slowly turned around in my arms.

  “I’m conceited enough to think I called Protector’s bluff.” I wiped Jessie’s tears.

  I could see every little detail of her pretty pastel orange face: the odd little swirls ofpale and dark pigmentation, the fuzzy stubble of what used to be face feathers, the double dimples to each side of her mouth, the large blue eyes like some marbles I had as a kid, and even a few squint-creases and wrinkles here and there.

  “I don’t understand,” Jessie said.

  “I don’t either. Protector gave me the choice to live or die. I figured he had no reason to give me that choice, but the offer made me think that he cared what happened to me. Since I’m no one special, he must also care about Sunny and everyone else who was abused by his experiment. I refused to make the choice. He nudged the probabilities again. And here we are.”

  “What experiment?” Jessie asked. She was calming down. She was desperate to hope. I loved her, if only because she loved Sunny so much.

  “Protector let me remember when I was at college and had just met Sam. Protector made me an offer, and it was simply that I would have two sons and they would be Sam’s sons. I don’t trust the memory and see little logic in what I remember of it, but I feel the essence of it is true. I made a decision that brought about this future. I see it as an experiment Protector is still running, to see how humans and Servants might find a common future. Sunny is the key to that future. The experiment fails if we give up on Sunny. Then the future belongs to the barbarians. How does that sound? My brain is too wounded to come up with anything better.”

  “Not bad,” Jessie said, wiping away my tears in return. “When do we start on the future?”

  “Right now.” I stepped back and inspected the shapeless smock I wore. “I’ve got this year’s chic model of stasis-coffin sleepwear, only a little soiled by snot. My legs seem to be shaved. I don’t have enough hair on my head to worry about. I’m ready! I think we should all take a walk to the lake and meet the heroes. I fully expect Protector to make them available to us for the sake of our mental health.”

  “Did they all die? Will they really be there?”

  “If not, then we’ll have a picnic. Are you coming? Anybody else? Aylis?”

  When Aylis got up, everyone rose.

  Arm in arm in arm, Jessie and Aylis and I led the way out of the hospital.

  I felt like singing.

  Row, row, row your boat,

  gently down the stream,

  merrily…

  life is…

  … a dream.

  Aylis did not weep. She didn’t want to weep. She believed this was a positive change in Milly’s prognosis. She kept walking with her arm in Milly’s arm. She listened to her hum a little tune. Aylis looked back at the group following her and Milly. She looked at Mai as she asked her by shiplink: [What do we do now?] Mai had no answer for her.

  Aylis continued to walk with Milly tow
ard the lake. All she could think was that she didn’t want Milly to go on believing Jessie was real. Aylis halted and rounded on Milly and squeezed her hand. “Where is Jessie? I don’t see her.”

  “Right here!” Milly held the air next to her with her other hand. Milly didn’t look at Aylis but at the space where Jessie stood.

  Aylis was afraid to confront Milly because she now seemed very fragile, both physically and mentally. Aylis patted her hand. “Why is she here, Milly?”

  “Because Sunny can’t survive without her!”

  “I still don’t see her. I wish I could, but I can’t. Is there something wrong with me, Milly?”

  “Wrong with you? No! But she’s right here. Here. See?”

  Aylis sadly shook her head. “The others don’t see her, either, Milly.”

  Milly turned to look at the group. She must have read the expressions on their faces. She turned back to Aylis, her brown eyes wide with fear. She looked at where Jessie supposedly stood, then at her empty hand. “Where did she go?” She staggered a little and Aylis pulled her closer. “Please, God! Take me but bring Jessie back!”

  Milly tried to collapse on the ground but Aylis caught her in her arms. She held her and tried to think of something to say. There were no words that had enough meaning, that had enough logic, that had enough magic. It was better simply to hold her. She felt Milly find her footing and begin to relax. She felt Milly reach around her and hold onto her. She felt her take deep breaths and quietly moan with her face resting on Aylis’s shoulder.

