by Mason Adgett
The mansion was not hard to find. It consisted of the main house, shaped like a large disc with two small semi-circle buildings attached. It was minimalist, grey, with dark slits of windows in three rows that circled the entirety. I saw a landing port on the roof and when I came closer I could make out the small figure of India waving to me.
“You came up to greet me yourself,” I said after I parked. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I told everyone else to leave us alone,” she said. “Mom and Dad would have anyway. They don’t want to be bothered. But I don’t think Debra likes you coming over.”
“Ms. Rhine?” I said and she nodded.
“Doesn’t think it looks good I guess, me having people in when I’m recovering. Anyway, should I show you the house? Let me show you the house.”
I followed her into a spacious, elegant foyer but had no time to take it in as she whisked me from room to room – probably over forty of them – including studies, libraries, digital libraries, game rooms, music rooms, ballrooms, and some rooms that seemed like they were just for display, with expensive antiques laid out like in a museum. Hardly any of them appeared to be used but all were kept spotlessly clean and I saw several bots working industriously doing whatever they do. I saw no sign of people at all.
I was nervous at first but relaxed as India talked, partly because I could tell by her chatter that if anything she was more nervous than I was.
Eventually we ended up in India’s bedroom. It was almost as large as my apartment and way less cluttered. A large poster bed dominated the middle of the room, hung round with white curtains that looked like some kind of special lace. The floor looked like an ashen white wood but the texture was polished glass, and here and there throw rugs had been placed to soften up the appearance. One looked like a fur Ganesh skin – it had a very recognizable silvery striped coloring – and when India saw me looking at it she said, “It’s not real. I promise I would never do that.”
“Okay,” I said.
“I would never even have it there except it was given to me by a Ganesh and I would be cursed if I didn’t keep it.”
“You don’t believe that, do you?” I asked.
“Not really,” she said, “but the Ganesh do.”
“Why did a Ganesh give you a fake Ganesh skin?”
“Well, he didn’t say it was fake. I just really hope it is.”
“Wow,” I said.
“People give you things,” she said, “when you’re famous. It just comes with the territory, you know? Kind of like not having any privacy or having people stalk you online. People give our whole family stuff. Just today I got this,” she said, picking up a statuette from a small table by the door. “It’s an antique import from the Ica system.” I was about to lie and say it was nice, but she saw my expression. “I know, it’s hideous.”
“Garish is the word I would use,” I said. “Who did you get it from?”
“Krumb,” she said. “He was trying to talk me into appearing at one of his rallies before we left for Asitot. He sent a sympathy gift when he heard I was back. Of course we’re trending so no wonder.” I tried to keep my thoughts about Krumb off my face but India looked right through me. “I don’t like him either,” she said.
“He’s fake,” I said. “And so obvious about it.”
“Some people don’t know how to be anything else,” and she had a fragile look when she said it that made me realize she was talking about herself.
“You’re not fake,” I said, though I had certainly thought her so at one time.
“Thank you for saying so,” she said. “This,” she moved to pick up some kind of heavy stone, “is more to my liking. I think this is my favorite thing I’ve ever been given.” She handed it to me. I took it, expecting it to be heavier than it was. It was some kind of many faceted crystal, each facet a different color, not shiny or sparkling but instead deep, warm blues, greens and oranges that seemed somehow to pull you into their depths. Different shades seemed to move like waters under dark mirrors.
“What is this?” I asked.
“An egg,” she said.
“An egg?” I repeated, suddenly holding it far more carefully.
“An Antaginuan eon egg. It still has probably a thousand years before hatching and it’s indestructible, so don’t look so worried.”
I handed it back. “You got it from an Antaginuan?”
“No,” she said, “but a girl I did a modeling shoot with had a bunch of them. I don’t know where she got them but I was little, you know? I never really thought about stuff like that. I just thought it was so beautiful.”
“It is.”
She set it down and invited to the corner of the room, to a couch she referred to as her “settee,” with a little entertainment table in front of it, the kind that served you drinks or projected 3V anywhere in its vicinity. I wondered if a small one like that could reach across this large a room. I’d seen them advertised but there was no way I could afford one. I was happy enough with my single in-wall 3V.
She looked so good. She had on a long blue dress, simple in design, pulled tight around the waist in a retro seventies sort of way. Her long, delicate face glowed, not looking any the worse for wear despite the ordeal of the last weeks, and her eyes were soft green jewels that hardly left mine. She said everything felt off since she had gotten back and told me how relieved she was they had gotten Boldt, and how it all made sense with him being a member of the Alliance Against Civilization, but things still didn’t feel right, it’s not like anything was back to normal. It didn’t feel like they had captured him, she said, did I feel like that? I told her of course I didn’t and that with the treatment we had undergone at his hands it seemed unlikely we would feel resolved about it any time soon, no matter what happened with Boldt. I told her I was thinking about getting therapy myself, that of course counseling is what was recommended in these situations.
