"Say, maybe we can find a salt block out here, to replace the one I dropped," Colene said brightly.
That will not be effective, Seqiro replied. She realized that she had spoken rather than thought, but it seemed to make no difference: he tuned in to her focused thoughts, and she had to focus them to talk. In fact, that was easier.
"Why not? Salt is salt, isn't it? It won't hurt you just because it's from another reality?"
It will not hurt me. But we can not carry such a block across realities.
"Now, wait a minute! You explained about not being able to eat anything in other realities, but you're carrying a whole big load of supplies across realities right now, just as I am."
These are from our anchor realities. You may carry substance from your own reality with you, or from my reality, and I may carry from either reality, but not from the intervening realities.
"Are you sure? These realities seem pretty solid to me."
It is easy to demonstrate. Pick up an object.
Colene stooped to pick up a pretty stone. She had always liked stones, and not just the pretty ones; she knew that each stone was a fragment of something that had once been much larger, and had formed by dint of terrific pressures or an unimaginably long time or both. How was it described in class? Metamorphic, which meant being squished; sedimentary, which meant settling in the bottom of the sea; and igneous, which meant being squeezed out like toothpaste around a volcano. But that was really one of the other two kinds, because it had to have started somewhere else before getting cooked under the mountain. So each one had its history, and every stone was interesting in its own way. She wished she could collect them all. This particular one looked like mica, which was about as appropriate as it could be.
Carry it across realities.
They stepped forward. The scenery barely changed, but the stone vanished.
Startled, Colene looked back. There was the stone on the ground, where she had picked it up. But she knew that what she saw was not the stone she had picked up; it was the one of this reality. She could not see across realities, as she had discovered with the bear that appeared before her. If she stepped back, she would then see the rock she had picked up.
So she stepped back. The rock was on the ground, but not where it had been. It was in the path where she had dropped it. Except that she hadn't dropped it.
"So I crossed, but it didn't," she said, turning back to face Seqiro.
That is correct. We are on the Virtual Mode, and we can transport only substance from our own realities, because the Mode is tied into them. Other realities have only partial effect on us, and we on them.
Colene stared. She was receiving his thoughts, but he was not there! The countryside was empty.
Then she caught on. She stepped toward him, and as she crossed into the next reality he reappeared.
She went to him and hugged him again. "Point made, Seqiro," she said. "I guess I just hadn't thought it through. I hadn't tried to pick up anything, or eat anything—brother! I guess food would vanish the same way, wouldn't it!"
Yes, it should. My understanding is that it may be possible to retain the substance of intervening realities if it is digested, but that there is danger in doing that.
"Let's not risk it! Oh, I'm glad I met you! I would have been in trouble pretty soon, just from ignorance."
It is not shame to be ignorant, when you lack a source of information.
They resumed their walk, angling toward the route she had been following before she detoured to meet the horse. "How is it that you know all this, when you haven't done this before?"
I learned it from reading the minds of other Virtual Mode travelers.
"But other horses don't seem to read minds across realities. How can you?"
It is quite limited. I could read your mind because we share this particular Virtual Mode. I can read the minds of other creatures only when we intersect their particular realities. The other horses of my reality can not perceive the Virtual Mode, because only I am its anchor in my reality.
"Just as only I am the anchor in my reality," she said. "And Darius is the anchor in his reality. Only it's the place too, isn't it? Because otherwise when we left our realities, the anchors would fade away."
Correct. The anchor place becomes inoperative when the anchor person departs; only when the two are together can the connection be invoked or abolished.
"Abolished? You mean it won't last?"
It will remain until you return and renounce it, just as you accepted it at the start. Or until the Chip that is the source of the full Virtual Mode is changed.
"That would be at Darius' end." She considered as they entered a forest and climbed a slope. When the way became difficult, she explored ahead a little to find a better passage for Seqiro's bulk, because he weighed about a ton, literally, and could not squeeze through places she could, especially with his load making his body wider. "You read the minds of folk on other Virtual Modes before this one, though you were not part of those Modes?"
This seems to be my special ability. I have always sought to explore the unknown, and when I became aware of a trace mental current I could not identify, I sought it avidly. Perhaps others of my kind could do the same, but they have had no interest. In time I was able to fathom enough of the occasional Virtual Modes to understand their nature. I teamed that I could join one, if I wished, if I exerted my will at the time it was being formed. I decided that I would do so, when the time was right—and this was that time.
"I'm glad you did," she said sincerely.
I'm glad it was you who was on it.
She turned and hugged him again. "I hope you don't mind all this physical contact, Seqiro. I—I guess I have this need, and you're so wonderful—"
I have not before been loved by a human girl. I feel your emotion, and I revel in it.
"I revel too," she said. "I never knew I'd meet you, and I never want to lose you."
I see no immediate need for us to separate. We shall find Darius, and then I will remain with you if you desire. There is no conflict between me and your human contacts.
"No conflict," she agreed. "But suppose it is dull for you in Darius' reality? You want to learn new things, and magic might not be to your taste."
