by V. E. Lemp
The floor tilted. “I need a chair.”
Alex wheeled around the chair from the desk, and Karen took it from him without allowing him to touch her hands. She fell into it right before her legs gave out.
Alex backed away, his gaze fixed on her face. “I told you many times I’d always protect you, and I never said it lightly. I knew, in the end, Vance wanted you back. You have such an ability to communicate with them, he’d never willingly give you up. He kept fighting to reclaim you. He even sent you along to the warehouse that day hoping I wouldn’t be able to save you. That I’d have to take you with me.” Alex’s smile held no humor. “His last desperate attempt to bend me to his will. I walked out the back door, of course, the moment you left the building, and Vance and the avatar whisked me away before the explosion. I thought you’d still be at the car, that you’d be far enough away … Anyway, part of Vance’s plan was for me to entice you to join me. That’s why he didn’t care we were involved, despite flaunting protocol. That’s why he always encouraged the relationship. He wanted both of us. He probably promised the Oneiroi he’d deliver you to them along with me, I don’t know. I was never informed of all his plans.”
“You could’ve told me. We could have stood up to him, to them.”
“I couldn’t take that chance. You don’t know what they’re capable of, how dangerous they are—Vance and his compatriots more so than the Oneiroi. And, I must confess, part of me still wanted to go. My actions were not, as you have observed, totally noble.”
“So you admit that, do you? But why contact me again? I mean, after we ran into each other here that day I almost fell through the floor. What did you think, that I’d somehow feel for your avatar what I once felt for you?”
“No, I didn’t expect that. Perhaps I hoped. But I expected nothing. No, I only kept in contact when you put yourself in danger. Your investigations, as you call them, are placing you in jeopardy. Vance and his associates may harm you one day, if only by taking you prisoner. I have to protect you.” He sighed. “It seems to be my avocation.”
Karen sat in silence while the man called David Cole leaned against his desk, watching her intently.
“So you live now, what, in a box?” she asked, after a time.
“No, not at all. The Oneiroi created a small but perfectly formed habitat on one of their ships. It isn’t so far away, you know. Still in our solar system. They are clever, hiding their ships in plain sight. I’m not sure how they do it, but I know they’ll never be discovered if they don’t wish to be found. It isn’t so awful, you know. I have everything I need—the correct atmosphere and gravity and all the rest. And access to all of their technology. I can explore many worlds—virtually, you understand—using their tools. They wanted me, or at least some human with the right mindset, to see if we could do that. It was a test. An experiment to learn whether humans could be trained to use their technology and access their vast accumulation of knowledge. I am,” he added, with a tinge of bitterness, “for all intents and purposes, their lab rat.”
Karen looked up at him. “Are you alone?”
The being called David Cole kept his eyes fixed on her. Eyes so alien, so different from those of the man she’d loved.
“I’m the only human here, if that’s what you mean.”
Karen’s heart contracted, like a fist tightening. “Has it been worth it, giving up your life? Shunning humanity? Has it been worth the sacrifice?”
He turned from her. “Karen, I’ve seen things no one else has ever seen. The genesis of stars and the death of galaxies, remnants of civilizations that were old when our earth was created, the birth of new worlds, the last breath of ancient beings, the oneness of all things. Nothing destroyed without something else being created. Me being alone is the least of these things.”
“But you have no human comfort, no human touch.” Karen’s heart broke over this man one last time. “Tell me this is enough, Alex. Convince me it’s enough.”
“I can’t tell you that.” David Cole turned, and Karen saw, at last, the face of Alex Wythe looking at her through the mask of his avatar.
“Oh, my dear, what have you done? Whatever have you done?”
Karen dropped her head into her hands. She sat in silence for a time, then straightened and looked directly at him.
“You know I would have gone with you, back then. I would’ve gone with you anywhere, if you’d asked.”
“I know.”
“But you decided the matter for me.” Karen spoke with deadly calm. “Without telling me the truth, without discussion. You decided my fate.”
“I thought it was for the best.”
“I’m sure you did. But you see, Alex” she said, rising to her feet, “it wasn’t your decision to make.”
She walked until she stood before him, close enough to hear his ragged breathing but not close enough to touch.
“You told me the Oneiroi make no claims to be God. But they rather enjoy playing God, I think. And you—you rather enjoy that as well, don’t you?”
“Unfair,” Alex said, his voice thinned like beaten metal. “That’s not worthy of you, Karen.”
“Oh, are we debating my worth now?” Karen refused to drop her gaze. “The point is—all this protecting eventually begins to feel like something else. It’s a bit like managing. It feels, sometimes, like control.”
Pain glazed the eyes of Alex’s avatar.
“You made a decision you’d no right to make. You took everything out of my hands. You took my choices away. And when you did that—when you did that, Alex, you diminished me. Made me into something less. Less than what I could be. Less”—Karen’s voice dropped to a whisper—“than you.”
“No,” he said.
“It’s true, my dear.” In that moment, the full extent of this truth disintegrated years of lies. “Oh, you loved me, I don’t doubt that. But in your mind I was never quite on your level. I was never your equal.”
