Chapter 12
Jon and Namid returned to Jon’s home in the desert oasis by chopper. Namid loved the chopper. “It’s so archaic,” he said. “I bet you even have a t-heme song.”
“Always, in my head,” Jon agreed. The nurse running to greet him was Loxy, always in the lead. There were other nurses, other love interests, but Loxy was first in this meme.
They passed over a crater that was being filled with water. The water flowed out from a portal, and down the sides of crater. The other side of the portal was on a water world where life had yet to establish a foothold. The other side would likely be colonized, and had enough water to replenish Mars to previous levels, and still meet the water needs of three other worlds. In a month, the crater would be full. There was talk of proceeding with filling the Northern Ocean. The delay in doing so was that much activity would be too difficult to hide from Earth; it would also result in the destruction of several colonies exploring tech caches. They had not built to code and would not survive being underwater; not that that would stop the Ocean once the decisions was made to fill it.
Jon’s oasis was situated on at the rim of a crater. There was a natural spring fed pool, with a waterfall from north east side of the cavern. The water here was old Mars, bubbling up. Underground lakes peppered the underneath, pockets carrying old life. There were tropical type plants running the sides of the wall and carpeting the floor of the crater. There were a hundred trees in a hundred tree forest, but one stood prominent, reaching the half way mark of the crater wall. Fruit and leaves from these trees littered the ground. Small creatures lived and died here, never venturing far, but pushing the seedling boundary as they did. Elephant Ears thrived by the mist of the spring’s waterfall. The crystal ceiling that covered the entire opening of the crater was perfectly transparent. The only indication the ceiling was there is that some angles revealed an empty crater, while other angles revealed everything, or everything tripled. There were atmosphere machines on the far side from the home, part of the Mars reclamation project. Jon sat the chopper down easily on the platform. When the blades stopped, he and Namid got out. Eos brought the platform into the ‘garage’ space. Namid walked around to the front, following Frittens.
“How did all of t-hese babies get up here?”
“There’s a crack on the south wall. I am pretty sure one of they dug out an opening,” Jon said. “If they get much bigger, they might not fit back.”
“You should stop feeding t-hem,” Namid said.
“I probably should,” Jon said.
“It never goes well, Jon,” Namid said. “Seriously, what would you do with a harem of Crater Frites?”
“Oh, I am done playing with Frites. Lessened learned,” Jon said.
Namid looked skeptically at him. “I don’t believe you.”
“Yeah,” Jon said. “And yet you put me on this crater.”
Eos brought folding chairs out to the rim and opened them up. Jon and Namid sat down, and she served them tea. The sun was low on the horizon and would be setting soon. A Fritten jumped up into his lap.
“Humans never learn,” Namid said.
“This runt would have been eaten…”
“Yes. T-his runt will eat you,” Namid said.
“Is it against the rules? What I am doing?” Jon asked.
“It is not,” Namid said.
“Are there any stories of Frittens being tamed and surviving into Fortunates?” Jon asked.
“I know of none,” Namid said. “I know many stories of Fallons with personality disorders that fail to thrive. Your world carries such a story. Shall I tell you more t-han I have?”
“No,” Jon said.
The Fritten pawed at the cup wanting to drink. Jon gently redirected it, saying no. It grappled his hand the same way a kitten would, leaving scratches and teeth marks. Its tail coiled around Jon’s arm, and licked the finger it bit. If it meant to harm him, it would be difficult to remove without killing it.
“It will eat you, Jon,” Namid said again.
Jon nodded. The Fritten eventually got off his lap and went to the bush it had claimed as its own. Jon and Namid watched stars silently rising, fading in. A ship in the distance sparkled with its anti-collision lights. It drove horizontal across the plane, and then shot straight up, defying expected acceleration curves. Namid finished his drink, stood, stretched, and nodded to Jon.
“Good night, Sir,” Namid said.
Jon stood up and bowed. Namid turned and disappeared. He was vanishing even as he turned, as if going up a stairs. Jon sat back down. Eos came up gently out of his periphery.
“You okay?” Eos asked.
“We’re good,” Jon said.
“That wasn’t what I asked you,” Eos said.