Then I can embark on another Virtual Mode.
"But then we would have to separate, because I'll want to stay with Darius forever and ever!" she protested.
Unless he too wished to explore farther on a Virtual Mode.
She hadn't thought of that. "Well, first we have to get there. From what I've seen so far, that's not necessarily a cinch."
True. We are entering the region of telepathic carnivores. I can feel their thoughts as we progress.
"Oh! Can they hurt you?"
That depends on their size. I would prefer not to get bitten or scratched.
"And you can't read their minds until you're in their reality," she said. "So a tiger could pounce on you by surprise. But not if I go ahead."
So it can pounce on you? We had better go together.
"Maybe I can get a weapon to fend off—oops, but I can't carry it across realities!"
My hoof knife may serve.
She dug out the knife. It was a solid, ugly thing. "I don't know. Most of my experience with knives has been cutting myself, not others. I don't know whether I could use it effectively against a tiger or bear."
With my direction you could.
"You mean you could tell me in my mind? But still I might miss, or drop it, or something. Girls really aren't much for physical combat."
Allow me to demonstrate. Pretend that tree is a tiger.
Colene took the knife and stepped to the side, toward the tree, remaining in the same reality. "Okay, it's a tiger. Suddenly I see it, and it sees me, and it gets ready to spring and I panic and—"
She ducked down, then straightened like an uncoiling spring. Her hand snapped violently forward. The knife plunged into a knot on the trunk of the tree.
Colene fell back, letting go of the knife, shaking her hand, for it had taken a jolt. The knife remained in the tree. She had thrust with more speed and force than she had known she possessed. "What—?"
I guided your body. We are experienced in controlling humans.
"And that tiger has the knife through his snoot!" she exclaimed, amazed. "I didn't hurt the tree much, but that tiger would have had one hell of a surprise!"
I believe the knife will be an effective weapon for you.
That was the understatement of the day! Colene went to the tree and tugged at the knife. It wouldn't come. She pushed up and pulled down on it, trying to wiggle it free, but the wood clung to it. Then Seqiro sent a thought, and she wrenched and twisted with special force and skill, and it came out. She had physical ability beyond what she had thought were her limits. Seqiro seemed to bypass her restraints and draw on her full potential.
Holding the knife, she proceeded with more confidence. Actually the chances of encountering a bear or tiger right up close by surprise were small; her episode with the bear might have been the only one that would happen.
You thought of cutting yourself, Seqiro thought. I do not understand this.
She laughed self-consciously. "I'm suicidal. It's a secret, but I think I'll have no secrets from you. I think about death a lot, and blood. Or I did, before I met Darius. Before I got on the Virtual Mode."
I still do not understand. Why should you wish to die? You are a comely and intelligent young woman.
"Well, that gets complicated, and maybe I don't know the whole answer myself. I don't think you'd like me as well if you saw what's down inside me."
I read a wellspring of pain. This does not surprise me. You would not have undertaken the Virtual Mode if you had been satisfied with your situation. Think through your pain while we travel. Perhaps I will be able to help.
She laughed bitterly. "Only if you could make me forget!"
This I could do.
Startled, she realized that it was probably true. He could read her mind, and could make her body perform in a way it never had before. Why not block off a bad memory?
"Okay, Seqiro. But stop me if you get disgusted, because I don't want to make you hate me. When I told Darius how I was suicidal, he—" The pain of that misunderstanding and separation cut her off. At least Darius had changed his mind, and set up the Virtual Mode so they could be together again. She knew there were still problems, because he had to marry a woman with a whole lot of joy, but if she could just be with him, things would work out somehow.
She turned her mind back to the times of special pain. There were several, and she didn't know what related most directly to what, or how they tied in with how she felt later. Maybe they really didn't mean much; maybe she had reacted the wrong way, or maybe they shouldn't have bothered her. Would they have bothered her, if her folks' marriage hadn't become a shell, forcing her to seek elsewhere for emotional support—which she hadn't found? Maybe the whole business was too dull to review, and she should have forgotten it long ago. Maybe worse had happened to others and they had shrugged it off, and Colene was peculiar to have failed to have done that.
"I don't know. Maybe this is a bad idea. I would feel foolish just speaking some of this stuff, and—"
Then feel it. I am attuning to you and learning to read your nuances. I can read your memories, if you allow me.
He could do that? He could reach deep into her and see her most secret things, if she did not resist? That was scary! Yet she remembered lying with Darius, telling him he could maybe touch her breasts but not her genital region, and he had done neither. Then later she had offered it all to him, and he had not taken it. She had respected him for that, yet also been annoyed. It might have been better if he had been unable to control himself. That would have given the control to her, odd as that seemed considering that he would be having his will of her. He had not, and so she had not had her will of him, which wasn't quite the same.
Spreading her legs for Darius. Spreading her mind for Seqiro. What was the difference? One was a secret of the body, the other a secret of the mind. Of the two, the mind was more private. Yet it was something she wanted to do, wanton as it might reveal her to be. She wanted to tell someone, just as she had wanted to show her body to someone. To lay the guilt bare, just because it was there.
