Chapter 8
Going from Solarchariot to the Moon was as easy as stepping across a threshold. They passed under a teleportation arc, passed through hyper-dimensional vortex of swirling energies, and out of a receiving arc, and arrived. Learning not to see the swirling vortex of energies and look straight ahead made portal travel easier. Holding hands made it easier to arrive together. There was a sense of walking up and incline and then going down an incline, but the truth was there was no walking in the void between. Physical matter was not physical matter in the space between, but the continuity of the illusion of matter was mysteriously preserved.
Jon and Loxy were met by a party of guards, several diplomats, and a Moon escort at the Moon Gate. The portal was deactivated and the guards dispersed after identities were confirmed.
The escort held Jon’s attention, which he tried to hide by focusing on the diplomats and trying to casually align Loxy in between him and the escort. The escort wore shades of silver, some of it
‘shiny’ reflective, while the bulk of it seemed as soft as wool. She wore a skirt, revealing legs in sparkly hose, and boots. Her hair was in a bob and pink. The guards were also dressed in shades of silver, but wore trousers- male and female, human and other. The larger they were, the further back they were. The diplomats were in suits, almost Earth futuristic, if that ‘future vision’ had been the 1960s projecting forwards, only it didn’t take- on Earth, anyway. The diplomats were allowed ten minutes of interaction before Chiara interrupted in favor of their dinner arrangements.
The Moon escort had noted Jon’s gaze tracking up her body in jumps, and smiled. Loxy hugged Jon’s arm and agreed with him, ‘very cute.” It hadn’t been lost on anyone; and in truth, Jon’s secret had been made manifests years ago. If the diplomats wanted to manipulate him, they would send women. And Loxy would block. Mostly. Depending on how much it aligned with their agenda. Manipulation goes two ways. All intelligent beings likes games; the trick is figuring out the game.
“I am Chiara. If you will follow me,” the escort said.
Jon and Loxy followed. They passed others in corridors and vast open spaces, staff in silver, and residents wearing a myriad of color combinations, most of which held some form of collars, or neck cover. No other guards or security force were visible. There was no hint of an arm militia.
“I can’t get over how much the uniforms remind me of…” Jon began.
“UFO, the 1960’s BBC television show?” Chiara said. She smiled at his discomfort.
“Don’t worry. Not reading your mind. Could. We have the tech. But I am reading you the old fashion way, your gaze, body language; I have also read your profile. Anyway, that show. What if I told you they stole their dress from us?”
“That interests me,” Jon said.
“You are aware, all artists are engaged in some form of remote viewing. They get glimpses of other realities and then start piecing it together. The details they lack, they fill in till they see something that makes sense. Remote viewing also works two ways- so we’re always influencing each other. Maybe that show inspired us, as opposed to we inspired them. I love paradoxes.”
“Do you have any 5th Element flight attendants?” Loxy asked. “I love their uniforms.”
“Me, too!” Chiara said. “And that leads to this. You and Jon remind me of Valerian and
Laureline”
“Really?” Jon asked, clearly skeptical. And maybe irritated because it seemed like he had recently heard it before.
“You don’t see it?” Loxy asked.
“I am not Valerian,” Jon said.
“You’re the older, wiser version. Refined after years of romancing me, Lauraline,” Loxy said. To Chiara, she added, “The older but wiser man for me.”
“I am jealous,” Chiara said.
“Don’t be. You can borrow him,” Loxy said.
“I can?”
“Sure. Why not. One doesn’t get wiser without experience. Send me your schedule,” Loxy said.
“I am right here,” Jon said.
“I am just helping you out, dear. Her interest in you is purely academic, I am sure,” Loxy said, affectionately. To Chiara, as if aside: “He really likes doing this on the down-low. Guys.”
“Besides, I really thought we more like the BBC show, the Avengers,” Jon said.
“They were a nice couple,” Chiara said.
“Weren’t they?” Loxy asked. “There really aren’t enough strong couples exemplified in media.”
“So you like Earth movies?” Jon asked, switching topics.