  “I think she’s going to be alright,” Mai commented, coming to stand next to them and placing a hand on Milly’s back. “And so are we. But it will take more time.”

  At that moment a large black cube appeared on the green grass of the lakeside. A short distance away a second black cube materialized. More black cubes became visible every few seconds, until they formed a line far down the lakeside. When no more black cubes appeared, the first one turned gray and translucent. Aylis could see a person standing inside, transfixed in an odd pose. Through the gray she could see it was a Golden One!

  “Constant!” Milly cried, breaking away from Aylis and stumbling toward the gray cube. She fell against it. The gray vanished. The Golden One took one step and fell onto the grass. Milly dropped to her knees beside her, took hold of her, trying to help her rise.

  Aylis knelt beside Milly and immediately saw the wound, from which blood began to spurt.

  “Melvin!” Constant called, trying to turn her head to see. She finally looked up to see Milly. “Milly?” Then the pain and the damage in her body silenced her and made her eyes close tightly.

  The nearest black cube turned gray. Mai had arrived at Aylis’s side. They both turned to see who was inside the gray. “Oh, God!” Aylis exclaimed. “Petros! Mai, get Constant to the hospital! Hurry!”

  Aylis got up and rushed to the next cube, touched it, and scrambled on her hands and knees to the recumbent form of Petros. He was also shot - several times! She gathered his head in her arms. Blood sprayed from his mouth as he coughed and tried to speak. “Constant!” was all he could utter before losing consciousness.

  Section 024 1013

  Number 1013 worked hard, as it always did, cataloging the species of life it could identify as not yet cataloged. This was 1013’s main task this century but not the only thing it did. A variety of other tasks needed to be done, as there was no one else to do them, no one in the whole world. 1013 was completely alone. The last of the Servants departed three hundred years ago. 1013 was not sure why it had remained behind. It was almost as if it had forgot to be at the gate at the appointed time. Perhaps 1013 would repartition its mind in a few more years, as it was too crowded with biological data. Also, the task was losing its meaning. But what would 1013 do then? It needed work to keep from thinking about how lonely it was. Surely, someday, someone would come back to visit or to stay.

  “Hello, Little One.” A deep voice spoke from behind it as 1013 waded in the shallow edge of a pond, scooping water to sift for tiny organisms. Startled, 1013 fell to a sitting position with the water up to its waist. Its face feathers stood straight out in fright and its scalp feathers rose in a tangle. 1013 dared to turn around and look for the source of the voice. “Here I am.” The voice came from a big thing silhouetted by the sun.

  “Who are you?” 1013 inquired fearfully. It shaded its eyes and squinted into the afternoon sun. It struggled to get up, then stepped back into deeper water, as if that could make it safer. Ordinarily, safety would never be a concern, but in the last few decades of being totally alone in the world, 1013 had developed a few phobias and a sensitivity to movements and noises that made it imagine scary things. There was no Protector to save it if it did something stupid. Fear helped keep 1013 safer.

  “I speak for the Protector,” the big creature answered, as if it had heard 1013 thinking of the Protector, “but I am not the Protector.”

  1013 felt its fear subside. It waded toward this apparition that cast a shadow on it. The Protector speaking, even through an intermediary? Where had the Protector gone? Why had it never come back? Was this real, or was it imagined by 1013 after too long alone? 1013 climbed out of the water, through the tall plants, and walked a path to the side of the giant, staying a good distance away from it. It had two legs and two arms attached to a black and white striped torso. The head and face were not too alien, having two small eyes, wrinkly curved ears, mouth, nose, and no feathers. The head had dark fur on top and bare cheeks crossed by barely visible stripes. This was a human! It had been a thousand years since 1013 had seen a human! It was time to repartition its mind, right here, right now, and 1013 couldn’t stop it! It dived into its past as biology was siphoned off, and in place of biology it pulled in every scrap of memory it had saved concerning humans. It was terribly difficult to keep from dwelling on such powerful events in its life but 1013 was motivated to complete the task as quickly as possible since the human stranger was so near.