“Why do you ask when you know my thoughts, you know what lurks underneath?” Jon asked.
“Do you know what’s underneath?” Eos asked.
“Sometimes,” Jon asked. “May I have something stronger?”
“Not in your present mood,” Eos said.
“I am not angry,” Jon said.
“I didn’t say angry. You were angry earlier,” Eos said.
Eos stood there with him, looking out at the stars. They were bright here. Brighter than Earth. Brighter than over the oceans, away from the lights of men. Jon casually glanced at her, following her gaze, and wondered if she were truly looking at the Martian sky, or at him. Orientation of the avatar didn’t necessarily align with focus. It was true of him, too. He could see but not be seeing, his mind elsewhere.
“Do I love people that can’t reciprocate to prolong my solitude?” Jon asked her.
“There are many ways to unpack that, Jon. If I were a counselor, would you want to unpack your past? Explore the dynamics of your family of origin and the role you were assigned? Or we…”
“Please, don’t suggest CBT,” Jon said.
“It has good measurability’s,” Eos offered.
“Life isn’t about measures! You can’t quantify everything. You can’t put everything into a graph, or a treatment plan, and make nice little person centered, measurable goals. Those are distractions,” Jon said.
“Or milestones,” Eos offered. “Jon, you’re less likely to find something concrete while probing infinities.”
“I want something concrete,” Jon said.
“Love is an infinity. It can’t be confined to something concrete,” Eos said.
“Should I wait…”
“Oh, Superman, in your Fortress of Solitude, surrounded by ice and barren valleys of snow, huddle near a fire- a spark of a promise of day with sun,” Eos said.
“I am not superman,” Jon said.
“You are not. You are in a Fortress. Loxy is an abstraction,” Eos began.
“All human thoughts are abstractions,” Jon argued.
“Yes. Your ideas of Heather, an abstraction. A caricature. Even you failed to hear her and see her the way she wants to be seen and heard. Love is an infinity. Loxy is your abstraction point of a reachable level of love, and so even if she manifests permanently and physically into your life, she becomes the milestone that reveals you have further to go. Heather is Loxy. She represent an ideal, but also is a key to unlocking something in you that you want to experience. It’s not that you kill the Buddha on the road, but on meeting Buddha, he dies. You die. Your love dies. In that union, you merge, infinities reveal themselves, and you move on. Together, not together.”
Jon didn’t say anything. One particular star drew his attention. Watery eyes divided its lights into beams, imagined blues and greens. It was Earth, as seen from Mars, the way Venus is seen from Earth. An echo of a song, sung by Nanci Griffith, “From a Distance.” He wasn’t sure if he favored this version because the first time he heard it sung it was Nanci, or because he loved Nanci’s voice. Her voice was not Loxy’s, but there was a profile of her that unlocked Loxy in his brain. Voices unlocked things in him. Female voices opened floodgates. Carol Carpenter’s voice always put him in infinity.
Jon handed Eos the empty tea cup, stood, folded and collected the chairs. They went inside together. He return the chairs to their storage spot, as he used them enough he didn’t see the need to recycle them. He went from the main entrance to the bathroom. He emptied his pockets onto the counter. Torch. Jekel’s card. He hung his jacket next to his pack. He undressed and threw his clothes into a recycler. He showered. He came out to dry, by through an invisible field, no need for a towel, except for comfort, and found replacement clothes out. Casual clothes that could double as nightwear. The Torch was gone.
“Thank you, Eos,” Jon said.
“Of course,” Eos said.
He flossed, brushed, and rinsed. He stared into the mirror. He went to his room. A flicker of his hand gave him ambient lighting, Soft reflective blues, like light shined through a pool gently stirred. There was the smell of sea now available to him. If he closed his eyes, he could travel to Second Home. It’s was Jon’s home- his home, and yet not his home. The Jon there felt like an avatar, a composite of all the ages of him. He could return to the days of being a child, and needing to go here to be safe. Second Home evolved as he had evolved. It had faded for a while. It was forgotten in mid adulthood. Returning to it was like the kids from a CS Lewis book rediscovering Narnia when they were older. Loxy lived there now, with a number of friends. He felt like he was there as a ghost, invisible to them all. He could visit them, revisit them, like watching a reruns of a favorite show- it was static, but different, because the lens was different. The viewing angle was different. Sometimes it was like finding an episode never seen before. It was like being the sole member of an audience to a film no one had access to. It was like a love affair with Marilyn Monroe, the woman from another era, carrying her forwards in stills and visual minuets. And in dreams of longing. So intense they were real, the place was real. Loxy’s touch and whispers were real. A candle in the wind becoming a Torch in measure.