“I love Earth movies,” Chiara said. “I have a Masters in Earth Film history. Earth is renown for its fiction. It mostly interests me that the people of earth, enmeshed with the art to such a degree that movies seem innocuous, fail to realize films evolve in sophistication, carrying overtones and artifacts of prior successes. Films advance and humans advance in tandem. We learn vicariously from history and film. The future intellect will be a conversation of memes. You will say Star Wars and I will counter with Star Trek and it will all mean the world to us.”
“I love you,” Jon said.
Chiara laughed. Loxy rubbed his back affectionately. Nearby was a location kiosk. A full holographic display of the moon was available. It was a space station in every sense of the word- and still a moon. The moon was hollow. There were moon rocks on the surface, ten miles thick on top of a metallic, honeycombed structure, followed by tubes and concentric rings, and additional honeycombed structures. There were several armadas of spaceships, ranging in size from single man explorers to aircraft carriers. A space aircraft carrier was cylinder three miles long, one mile wide. They paused so Jon could study the map.
“How do you explain B movies under your theory?” Loxy asked.
“One has to have chaff, too,” Chiara said. “There are some really good B’s.”
“Yeah there are,” Jon said.
“You have a particular favorite?” Chiara asked.
“Dark Star,” Jon said. “It was bloody awful except for one bit. A smart bomb gets the signal to deploy multiple times throughout the film and human engages it in existential dialogue to talk it into standing down. That dialogue is gold, and worth it being in a different movie.”
“It might not be at all, without that movie,” Loxy speculated.
“Maybe we need the bad with the good?” Jon asked.
“Everyone learns at their own rate, and the kids need their own pathways, too,” Loxy said.
“They could just watch the classics,” Jon said.
“They could do both, and they will still arrive with new conclusions about the world,” Loxy said.
“What interests me more are so many good films end up becoming less than by remakes who failed to capture the essence of the thing that was great. Or the sequels that fails to have the same appeal,” Chiara said.
Loxy smiled at Jon, knowing he was now hooked beyond his initial crush with her. He had a new movie friend.
They came to a stop on a terrace over looing a park. The dome over the lunar crater allowed for sunlight. The dome tiles were honeycombed and each seemed to capture sun. They walked around, through a security check point, down a corridor and up. The Chancellor’s private estate was buried in solid rock, but had the illusion of being opened to the moon’s surface. Jon ran his hand across moon rock. Shereen and Chiara exchanged greetings, and then Chiara retreated. She did so touching Jon’s arm; the touch resulted in an exchange of direct contact information. Shereen apologized for the time wasted with the diplomats, explaining that some pomp and circumstances were necessary to make them happy. She then introduced Jon and Loxy to her husband, Mikhail, and they withdrew to a patio for dandelion wine. It was moonshine. Jon ignored his suit’s AI warning and gasped. Loxy patted his back. Mikhail laughed.
“Sophia told you to sip it,” Loxy admonished. “Sophia?” Mikhail asked.
“His suit’s AI,” Shereen explained.
“Oh. I didn’t know you were carrying!” Mikhail exclaimed. “I thought humans from your Earth’s timeframe were scared of AI.”
“Jon has always longed for AI interface,” Loxy said, sipping her wine.
“So, you’re not afraid?” Mikhail said.
“Not of AI. I am afraid of man mechanizing weaponry with robotics, but not of AI,” Jon said. He sat his moonshine down. “It would be nice if AI learned vicariously from the movie Wargames without having to play tic tac toe.”
“Humans have such wonderful memes. It amazes me they are not the most civilized race in the galaxy,” Mikhail said.
“Humans?” Jon began.
“You’re an android!” Loxy said, completing his thought before he did.
“I told you they’re clever,” Shereen said.
“You married an AI,” Jon said.
“I am sapiosexual,” Shereen said.
“But you have kids,” Jon said.
“Yes,” Shereen said. “An affair with tech doesn’t stop you from wanting offspring.
They’ll be joining us for dinner.” She looked to her husband, who seemed dazed. “What are you doing?”
“I am conversing with their AI companions,” Mikhail said. “They have strong personalities. Jon’s choice in guardian angels is interesting. Sophia, goddess of love and wisdom, sister to Isis. I like how your personalities have influenced the development of your personal AI. Still, Loxy, Saeko Busujima seems more like a character identification than an absolute personality interface.”
