by Rudy Rucker
“That stupid stoner hairfarmer.”
“He’s not a hairfarmer, Ike; he’s a scientist and an artist. He’s a chaotician.”
“Yeah, but you’re not denying he’s a stoner, are you? These poor valleys come out to live at the beach and they think it’s nothing but party time.”
“Now he’s valley too?”
“He comes from Iowa! Can’t get more valley than that. You never should’ve married him, Terri.”
‘Thank you for your wonderful support, you selfish prick. Now go away.”
“Let’s cut the jawing and make tracks,” snapped Xlotl.
“Tell us, Pop,” said Xanana to the red-and-yellow-striped dome that was Everooze. “Which way did she go? Which way did she go? Which way did she go?” He put the phrase through maybe two hundred repetitions in two seconds.
“I’ll ask Zilly if he can lead us,” said Everooze, making a popping noise and flipping his shape into that of a giant potato chip. “He’s been surfing here all day, and he says he saw Monique go in. But, Ike, what with the negative vibrations and so on and howsomever, it will indeed be wavier if you don’t come. Get the bus back to the shop, chill, and I’ll see you there later, your humble worker till wigdom come or I retire, whichever comes first.”
“Fine,” said Ike, stomping off. “To hell with all of you.”
Xanana lay down flat and split his backside, opening up like a seed pod.
“Undress and snuggle on in, Terri. You’ll be able to see out through my face. It’s transparent there. Let’s practice while Everooze talks to Zilly.”
“I haven’t done this before,” said Terri, recalling her dead father’s hypocritical tirades against intimacy with moldies. “Are you sure I’ll be able to breathe?”
“Of course,” said Xanana. “I have enough algae and other stuff in my tissues to make air twice as fast as a person can breathe. Or just as fast as any two people can breathe. Or half as fast as four people can breathe. Or—”
“Yeah, but your . . . your air is going to stink.”
“Just wear nose filters. I usually keep some—” Xanana’s flesh rolled about for a minute, and then a small slit opened up in his skin to disgorge two small metal sponges. “Palladium filters. Never heard of them? I’m beginning to think you’re moldiephobic, Terri. You sure you’re not a Heritagist? I know a lot of the Percesepes are.”
“Well, I’m not,” said Terri bravely. “I admit my uncles are xoxxy. They’re all Heritagists, yes. Sons of Adam. My father was too—at least we thought he was. But it turned out he was a cheeseball. Maybe he was really on the moldies’ side by the end. Maybe it wasn’t a moldie that killed him, maybe it was a Heritagist. You don’t know anything about it, do you, Xanana? It happened five years ago.”
“That’s before my time,” said Xanana. “I’m sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.”
Terri folded her clothes and set them under a rock, then got inside Xanana and pressed her face up against the inside of the transparent silvery membrane that the moldie used as a face. Air rushed to her steadily through two grooves in the membrane. Once she got the filters well settled into her nose, the smell was not too major. But how could she talk to Xanana?
“I’ll uvvy you.” Xanana’s voice sounded in Terri’s head. “And I can channel my vision to you too—if we go deep and it’s too dark for your eyes. Are you ready?”
“Let’s dive in,” uvvied Terri back.
Xanana humped along the cliff’s edge like an elephant seal, found a spot overlooking a deep pool, and dove in. Terri watched in wonder as the water flew up toward them. And then they were undersea. Xanana could pick up Terri’s mentally realized wishes far more easily than a DIM board, and for now he chose to let her steer him.
They went out a few hundred yards, away from the surfers, swam to the bottom, and began slowly looking around. It was like the ultimate tide pool. Terri saw starfish of every color, green sea cucumbers, frilly yellow nudibranch slugs, and a red gumboot chiton. A cascade of tiny pink strawberry anemones covered a rock, looking like a carpet of purple verbena flowers on a Santa Cruz cliff.
“Can I touch things?” uvvied Terri.
“Yes. Just push out your arms.”
Terri did, and Xanana’s flesh flowed and stretched, forming sleeves and gloves to warmly cover Terri’s skin. She prodded a long-stalked plumose anemone, causing it to draw its feathery pale tendrils back into its body.
“You’re cozy to be in, Xanana,” uvvied Terri.
“Yeah, I am. Would you like me to fuck you?”
“What?”
