Dreams

by Richard A. Lupoff

  The two women collided, tumbling to the floor. Amber felt Doña María's dagger plunge into her flesh again and again. She found herself beneath her opponent but now marshaled her final reserves. She arched her back, literally throwing Doña María off her body. The noblewoman tumbled, flailing, landing with her throat against the Turkish cutlass.

  A hair's breadth higher and the cutlass would have sliced thin flesh and glanced off her jawbone. A hair's breadth lower and it would have bounded from her collarbone. But neither was to be the case.

  Doña María uttered a single gurgling gasp of pain and rage and mortality and collapsed, dead, on the floor of her cabin.

  Amber, her naked body covered with a mixture of sweat and blood and, yes, tears, knelt beside her dead foe's body, softly stroking her locks. A drop of sweat fell from Ambergris' weary face and ran down Doña María's cheek. A drop of sweat, or perhaps a teardrop.

  Diamond Lil and Pair o' Guts dragged Amber Annie through the hatch and laid her on her bunk in Niña's cabin. Pair o' Guts bathed her tenderly, then she and Lil dressed Amber in tee shirt and shorts. Amber lay quiet, breathing softly and steadily.

  Amber watched over her as Lil lifted Niña from the surface of Sakti and cruised slowly toward the horizon.

  Astarte lay back against satin cushions, the curved mouthpiece of the water pipe lying lightly upon her breast. She thought she must have dozed, but the gentle sound of wind chimes had wakened her, or perhaps it was the soft suggestion of moisture from a tinkling fountain. She let droplets of moisture settle on her tongue. The water held the merest suggestion of honey and the hint of spices.

  She drew once on the water pipe, letting its fumes penetrate her being. She smoothed her thin silken garment over her graceful body, letting it whisper over her generous aureolae and the darkness of her crotch.

  It was time, she knew, to receive reports from her ministers, and an ambassador was expected to offer her credentials and ceremonial gifts, always a nuisance but a duty which she performed as her mothers had for generations, ever since they had imposed their benevolent rule on the land.

  Servants appeared and removed the water pipe. She could always return to it, when she chose. They bathed her in rose water and dressed her in formal silks. When she was ready she summoned her vizier and ordered the reports of the day to be made. A military triumph over a rebellious tribe in the East, an offer of friendship and an eternal treaty from the growing power of the North. She was concerned with the Northerners; for all their allegedly peaceful intentions they were known to come from warlike stock. Astarte did not trust them.

  She conferred with counselors and ministers for hours, but at last the day's business was completed, save for the formal reception of the new ambassador from—where was it? Ah, yes, Hai Hui Hsi.

  The ambassador was preceded by child musicians blowing strange, reedy melodies on long, strangely curved horns, and others clashing tiny pairs of cymbals. Gift bearers brought carven chests. Each was no larger than an infant's skull, and for all that Astarte could tell, they were indeed carved from small human skulls.

  The ambassador herself was a picture of miniature perfection. If all the people of Hai Hui Hsi were as small and as beautiful as the ambassador, they must be an almost toylike race. The ambassador wore a silken coif but around its edges Astarte could see wisps of flame-red hair. The ambassador's eyes glowed like emeralds by lamplight.

  She spoke with a soft accent, offering greetings and affection from her ruler to the grand Astarte, craving to represent her land in eternal peace and amity. When Astarte permitted, she ordered the gift bearers to open the carven skulls, one by one. These were four in number.

  The first contained a rose of breathtaking beauty and intoxicating fragrance.

  The second contained a purple gem, by far the largest and most vibrant of its sort that Astarte had ever seen.

  The third contained a spice; at the ambassador's urging Astarte placed a single grain upon her tongue and was wafted to heights of indescribable pleasure.

  The fourth contained a tiny serpent, crimson in color, no longer than Astarte's middle finger. As she held the carven skull in her hand the serpent reared and stared into her face. Its eyes were like brilliant emeralds. It opened its mouth, revealing astonishing fangs that glittered in the lamplight and a forked tongue that darted out and back, out and back. "I will serve you faithfully and forever, Astarte," it hissed.

