by Corey Furman
Maré looked to Harry. “When the time comes, would you lay us here too, please?”
“I don’t know what to say…” he said, not meeting her eyes. “Are you sure?”
“We all return to the ground, Harry,” she breathed. “Ending up here with them makes as much sense as anything else.”
Harry nodded his head as he spoke. “I guess it does.”
Maré nodded. “Thanks.”
“Have you two thought about marrying?” he asked. “You’re really quite beautiful together.”
“Still trying to save simulants, Harry?” said Luna. “Careful, Sirvon – he’s going to bring more home.”
“Yeah, he does that – it’s part of why I love him.”
“Marrying is what humans do, Harry,” Maré said with a reserved smile, as she pulled Luna in tighter. “We do something else.”
“I stand corrected,” he said with a smile of his own, “but maybe you’re not as different from us as you think.” He and Sirvon turned and headed down the hill, hand in hand.
A few minutes passed, and Maré said, “Are you ready to head back?”
“You go ahead,” she said as she turned to the sun stretched out in the distance and sat down on the headstone. “I want to sit for a little while and think.”
“Then I’ll wait for you,” said Maré as she moved to stand behind her and began to gently comb Luna’s hair back with her fingers. “You know,” she said, “you’ve had to pull me off two people I’ve seriously hurt or killed.”
Luna nodded, but said nothing.
“Do you forgive me?”
Luna turned, and Maré was surprised to see her eyebrows raised in question. “You were protecting me both times. I was useless, you did what you had to do, and there’s no issue.” She shrugged her shoulders. “How could there be?”
When she turned back, Maré smiled and resumed combing her hair.
“I love it when you do that,” she said.
“Of course, that’s why I do it.”
“We had a rough start, Maré, and maybe you more than I.” She turned and looked up at her, and Maré silently nodded. Luna turned back to the horizon and they stayed that way for a while. Normally, Maré would have preferred to be in out of the wind, but it had turned out to be one of those rare days where the breeze was light and the clouds were few, and even though they’d just buried their past, she was still feeling pretty content. This day had been a big punctuation in their lives, and it had turned out well.
“I know you think of it as a sunset, Chroma,” she said as she gestured toward the unchanging horizon. “But we have a new life now, and I think of it as a sunrise.”
Maré bent down low, tucked her hair behind her ear and moved close enough to smell her natural scent. “You are my sunrise.”
As Luna leaned into her, Maré traced the palm of her hand over her opposing cheek, applying just enough pressure so that she turned her head. She moved her fingers lightly along her jawline, back under her ear and finally threaded them into her hair. Maré searched her eyes. “You know that, don’t you?”
Luna closed her eyes as she craned her neck to offer herself. Their lips met, and Maré felt her cheeks flush at the safety and love that flowed through the moist physical connection. When they parted, Luna breathed her words. “And you are the only sunset I ever want.”
“C’mon, Chroma – it’s time to begin our song. Leave the rag doll if you like, but we bring the book and the roses home.”
The End
of
The Way of All Flesh
To be Continued in…
The Dawn of All New Life
Glossary
Chroma (KRO-ma): A close, personal relationship between two simulants.
Chromanity (kro-MAN-uh-tee): A term used to describe all simulants.
Crop (KRAHP): The simulants from one bloodline produced in one cycle.
Gabacho (ha-BACH-oh): A derogatory slang term generally used for simulants. Female simulants are gabachas.
Mimetiosis (mi-MESH-ee-oh-sis): The process by which a human is copied to create a simulant.
Premisant (PREH-mi-sahnt): The human template from which the simulant is a copy.
Simulant (SIM-yoo-lahnt): An artificially grown person with a predefined lifespan and no legal rights.
Dedication
John
Thank you for your brutal and much needed honesty, for your technical assistance and tutelage, for your esprit de corps. You always were the smartest one of us.
Any errors in this book are mine, not yours.
Mike
Thank you, brother. You possess deft skill, a keen mind, and a warm spirit. Your friendship and your family mean more to me than I can articulate.
Nigia
One of my oldest and dearest friends,
My muse, you were there when the going got tough and found ways to inspire me. If it weren’t for you, this would have been a bleak and desolate story indeed.
Without these my friends, this book would never have seen the light of day, and rightfully so.
