But things were different this time. The door opened and the flesh giver swept in, surrounded by insubstantial billows of gauzy wrappings. She had painted a white band across her face from nose to eyebrows, and had painted her eyelids to look like eyes – the left one pale sky-blue and the right one brilliant lizard-green. A black line ran from each corner of her mouth, down her chin and neck and disappeared into her wrappings.
‘What’s with face paint?’
‘It is the Mark.’
‘The Mark of what?’
She ruffled the fabric on her arms, freeing her finger grazers from her cupped palms. They danced over the bed, flashing bits of light. She kept them there for a moment, smiling at Sterling with her eyes closed. Finally she raised them again, dropped her hands to her sides.
‘What’s the Mark?’ he asked again.
‘The Mark is the Mark.’
The lover lifted one hand into the air.
He had already disrobed before she’d made her entrance, but his shiv was within easy reach, as it always was – one can never be too careful in the Canyon. He knew he was probably in no danger, but the unusual is rarely to one’s advantage, and this particular flesh giver was highly unusual.
She shrugged, and like a gentle spill of windblown dust cascading down a cliff, her clothing rippled off her body, revealing large, well-formed breasts with nipples off-center and pointing in opposite directions. Her mound had been shaved smooth, as had her long, shapely legs. A light sheen of scented oil glistened with reflected light, making her appear as if she’d just come from one of the exclusive Upper Baths near the Off Limits.
‘Fear not, Northern Man of the Stayed – all will be well with us.’
She approached the foot of the bed and danced her finger grazers into the air. Making a half circle with her arms, the lover stretched her neck back and opened her mouth. She exhaled deeply, curling her tongue in the air. With that she squatted at the foot of the bed into a pose that resembled the prostrations of the faithful as they circumambulate the Northern Church.
The flesh giver reached out and clasped her hands around Sterling’s ankles, using them to balance herself as she pulled herself from the floor onto the bed. Once she was on the edge of the mattress, she spider-walked her fingers up his legs and positioned herself with her legs spread, just below his knees.
Sterling dropped his arms to the side and rolled his head back, sighing deeply as the woman used a back-and-forth motion to slide herself forward on his legs.
‘Ahh… ’ He raised his arms to her hips to help with the movement, only to find his hands on her knees instead. Sterling opened his eyes and tilted his head forward.
‘What’s all this, then?’
Indeed, the lover had straddled him, with her knees on either side of his waist and massaged his member by flexing and relaxing her inner thigh muscles. He watched with wide eyes as the woman removed one of the finger grazers and dropped her hand between her legs, cupping the tip of his penis and pulling back in sync with her forward rocking motion.
‘Do you like it? Or would you prefer the usual?’ she asked.
‘I like it!’ Sterling gulped and swallowed. ‘I mean,’ he grunted as she moved back and forth, ‘it’s different, but good.’
‘Relax then and enjoy it.’
The woman clenched her eyes shut, tilted her head to the right and smiled. One blue eye, one green eye, painted on. She moved forward but kept his member held tightly between her thighs, the tip almost pressing against her pubic mound.
He inhaled until his lungs could take no more air. With a gasp he came; the woman responded by moving even faster. She looked otherworldly with her eyes closed and her painted lids. Her black hair framed her face as she continued to gyrate her thighs, spreading more of his seed onto her legs.
‘The Mark.’
Sitting in the Forehead Driller’s house, Sterling comes to the sudden realization that the eyes are the Mark, the same eyes that the Southern lover had in the fleshroom of the South. What did it mean though? And how were these two seemingly random occurrences connected?
***
‘Halo, come in here!’ Sterling calls out.
You have questions?
‘Just get in here.’
Halo glides in, the dim light behind her throws her features in shadow.
‘Halo, what’s the Mark?’ he asks.
The Mark?
She stops directly in front of Sterling, her stomach even with his face. The urge to reach out and grab her and pull her into his arms passes as quickly as it arises. ‘Is that… ’ He swallows hard. ‘Where you’re going to stand?’
Where would you like me to be?
‘I didn’t really think that through.’
Then I’ll sit in front of you.
She goes to her knees and sits on her heels. Her face is still in shadow, and he can’t tell what expression, if any she wears.
‘What’s the Mark?’
Where did you hear about the Mark?
‘From a Northern lover. She’d painted her face to look like she had blinders on, and had painted a blue eye on one of her eyelids and a green eye on the other. She said it was “The Mark”. A lover I met in the South actually had a blue eye and a green eye – that’s the Mark, isn’t it?’
It is.
‘And you… this is what your eyes look like, don’t they?’
I’ve never seen my eyes.
‘Don’t give me that lizard shit. I’ve encountered two lovers now who had this mark – or at least a representation of it – one in the North and the South.’
You’ve spent quite a bit of time with lovers from both sides, haven’t you?
‘That’s not what this is about!’
I’ve never been with another person.
‘That’s not what this is about, either.’
We have desires as well.
‘I’m sure you do, but even that’s not what this is about. I’m asking a simple question; what’s the Mark, and do you have it?
Left eye blue and right eye green – that’s the Mark, and yes, I am so marked.