“The others won’t be here for a few minutes. I can grow a penis shape and push it into you. A lot of the women passengers like it. To relieve tension.”
“No thank you! What if you planted a meatbop in me?”
“Nobody has the wetware tech for that anymore. Anyway, you’re not fertile right now. I know the smell.”
“Well, I’m sorry, Xanana, but I’m just not interested.”
“It’s all the same to me. We’ll hang here and wait for the others.”
As she and Xanana lay there drifting on the seabed, sudden shapes rushed at them and spun them around—Terri drew her arms back inside Xanana’s bulk, lest she smash a wrist against a rock. It was Everooze, followed by Ouish and Xlotl. Xanana gave Terri a sound feed of the moldies’ conversation.
“So Zilly says Monique swam off toward Monterey,” Everooze was explaining. “With the skungy cheeseball inside her. Big day for that dook, no doubt.” Terri cringed silently at the thought of doing it with Xanana. No doubt he would have broadcast it to his friends. No way she would ever be a cheeseball.
“Zilly should of come with us,” complained Xlotl. “Instead of wasting our time chewing the fat.”
“He’d rather surf,” uvvied Everooze. “Get over it. He downloaded his info to us, so what’s the diff? Zilly declines to interrupt his deep daily study of the breaking wave; he’s liftin’ and floatin’! Parenthetically, Terri and Xanana, did you know Zilly says the optimal liveboard attends to the negative space of the wave? To the tube and not to the water? In any event, let’s now swim toward Monterey while keeping our senses stretched for visions of Monique. Poor Monique, my darling daughter. Bested by a stinking fleshapoid. Phew.”
The four moldies headed offshore together—Everooze in front, followed by Xanana and Ouish, followed by awkward lumpy Xlotl.
“Don’t lose me,” clamored Xlotl. “I ain’t the world’s fastest swimmer.”
“You should spend more time in the water,” said Ouish in her low thrilling voice. “Undersea is the best. There’s hardly any fleshers here. No offense, Terri.”
The bottom was about forty feet down and falling rapidly. They swam near the bottom, avoiding the giant kelp beds, thickets of rubbery tendrils that grew from the ocean floor clear to the surface. Some harbor seals swam by overhead; Xanana rolled over and began swimming on his back so that Terri could stare up at them. The seals seemed intent on giving the moldies a wide berth.
“Do you ever interact with whales and dolphins?” Terri asked Xanana. “It almost seems like moldies should be able to talk with them.”
“Almost,” answered Xanana. “But so far it hasn’t happened. We’ve decoded some of their songs, and all we’ve heard whales talk about is sex and food and territory. Almost like birds. Though, yeah, whales also talk about the stars. We’re not sure how they can even see them, but they talk about the stars all the time. The stars. The starry stars. The starry starry stars—” Xanana did one of his speeded-up infinite regresses with that word and then continued. “Moldies are a lot more like people than they are like whales. It’s no wonder, given that we evolved from human-designed robots. From the boppers that you annihilated with chipmold.”
“Don’t blame me,” said Terri. “Not while you’re carrying me like a baby in the womb. Not after you asked if you could fuck me. Ugh. Like—I would do that!”
“I notice you’re still talking about it,” sniggered
Xanana. “And as far as blame goes, there isn’t any. If it weren’t for chipmold, there wouldn’t be moldies. Also Monique always said you treated her well. Hey, there goes the Percesepe deep-sea fishing boat. I bet they’ve got something to do with this.” Xanana was still on his back and they were out quite deep. High above on the wrinkled mirror of the water’s surface was a dark oval, a large boat’s hull heading back toward the wharf.
Xanana rolled back over and began swimming steadily deeper. The light grew dim. Up ahead of them a great dark chasm lay open in the ocean floor. Terri recognized this as the Monterey Submarine Canyon that she’d seen on proud local maps her whole life. Wider and deeper than the Grand Canyon! Were they actually going down in there?
“I’m pickin’ up Monique.” Xlotl’s voice came from behind them. “She’s in dark cold water, swimming down toward a fuckin’ whale? Some flesher dook was inside her, but he’s gone—that’s gotta be Randy Karl. I think she let Randy off at the surface next to the Percesepe fishing boat and now she’s sounding for the bottom. The whale-thing is glowing; it’s fuckin’ green.”