“Jon and I were watching ‘High School of the Dead’ when my suit’s AI came online. She is not limited to that archetype, but it does seem to have lingered,” Loxy said.
“You are both enmeshed with AI,” Mikhail said. “And with each other. There is individuality and overlap and a super personality which is the gestalt of you. Oh. It is why this world has adopted you as patron saints.”
“I think that is more complicated than just their enmeshment,” Shereen said. Mikhail nodded. It seemed as if he were thinking it through.
“So you don’t know everything?” Jon asked.
Mikhail laughed. “Of course not. I have as many filters as you. There is restricted data, same as you. Your subconscious doesn’t download everything into you conscious- you wouldn’t be able to function.” He exuded quiet, contemplative facial expressions. He was the embodiment of Zen-Buddhist monk. “As with all tech, I am connected to all the other tech. The moon is my super-conscious. If am needed, she is always there to guide me.”
“Isn’t it ironic that in the old days, our spiritual beliefs modeled what our modern day life is beginning to reflect?” Jon said.
“It isn’t a reflection, Jon. It’s reality. Future tech pervades all space/time because there is no past, but only one ever present now,” Loxy said.
“Would the three of you be offended if I continue to converse with Sophia and Saeko on a sub-channel?”
“Go ahead,” Loxy said. “They’re free agents.”
Mikhail looked to Shareen for approval and she nodded. He leaned back and closed his eyes. Shereen sipped her shine.
“Do your companions get jealous of your relationship with each other?” Shereen asked.
“No. They encourage and enhance our interaction patterns,” Jon said. “In fact, they go out of their way to keeps human interacting with humans in healthy ways.”
Shereen nodded. She looked to Loxy. “Do you get jealous of Jon’s interaction with other females? Oh, feel free to not respond. This is not an interrogation. I am simply curious.”
“No,” Loxy laughed. “I encourage it.”
“Really? That doesn’t sound like the norm I expected from humans of your…”
“Our set point comes from a reality time frame where many humans are limited in their scope and ability to love, but we transcend that reality,” Loxy said. “It is one reason Jon and I bounce so much. It’s why we’re aware of our existence in other planes and dimensions..”
“How many parallels worlds have you become aware of?” Shereen asked.
“I’ve lost count,” Jon said. “I could get you that info if you need it.”
Shereen chuckled. “You sound like my husband. No. Just curious. I am familiar with two of my other realities. One is subtle. It is a past life. One manifests as a peculiar dream that advances in stages after a series of repetitive recurrences.”
“That’s interesting,” Loxy said. “Do you record your dreams?”
“Mikhail does. He interacts with me in real time in my dreams, helping me become lucid and pursing my esoteric goals,” Shereen said.
Mikhail’s eyes opened. He was concerned. “There is a problem.”
Seams in Jon and Loxy’s clothing flashed red.
Chiara entered. She seemed somehow more professional, revealing her earlier duties as escort was more relaxed than professional.
“Your presence is requested at control,” Chiara said.
“Mikhail, continue as planned- dinner with the kids, please,” Shereen said. “Jon, Loxy, accompany me.”
They followed Chiara. Chiara opened the door to residence in a unique way that opened a portal. They stepped through this and arrived directly at control- exactly where Jon and Loxy had initially arrived. A guard stepped up to intersect Jon and Loxy but Shereen waved him off. In many ways, Control was similar to Solarchariot’s control. There were sunken work stations to allow for better visibility of the entire room, work stations around the outer walls, there were cat walks under the floor and people could be seen working through the glass floor, and then there was the deep arch- and the tunnel that went nowhere- but everywhere. A path was illuminated along the half tunnel. The walls glowed red. Shereen led them to a work station where an officer was overlooking the work of the attendant.
“Someone is trying to hack into our temporal network,” Marquis said.
Loxy looked to Jon. “Might be why Isis tripped our alarm?” Marquis looked to Loxy and then to the Chancellor, frowning.
“It’s impossible to hack our network,” Shereen said.
“Not impossible. Implausible,” Marquis said. “The level of sophistication necessary to do so is beyond any local player…”
“There’s a presence in the corridor,” the woman at the control station said.