  Astarte nodded to the ambassador. "We are well pleased. Our servants will bring you to your apartments. Or if you wish you may remain with us during the evening's entertainment."

  The ambassador chose to remain.

  The entertainment consisted of a ritual opera performed exactly as it had been performed for ten thousand years. It told the story of three ancient goddesses who had descended to the Earth to spread the seeds of life.

  First the Goddess of the Air had created birds of beauty and of prey, shimmering dragonflies and colorful moths, and everything that flew, even the lovely, velvety bats whose presence was taken as the most joyous of all omens of the air.

  Then the Goddess of the Sea had created the fishes and the whales, the sea lions and sea cows, aquatic tortoises and toads, crabs and prawns and the clever, elusive octopuses whose presence was taken as the most joyous of all omens of the water.

  And last the Goddess of the Earth created snakes and bears, fearsome tigers and mighty rhinoceroses, thoughtful apes and fleet horses and every creature that walks on the land including the splendid wolves who would bless humans with their friendship if it was returned but who would destroy humans and replace them as the rulers of the Earth if humans provoked them overmuch.

  And after their work was completed, the goddesses decided to return to Heaven, but together they created Woman in their own image, and left her the stewardship of the world.

  When the opera was over Astarte invited the ambassador to stay the night with her in her private chambers. The ambassador, perhaps for political reasons, perhaps because she found the prospect appealing, agreed.

  Together they smoked a water pipe for a while, exchanging small talk, petting each other mildly, at last kissing softly on the lips. Astarte asked the ambassador if she would like to tour Astarte's hareem and select a companion for the coming hours. Receiving the ambassador's consent, Astarte took her by the hand and led her through a series of luxuriously appointed chambers. Fountains lifted scented water into the air and musicians played softly. Beautiful women displayed themselves tastefully. Each was more lovely than the next, but somehow the magical moment of joyous harmony did not arrive.

  But at last they entered a chamber where the scent of musk and petals was subtly altered. Astarte clapped her hands. "This is the one!" Turning to the ambassador she asked, "What do you think?"

  The ambassador looked at the candidate. She lifted her hand to touch golden hair. "Such springy curls! Oh, yes!" She touched the cheek, the chest. "Such fine skin. And the color, golden. And the eyes, eyes of burnished copper, as large and knowing as those of an owl."

  She stepped back. "But more a girl than a woman, Astarte. Sweet nipples, to be sure, like the buds of tea roses. I could nibble and tease them for hours. But the chest is flat, the hips are straight. And—and what is that?" She pointed. "What is that thing?"

  "Neither a girl nor a woman," Astarte replied. "This is a being different, rare and precious. And as for that thing, well, it is actually a part."

  The ambassador stared. "Does it do anything?"

  "Ah." Astarte reached long, skillful fingers and it sprang to life.

  The ambassador burst into laughter. Her shoulders shook, her breasts bounced, tears of mirth ran from her eyes. When at last she could speak she asked, "How amusing! How cunning! But is it good for anything?"

  Astarte said, "You will see."

  They returned to Astarte's chamber, the three of them.

  In the morning the third of them returned to the hareem bearing gifts. The ambassador bowed to Astarte. "This nigh
t has been most truly amazing. My liege will never believe my report. But I hope I may spend a long time at your court, Astarte."

  Astarte said, "It will be my pleasure."

  Diamond Lil said, "You are full of surprises, girlfriend."

  Asparagus blushed.

  The Niña stood in the shadow of the red statue. Amaterasu shone a quarter of the way up the sky.

  "You made us whores, Lil," Amber Annie said.

  "You and your pirates," Lil shot back. "And your little set-to with that Doña Cortez was something, wasn't it, Captain Ambergris!"

  "But you topped us all, Pair o' Guts. The Empress Astarte. You really know how to live, but what was that golden thing, really?" There was a big grin on Annie's face.

  Asparagus took each of the others by the hand. "The golden thing was just some weird creature I made up. I've always had a crazy imagination. They don't exist. Mother Nature isn't that ridiculous. And I've enjoyed your dreams, Lil, Annie. I hope you weren't too shocked by mine."