A peculiar thought, ‘do women really know how much power they hold?’ Stars in the nights sky. Was Anneas running from Dido a failure on his part to embrace a greater reality? The founding of Rome fortified the absence of a partner. Did Dido kill herself, or was she killed? Had he stayed, would he have died or killed himself? Was this Buddha blocking infinity?
“She’ll be okay, Jon.” The voice was crisp, clear, and distinct. It was not his. It had a combined accent of English and French. There was a visual flash of her. She was wearing a knitted sweater, bare legs, socks, drinking a coffee. She was sitting in a window seat, looking out through a glass that mirrored her over top a snowy background. It was not clear if she was speaking to him, a Jon in the background, to her reflection, or a snow squirrel foraging through a fresh blanket of snow. It was not clear if what she had spoken was about Heather, or the squirrel. “Squirrel!” That damn dog from ‘Up’ made Jon cry. “I hid under the porch because I love you." ‘Fuck, Disney,’ Jon said. The path of broken snow was perfectly flawed. He wondered if his thoughts of Norma Jean had sparked this tangent. Though Loxy sometimes went blond, and more often she chose to be a red head, mostly she was brunette. Thinking of her as Blonde coupled with Norma Jean, unlocked a song, ‘Blond’ by Alizée. He blinked and passed through this infinity. A beach fire behind Loxy gave her depth, with flickering shadows. She reached out to touch him. The visual field collapsed and there was another Jon. Not him. He felt envious. It was him but not him. More than memory, less than real…
“Can you be envious of yourself?” It was his voice. It shattered the image and it was gone. Loxy was gone. He was suddenly mad again. He was so mad he couldn’t sustain it or hold it. “I want to be there. I want to stay there!”
“You were, you are, you will be.” Jon and Loxy said in unison. “Be well. We got you.”
He lay on his bed and watched the light flickering on the ceiling. He wiped his eyes. “I hate ‘Up.’”
“Eos?” Jon said more than asked.
“I am here,” Eos said.
“Dial Jekel,” Jon said. He sat up, crisscross apple sauce.
Musical tones sounded. It was the fragment of a melody, her identity key. If this life was a film with a score by John Williams, it would indicate she was about to arrive, or was being remembered. It carried the hope of a double sun sunset. It was the song of the owl in Harry Potter. It was the Love theme in Superman. Marion’s theme in Raiders. It was golden and solid and unforgettable. She arrived in his room.
“Jon?” Jekel said. “You okay?”
“I am in a mood,” Jon admitted. “It’s not your job to sort it and I am not even sure precisely why I am reaching out to you…”
“Sex?”
Jon bit his lip. “That would be lovely, but…”
“Jon. I am in,” Jekel said, sitting beside him on the bed. “You want to continue virtually, or would you like in person.”
“In person,” Jon said.
“It will take me half an hour to get there,” Jekel said.
“Okay. Let yourself in. If I am asleep, wake me,” Jon said.
“You’re going to fall asleep?” Jekel asked.
“Yeah, because I am going to knock one out before you get here so I get a better performance,” Jon said.
Jekel laughed. “Don’t do that. I want the whole experience. First time blah, with the recovery and second and third round.”
“How many rounds can you tolerate?”
“I can go as long as you go.”
“Better take the week off,” Jon said.
Again she laughed. “See you in thirty.”
“I thought it would take…”
“If I am asking you to be imperfect with me, I am going to be as I am. I coming now,” Jekel said. “Wait for me.”
The call ended.
“Oh, good for you,” Eos said. “You think she’ll let me play through?”
“Feel free to ask,” Jon said.