She didn’t like the idea of therapy at all. She said, “I’m afraid of what they might ask me. What if instead of fixing me they just make things worse? I never really worried about things like this before. Are they going to make it so I can go back to the way I was? I don’t want to think about these things. What if they want me to go even farther, think about it even more, dig stuff out? What if they find out there’s even more wrong with me, and I didn’t even know it. How am I supposed to know if I’m really civilized? Besides, I know the therapist or whoever would take one look at me and decide I was stupid. I can’t talk to them if they think I’m stupid.”
She seemed like she needed comforting and I moved a little closer on the couch to put my arm around her. A part of me felt bad, like I was taking advantage. “You’re not stupid,” I said.
“You’re only saying that now,” she said. She looked away from me. “I think you mean it too. But you didn’t think that before.”
“Things change,” I said.
She turned back to me and I leaned in to kiss her. She seemed to expect it but just before our lips met her digital butler interrupted: “Drinks are prepared.” We both pulled away. It had been kind of a thoughtless moment, more body than mind, and we exchanged guilty looks.
But after we had each sipped our cokes and set them down again I decided the hell with it and kissed her again. She didn’t expect it this time, and maybe that’s why she didn’t stop me right away. My tongue teased her lip, my face brushed her face, the scent of her swept any other thought away. Vavaka was gone from my mind, even Kantsky, and for a moment there was nothing but India, India, India.
····16····
We made out for a while, who knows how long really, because it was a timeless experience. When we separated it was like slowly waking up from a dream, the outside world gradually returning. I saw the same in her face, her eyes half-focused then slowly tuning in on me.
“Oh, no,” she said and without thinking I reached up to brush her forehead, smooth away the wrinkle of worry that had appeared there. But I could say t
he same thing. What had I gotten myself into? I knew I was lost. When I fell, I fell hard, and somewhere along the way I had fallen for India Phoenix. With me that meant not a whole lot else mattered.
“Oh, yes,” I said. I kissed her again, but it was different, more aware, both of us self-conscious.
“I’m engaged,” she said.
“Don’t I know it,” I said but without attention. All I had was reserved for looking at her in this new light, taking her in as I hadn’t allowed myself to before, acknowledging her perfection.
“It’s not right,” she said and I agreed, but it wasn’t exactly uncivilized either. “Oh, my God, I don’t know what’s going on.”
“I don’t want you to marry Vavaka,” I said baldly.
“But I love him,” she said. That she said it without hesitation pierced through me like a laser.
“Do you?” I said. “How can you?”
“I do,” she said but she sounded to me less sure this time, more like she was thinking it over.
“Do you even know him?” I asked but immediately wanted to take it back. I didn’t want to question her or to argue with her or for there to be any conflict between us. I also didn’t want to tell her what I knew about Vavaka’s gaming history. I wanted to know what was going on first. Now I felt guilty about the whole thing, about going to Asitot, about keeping it from her.
“Do I even know you?” she asked and to my dismay started crying. “I don’t even know me,” she sobbed. “I just don’t know what’s going on.”
I didn’t either. But I intended to figure it out.
I met up later in the day with Charles and Mike and we went together to the Space Machine. We took one of the public tram ships since we were laying low as normal people instead of under the umbrella of the Phoenixes.
Charles could immediately sense something different about my attitude. He didn’t try to get anything out of me with Mike there which means he probably knew exactly what it was. I expected as soon as we got a moment alone he’d tell me what he thought about my thing for India, and I wasn’t wrong. When Mike went to get us snacks Charles jumped on it.
“So what happened?” he said. “You go online with India?”
“What do you mean?” I said.
“You’re elsewhere, man. Only one thing ever gives you that elsewhere look. You’re fiending for somebody and if I know my bodies in this case the other one would have to be India Phoenix.”
“I went over to her house this morning,” I said.
He looked me over. “You didn’t,” he said.
“We hung out.”
“Should you be complicating things right now? Really, should you?” He patted my arm. “I don’t just mean in terms of this case, I’m talking about you. Are you sure you’re all right, man? You haven’t been the same since Boldt. And listen, no one expects you to be. But should you be complicating your life this fast? You two just got back.”
“Life is always complicated,” I said, which is something I believed even when life was simple.
“I’m not sure if you should have come on this trip,” Charles said. “Maybe you should have taken a few days.”
I demurred as Mike returned and handed us pizza. Mike led the rest of the idle chatter until we boarded. Mike could come off as the silent type – especially when Lewis was around – but if you let him he could also spin off monologues like nobody’s business, the unstressful kind where you only had to half-listen if even that and didn’t even really have to acknowledge he was talking. We also spent the time practicing our cover stories, getting used to our fake names (I was now an “Alex,” Charles an “Eric,” and Mike an “Adam”), etc. We took the pills, shuffled down the hallway and slept through space and time to Asitot.
I dreamed I was riding on a ribbon, a long string typeset with characters moving too fast to make out, but I got the impression they were numbers. I was zipping along, the ribbon like a magic road that allowed me to fly forward. I don’t remember anything else but I remember the numbers were supposed to be important. If I could just slow down and make out the numbers I’d learn something crucial.
