RAINBOW RUN

by John F. Carr

  All at once, I understood what Clandine was trying to tell me. The Game served two purposes: it kept the best and brightest involved in producing data that preserved the system, while keeping those who didn't play the game in a position of powerlessness.

  "The permanent grays get food, shelter, and clothing," I said, "but they have no hope for anything better, no chance to advance unless they play the Game and win—and they can't or won't. So the main job of the VIS is to make sure the permanent grays don't get organized and try to change things. Is that correct?"

  "It's true that most VIS personnel are working to resist change. I'm not against change as a matter of policy, but I only want changes that improve society. That makes me one of the few who realize that controlled change can benefit our world, but unthinking resistance to all change can promote stagnation, decay, and destruction."

  "You said you are one of the few. Does that mean that there are others who share your perceptions, and possibly your goals?"

  "Rathe, you told me I could trust you and the vericator verified that statement as truth. But there is another reason why I think you're trustworthy—you were a blanc a short time ago; you haven't had time to become part of the conspiracy."

  "What conspiracy?"

  "I believe that some of the rainbows have banded together to control or manipulate the Game to increase and maintain their power."

  "Rainbows already have all the real power in this society, don't they?"

  "True, but some of the rainbows are doing things that indicate that they want more power than they have now. The rainbows who oversee VIS operations appear to have put obstacles in the way of the VIS personnel who are trying to control the flow of Cainenol. I suspect those rainbows are either involved in the drug trade, have friends who promote the drug or want to use the disruption the drug causes as an excuse to take greater control over VIS policies and personnel. I need your help in investigating this situation."

  "My help? I can’t even help myself. I don't have a dwell and the wristlock I'm wearing belongs to a suspected criminal."

  Clandine looked deep intomy eyes, "Rathe, I need someone who isn't part of VIS, someone to obtain information that you might be able to get. My VIS wristlock makes people suspicious when I ask them questions."

  "Where and how would I get any useful information?" I had already been burned while acting as Errox’s cat’s-paw, so I wasn’t anxious to follow the same path with Clandine.

  "I have some suspects in mind that you can approach."

  "Clandine, I’m not sure I know enough to convince anyone to give me information that would help you."

  "One of my suspects is a Listener. Do you know what a Listener does?"

  "Listen, I guess."

  "Right," Clandine said, rewarding me with a smile. "A Listener provides that service. Anyone can go to a Listener and talk about problems. The Listener may give advice, give the person some things to think about, or merely assure the person that the Listener has heard and understood. Mostly Listeners deal with grays who don't play the Game or others who want to know if they can become Listeners. I want you to tell your story to my Listener suspect and tell me whatever she tells you. Her name is Lyonella."

  I tried my best to keep the shock I felt off my face. Did Clandine know that I had met Lyonella and thatshe believed we had a past?

  "One of my associates will check to see where her dwell is when Transit Day is over. Once we locate her, I'll tell you how to get to her dwell, and then you can get her to listen to your story."

  "My story?" I was surprised to learn that Lyonella was a Listener. My previous experience with her had made me aware that she was a confused person, someone whose grip on reality wasn't very strong. If she didn’t know already, I didn't want to let Clandine know that I had encountered Lyonella before.

  "Yes, your story. You tell her about waking up as a nu-blanc in the Rainbow Room, solving the equation, and escaping. You tell her about being befriended by a gray who made sure you had a dwell and a wristlock. Tell her about your Simulike experience,then being arrested by the VIS and being placed in my custody—"

  "You want me to tell her about you?" I asked. "Won't that make her suspicious of me?"

  "I don't think so, Rathe. I don't think she knows that anyone suspects her of being part of the conspiracy. Besides, it's her duty as a Listener to hear you out. You can tell her that you're not sure you can trust me; although I've promised you a wristlock of your own and a dwell. Let her know that you're staying with me and you're still wearing the wristlock of a suspected criminal. Whatever she tells you will give me more information to work with."