निर्मित
“You had a radical life intervention,” Sheros explained to Heather. “This was designed into your life plan prior to your birth as an option. You were schedule to die. It was to be a murder suicide…”
“Slow down,” Heather said. “What kind of fortune is this?”
“I am not a fortune teller. I am Fortunate,” Sheros said.
“What is before life?”
“I cannot answer that for you,” Sheros said.
“Try me,” Heather said.
“I will tell you, and you will either not hear, or add into it. When you’re ready, you will know. Even if I hypnotized you and took you deep, your guardian self will not let you have information prior to your milestones,” Sheros said. “This one is blocked for you. I will not give you more. But feel free to research and read on your own. That is allowable. All is available in the library, if you expand your visual tolerance.”
“I can’t go back to Earth, so what do I do?”
“You could become a Seeker,” Candid offered.
“That isn’t her personality type,” Orin said.
“Personality type is not a factor in becoming a Seeker,” Candid said.
“Certain personalities fair better than others, and she is…”
“Damaged?” Heather said. “I am not damaged. If I choose Seeker, do I get a Torch?”
“Why do you want a Torch?” Sheros said.
“They’re cool?” Heather said. “Self-defense?”
“A Torch will not protect you from that which Seeker’s must confront,” Orin said.
“That’s true,” Candid said.
“It’s not just a weapon,” Sheros said. “It’s a shield. It’s a vehicle. It’s a light. One isn’t handed such a thing. Torches choose their owners, the way Excalibur chose Arthur, or the way the Jinn chose Aladdin.”
“The Jinn didn’t choose Aladdin,” Heather corrected.
“You think it was an accident?” Orin asked.
“What are the options other than Seeker?” Heather said.
“Mars has extended sanctuary to you. As long as you are here, your debt is paid through Jon,” Sheros said. “You may take up residence within the city here, if you like. There are employment opportunities. You will be assigned a companion. An AI interface. You can start college. There are four other worlds, not in the Sol system, which have extended an offer to buy your debt from Jon.”
“What do you mean, buy my debt?”
“One is a colony world. A family has filed an application so their son may have a wife and children,” Sheros said.
“You’re pimping me out?!” Heather asked.
“It’s a life path that your guardian self is amenable to, as there is congruence with your primary evolutionary path,” Sheros said.
“So it choses my fate?” Heather asked.
“More often than not. You agreed to experience certain events. You needed to be challenged. There are some things coming your way that you will not escape,” Sheros said.
“This is your philosophy?” Heather said.
“If you wish,” Sheros said.
“I didn’t agree to this. Any of this. This life. Being abused. Fuck your philosophy,” Heather said.
“You chose your partner,” Orin said.
“Fuck you, too,” Heather said.
“Your husband had things to overcome as well. The two of you agreed on overcoming together. It didn’t work out. There is no failure if there is learning. There is evolutionary gain in realizing something isn’t working and ending it before it gets to the point you want to kill each other,” Sheros said. “This learning is yours. Your experience, that which is learned and unlearned and yet to be unpack belongs to you, your people, society, and the future.”
“The future needs me to suffer to know abuse is wrong?”
“Your is suffering is real. It brought you here, with this understanding…”
“I would like to be someone else…”
“If you, the one you are now, goes away- all those beings you influenced go away. Jon goes away. All the people he touched goes away. Your children go away,” Sheros said.
“I don’t have children…”
“Are you sure?” Sheros asked.
“I didn’t want children.”
“I accept this reality of you,” Sheros said. “What about all the other you?”
“There is only me. I left,” Heather said. “It was over.”
“After how many years?” Orin said.
“Orin,” Candid said.
“Who were you before him? Who were you with him? Who are you now?” Sheros said. “I count three of you in that? Who are you with Jon? How many versions of both of you sparked from just that one encounter, abstracting infinities into many lives and worlds…”
“I did not chose this path…”
“No!” Orin interrupted. She was aware of Candid’s disapproval. “I will not soften this. You’re the truth person, Heather. How many times should a person be beat before they leave? How many times should they go back before they are no longer a victim? You could have been with Jon. He loved you. He wanted you. He was so lonely then he didn’t know how reach others and you could have been his light.”