  “You are a human.” 1013 was dismayed at how long it took to change its mind. The sun was setting. “Do you have a name?”

  “I’m Petros Gerakis, son of Zakiya and Alexandros.” The big human had found a place to sit while waiting. Petros wore a small garment that covered its anatomy from the waist to the top of the thighs. 1013 remained standing so it could walk closer around the human to study it. The lines of its body were delightful and elegant, the bare skin allowing 1013 to see the structure of muscle and infer the shape of bones. 1013 found itself circling the human in a spiral that brought it closer and closer. With each pass it felt a growing urge to reach out and touch the smooth brown skin. 1013 stopped only an arm’s length from the human, close enough to smell an exotic fragrance on its body.

  “How do you speak for the Protector?”

  “I have no idea.” Petros smiled. “How do you speak old English so well?”

  “When the human came - Samuel Lee - he was a revolution! His language was so much a part of his culture and his home, we couldn’t understand the world he came from unless we also understood his language. And there were hundreds of other languages from the same world he could only begin to describe, like Korean and Spanish.”

  “I know of Samuel Lee. And you are 1013. You liked Samuel a lot, didn’t you?”

  “We all did!” 1013 was happy to hear that name again. Some odd surge of hope shoved away the bitter disappointment it started to feel from the old memory. The hope was not for Samuel Lee. He aged and died hundreds of years ago. How did Petros know of him?

  “But you liked Sam very much.” Petros shortened his name as 1013 now remembered he did himself. “Perhaps as much as 13 did. So much you almost did violence to 13, vying for his attention, his exclusive attention.”

  “13 was the elder.” 1013 remembered 13 only because 13 could not be separated from the memory of Samuel Lee any more than 13 could be separated from Samuel Lee himself. 1013 tasted the bitterness again and escaped from it again. It sat down near
Petros and suddenly the memory of disappointment meant nothing anymore. “Are you real?” It raised a hand and tried to be bold enough to touch the human.

  “Go ahead,” Petros invited, smiling again. He extended his own hand for 1013 to touch. When their fingers met, when Petros took 1013’s hand in his and held it gently, 1013 shuddered with pleasure. “But as for being real, any experience with the Protector is a metaphysical proposition with no provable facts. We humans are simply too ignorant of reality.”

  1013 was caught in the magic symbolized by their joined hands. For many moments it didn’t care what was real, as long as it felt real. For many moments it also realized fully how lonely it had been for the last three centuries. The loneliness had to end now! But as real as Petros seemed, 1013 sensed he was not a permanent visitor. It pulled its hand away from Petros and its face feathers did a little dance that expressed an English swear word. Petros laughed, obviously understanding the feeling its feathers expressed. How could he know?

  “Enough of this!” 1013 was angry with its own silly behavior. “Why are you here? What does the Protector want with me?”

  “That’s my girl! The Protector wants you to take a little trip.”

  “I’m not a girl and I’m not yours!” 1013 had once wanted to be a girl - Sam’s girl. 1013 had probably even given the radical idea to 13, never realizing how absolute 13’s devotion to Sam was. It was entertaining to think 1013 might become Petros’s girl. “Are you coming with me?”

  “I would if I could,” Petros said gently, “but I can’t. Your path must be different from mine.”

  “Will I see you again?”

  “It will be a long time but, yes, you will see me again.”

  “How long?” It tried not to sound too anxious but Petros was, well, another

  revolution, maybe even more important than Sam.

  “There are only a few things I can tell you. This is not because you are unimportant. You are as important as 13. You’ve lived two million years - how long would you think is a long time?”

  “A year!”

  “That’s my girl,” Petros said again. “I’m afraid it will be longer than that.”