“Okay, but does that mean we can go back in time?”
“Yes and no, one would think they'd teach dark assassins that much. Time may be flexible, but that doesn't mean it always bends the way you want it too. There are some things that you can't just go back and do, or at least no one has yet found a way to do them.”
“Really like what?” Miranda found herself becoming interested.
“Like, what historical period does the largest number of people attempt to visit, I mean the top one out of all of time?” Gene scooted forward to the edge of the chair.
Miranda shrugged, “I don't have a clue.”
Gene raised an eyebrow, “Oh yeah, that reminds me I was going to introduce you to a friend this morning wasn't I?” Gene got up and started for the door, “You coming?”
“What was it?” Miranda asked rising to follow Gene, more than a little confused.
“Jesus' life,” Gene spun and answered.
“Who?”
“I'll leave my friend to discuss all of that, let’s just leave it at the fact that no one has ever been back there. Something, or someone,” Gene winked at Miranda, “just doesn't seem to allow it. It leaves everything just as it should be, a matter of faith.”
Gene led Miranda to the clinic transport booth. He stepped inside and tapped a destination into the control pad. Moments later they were outside again, on a street very much like the one her apartment was on. They were on the corner of the main street level, small electric cars negotiated their way past a steady stream of foot traffic. “Up there,” Gene pointed up through the metal decking of the upper level to a small church front, then he led her to a small glass elevator. They rode up with Miranda staring up into the perfect sky.
“Is the weather always this nice?”
Gene looked at her blankly then laughed, “It isn't really weather like we know it. It's just a holographically projected sky. We're inside an asteroid.”
Miranda frowned and felt towards it with her mind, there was indeed a ceiling not very far above. “So do they always project such nice weather?”
“Yep.”
“It doesn't ever rain.”
“Nope, here we are, “ Gene lead a much disappointed Miranda off the elevator and into the church.
The exterior wasn't much more than an unimpressive set of four doors. Through the doors there was a large cloakroom. A few labeled doorways led to the nursery, bathrooms and Sunday school rooms. A second quadrupled set of doors led beyond the cloakroom to a small sanctuary full of pews. There was only seating for about two hundred people. At the front of the sanctuary was a raised platform with an assortment of tables, chairs and other objects Miranda didn't recognize. To the right of the platform was a doorway clearly labeled, “office.”
Gene led Miranda to that door and knocked softly, “Hey old man, you in there?”
“Just a minute, just a minute, I'll be right with you,” a man grunted from behind the door. His voice was familiar to Miranda, but she couldn't place it at least not until he opened the door. His face, though subtlety different from the one she remembered definitely belonged to Conrad Meeker. This Reverend Meeker had several years worth of wrinkles around his eyes, and a bucket load of gray hair around his temples compared with the one she had known.
Miranda held her warm greeting sure it couldn't be the one she knew, but his smile of instant recognition warmly greeted her. “Miranda, how are you? I'm glad you got out of that awful place. Nicholas told me you had, but all things considered including how long it's been for me, I really didn't believe him.” He wrapped his arms around Miranda and slapped her firmly on the back, then he released her.
“How did you get out of there?” Miranda returned.
“Well, Diego and I...”
Gene interrupted, “Now, hold it, you two knowing each other takes all the fun out of this for me! Since you two don't need me, I'll go back to work. Where I'll be wanted,” Gene departed waved off by Conrad.
“Anyway like I said, Diego and I owe our freedom to Nicholas. He came to our cells one day a few months after Ben was killed. He opened the door, took us to a transport stuck us inside, wished us luck and waved good bye. That's of course the short version. Somewhere in there he told us about you, and suggested we find this place.” Conrad gestured abstractly around, “Diego went home. I came here, been here ever since, twelve years, four months, twenty three days.”
Miranda sat on one of the pews, pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them, “What do you remember about Kindy's death?”
“Kindy?” Conrad took a seat next to her.
“That's what I called your Ben,” Miranda rested her chin on her knees.