"Okay."
She laid open her mind. It traveled back two years.
SHE was twelve years old, and visiting Catholic relatives in Panama, in the Canal Zone. One parent was Catholic, so maybe that made her one too, but she wasn't sure whether it did or whether she wanted it to. She went to mass on Sunday, undecided and really not caring a whole lot. She just loved visiting here, where everything was so much nicer than back at home. If church was part of it, well, it was worth it.
And it did make her feel very close to God. God loved the sparrow as He loved His Son. Surely He loved this whole region, and that was why it was so nice. The American enclave was beautiful, very like paradise, with lovely gardens and ultimate contemporary luxury. After a distance it faded to the natural landscape, which was not manicured but which remained interesting in its tropicality. Every palm tree was a novelty, to one raised in Oklahoma.
She walked to the nearby native village, curious how the Panamanians lived. Was it the same as the Americans, or different in some intriguing way? They must be very happy, living in a place like this.
Nothing in her life had prepared her for what she saw in that village. The houses were huts with thatched roofs and dirt floors. The people were filthy, their clothing odd. Naked children of both sexes ran wildly in the streets. Young mothers held soiled babies to their bare breasts, nursing them in public. There were sores on the children's legs, scabbed over, with flies clinging to the crust. Insects gathered around their mouths, and no one even bothered to brush them away. It was horrible.
She rushed back to the enclave, back to the church. "A priest, a priest!" she cried. A priest came to her; perhaps this was confession.
Tearfully she expressed her feelings of shock and grievance. Suddenly she had seen the real world, right next to paradise. It wasn't better than what she had known, it was worse! It had been hidden from her. Hurt and outraged, she wept bitteriy. She felt betrayed. She blamed the church, she blamed the priest, she blamed herself, and she blamed God. Everything was wrong, and she wanted this wrong to be corrected.
The good father was patient. When she wound down, he spoke softly and kindly to her. "My child, you have seen reality, and it is as uncomfortable for you as it is for all of us. You now have a decision to make. Whatever you have or will get in the future, you may give equally to each poor Panamanian. It is possible to give each one a good meal for one day. Then you will be just as poor as they are. You are allowed to do this, but you are not required to give up your birthright."
It was her first real lesson in logic, and a giant one. She had thought herself a fast learner, but now she saw how slowly she was learning about reality. Even then, she did not appreciate how much more she had to learn.
She remained shaken when she returned home to the States. She had not been satisfied with her life, and was less satisfied now that the crevices in her parents' marriage had opened into significant faults. Yet she had material things and good health, which was much more than what she had observed in the villagers. What good would it have been to have a unified family if she had to run naked and hungry in the streets, the flies eating at her open sores? She had too much, and she felt guilty for being dissatisfied.
She went again to a priest. He advised her to donate some of her spare time to work at a charitable institution. She did so, helping out as a junior candy-striper, bringing mail, newspapers, drinks, and phone messages to the patients. She had a pretty little uniform and the patients liked her. She was, some said, a breath of fresh air in hell.
For these were not people in for pleasant recuperation following hangnail surgery. This was the accident ward, and some patients
were bandaged all over, in casts, or with amputated limbs. Some could not move at all, yet their minds were whole. She read to them from the newspapers, and they appreciated it. She was doing good; she was giving back to the world some of what she owed it.
She was moved to the Sunday morning shift. The wee hours: midnight to six A.M.. This wasn't properly candy-striper business, it was more like Gray Lady business, but few cared to take those hours, and she volunteered. The doctors knew she was underage, but she was a good worker and mature for her age of just thirteen, so they did not make an issue of it. The nurses needed the help, and it wasn't as if she was alone. So when patients were restless, the nurses did not force sleeping pills on them, they had Colene come in and read the paper. As often as not, that did put them to sleep, and it was always appreciated.
One man was recovering from abdominal surgery. He had fallen on a spike and punctured his gut; they had had to cut out the affected intestine and sew the ends together. He had lost a lot of blood, and they didn't have enough of his type. Infection had set in. But he was tiding through, though too weak as yet to lift his arms. When the nurses were busy at the far end of the ward, he spoke to Colene: "Not that dull stuff. There's a novel under my mattress. Read me that."
She felt under the mattress and found it. A visitor must have left it for him, or read it to him during the day. There was a marker in it. She opened it at the marker and started reading.
It was an erotic novel. Colene was fascinated. She had never read anything like this, and knew she wasn't supposed to. The four-letter words were there, and not as expletives. The man didn't know how young she was, probably. She did not let on. Instead she read the text as it was, about steamy hot women who approached virile men with indecent offers, and amply fulfilled those offers. Colene learned more about raw sex in one hour (with pauses; she had the wit to switch to the newspaper when a nurse came within hearing range) than in all her prior life. She learned exactly what men did with women behind closed doors squeeze by squeeze and inch by inch. She was doing the man a favor, but he had done her a much greater one, inadvertently: he had completed her education in a forbidden subject. She was grateful.
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