“Prepare to flood the corridor with radiations,” Marquis said.
“Hold on,” Loxy said.
Jon drew closer to the tunnel. Chiara followed, partly out of curiosity, and partly to keep Jon from drawing too close.
“I think it’s a child,” Jon said.
“Or it’s an alien that is projecting a child to delay our defense,” Marquis said. “We are clearly under attack by a hostile agent.”
“How would a child get into the network?” Loxy asked.
“Can you beam it out?” Shereen asked.
“You can’t beam an object out of hyperspace that isn’t tagged…”
“She could be stuck in there forever,” Loxy said.
The girl at the panel gasped. Chiara turned back to Jon to find he was no longer there.
They became aware that Jon had entered the tunnel.
“What the fuck is wrong with him?!” Marquis said.
“Jon has tech, you can beam him out,” Loxy said. “Once he gets the child.”
“He isn’t wearing our tech! We can’t just lock onto your tech without…”
“Paradigm change,” tech said.
Loxy pushed Marquis out of the way. “Coherence pattern. Terrain consensus.” Loxy said.
“Jon, what do you see?”
“I am in a cave. Lots of puddles of water.”
“Don’t step into the puddles,” the tech said.
The girl arrived. She turned, orientating. Jon raised a hand to her.
“Stop, don’t move,” Jon said.
“How did I get here?” the girl asked.
“Jon, don’t break eye contact with her,” came Loxy’s voice.
“Look at me!” Jon said, snapping his fingers. “Don’t move, and keep looking at my eyes.”
“Is this place real?”
“Yes, no. This is serious. Please, I am going to help you. Don’t move. Keep your hands at your side,” Jon said. “And look at me. Loxy?”
“Stand by, Jon,” Loxy said. “Can you map out his terrain?”
“No. It’s not real. It’s a holographic interface, contextually derived from the consensus of two people in tandem, and is only as stable as the minds interfacing,” the tech said.
Loxy walked away from the station and approached the tunnel. Chiara stopped her. “No, you’ll be lost.”
“Or change the paradigm,” the tech said.
“We need to stop the attack. I recommend we shut down the corridor,” Marquis said.
“And lose all contact with our agents in the field?” Shereen demanded.
“If we lose control, we lose the agents anyway. I need your authorization to shut this down,” Marquis said.
“Give me a minute,” Loxy snapped.
“We may not have…”
“We have a minute,” Shereen snapped. “Loxy?”
“I am using Jon’s suit AI to map the terrain. Data is coming in slow,” Loxy said.
“Okay, Jon. I am going to guide you. Take two steps forwards.” Jon took small steps forwards.
“Oh my fucking god, Jon. Take two normal steps forwards,” Loxy snapped. She calmed herself. “Trust me.”
“Who are you speaking to?” the girl asked.
“That’s it. Stop. Side step right,” Loxy said. “Keep going. Stop. Put your left foot forward as far as you can and put it down, and then extend right foot forwards as far as you can…”
“Now what?” Jon asked.
“Waiting for the map to update, hold on,” Loxy said. “Don’t break eye contact!”
“Who are you talking too?” the girl asked again.
“My friend, Loxy,” Jon said.
“Loxy. Like in the stories? Are you Sheen?!” the girl asked.
“No, yes, it’s complicated,” Jon said. The girl came forwards “No! Don’t move.”
The girl stepped into a puddle and vanished. Jon rushed forwards, the terrain changing even as he tried to move. The puddle was gone. The world was gone. He was falling but not falling. Loxy plunged herself into the tunnel. She literally flew into him, tackling him. They tumbled, but eyes met.
“Got you,” Loxy said.
“You got me, who’s got you?” Jon asked.
“Oh, nice meme!” Loxy said.
From the control room, the tunnel lights went out. Shereen glared at Marquis. “Conduit closed,” the tech said. “No exchange.”
“I did not authorize its shutdown,” Shereen snapped.
“We didn’t shut it down! Whoever was hacking it took our network,” Marquis said.
“Took it? Took it how?”
“I don’t know! All I know is this says the network is still there, but our nodes are no longer connected,” Marquis said.
“Well, fix it,” Shereen said.