“Affirmo,” uvvied Everooze. “I wave Monique too. But what’s real and what’s dream? The age-old question. Let’s go ahead and dive way deep into this mighty crack. I’ve lingered too long in the airy lands of the fleshapoids.”
“You might as well start using my eyes now,” Xanana told Terri. “I’ll uvvy the video to you. Photon to photon to photon to photon to—”
“Thanks,” said Terri. To her naked eyes, the seafloor looked dark and monochromatic. She let her eyes go out of focus and let the uvvy come in. The new images showed a vast sparkling space filled with delicate shadings of bright colors. The walls of the Monterey Submarine Canyon ahead were an inviting symphony of pink and green. A school of silver anchovies swept by, followed by several huge fish with solemn unwavering eyes. Everooze’s red-and-yellow body darted down over the lip of the submarine cliff. His body was a flat, elongated ellipse that wriggled as he moved. Xanana dove after him, and a sharp watery pain crackled in Terri’s head.
“My ears!”
“Pinch your nose and blow,” Xanana advised her. “Like you’re trying to burst your ears. It’ll equalize the pressure. Can you get your hand up to your face? Yeah, that’s the way. That’s the ‘That’s the way’ way. That’s the ‘That’s the “That’s the way” way’ way.” Terri snaked her arm up flat along her chest, pinched her nose, and blew. Her ear pressure equalized itself with a swampy pop.
The Monterey Submarine Canyon had any number of smaller subcanyons branching off it. If Randy Karl Tucker had sent Monique to hide down here, it might take a long time to find her. Terri tried to relax and enjoy Xanana’s uvvy images of the colored cliffs and darting sea life. Everooze and Ouish swam gracefully ahead of them, and Xlotl lagged a bit behind.
“Everooze,” uvvied Ouish suddenly, “I think Monique is down in the next ravine.”
“I smell her! I smell Monique!” cried Xlotl, rushing forward past Xanana, Ouish, and Everooze. “Follow me.”
The moldies’ sharklike bodies arched down over yet another subterranean cliff into a final deep sea crevice.
Terri’s breathing grew fast and ragged. It was so dark that she could see next to nothing through her faceplate. How deep were they now? She was crazy to be trusting a moldie this much. All Xanana would have to do would be to push her out of his body and she’d be over a hundred feet deep in the cold, dark, airless sea. She’d drown before she could ever swim to the top.
“Xanana,” she said, “take me back. I’m getting scared. Take me up the fishing boat so I can confront Randy Karl Tucker.” She visualized and realized Xanana turning back. This would have worked on her DIM board, but on Xanana it had no effect and he failed to actualize her wish.
“We’re not going back yet,” said Xanana. “Stop worrying and look around. It’s beautiful down here. Look at my uvvy. All the patterns on top of patterns on top of patterns on top of—”
Terri focused her wandering attention on Xanana’s video feed. The uvvy images showed flat Everooze and sharky Ouish down below them, led by the vigorous lumpy Xlotl, all of them pumping their bodies to dive deeper. The cliff’s false colors were purple and vermilion now, with sprawling splashes of orange. There were some large drifting blobs—giant jellyfish—and school after school of rockfish, wheeling about like flocks of birds. Long, wavering kelp stipes festooned the cliffs. Prancing spot prawns, cautious Dungeness crabs, and skulking octopi moved slowly across the cliff rocks, with wolf eels and monkeyhead eels hanging from the crevices. A glistening drift of squid jetted past.
“I see it!” exclaimed Xanana. “Down at the bottom there!”
Down below them was a green light, a light that coiled about, thickening and thinning its shape. As Xanana’s great tail beat them closer, his uvvy showed Terri that the light source was a huge wriggling form.
Terri popped her ears again, wincing at the moist crackle. She was feeling a chill, despite the wrapping of Xanana. Suddenly she remembered a tall tale her Uncle Carmine had told her when she was little—that ice in the ocean is heavier than water, and that the whole bottom of the Monterey Bay is covered with chunks of ice. The deep light they were swimming toward was like a glistening iceberg, gleaming so brightly that Terri could even see its glitter through the faceplate with her naked eyes. Light down here in this deep trench?
“I’m scared, Xanana,” she repeated.
“Hold on,” answered the moldie. “We have to see what’s down there.”