“Fuck you. It’s never as easy as people make. I…”
Sheros touched Heather’s hand. “There is no judgment. You are safe. There is a part of you that is so fiercely loyal that you honor contracts, like for better and for worse. This is a favorable attribute you hold. The conflict of holding love for another, love for this abstraction, and for self-preservation is internal, and reflected in the relationship dynamics. I can’t unpack his part of it. You are with me. We can unpack your part, and I can add my part. Candid and Orin add their parts. Together, we shape this and give you new spin and new life direction. We embrace who you were and we move forwards.”
Heather was mad, but her voice was cold. “I stayed longer than I should have. I did not go back,” Heather said. She wanted to comment on Jon. There had been voices in her ears, friends saying he was old. Her family didn’t like anyone she liked. That alone should have made her chose Jon. He was safe, and he intimidated her. Her fear had blocked that path. A touch of regret, having not gone with her gut feeling, felt like an impossible barrier. Her ideas about being flawed blocked the escaped routes. “I…” Heather whispered.
“Humans always go back,” Orin said. “You are feral. You would have gone back because you don’t believe you’re worthy of what you want or who you are. At least Fallon know they contribute to their misfortune and they try to change. You waste time trying to change others.”
“She loved him,” Candid said. “It is not unreasonable…”
“If she loved him, then changing him would not be that which she loved,” Orin said.
Heather’s fist tightened around the crystals she held. “I loved him,” Heather said.
“That is reasonable,” Sheros said. “The things that attracted you to him, though- are likely things that will attract to similar kinds of people, until you understand what it is that compels you. You and Jon have similar tracks, but he has experienced significant progress in healing, and you will not connect with him. He is safe. You will seek danger. This is not a fault, you are not broken, you were simply trained to resolve external before internal, and you do that unconsciously. And then the truth is, it’s all internal- you resolve the internal through the external. We do not judge; all is only learning opportunities.”
“There has got to be something else for me, other than being sold off to some colony with limited social arrangements,” Heather said. She couldn’t see potential love in that option, because the potential for abuse seemed louder. Isolation, fewer choices, equals capitulation. If her partner didn’t push boundaries, she would. She had sudden insight into what she would bring- a time of healing, being cold and distance, and partner having to capitulate and be patient as she embraced her role. She thought this unfair. This, too, was a barrier now realized that blocked her from moving towards Jon or someone like Jon.
“Yes, you see correctly,” Sheros said. “No matter which way you go, there will be challenges. There is a planet that wants humans to study. You would live in a simulated environment, completely self-sustained. If you went there, you would live a perfectly content existence, all your needs met. Physical, emotional, psychological, social, all your needs. You would live to a hundred forty years old, while maintaining your present level of health and beauty. The wife path on the colony planet is hard. It’s a colony and the world needs to be tamed. This other, it is a virtual paradise. You evolutionary curve will be shallower, less eventful.”
Heather was speechless.
“What bothers you about that?” Orin asked.
“What doesn’t bother me about that? Being studied? No privacy?”
“You think you have privacy now? All things are known about you, about everyone. Those with eyes see, those with ears hear,” Sheros said.
“You could join Space Force. After twenty years of service, you can retire to any planet you wanted,” Candid said. “You can make a better decision when you come back from that.”
“Except Earth,” Heather said.
“There is one caveat that would allow you to return to Earth,” Sheros offered.
“What’s that?” Heather said.
“You return to the point of extraction and complete your life contract,” Sheros said.
Heather’s eyes blazed. “You want me to go back and die?!”
“Everybody that incorporates into the physical will experience death,” Sheros said. “If you try to go back to Earth in this body, regardless of how you travel, you will arrive back at your point of extraction. You are given an out. The out means you can’t return to Earth, in this life or any future life. Unless this contract is resolved, you cannot return to Earth.”
“Another exception would be that all the participants that signed on to experience a certain outcome release you from your debt,” Candid said.