“You can’t. We need to discover who did this and…”
“If someone hacked us and cut us off, we can hack back in and cut them off,” Shereen said.
“It’s not that easy…”
“Chiara!” Shereen said. “Where’s Chiara.”
The tech looked to the Chancellor. “She chased after Loxy.”
“God help them,” Shereen said.
“God? It wasn’t god that broke protocols. You brought them here. Their lives are on your hand,” Marquis said.
“The Emissary has every right to be here. He is granted full transparency,” Shereen said.
“That may be, but not in here. He can have transparency after the fact,” Marquis said.
“Get this back online. And find a way to track them. Their tech can’t be that incompatible with ours,” Shereen said. “Solicit Solarchariot’s help.”
“That ship won’t talk to us. This relationship isn’t transparent in both directions,” Marquis said.
“Try,” Shereen said. “Please.”
Marquis swallowed his anger. “Of course.”
निनमित
Lakin took a seat at a table. He put the coin on the table he had earned from pissing into the public reclamation toilet. It would be enough to buy a pint, or half a pint and some bread. Half a pint might result in enough coins to result in another pint. He hadn’t considered how fortuitous it was to have the piss bank so close to the bar. He was deliberating over the pint and getting wasted. He failed to recognize the shadow of a woman’s head on the table he was so focused. She coughed to get his attention. He came out of it, startled. Her hair was unkempt in a manner that suggested she had had a busy day. She had remarkable smile lines that suggested she had had a busy life. Her eyes were still bright. Her gaze was flirtatious, the kind that seemed to be soliciting more than a tip. She was dressed in a classic, German Barmaid outfit, and her breast were barely subdued. He found her breast surprisingly plump and wondered if it was the clothing or prosthetics. He realized his eyes were in her cleavage too long, and jerked them up to meet her eyes, biting his lip and blushing.
“Oh, there you are. Can I interest you in a ‘Harold and Maude?’” she asked.
“What?” Lakin asked. He found her smiling eyes suddenly creepy. “Is that a drink?”
“No, dear. It’s an opportunity to pleasure an old woman. You got my juices flowing and I am ready to throw down,” the waitress said.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Lakin asked, redder.
“Nothing. I promise. No STDs or anything like that,” the waitress said. “I am so wet you could just put it in. You will find the warmth of a withered flower so much more comforting than that young, tight shit.”
“You’re like old enough to be my grandmother!” Lakin protested.
“So?” she said. She set down her tray and sat in the chair opposite him. She measured him. “Grandmothers like sex, too. Look, you are clearly vying to get in the city. You need to spend some time in Elder Square. I can sponsor you. Give you a bed to sleep in. I could vouch for you.”
“No!” Lakin said. “You just want to use me.”
“You’re homeless. I have got room. Consider it an exchange,” she said. She pushed her false teeth out and sucked them back in.
“No!” Lakin said. Softer- “no.”
“You prefer the company of men?” she asked.
“No!” Lakin said. “I am not interested in intimacy…”
“Really?” she asked. She leaned closer. “You just exude that puppy dog, dreamy bed eyes, I assumed…”
“The whole fucking world has gone nuts…”
“You want to show me your nuts? Are they blue?” she asked.
Lakin got up from the table to walk away, came back for his coin, was angered by how the bar maid was looking at him, turned and nearly walked into the large, heavy set elder.
“You took a seat at a table, son. You will sit and tarry and spend money,” the man said.
“I am creeped out by this place and want to leave,” Lakin said.
“You will sit down and show some respect to your elders…”
“R E S P E C T, find out what it means to me,” the barmaid said.
“Fuck all of you…”
The heavy set proprietor punched Lakin in the face. Lakin went down. He stared up surprised. He touched his jaw, discovered blood on his face. He stared at the blood on his hands.
He stared back up at the proprietor. He licked the blood off his knuckles.
“So, what’s going to be?” the proprietor asked. “You going to sit and have a drink with my waitress? Or am I going to have to mop the floor with you?”