  The others squeezed Asparagus's hands. "Surprised, yes. Shocked, no," said Annie.

  "But we have to do something about this—this situation. I mean, Amaterasu and Sakti and that weird statue."

  They stood in front of the statue. Its eyes glowed like two tiny fragments of sky-mirror.

  "I think I've got this figured out," Asparagus said. "At least some."

  The others waited. "You know, I just used what I'd learned in my job on Earth."

  "Which was what?" Lil inquired. "Until the spaceship rental place put us together with Niña we were total strangers. I guess we're anything but that now."

  "I was a numerical rememberer," said Annie.

  "And I was a crop supervisor in an organ farm," said Lil.

  Asparagus hesitated, then said, "I didn't want either of you to think I was arrogant or anything, so I didn't go into detail about my work as a hyperphysics visioner."

  "Meaning what?" asked Lil.

  "Well, I think that might be why we've had these—experiences."

  "They weren't just dreams, were they?"

  "No, they were real. Or, well, hyperreal, I should say. A hyperphysics visioner can see into the structure of things. Can see lines of force, energy fluxes, matter-energy relationships. We can see equations not as coding or symbols but as thing really happening. In a way I can see your thoughts. I'm not exactly a mind-reader, Lil, Annie, I don't have telepathic talents. But you must have had moments when you felt that you could tell what somebody was thinking. I can do it, actually and literally. That's just one aspect of hyperphysical visioning."

  Lil spat, "Holy Eleanor! You can actually do that?"

  "I can."

  "Well, what can you do for us, sweetie? As far as I can tell we're still stuck on this little lump of muck and we're going to be here forever."

  "No," Asparagus demurred. "The singularity that popped us out of Earth's neighborhood—it's a speck small enough to pass through the eye of a needle, with room to spare on both sides. It's right in the middle of Amaterasu up there. Don't look at it, you'll hurt your eyes. You can't see it anyhow, in the middle of a sun. But it's there. And it's conscious."

  "What?" Amber Annie shook her head.

  "It is. In its own way. Its consciousness isn't much like anything we've ever known, but it's there nonetheless. It's been trying to contact us ever since we got here. That's why it made Sakti for us. That's why it made the red statue. It must have picked up that image out of one of our minds. One of us saw a picture of those ancient stone heads on Rapa Nui and we somehow imagined them as being just the top part of complete statues. Why it's red, I have no idea. But I think the singularity has put its—her—consciousness into the statue. I'll bet it's been learning our minds since we got here. That's why we had the dreams that weren't just dreams. It was getting to know us. And when it's ready, we're going to have the most powerful, the most incredible friend in the universe. We're going to be a goddess's favorite darlings."

  The huge statue opened its lips, revealing an amazing, cavernous mouth. One of its two blazing blue eyes closed for a moment, then reopened. It was a monumental wink.

  "You bet, girlfriends. You bet. The fun is just beginning."

  The River of Fog

  You bastard, James Allison!"

  I turned from the window where I had been staring down from my suite atop San Francisco's Nob Hill, watching the fog like a river of ice flow through the Golden Gate. I faced my three guests. They were all seated in deep Moroccan-leather chairs, surrounding the jade-inlaid table near my fireplace.

  A fragrant back-log had burned low, but still cast enough of a glow that no artificial lighting was required in the room.

  The speaker had been Yuriko Yamash'ta. She was probably the most beautiful woman alive, and the low flames reflected from deep in her dark eyes, her long glossy black hair and the matching costume that did little to conceal her elegant figure. She was also the only human being to climb the perilous north face of Everest alone. And she was known to have killed no fewer than five armed men—three of them on one occasion—with her bare hands.

  "Bastard, my dear?" I smiled at her. "In fact, I am not that. Not as James Allison. Although I'm certain that I was indeed a bastard in most of my prior incarnations. Most of us were."

  "You really believe in that reincarnation business?"