  I was willing to give Clandine's plan a try. Telling my story to a Listener might have a certain therapeutic effect;although, Lyonella would have been my last choice as a personal Listener—had I a choice in the matter… Thinking about Lyonella aroused mixed feelings. In our previous encounter her sexuality had almost overwhelmed me. Would that happen again? She could make me want her sexually, but I didn't want to enter into a relationship unless I could be sure we shared a little more than unbridled lust.

  On the other hand, would Lyonella still insist that I was someone she'd known as Vargan? If so, maybe she could tell me about myself and my previous life and identity? Or was she just mentally disturbed, as she’d appeared? It was possible she had confused me with someone else or invented our past relationship? I needed to find out. I knew I could tell my story and make it sound real—especially the part about not being sure I could trust Clandine.

  I found Clandine's great conspiracy theory possible but not necessarily probable. I knew that she, like Errox, intended to use me for her own ends. Her commitment was to her theory, not to me. Regardless, I was going to do it because I wanted to do something about my situation and this was the only path of action open to me where I would have some support. I told Clandine, "I'll give it my best effort."

  "Good. I'll rehearse you in the part you'll play. Because I'll want you to tell almost the same story to one of my rainbow suspects, whichever one you can find at home on All Hues Day."

  "Almost the same story? And what is All Hues Day?"

  "You'll tell the rainbow that you overheard two grays in an urbode say that he or she was one of the few rainbows who was reputed to be concerned about the gray population. Then you'll explain your situation briefly and ask for help or advice. Whatever you learn, you can pass back to me."

  "How will I get access to a rainbow?" I asked.

  "They usually stay in their dwells on holidays because holidays are designed to keep the rest of the population in line. The next holiday is All Hues Day, a day off from the Game. The Game controls are turned off. All the public buildings—like the Simulike Palace and the Color Wheel—are turned into celebration sites where the clergy and other volunteers serve holiday food and jarva punch. All levels of every urbode are open to everyone. The clergy emphasize the spiritual aspects of the holiday, a chance for volunteers to understand the spirituality of service.

  "The Game players are forced to take a day off; many of them relieve their tensions with jarva and casual sex in a carnival atmosphere. Some of the rainbows participate in the pleasures of the senses. During All Hues Day you should be able to make contact with one of my rainbow suspects—just one, because they might compare experiences and get suspicious of you, if you told your story to more than one of them."

  "I guess I can do that convincingly."

  "Sure you can,” she said reassuringly. "You can get an early start on All Hues Day, report back to me, and still have time to enjoy the holiday yourself. It's not a holiday that I celebrate, so I'll be here at my dwell whenever you can get back with a report."

  I believed I was beginning to learn more about Clandine. Her power in the VIS made me suspect that she was a dedicated high-achiever and her conspiracy theory might be the result of paranoid tendencies. Her lack of interest in the sensual aspects of All Hues Day was an indication that she wasn’t interested in casual s
ex and sensuality. That probably meant she wouldn't initiate a sexual relationship with me as a control ploy. That was all right with me. I didn’t want the relationship to get any more complex than it already was.

  I felt that I could trust Clandine to make the best use of me that she could. I wanted her to be pleased enough with me to provide me with a wristlock and a dwell. I wasn’t sure that she would until she got confirmation of her conspiracy theory, which may or may not have any basis in reality. Regardless, she was my best hope for a better life. So I told her, "I’m ready to rehearse my story whenever you're ready."

  TEN

  The next day Clandine shared more details of her mental map. "You have to know your way around so you can find Lyonella’s dwell as soon as I learn where she is. Here’s a pixcube that holds a likeness of her. Study it so you'll recognize her when you see her."

  I looked at the pixcube and saw a three dimensional image of Lyonella. The image was accurate, displaying her tall, slim body with good muscle definition; her triangular face with the knowing expression and the haunted brown eyes that appeared to have seen more than I could imagine. I felt an inadvertent rush of blood to my groin: Lyonella’s sensuality had been captured by the pixcube.