“I’ve always admired your mind and your talents, Karen. I respect you.”
Karen faced him down, remembering, in a small corner of her mind, doing this before. With one of the Oneiroi, in her dreams.
“Do you? But not enough, it seems, to let me make my own choices. Not enough to allow me to control my own life.” Karen lifted her arms and swiftly unclasped the necklace from about her neck. “Hold out your hand.”
He complied. She dropped the necklace into his open palm.
“I believe you need wishes now more than I do,” she said, as his fingers slowly closed over the star pendant.
“So many stars,” Alex murmured, gazing into her eyes, “so many suns. The entire universe at my fingertips. But nothing”—his voice was suffused with wonder as he continued to stare directly at Karen—“nothing more amazing.”
“Goodbye, Alex.” Karen turned and walked out of the room without a backward glance.
Dream Journal, September 30th:
I stood on a beach, a small cove of sand surrounded by water and rocks. It was night, but I could tell from the color of the sand, a pale lavender under the moonlight, that this was a beach that couldn’t exist on our world.
In front of me a black cliff rose up sharply from the sand. I stared at a building built into the cliff face. It was constructed of pale stone blocks, flecked with some shining material, like silver. The building extended deep into the cliffs, and there were many windows cut into its facade. It blazed with light, yet there was something ominous about it. Something otherworldly. It looked like nothing I’d ever seen on Earth, although I think I may have drawn that building many times while I dreamed.
A door opened in the facade, and something walked out to greet me. I couldn’t see it clearly, or perhaps I couldn’t comprehend what I was seeing. There was a shimmer like fire around this being. I had to shield my eyes from the light.
I spoke then, though not in words. “It’s time I talked to you, face to face. You’ve used me to send your messages, to draw your specifications. You’ve tal
ked to me in riddles and symbols, always hiding your true form behind disguises. It’s time to meet as we are.”
The being answered me without making a sound. “We have waited for you to come to us.”
“I am here.”
“And now we can speak with you, Karen Foster, honestly. Without symbols or disguises. In our true forms.”
“Do you understand my desire to expose your existence to my world?”
“Yes.” The being turned and walked to the open door, pausing to look at me once more. “And we wait to see what you will do to bring such an accomplishment about. That will interest us greatly. It will be,” said the Oneiroi, “a magnificent experiment.”
The being gathered its light into itself and entered the building and closed the door. I was left standing alone on that beach. Where I was, I did not know. Nor did I know how far I was from home.
TWENTY-ONE
Karen called Mark to let him know she was on her way but only reached his answering machine. She decided to drive over anyway. If he wasn’t there, she’d wait on the porch, as long as necessary.
But Mark opened the door before her car engine stopped. Karen walked to him, aware he was intently watching her.
“You’ll be quite confused if I get a new car, won’t you?”
“Hello, Karen.” There was no trace of humor in his voice. He stepped back to allow her to enter the house and carefully closed and locked the door behind them.
“Did Thea reach you?” Karen crossed to the sofa and sat down. Mark stayed on his feet.
“She did.”
“Did she tell you not to worry?”
“Yes, but the message came a little late.” Mark moved to the sofa and stood over her. “I’d already worried enough for ten.”
“I’m sorry.” Karen ducked her head. She spied Kate out the corner of her eye. The cat leapt onto the couch and curled up next to her. Karen stroked the cat’s soft fur, and Kate purred.
“Faithless creature,” Mark said, “making up to someone who hasn’t come around for over a week and never bothered to contact us.”
“I really am sorry, Mark.” Karen looked up at him. “I should’ve called you.”
“Yes, you should have.” Mark sat beside her. “Never do that again.”
“So I’m going to have a chance to do anything again? I thought maybe you’d had enough of me.”
“Why would you ever think that?” Mark glanced at her. “You look tired, Karen. Tired and pale.”
“I’ve had a lot on my mind. Haven’t slept much.”
“Well, that makes two of us. Now, are you going to tell me what the hell’s been going on, or do I have to guess?”
“I met with Ian Vance.”
“Yeah, I already figured that out. And I did call Myron Tarrow, who, despite his many other talents, isn’t a very good liar.”
Karen sighed. “I shouldn’t have asked him to cover for me.”
“No, you shouldn’t have. Of course, I did make sure Vance hadn’t abducted you. I knew you were at the condo but decided to allow you time to process whatever it was Vance told you.” His face softened then. “I’d rather,” he said, in a different tone of voice, “you come to me of your own free will. I didn’t want to force anything.”
“I know.” Karen leaned into him. “That means a lot to me, Mark. More than you know.”
Mark lifted his arm and placed it around her shoulders. “So, you saw Vance, and he what? Gave you new information? Threatened you again? Tried to lure you back to the Morpheus Project? What?”
“He did all those things. But he also told me something else.” Karen took a deep breath and proceeded to detail Ian Vance’s revelations concerning Alex. As she spoke, Mark’s grip tightened on her shoulder.
“And you believe him?” Mark asked after she finished. “Vance is a notorious liar. He might be manipulating you.”