‘Okay, good. Now we’re getting somewhere. And what does this mean?’
One with the Mark will liberate everyone, prevent the deathborn cycle from ever recurring. There is a name for this person…
‘That’s not in the Book,’ Sterling says, cutting her off.
No, not so plainly stated as such, although it is in there. The Northern Book is broadly similar to the Southern Book, although the verses and quotations differ to reflect each side’s belief about facelessness. Any quote from the Book of the South that condemns facelessness is matched by the same quote in the Book of the North that praises it. There is, however a shared passage in both versions, one that you’ve heard before.
‘Why are there two in the first place? Why hasn’t anyone ever compared the two versions?’
Simple – two versions of the Book keep people at odds. No one has attempted a comparison, and if they did, I am quite certain that would be repressed rather quickly.
Why are they kept… why are we kept at odds?’
Two groups in conflict are easier to control than one group that is united.
Halo moves a bit closer to Sterling, drops her hands onto her thighs and cups one palm with the other.
Do you remember the quote? Both versions of the book share it.
‘I’m trying to think of a quote that says something about the Mark.’ Sterling is far from an expert in the text of the Book, but he does know enough passages to get by. Finally, he gives up. ‘I’ve got nothing.’
The quote reads – ‘One blue, one green. The cycle of the Stayed will be at stake. When the time comes bow your head, forgive and forget the blood that’s been bled.’
‘That quote? I thought that was about the War Zone.’
Didn’t you ever wonder what the ‘one blue, on green’ what about?
‘I was told it mean the two opposite sides, you know, different colors
.’
Think again. Do you mind if I sit next to you?
‘Do whatever you’d like.’ Sterling shifts to the right and Halo joins him, again sitting on her heels. Her proximity prickles the hairs on his arms. ‘Does the mark have anything to do with your… ability?’
No. I’m not the only one in the Canyon with this ability.
‘You aren’t?’
She nods.
My father also has this ability.
‘And who’s your father?’
The leader of the Church of the South, Father Miscavige.
***
‘The Southern Chaplain – that Father Miscavige?’
The wind picks up outside. The viewport shutters rattle in their tracks, pebbles and small debris patter against the exterior walls as it reaches a crescendo, then silence as the wind suddenly subsides.
Why does this surprise you?
‘Chaplains don’t usually have children, as far as I know. Father Granite doesn’t, Father Sabrent didn’t have them either.’
The situation in the South isn’t all that different from the situation here. The Goddess Time is Zander Damien’s daughter, although he has gone to great lengths and considerable expense to conceal that fact.
‘Yeah, you said that… ’ He cocks an interrogative eyebrow at her, and realizes yet again that facial gestures are useless. ‘But what’s that got to do with you?’
The Miscaviges used to be the richest family in the South. My uncle, now raptured, took over the family business and ran it into the ground. He was a drunk and a gambler, not unlike you.
‘Easy, Halo, I haven’t had a drink of delixer in several days.’
Once my uncle went to his reward, my father inherited what was left of the family’s money and used it to buy his way onto the Southern Council. He had all of the drive and ambition my uncle lacked, and through bribery, blackmail, intimidation and assassination, he grew his power until they awarded him the position of Leader of the Southern Church.
‘Why would he want that?’
The position gave him direct influence over everyone in the South. It also allowed him to secretly select the next Goddess. From that point forward, he had sex with anyone and everyone devout enough to make it into the inner circle of the church. He used the power of his mind and the promise of absolution to do unspeakable things, and he still does. Eventually I was born, and he sent my mother to The Hole because he blamed her for my blindness and my mismatched eye color.
‘He sent her to the what?’
The Hole. You don’t have this in the North. It’s a pit, a deep pit where the most devout go to expiate their unrighteousness in this life and achieve forgiveness for the sins of all their previous lives through trial by combat. The one who survives and emerges victorious is audited and absolved of their sins. My mother didn’t survive, as my father intended.
Sterling has been forced to fight for his life more times than he’d care to remember and has no doubt that he’ll have to again. He can’t imagine volunteering to do so.
‘Does he know about the Mark, your Mark?’
He doesn’t believe the passage says what it says; he agrees with the common interpretation of it.
‘Does your father know that you and he have the same… um… abilities?’
He didn’t know at first; later he discovered it when he tried to control me.
‘How did you become the Goddess?’
When Hope, the former Southern Goddess, had her first bleeding, my father maneuvered and manipulated to have me proclaimed the next Goddess.
‘Didn’t people know that you were his child?’
Only a few did, and they were killed or coerced into silence. Remember, choosing a Goddess is done behind closed doors. Most people don’t know exactly where these children come from and many, including our hostess the Forehead Driller, don’t particularly care just so that there’s always a Goddess.
‘So who is more powerful then, you or him?’
Powerful how? In terms of real power, political power, economic power? Of course he is. How could it be otherwise? I think that I have more raw ability to influence people and things; after all, I can resist his influence. However, he’s had decades to practice and refine his ability, and I have never directly contested him.
‘So you share these mind abilities?’
We do.