  "Is something wrong?" Clandine asked.

  I was still hoping that I wouldn’t have to tell Clandine that I’d encountered Lyonella previously. "No, I'm just concentrating to make sure that I'll recognize her when I see her."

  "I should get the location of her dwell today from the rainbow who oversees the Listener Guild. After third meal, I want you to try to arrange a listening session with her. I want you to be ready with your story as we rehearsed it."

  "I'll be ready." I had mixed feelings about seeing Lyonella again. If she accepted me as just another gray, who wanted to tell her the story of his troubles, I'd be all right and I could tell Clandine whatever Lyonella said. But, if Lyonella identified me as Vargan, there might be several kinds of trouble. If I had been Vargan before I was brainwiped, I didn't want Clandine to know that, just like I didn't want her to know I'd encountered Lyonella previously. Clandine might think I had been or was now some part of the grand conspiracy that she perceived. I thought it quite possible that she was a bit paranoid, seeing a power-grabbing conspiracy where there might be none.

  The rainbows and her other suspects were people with power; they might not be in a conspiracy at all. Just merely indifferent to those who posed no threat to their positions and activities.

  * * *

  Later in the day, Clandine returned with Lyonella's location. When she was sure I knew how to get there and had my story straight, I headed toward Lyonella's dwell, hoping that all would go well.

  Clandine told me that the most direct route to Lyonella's dwell involved going to the Medical Complex and walking through to the opposite side. I took three different slideways to reach the Medical Complex. It was a refreshing change to see buildings that were shaped differently from the ubiquitous urbodes. I followed the walkways through the cluster of buildings, heading for the slidestrip on the far side.

  I passed the Rejuvenation Center, a tall oval building, where the sick and injured were taken to be healed or readied for reincarnation. It was next to the House of Rebirth where citizens were reborn without their memories into young and healthy bodies, ready to begin a new life. In the distance I saw the Fane of Change where aging rainbows went so they could emerge with their bodies reconditioned and their memories intact—eternal life with periodic renewal.

  I envied the rainbows their retention of memory. I felt I could lose that envy only by becoming a rainbow myself. I had hopes. I'd been good at the Game when I played it in Ural's dwell. If I managed to get a wristlock of my own instead of wearing one that identified me as Errox, I'd play the Game again. Maybe I could become a rainbow and hold onto my memories forever.

  I took the slideway on the far side of the complex to a section of one hundred urbodes, got off, and counted my way to the urbode in which Lyonella lived. The entrance portal was guarded by the same tough-looking woman who had been at the door of the urbode where I'd gotten Errox's wristlock, the urbode where Hushel and Lyonella both had dwells. I remembered Lyonella had told me she would be near Hushel.

  I supposed that Hushel, Lyonella, and many others had moved from the former urbode to this one on Transit Day. I stooped down in front of the portal guard and said, "I'm here to see Lyonella the Listener." With her hands, she indicated the floor and dwell number. Then she motioned for me to enter. I pressed the wristlock against the door plate. The door opened and I entered. I passed a few grays in the corridor, all strangers to me.

  I stood at the door to Lyonella's dwell. I wondered what kind of a reception I'd get as I pressed my wristlock against the dwell plate. Nothing happened. Either Lyonella was not home or was not answering her door. I waited in the corridor for a while and then tried again with no results.

  Finally, I left the urbode. Outside I went straight ahead and took a position across the walkway where I could watch the entrance, hoping that Lyonella would return soon. My waiting paid off. While it was still twilight I saw Lyonella, not entering the building but leaving it. I followed her. I told myself that I was following her in order to get more information for Clandine, but I knew that part of my motivation was the physical attraction I felt for her.