“It’s a big group moldie,” reported Xlotl from farther down. “Monique’s merged into them. And—uh-oh—they channel me.” He raised his voice in anger. “I’m Monique’s husband and I want her back!”
“Look out!” blared Everooze. “It’s spitting out superleeches. Fast purple-colored little things. Don’t let them touch you!”
Everooze bucked away from the green grex and shot up past Xanana and Terri, with a dozen fuzzy purple imipolex creatures chasing after him. Before Xanana could react, one of the little superleeches, no bigger than a baby’s hand, had flicked over and attached itself to Xanana’s side. Suddenly Xanana’s steady swimming became chaotic and uncertain.
Terri focused on the uvvy images Xanana was feeding her. There was still the same canyon around them, except now there was a glowing red line leading from them down into the deeps and Xanana was swimming straight along the line. Ouish and Xlotl were still down there, and at the other end of the virtual red line was the thing like a giant green moldie, nearly the size of a whale and—whoosh—it darted forward and snatched at Ouish while the fast purple superleeches flocked this way and that—
“Get out of here!” screamed Terri. “It’s going to eat us!”
“Help!” came Ouish’s voice. “The superleeches are—” Her voice broke, changed, and resumed, an octave sweeter, sounding like a possessed woman in a horror viddy. “I’m joining the happy throng!”
Xlotl swooped aggressively at the green monster, evading the superleeches, but he was no match for the huge green group moldie. It lunged forward and caught Xlotl with a fast, sudden tentacle, and now Xlotl was screaming too.
“It’s got me! Swim like hell, Everooze! Get outta here, Xana—” Then his voice stopped.
Xanana swam calmly forward.
“Go!” screeched Terri, visualizing and realizing a great kick of Xanana’s tail as hard as she could, but to no avail—until suddenly Everooze came swooping back down after them and scraped the superleech loose from Xanana’s side with a seashell. “Jam, Xanana, jam!” screeched Terri, and Xanana went shooting upward in Everooze’s wake.
“Breathe out, Terri!” cried Xanana. “Breathe out or your lungs will burst! Breathe out breathe out! Breathe out breathe out breathe out—”
Just as they neared the lip of the precipice at the start of the monster’s canyon, there was a sudden dull thud. All around them, the water streamed upward. Everooze and Xanana went tumbling, and the big heavy lit-
up grex came pushing after them. Everooze was off to one side, and the group moldie went right past him, but Xanana and Terri were directly in its path. With a quick gulping grab, the green shape engulfed them, snatching them out of the water as it went hurtling by. There was a concussive blast of sound and then they were shooting up into the sky like a rocket.
Xanana was in a dream state; he sent no words, and the vision that he uvvied to Terri showed an endless regress of Earth and a rocket with Xanana in the rocket and a cartoon thought balloon coming out of Xanana showing Earth and a rocket with Xanana in the rocket and a cartoon thought balloon coming out of Xanana showing—
Xanana had been plastered into the side of the group moldie rocket in such a way that Terri could see outward through Xanana’s transparent faceplate. And, even more fortunately, Xanana was still providing air and acting as an insulator. Terri was, for the moment at least, in a comfortable safe nook on the side of a living rocket ship headed—where?
Looking down, Terri could already see the Monterey Bay as a single nick in a coastline that stretched up into the thumb that was the San Francisco peninsula, with the San Francisco Bay on the other side. Still the rocket rose and roared.
The sun was setting over the Pacific Ocean, making a shining orange patch in faraway clouds. At this distance, the ocean looked static and metallic. Still they rose, pushing out to the far edge of the atmosphere. The sky overhead was turning dark purple. From this height Terri could see the Earth’s curvature, dear big fat Earth wrapped in the atmosphere’s thin rind.
“Soon I’ll die,” thought Terri and began to cry. Xanana’s thoughts were a starry mess of bright patterns, iterated fractals formed by overlaying infinite regresses of solarized images, no comfort at all.
In the distance was one last shape at their level. Terri took it for a stratospheric ice-crystal cloud, but then she realized that the object was flying toward them. It was shaped like a giant blue stingray and seemed to be another group moldie.
Terri’s tears dried as she stared in fascination at the computationally rich rippling of the great flying stingray’s flesh. It swooped upward at hypersonic speed to match the speed of the rocket grex and produced two giant catfish whiskers to touch it. Right away Terri could hear the flying blue stingray talking over the uvvy.