At the end I saw they weren’t numbers, but a word:
“abracadabra.”
But that wasn’t quite right. I was missing something, but what I couldn’t remember.
On the other side we took a more traditional route this time, a tourist shuttle to the planet, and rented a guide-car for our stay. The guide-cars were automated. You just told it your destination if you had somewhere specific in mind or it could take you to any of the “recommended” places. It came with a full guide app to download to the cell with the local area covered in commercial, cultural, historical, and geographical detail.
Our hotel was incredibly razz. It turned out Eden’s Garden had themed resorts and ours was based on the old classic Intergalactic Warriors movies, one of my favorite franchises. The entire environment replicated to a tee the fictional planet of Beersol, a desert planet similar to Asitot. It was crowded with humans, scarcely a gobo in sight, and the ones I did see invariably worked there. The hotel was above ground whereas most of the city – which I had yet to really visit – was underground. Jebala was a pretty major tourist destination because of its legendary formations and also because on the surface they embraced galactic visitation. A deeper look though showed – as was often the case – it had more to do with tourism as an industry than a truly cosmopolitan culture. Asitot was not resource-heavy and instead had relied on tourism, art and fashion to make up the difference in the galactic marketplace.
We each had our own bedroom connected to a single suite. I claimed mine first then settled in to the suite to pull up the local map on the 3V. We were on the edge of Jebala about 30 kilometers or so from Vavaka’s estate, even further south. I called the front desk and asked one of the ladies working there – all humans – if there were any sights worth seeing in that direction.
“Not really,” she said. “City’s the other way. Most out that direction is privately owned.”
“Really?” I asked. “Who owns it?” I was hoping to hear Vavaka’s name without having to bring it up but was disappointed.
“Couldn’t say,” she said. “Upscale area. Probably goes back generations, but I couldn’t tell you who owns it.”
I thanked her and hung up. I needed to figure out a way to get back to that pedto without being noticed by anyone associated with Vavaka. “Back” to the pedto I realized even as I thought it wasn’t right, of course. I had never actually made it to the pedto. Boldt had somehow gotten to me before then.
This made me adamant to begin there. It would wait, I thought, until I knew how to approach it discreetly but I wanted to see the real thing. How was it different from what Boldt had somehow presented to me?
I called Charles in to brainstorm. Mike came too and I let him listen.
“Did I not tell you?” said Charles. “I’ve been there already. When you didn’t come back we went looking for you.”
It occurred to me only then that I hadn’t really asked them about their experiences on Asitot, those eleven days I had been missing. I knew not all of it had been on Asitot, of course, that they had gone back to the solar system when the trail led to Boldt, but what about before then? It wasn’t just the pedto either. I had barely gotten to see Vavaka’s estate. I reminded them of this and begged for information. The pedto they described was not what I had experienced at all. Instead, they had gone underground to a market laid out in a circle, not too different in appearance from Jebala but less crowded. They described an alien but still familiar atmosphere with friendly gobos not terribly used to tourists but quite willing to help out. They had sensed no resistance to civilization and Mike had bought several things at the market.
Vavaka’s estate they had seen much more of, but surprisingly little of Vavaka himself.
“Based on his crib,” Charles said, “he seems to be a pretty simple guy.”
“Hardly seemed lived in,” Mike said.
<
br /> “You talk to any of the staff?” I asked. “There were guards at the gate. What about them?”
“Not really,” Charles said. “Most of it was automated.” The surface building was only a small part of the estate but it had seemed they both agreed more like a hotel or a museum than a place someone lived.
“But you know how rich people are,” Mike said, and I thought about India’s house and agreed.
In short they could tell me nothing useful about the gobo himself and only very little about the area. I was not at all surprised most of Vavaka’s estate was underground, as was the pedto, though I found the detail to be an odd variance from my memory. Why had Boldt presented it above ground instead of as it actually appeared? Was there a reason for the not-so-minor detail? Or just part of his game?
Both Charles and Mike had visited Jebala a couple times, mostly to meet with civilization enforcement, so they had gotten a little used to its underground nature, and they both had a few sights they were hoping to get back to see.
“It’s not a bad city,” Mike said. “Real big.”
“You’d think it would be darker, it being completely underground,” Charles added, “but there’s a lot of natural lighting and on top of that they’ve got the electric stuff. They’ve cultivated these bioluminescent creatures – some kind of algae or something – that grow on the walls and light everything up. It’s really amazing, you’ll see.”
I had indeed seen videos and I was very much looking forward to it. So we made plans for the next day to visit Jebala. I was impatient to get back to the pedto and to Vavaka’s property but they convinced me to give that a day or two. It was more likely we would be able to find out about Vavaka in the city, Charles said, where it would be a lot easier to talk to people. We wouldn’t be the only humans. We’d be far less likely to be noticed. And it would give us time to come up with a reason, given our cover stories, to head out the other way.