  Lyonella went to a portal slidestrip leading to the slideway. Her loose-limbed, hip-swinging walk was a pleasure to watch, so different from the tightly controlled movements of Clandine. I made certain that there were always several people between us. I was counting on that and the fading twilight to prevent her detecting that she had a follower. Lyonella changed slideways. I followed close behind, keeping an eye on her and keeping track of my changing location on my mental map. I was surprised when Lyonella got off the slidestrip in the autofactory section.

  There were few slide riders around. I tried to keep in the shadows as I followed her off the exit slideway and down a long passageway between two humming buildings. Ahead I could see the passageway ended at an entrance to a short, apparently square building with open doors. A giant of a man, more than a head taller than me, stood outside the door.

  Lyonella had a brief conversation with him. He handed her what looked like two strips of tunic cloth. I saw her tie one over her wristlock and the other around her head like a headband for her shaggy hair before she went through the door. I hadn't come this far to turn back. I walked up to the giant, wondering if there was a password or some other sort of identification required to enter. I wanted to know what Lyonella could possibly be doing in the autofactory sector. As far as I knew all the factories were automated.

  As I approached the giant, he said, in a rumbling bass, "The woman you are following said it was all right for me to admit you." He handed me a strip of tunic and said, "Tie this around your wristlock."

  I took it and covered my wristlock. He handed me another strip of tunic and said, "This is your mask." I saw the piece of tunic had two holes for my eyes and a triangular notch cut out between them for my nose. I put the mask on.

  The giant said, "Enter and enjoy freedom."

  Freedom! What adangerous word. Had I stumbled into a gathering of Freedom Crusaders? Maybe Clandine was partially right in suspecting Lyonella of involvement in a conspiracy. I looked at the entrance, obviously intended to admit machines larger than people, machines the size of walkway washers and slidestrip sweepers. I saw jumper wires attached to the alarm circuits.

  Someone had outsmarted the devices intended to keep people out of the factory buildings. It was too late to turn back. I went in. The lingering twilight didn't penetrate all of the building, an edifice that had obviously been designed strictly for machines. On each side of the wide center aisle there were bins the size of large rooms, which held varying amounts of material. The bin nearest me held a variety of metal parts, some of them obviously damaged. I recognized some bent pieces of a walkway washer, a broken Simulike headband, and a damaged
wristlock machine. Maybe this was where Hushel's machine had come from—a broken machine repaired by human hands instead of mechanical ones.

  I walked down the wide aisle toward one of the room-like bins on the left where flickering shadows and rhythmic drumming indicated the presence of people. The drumming was pervasive. I found myself walking to its beat without having made a conscious decision to do so. My first look at the people inside revealed that they were wearing masks and wristlock covers, as I was. I focused on the drummers at the rear, partially visible in the light from a fire bowl in the center of the room.

  The smell of the smoke was unfamiliar but agreeably piquant. Through the smoke Iwas able to make out a dozen drummers, using hands or implements, beating out rhythms on a variety of instruments fashioned out of the damaged materials from the storage buildings. I saw several clusters of people sitting on piles of old tunics and a handful of dancers, both men and women, dancing individually to the hypnotic beat of the drums.

  Among the dancers was Lyonella. Although the mask partially hid the expression on her face, she seemed completely absorbed in her own movements. I lost track of time as I watched her sensual movements, the suppleness of her limbs, the sureness of her grace. She seemed like a different person than the disturbed woman who had taken me to be Vargan. She saw me watching her. She danced toward me, beckoning for me to come to her, my invitation to the dance.

  Captivated by her allure and the pervasive beat of the drums, I found myself moving within her reach, matching her movements as best I could, reveling in the physical joy of expressive dance. I turned, whirled, dipped and pranced, feeling the gloriousness of being part of a creative whole. The drumming slowed and then stopped.

  Lyonella took me by the hand and led me toward the left wall where bottles of jarva were being passed and shared. Lyonella and I both drank from the same bottle as if in a symbolic union of unknown dimensions. We sat on a pile of tunics. In the glow of the firebowl I could see a thin sheen of perspiration on her forehead above the mask. I took a deep breath and smelled her sweet muskiness.