Heather looked to Candid then Sheros. Sheros nodded. There was no way her ex would let her out of the contract he perceived was their commitment. Even a legal divorce, with restraining order, had failed to stop him from pursuing her. She could only imagine the hell she would have had if she had been impregnated. She suspected he was trying to impregnate her to purposely control her for a lifetime. She nearly traveled to a reality where that had happened…
“Not just your ex-husband, but also your family, your fellow employees, the community, many people were scheduled to learn vicariously through your loss. Maybe you are not the one that sparks a national rage against domestic violence, but at some point there will be one death too many and the world will unite and say no more,” Sheros said. “We at this stage won’t know the fallout from your loss in this form.”
“Will you make more of this option granted than what you would have made in death? Will you take the easy path or the hard path?” Orin said.
“Or the middle,” Sheros said.
“What did Jon do?”
“Don’t worry about what Jon did or didn’t,” Orin said. “This is about you.”
“Truth,” Candid and Sheros said.
“Do I have to decide now?” Heather asked.
“No,” Sheros said. “But we are done at this station.” She gathered the crystals and placed them back in their designated places. She hugged Orin and Candid, and then asked Heather to walk with her.
Heather followed. She was aware of the difference in the polished floor and the soft sand of the corridor outside, and slowed her progress as she measured it with her feet. A few steps later, she walked as easily as if she were on a familiar beach. The corridor was dimly lit. There were side tunnels and hollowed out rooms. Soft lights came from the rooms, illuminated crystals imbedded in walls, loosely defining the depth of the rooms. They passed a room where people were sitting in chairs that allowed them to lay down, with screens above them. Their work stations were defined by the circle of architecture that held their equipment above them and the circle on the floor. There was an empty station.
“Watchers,” Heather explained.
“What do they watch?” Heather asked.
“Individuals. Groups. They don’t just watch. They experience what their person experience. They pray. They love. They suffer,” Sheros said. “This is not an abstraction, or a vicarious learning station. They are more than anthropologists. They live a thousand lives in one lifetime. They follow bloodlines. They can experience the entire family line simultaneously in real time here. They follow deeper trends than what is perceived on the surface of things. They hold the dreams the awareness of the bigger picture. You think you’re an individual but the entire organism is not you, but your entire genetic line, and all of humanity. You see yourself as an individual ant. What you fail to realize is the single ant is one neuron in a bigger brain. The colony is the individual, just as your cells belong to you, as you belong to the whole. Separateness is an illusion. Do you want to experience the chair?”
“No,” Heather said. “It feels too voyeuristic.”
“Says the babe from a world of televisions and smart phones,” Sheros said. “The next jump in tech for species will open up worlds within worlds. Come.”
They walked further. Heather was about to ask if she could get her clothes back when she thought she heard her name. She stopped. Sheros stopped and observed her quietly.
“Did you hear that?” Heather asked.
“How could I hear what is meant for you alone?” Sheros asked.
Heather frowned at her. “That is not helpful,” she said. She clearly heard her name again, and it startled her. “You didn’t hear that?”
“What would you like to do?” Sheros asked.
“What’s in there?”
“You’re the Star Wars fan. What would Yoda say?” Sheros asked.
Heather took a tentative step towards the entrance to the room. Sheros touched her arm. Heather’s eyes darted to her, flashing anger. She did not pull free or lash out.
“Some things opened can’t be closed,” Sheros said.
“Is this dangerous?”
“There is risk in every calling,” Sheros said. “There is danger in not responding. All are called. You want death to your present self by changing the past. This door is death, it’s liberation, it also fortifies all that is.”
Heather forced herself to breathe. “Not helpful,” she said, and pushed into the room.
She found herself enveloped in blackness. It was startlingly oppressive, and weighed against her as heavy as the towel that clung to her. She felt the towel pulled free from her. Her instinct was to step back, into the light she knew. She held. She felt as if her whole body was being pressed against. She clawed at her face as if to remove cobwebs. The undulations of pressure against her entire beings wasn’t unpleasant, just a shock. She reached for the towel she knew was gone only to feel some tactile comfort, hoping it was still there. Her hands followed her body, clearly naked. She hated this vulnerability. She was about to panic when a light caught her eye. She moved towards the dot of light. It became a line. It became an interference pattern. She fell into a side domain and found herself in a room of white, all the surfa