‘And you used me to get away… ’
I did.
‘How long did you know about me?’
Longer than I previously let on.
‘I thought your powers don’t extend that far.’
I lied.
Sterling shakes his head, as if that will have some effect on the information he’s just received. He still wonders what his role is in all of this, and why he was selected. ‘Do you have any siblings?’ he finally asks. ‘Any that share the same power as you and your father?’
Not that I know of.
.3.
The front door smashes off its hinges.
Sterling is instantly awake; he’s lying with his back against the wall, his arms wrapped around Halo who’s snuggled up against him. He’s dimly aware of his erection, which is not solely due to a full bladder. The shabby curtain that separates the sleeping chamber from the main room rips from its rings before he can even begin to disentangle himself from the Goddess’ recumbent form.
A shadowy silhouette storms in and raises a clubbing stick high for a killing strike; all Sterling can do is roll on top of Halo to shield her as best he can and wait for the blow to land. There’s a thud and crash, and the blow never falls. The would-be assailant is frozen in his ready-to-strike posture and has overbalanced and fallen into a nightstand made of an R box crate.
Get his weapon.
He rolls off her and bounces to his feet; Halo lies there, still and unresponsive. If it weren’t for her voice in his head, he’d swear that all life had abandoned her.
Hurry!
He moves off her, rubs his eyes as he approaches the motionless man, who is clearly an OL Officer by his clothing. His eyes are still moving, blinking, and he isn’t quite completely motionless; his frame is beset with tiny shakes and tremors.
Sterling doesn’t ask any questions.
He pries the clubbing stick from the OL Officer’s hand and is just about to cave in the man’s skull when a second OL Officer charges in swinging just as Sterling dodges left. The momentum of the man’s miss throws him off balance and he stumbles into the wall, giving Sterling the perfect opening. He swings a killing blow between the man’s shoulders, and is horrified to see that it has little effect – this OL Officer has metal bones.
The Officer turns and smiles. ‘Sterling Northrope,’ he intones. ‘A warrant has been issued for your apprehension in connection with multiple thefts from Northern Depots, misappropriation of OL property, and three counts of unlawful killing. I am authorized to use whatever force is necessary to ensure your compliance. What say you?’
‘I don’t know how it is that Zander has OL metal men working for him,’ Sterling says as he carefully backs away, putting the motionless OL Officer between them, ‘but I won’t be coming quietly.’
Be ready.
The immobilized OL officer surges into action and throws himself into the man of metal. They roll on the floor and struggle for advantage as they kick up dust and debris and tangle in the still-warm bedding that Sterling and Halo have just vacated. Halo has scrambled out of the way and pressed her back against the wall with her hands cupped in front of her and her head slightly bowed.
‘Come on, come on, come on.’ Sterling mutters, as he bounces on the balls of his feet and looks for an opening. The man of metal bones twists in behind his opponent, wraps his legs around the other’s waist, and gets his forearm up under the human OL Officer’s chin.
Sterling steps in and smashes the clubbing stick into the man’s ear, recovers, and then smashes him again. The man of metal bones twitches and spasms, releases his partner, and as he tries to stand
to defend himself, Sterling spins and throws everything he has into another blow. He feels something give even as the shock of impact stings his hands and jolts up his arms. The OL Officer falls to the side and narrowly misses his partner, who rolls out of the way. Sterling hammers the skull like he’s breaking rocks back in Reeducation, punctuating each strike with a chant of ‘Bastard! Bastard! Bastard!’
The man of metal bones jitters and twitches and feebly moves his limbs; his former partner steps in, puts his foot on neck, grabs his wrist, twists and pulls him arm out straight.
Here’s your chance.
The clubbing stick falls from Sterling’s tingling fingers; he drops to his knees, draws his shiv, and rams it into the metal eye socket as the metal man writhes and squirms like a lizard’s tail that’s been jerked from its body. He rotates it until the twitching stops, and then repeats the process with the other eye socket, just to make sure he’s good and dead.
The human OL Officer drops his arms directly to his sides and freezes in place. He glares at Sterling and Halo with hate-filled eyes.
‘Make him tell us how they knew we were here,’ Sterling says as he approaches the man.
The man speaks without looking at him, ‘We interrogated your mother and your sister at your home. The neighbors nearby here said that they saw you here earlier.’
‘My mother and sister!?’ Sterling clenches his hand around the handle of his shiv.
‘They returned to your home shortly after the Blackout warning.’
‘And where are they now?’ he asks through gritted teeth.
‘Your mother is at your home, your sister’s location is unknown.’
Sterling moves to gut the man when he hears Halo’s voice behind his eyes.
Take his clothing first.
‘I’m not undressing him.’
The man disrobes and drops his clothes in front of him, kicks them over to Sterling and then turns to face the wall. With one fluid motion, Sterling plucks the OL issue shiv from the clothes pile, drives it into the side of the man’s neck and rips it outward. The officer’s blood fountains against the wall and splashes around his feet; he sinks to his knees, falls forward, and twitches briefly.
The Zero Patient Trilogy (Book Two): (A Dystopian Science Fiction Series) Page 7