  The speaker now was Abraham Steinman. His wheelchair lay folded in the outer vestibule of my suite. A cursory glance at Abraham as he sat near the hearth would never have suggested that he had been a paraplegic from early childhood. Nor had the injury to his spine that had turned his body into a passive appendage interfered with the development of the most innovative mind since that of Edison.

  Steinman's greatest invention to date—the one that had freed the industrialized world of its bondage to OPEC oil and that had made Steinman the world's first self-created billionaire since the original Rockefeller—was the Steinman Universal Conversion Engine. That engine, in sizes anywhere from the dimensions of a wristwatch to those of the Grand Coulee Dam—could convert energy from any form into any other form, including solar, wind, or ther¬mal power into electricity. And it could do that with an efficiency of 99%+.

  Abe Steinman maintained a giant technological and administrative apparatus to manage his inventions, but he kept a private laboratory in a wooden shed for himself. And from that wooden shed, he had sworn, he would bring forth a set of neural-controlled miniaturized servo-motors by means of which he would walk within three years and would play third base in the American League within five. If he had to buy his own team to get the job, he said, he would do it. And he would hit for .300 or better!

  I answered his question. "I don't just believe in reincarnation, Abe. Any more than you 'believe in' rainstorms or the element oxygen. They exist. You know they exist, but that isn't what makes them real. There would be rainstorms whether you believed in them or not. There would be oxygen molecules, pairs of atoms with an atomic weight of eight and a valence of two, whether you believed in them or not. We're all reincarnated, time after time after time. Belief has nothing to do with it."

  "Not so." He moved his head slowly from side to side, one of the few actual motions he was capable of. "Belief is all important. If we all believed in reincarnation, there would be no reason to struggle for anything in this world. We might as well lie back and wait for a better life if we weren't happy with this one. No, Jim, it's the belief that this life is our one chance at the brass ring that makes us try for the ring—and some of us actually snag it!"

  My third guest made the kind of loud, inarticulate sound that writers render as hmph! He reached an elegantly-manicured hand for the small cobalt-blue glass-lined silver dish on the jade-topped table, lifted it and an even tinier silver spoon. He filled the spoon carefully with fine white powder and offered it to Yuriko and Abraham, then carefully took a spoon for himself.

  After a few seconds he said, "I agree that belief is all important, but belief in reincarnati
on isn't necessarily as debilitating as you suggest, Abe."

  "Come now," Steinman rejoined. "That belief has been the greatest impediment to the development of India. One of the world's great cultures—gone stagnant and flat. Why work?

  "Why bother to advance oneself or society, when there's always another chance and another chance and another chance to come? Someday we'll all be kings if we keep our karma right, so why bother to improve the lot of peasants, even if we're all peasants in this turn around the wheel?"

  "Ah, Abe, Abe, Abe," the other said. "You ought to get your nose out of the laboratory once in a while and observe the way the world works. It wasn't reincarnation that set India back, it was the British East India Company! And India's still working to undo the distortions in her character that Britain brought about."

  Steinman grimaced. "Very well. I certainly bow to your greater understanding of politics, Senator."

  Senator McPherson smiled in mock gratitude.

  Gardner Hendricks McPherson had been the most brilliant cadet to graduate from West Point since Douglas MacArthur, and had broken even MacArthur's record for a speedy rise from second lieutenant to brigadier general. His star continued to rise in the military firmament until he startled the nation by resigning his commission to run for a seat in the United States Senate.

  He had won, had performed with similar brilliance in the Senate, becoming Minority Leader before the end of his first term—another unprecedented achievement for McPherson. It was now a foregone conclusion that he would be President of the United States one day, whether four years hence, or eight, being the major question that remained.

  He placed the cobalt-blue dish back on the table, selected a slim, hand-rolled stick of Thai gold from a filigreed tray, and lit it with a solid gold lighter. He exhaled slowly, nodded and passed the stick to his right.

  "Surely you didn't mean to direct the conversation onto abstract philosophy, Yuriko, when you called our gracious host a bastard." McPherson inclined his head toward the mountaineer. "But what did you have in mind?"