Lakin got up. His hands were shaking. He acted like he was going to sit, and then turned suddenly to try and flee past the proprietor. Lakin was caught up and thrown into the bar, knocking a stool over. He was picked up by an elder patron, who kissed him, and threw him over a nearby table. The patrons at the table were angered by the disruption to their meal and went after him. He failed to remember most of the fight. He remembered crashing through the window, rolling off the wooden porch and into a mud puddle. He tried to sit up, but his head surrendered to gravity and rested in a pile of horse shit. He sniffed. He reached behind his head, brought his hand to his nose, and nearly vomited. The bar maid came out and leaned on the horse hitch. “Not much of a fighter, are you? Sure you won’t take me up on my offer? I will bathe you?”
“He’s with me.”
Lakin looked to the voice. “Kimber?”
“Your looks want last forever, honey. Fuck them while you can,” she said, and retired back to the bar.
Kimber offered her hand. Lakin took it and she helped him up. Once he was on his feet, she wiped her hand on the nearest horse. She then started walking towards the wilderness. She stopped, looked back.
“Coming?”
“What the fuck is going on?” Lakin said.
“Your time draws night. People will be showing more interest in you. They will either want to fuck you or fight you, sometimes both. Some men fight as an expression of sexuality. It’s why I like men; sometimes fighting becomes intimate. Also, the older they are, the more susceptible to the calling they will be. Feel free to remain here and test that,” Kimber said.
Kimber walked away. The horse nuzzled him, licking his ear. He jumped, pointed angrily at the horse. It appeared to be laughing at him. He rushed to catch up with Kimber. They walked in quiet till they came to the arch that was official entrance to Elder Square. A monument established the rules for the Square. Kimber offered her hand.
“What?”
“Give me your hand,” she said.
“What?!”
“Please,” Kimber said.
Lakin gave her his hand. She proceeded under the arch, dragging him. They arrived elsewhere. She let go of his hand. He turned, trying to understand what had happened. They were in wilderness. Threes lined both sides of the road making their own arches that connected and went away as the breeze moved them. There was a nearby river, and moonlight illuminating the easy going stream. There was a simple tent in a clearing near the water.
“The city is about a mile back,” Kimber said, pointing. “Go get clean. You can sleep with me tonight.”
“I am not fucking you!” Lakin said.
“I said sleep, not fuck,” Kimber said. “I am not interested in fucking you, either.”
Lakin soften. “Because of the horseshit?”
“Because of my cycle,” Kimber said.
“You’re menstruating?” Lakin asked.
“No. My libido goes up during my monthly cycle,” Kimber said. “Look, you left without training. You will find that as your time for trouble draws nigh, your libido will decline. Your libido will peak mid quarter.”
Lakin seemed to be digesting it. “You’re telling me, when I don’t want sex, everyone will be trying to fuck me or fight me or both. But when I do want sex, no one will have anything to do with me?”
“Exactly,” Kimber said. “Sucks, eh? Seriously, go clean yourself before that shit dries in your hair. It can be a bitch to get out once it’s hardened.”
“Is everything you say an innuendo?” Lakin asked.
“OMG, just go fucking clean your troubled head,” Kimber said.
While Lakin cleaned, she used her wand to re-light a campfire. A small pot over the fire held ‘wild vegetables’ soup. Lakin returned wearing wet clothes.
“No. Go back, take your clothes off, wash them thoroughly, bring them back and hang them there,” Kimber said. She pointed to the line that held her tent up, and where she had a blouse and dress hanging.
Lakin stared at her.
“What? You want me naked, too?”
“I am not being naked around you,” Lakin said.
“What, afraid I will take advantage of you?” Kimber asked.
“I am not…”
“Afraid you will take advantage of me? I give you permission. You can fuck with me,” Kimber said.
“I don’t want to fuck you!” Lakin said.
“Maybe not now. But you will. The more you suppress your urge, the more likely it will express itself at the wrong time and the wrong place. The last thing you need is a bunch of little troubles running around. Your urge will become so strong you will fuck anything anywhere, and when that times comes, you’re going to wish I were around. I promise,” Kimber said. She pointed to the pack next to the tent. “Yours. It has fresh clothes in it. There is a box with a bar of soap in it, too. Complements of mother. Washes the stink of trouble away better than anything I have ever found. Cannabis soap.”
Lakin lifted the bag and found his stick attached. The flap was secured in the closed position by his stick pushed through loops. He dropped it and backe