“I believe him.” Karen looked up at Mark from under her lowered lashes. “I confronted him, Mark. Not Vance, Alex. Or David Cole, if you prefer. I met him this afternoon. Decided I had to see him, to confirm what Vance said. And it’s true, Mark. It’s all true.”
His fingers slid down and came to rest in the hollow of her neck. “Your necklace is gone.”
“Yes. I returned it.”
Mark’s looked away, his gaze apparently captured by one of her paintings. After a moment, he looked back at her. “So how do things stand now? Alex is alive, if not exactly accessible. How do you feel about that?”
“I’m glad he’s still alive, but that doesn’t change what happened, what he did. I’ve been thinking this through quite rigorously. And I’ve come to a definite conclusion.”
“Oh, and what’s that?” Mark’s voice held a lightness Karen couldn’t detect in his eyes.
“Alex made his choice a long time ago. Now I’ve made mine.”
She took his face in her hands and kissed him.
He broke away after a moment. “Am I to assume,” he asked, his voice lacking its customary calm, “I figure into your final decision?”
“You can assume that.” Karen kissed him until she was quite sure he fully understood her choice.
The next morning Karen told Mark she needed to return to her condo.
“Although I’d rather not,” she said. “In fact, I think I’m going to sell the place and find something else. Somehow the thought of living there no longer appeals to me.”
“You could live here.” Mark sipped his coffee.
“We’ve been over this before. How would I live here and get to work every day? I mean, I could, but it’d be a lot of driving back and forth.”
“You wouldn’t necessarily have to work full-time, would you?” Mark pushed his chair away from the table. His brown eyes gleamed brightly behind his glasses.
“Of course I would. I’m not independently wealthy, you know.”
“I mean, you could paint full-time if you had your own studio, right? You do make money from your paintings.”
“Yes, but I’d have no benefits. No insurance, that sort of thing.”
“But if you were covered by insurance some other way, perhaps you could paint full-time and not worry with teaching.”
“This is a circular argument.” Karen stood. “What are you trying to say?”
Mark strolled over to stand beside her. “My garage out back has an apartment above it. I’ve never had a use for it, but it does have electricity and running water. A little renovation, and it could make a fine studio, I think.”
“That’s very sweet. But it doesn’t solve the problem of needing my job, for the benefits, if nothing else.”
“My job,” Mark said firmly, “offers benefits.”
“And that’s very nice for you.” Karen walked into the living room. “But I don’t get how it helps me.”
Mark followed her to the center of the room, where she stopped and turned to look at him. “You could live here and work in the studio, and if you wanted to teach, well, perhaps it could be part-time, not every day of the week. That would make this place more practical, don’t you think?”
“Following that logic, yes.” Karen stared at him with curiosity. “Is there something else you’re trying to say, Mark, because I’m not getting it.”
He raked his fingers through his hair. “Damn it, Karen, don’t be so obtuse. I’m attempting to propose to you.”
Karen gazed at him—at his tousled hair, now standing up in spikes, at the frustration tensing his mouth, at the earnest affection in his eyes—and a giggle rose in her throat. She coughed to cover it, but it was too late. The giggle grew into a ripple of laughter.
Mark stared at her in disbelief. Then something sparked in his eyes. The corners of his mouth twitched. He chuckled before joining her in unrestrained laughter.
Karen fell into his arms, still laughing so hard she couldn’t speak. She felt his body shaking. After a moment he tightened his arms around her, and she tipped her head to look up at him. Tears were streaming down his chee
ks, but he was smiling.
“You know”—Karen reached up to brush away some of the dampness on his face with the back of one hand—“we’re bound to argue.”
“No doubt.” Mark dabbed away her own tears with the edge of his sleeve.
“And we’re likely to drive each other crazy from time to time.”
“That’s a given.”
“And I don’t expect you’ll change, and I know I won’t.”
“Truer words were never spoken.”
“But I will say yes.”
“Of course you will,” Mark said, and kissed her.
Thea was overjoyed to receive news of the engagement.
“You can be married here at the house,” she said, “unless you want something more elaborate.”
“Oh no,” Karen replied. “We want to keep things simple.”
“But I think the ceremony needs to be outside. We can fix up the yard quite nicely.” Thea paused for a moment. “That means we have to arrange things quickly.”
“Why?” Karen pushed Mark’s hand away from her leg. “Not now, I’m talking to Thea.”
“Is Mark there?”
“Yes, he’s sitting next to me, being wicked.”
Mark grinned.
“Good for him,” Thea said. “Now, here’s the thing—we can’t procrastinate. If we wait the weather might get dicey. But, no problem. I can pull everything together in less than a month.”
“Less than a month? No, I don’t think so.”
“Put Mark on the line,” Thea demanded.
Karen handed the phone to Mark. “Thea wants to talk to you.”
“Really?” Mark offered Thea a warm hello, then sat back, listening intently, his expression unreadable.
“Thea claims,” he said at last, holding the phone away from his ear, “we’re getting married in a month. I don’t think I can convince her otherwise.”
Karen shook her head. “That’s crazy, Mark. So quickly?”
“She’s going to take care of all the details. Aren’t you going to take care of everything, Thea?” he spoke into the phone. “She says yes,” he told Karen.