“It's fuzzy, but I remember they slit his throat, and that you went kind of nuts. One of the guards ended up dead,” Miranda nodded, “And I'm guessing that bothers you.” Miranda nodded again. “Then I guess it's a good thing my schedule is clear.”
Miranda shoved through the outer doors with a book pad under her arm. It opened like a book but inside it resembled a laptop. It was an electronic bible containing every version and translation in the Sanctuary data banks. Conrad had given it to her, telling her that it could answer more of her questions than he could in a morning's time. He told her she could come to him with any more questions that came up and invited her to services next Sunday, which she discovered was five Sanctuary days away. Overall it had been a productive morning. She knew a lot more about god, Jesus, and the Darkone's defection than she had at the start.
Miranda stepped into the glass elevator, unsure of where she would go from there. She went down in the elevator to the main street level and realized her hunger, thanks to the smell of food sizzling in a wok. It cooked over an open flame outside of a restaurant. Miranda followed her nose and watched as the chef stirred the meat and vegetables, slapping them from side to side and flopping them up and down off of the bottom of the pan with a metal spatula.
“Are you hungry?” A mental voice intruded on Miranda's thoughts of food. Her eyes widened and she looked at the smiling chef.
“Yes, could I have a taste?” Miranda finally answered verbally, after recovering from the surprise. The chef speared a chunk of shrimp on a bamboo skewer and handed it to Miranda.
It tasted good, but wasn't exactly what her stomach was asking for. “So, you want?” The chef asked verbally with an accent Miranda didn't recognize.
“No thank you.” Miranda handed the used skewer back. The chef tucked it in his refuse bag and went back to energetically stirring the food.
Miranda turned left and walked eyeing shops, restaurants and delis as she passed them. It wasn't long before she was walking just to see what the next storefront held. Abruptly Miranda's walk was interrupted by a woman stepping up to her from a dress shop.
“My, my, it does turn out beautifully doesn't it,” The woman fingered the fabric of Miranda's dress. Miranda just looked at the woman. “I'm sorry, my name is Louanne I'm apparently your seamstress. I just started this order this morning and well I must say, nice choice.”
“You made my dress?”
“Actually I am making it right now, so if you have any comments I wouldn't mind hearing them so I can finish it properly.” The woman answered.
Miranda shook her head, to clear away the strangeness of the question, “I did wonder how you did it without seams, and how you got the underwear to match.”
“Underwear?” The woman huffed out a breath and nodded, “I have a symbiotic bond with a semi-sentient spider. Her little babies do the weaving for us, under our instruction. They each specialize in their own color of silk, together they weave the pattern over a size double. The blues complained a bit but even they like the way it's turned out so far. We're about to here.” Louanne gestured from her neck down to her navel.
“Well please do compliment all of them for me.” Miranda said.
“Will do,” Louanne replied then mumbled back into her shop, “Underwear?”
&nb
sp; Miranda continued down the street, still surprised by half the things the shops and restaurants specialized in, until one in particular drew her in. The sign over the door read, “Benji's Kind of Place,” but it wasn't the name that drew her it was the photo of a smiling face that punctuated it that drew her attention. There was no mistaking it, it belonged to an un-Ben. Miranda stepped inside discovering it was a restaurant in the style of a bar and grill.
“Hi, we aren't exactly open yet, but can I help you anyway?” The un-Ben asked rolling up in a motorized wheel chair.
“You must be Benji.” Miranda said looking down at his useless legs.
“Yeah, Benji Kind, do we know one another?” He held out his hand and tilted his head up towards Miranda. Miranda shook it.
“Who knows, I've run into enough of you.” Miranda answered without thinking.
“Oh so you are a fan of my alternates.” Benji laid a hand on the control stick of his chair and wheeled behind the bar. He came back with a menu and handed it to Miranda. “Today's special will be surf and turf, but that's not quite ready yet. If you're hungry now I'd suggest something off the green menu.”
Miranda glanced at the menu and selected the hot dog plate, she tried to think it to Benji but bounced off a hard scarred mental wall. He didn't even notice. “I'd just like a hot dog.”
“Coming up.” Benji tapped the order into a pop-pad and took the menu from her.
Miranda watched as he wheeled behind the bar to replace her menu and to retrieve her meal from the kitchen window when it arrived. She wanted to know what had happened to him that had made him turn out so different from her Ben, but she didn't want to upset him. “So, can I ask what happened?” Miranda hopped up onto one of the bar stools, setting her bible down on the bar.
“You mean what put me into this chair?” Benji rolled up to the bar with his chair, and slid the plate in front of her. Miranda was surprised at his height until she noticed the floor on that side was higher than on her side. “It was the dark of course. I thwarted their drug plan on my world and they creamed me for it. It nearly killed me, total nerve damage. I have a negative Everett score. Theoretically I shouldn't even be able to talk. As it sits, so do I, permanently. What's your story? You a factor?”
Miranda chewed her bite of hot-dog and swallowed quickly, “No, or at least I wasn't, maybe I am now. I don't know. I escaped from the darkones a couple of times and spent a lot of time on the run from them. I've met a lot of un-Bens.”
“Hmm, un-Bens, from the sounds of things one of us is lucky enough to be the 'real' Ben. Still alive I hope.”
Miranda nodded while she chewed.
“How into him are you? I mean is it a platonic 'just friends' kind of thing or a love of my life kind of thing?” Miranda choked coughed, and swallowed a bite of hot-dog whole, then looked down at the bar blushing. “I see said the blind man. With my complicated and sur-really nonexistent psychic powers I divine that you will answer that it is complicated.” Benji passed her a glass of water.
“You won't tell him will you?” Miranda wiped her mouth and drank.
“He's here? Cooool I've got a twin,” Benji said then as he noticed Miranda's discomfort he quickly added, “I won't talk, not even under torture.”
“Honey? You out here?” A female voice inquired from the kitchen.
“Yeah, serving a customer lunch,” Benji grunted back.
“Have you eaten?” She came out a swinging door at the end of the bar. Miranda couldn't help but notice the way the woman resembled her, with the same chestnut hair and pale blue eyes. The woman was also the same height and build, and her face was structurally similar. “Oh, I see, you big lout, get in there and eat your lunch. Hi, I'm Sandy Kind. I hope my husband hasn't been slobbering all over you. He's got an eye for tall blue-eyed brunettes.”
“No, we've been discussing his alternates, I've known quite a few,” Miranda replied.
“So you know how he can be,” Sandy sat on a stool next to Miranda and handed her a fresh napkin.
“Yeah, I guess,” Miranda thought of Ben and of Kindy.
“Maybe we should start a support group.” Sandy said with a smile.
“For you, or for us?” Benji grunted through the kitchen window.
“Oh shut up and eat Shorty!” Sandy lovingly shouted back, “It's been a while since I've talked to someone who could sympathize.” Miranda popped the last of her fries into her mouth and took a long swallow of water, wondering if she and Ben would ever be like that with each other. “I see you're finished, can I get you something else?”
“No, thanks, do I owe you something for it?”
“No, you must be new, talk to your orientation coordinator they'll make sure you're all set up,” Sandy answered, “And come back here anytime.” Miranda rose to leave. Sandy stopped her, “Don't forget this,” Sandy handed Miranda her bible.
“Thanks, again,” Miranda said with a smile.
“Not a problem.”
Miranda walked out onto the street, feeling tired and unenthused about a continued mission of window shopping. It had been a morning full of answers, fading to an afternoon of new questions. She just needed some time to absorb everything. So she teleported to her new quarters.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Ben flopped back onto his couch and threw his feet up onto his coffee table. It was almost like being back home. It even smelled like his old apartment. With his eyes closed, Ben couldn't tell the difference, except for the eerie silence. His old apartment had been assailed at all hours by the bustle, hustle, honks and beeps of the city below. Here he'd gotten used to a new type of noise. No doubt, he would get used to this type of silence, but Ben did doubt he would ever get used to Miranda. Behind his eyes his memory played with the meeting. Half the time Miranda had treated him with cool hostility; the other half she was practically his co-conspirator.
Ben shook his head and snatched up his CD player remote. He tapped a button which started playing his jazz favorites through his speakers. The music relieved his tension, drowned out the silence, and made him forget about Miranda for a while. He even dozed off. The growl of his stomach woke him a couple of songs into the second play through.
Ben levered himself up off of the couch and wandered into his kitchen wondering if he would find anything edible. It had been a questionable proposition on Earth. Ben had no idea what his prospects would be here. Amazingly he found it well stocked with his favorite TV dinners, fresh vegetables, fruit and even dairy products. So, not everything was as he had left it. Another surprise was that half of his dry goods cupboard had been preempted by a delivery cupboard. The inside surface of the door was an ordering display screen. Ben closed the cupboard and decided on a macaroni and cheese dinner for lunch, but he didn't get around to sticking it in the microwave. Instead he was interrupted by the buzz of his doorbell. He quickly went to answer it. He got there and tapped the pad just as the buzzer sounded again.
The door slid open and revealed Miranda, “Hi, Ben.”
“Hey, what's up?” Ben asked with a smile, Miranda inexplicably flinched back two steps on seeing him. Ben couldn't sense a thing leaking around her mental shields. “Would you like to come in?” Ben stepped to the side to allow her in.
“Uh, yeah.” Miranda slid through the door.
“What can I do for you?”
“Daniel is right,” Miranda answered.
Ben scratched his head and flung himself backwards into a chair, “About what?”
“We need to head back to the prison camp.” Miranda shuffled to the couch and sat down daintily.
Ben sat up straight, “I thought we'd agreed that was too dangerous.”
“It's dangerous to disagree with the darkones, beyond that there isn't much difference. Personally I feel it's best to disagree loudly and give them a real reason to want you dead.”
“You mean as opposed to whatever reason they have now?” Ben sat back, silent for a moment, “Barring you changing you
r mind again, we need a plan. I think the one you had about hitting the main compound using those uniforms would work, only to get back into that prison.”
“Yeah, that's what I was thinking. I just have to go and get them. It won't take too long,” Miranda squirmed a little.
“Want me to come?”
Miranda stood up and an indecipherable expression crossed her face, “No, it'd be faster and safer if I went by myself. I can handle it.”
“Which of us are you trying to convince?”
Miranda answered with a glare, and made her way to the door, “I'll be back as soon as I've retrieved my things.” She started to tap the doorpad to initiate her exit then she just disappeared.
Ben was left with an empty apartment and a sick grumbling sensation in his gut that didn't necessarily have anything to do with not eating lunch. He thought of attempting to follow Miranda, but instead he went back to foraging in his kitchen for that lunch.
The smell of macaroni and cheese had barely begun to leak from his microwave when Ben's worry outstripped his hunger. He doubted Miranda would appreciate him butting in, but he also couldn't sit around eating lunch.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Relevar seemed different to Miranda this time. Perhaps it was because this time her arrival was purposeful, or perhaps it was because she had arrived in one of the cities. Probably the difference was that this time she lacked the fear and pain that had driven her before. In the end she knew it was her purpose that made the world seem so different.
“So, where do we go from here,” Ben whispered from behind.
Miranda whirled furiously to face him. “You go back! I can handle this by myself!”
Miranda was both indignant and relieved that Ben had secretly followed her, indignant because despite her need for rescue she could handle herself, and relieved because she didn't have to face the outside alone. Indignance won out since Miranda did want to talk to the old woman alone, if she found her home. “I don't need a baby-sitter! I can handle things by myself! You always seem to think I need your protection! I don't! I'm not some defenseless child.” She turned and began walking in the direction of a small market square.
Eyes Love & Water Page 29
