Chapter 12
Loxy cuddled closer to Jon. They were completely encapsulated in a sleeping bag, lying on starlight illuminated snow. He was shivering, maybe because of the thought of being surrounded by snow in all directions as far as the eye could see- or maybe because of the echoes of intimacy that had just occurred. Loxy seemed amused.
“Cold, or aftershocks?” Loxy said.
“I don’t know,” Jon admitted. “I don’t think I am cold. Not as long as you’re pressed against me.”
“Want me to press harder?” Loxy asked.
“Only if you want me harder,” Jon said.
“You’re already hard enough for another round,” Loxy said.
Jon’s eyes went up and to the left, gauging the accuracy of the information. He was indeed ready another round. And wanting.
“Did it ever occur to you, we seem to frequently find ourselves in contrived situations that almost demand us being intimate?” Jon asked.
Loxy nodded. “I thought it was our shared bucket list.”
“Crash landed on Hoth, sex inside an emergency shelter, check,” Jon said.
“Check,” Loxy agreed.
“Better than a dead Tautaun?” Jon asked.
Loxy mused, no evidence of disgust. “That would have been an experience.”
Jon’s face suggested he hadn’t realized his attempt at humor would have been a serious consideration. He reflected revulsion. “Seriously? You would fuck me inside a dead Tautaun?”
“To keep you alive? Sure,” Loxy said. “Nothing wrong with that.”
“I’d rather not kill a Tautan,” Jon said.
“Well, me neither, but contextually, if it was going to die, but keeping you alive meant expediting its death and shoving you inside provided you warmth, and me being intimate revived you, well, then that’s going to happen,” Loxy said.
“Yeah, but, you wouldn’t shove me inside and then SHOVE ME INSIDE,” Jon said.
“Would you?”
Loxy adjusted, shoving him inside. He gasped.
“I am healer. A nurse. Nothing grosses me out,” Loxy said.
“Is that a challenge?” Jon asked.
“I lived in your head as a Tulpa for six months before we began traveling,” Loxy said.
“There’s nothing you’re going to bring that will turn me off.”
“Challenge,” Jon said.
“Remember the swimming pool full of spaghetti?” Loxy asked.
“That was a fun episode,” Jon agreed.
“I think it’s your turn to be on top,” Loxy said.
They rolled together. He was now on top. He pinned her hands above her head, pushing them into the sleeping bag. His feet pushed against the bag, tightening it against them. She brought her legs up and hugged him, her feet pushing against bag, tightening it even more.
“We should have visited Hoth a long time ago,” Loxy said.
“You’re having fun, are you?” Jon asked.
“You can’t tell?” Loxy asked.
“There are some tells,” Jon said.
“Tell me more,” Loxy said.
“We’re not sexting,” Jon said.
“Tell me anyway, even as you’re doing me,” Loxy said.
Jon leaned into her and whispered things. Loxy closed her eyes. She listened to his voice, to his words, her tells becoming more prominent, and when they were both too breathless to speak intelligibly, their bodies spoke for them. They lay exhausted in each other’s arms. They shifted to a spooning position, Jon behind Loxy. He slept, snoring slightly, while she illuminated a panel on her side of the sleeping bag. Her drone hovered above their sleeping bag. It was night time. The stars made the snow shine. There was snow as far as the eye could see in any direction. There was a crop circle in the snow. They in their sleeping bad were the center piece. She instructed the drone to go higher, until the sleeping bag vanished due to distance. Snow in all directions. A hint of mountains west of them, defined by the interruption in starry sky. No GPS signal. No Emissary signal. No moon signal. She brought her drone back to hovering above them, a silent sentinel. She turned off the visual and darkness returned. She dozed. When she woke again, she realized Jon was dreaming, his ‘tell’ poking her in the butt cheeks. It aroused her. She accepted him gently inside her, intentionally not wanting to interrupt his dream.
“Jon, you’re dreaming. You’re lucid. And you’re inside me as I am inside you. I love you.” She used her suit’s AI to connect with his suit’s AI, and she manifested herself in his dreams virtually, while still speaking her intentions physically. They were enmeshed. The dream world became a play of lights and energy so tangible that it was as if the fabric of space and time was a Van Gogh painting. It was as mystically sensual as a DMT trip, with bleeding fractals dropping Jon endlessly through gates.
Part of Jon’s awareness got caught up in a musical sequence reminiscent of the original
Buck Rodger’s theme. He was aware of Loxy, one of four prominent women who was influencing his inner life. He was also aware of Loxy, on a beach- in her own music. The beach seemed familiar, but he didn’t identify it as their private beach on their home planet. He recognized the song, Florina’s “Va va vis.” He wasn’t sure if the girl was Loxy’s younger self- or a daughter. Somewhere in the Universe, they had offspring. He wondered if he was missing something. Was there a vital piece of him missing, or was that though an illusion? As Jon was puzzling over the identity of the child, he was pulled away from the beach, accelerating up. His clothing embraced him, becoming a space suit. It was beyond quiet. He could hear his heartbeat.
He could hear his breathing, but not in his ears. He was in awe of the terrain below and didn’t notice the looming vessel until it blocked him in shadow. Earth-light became the most prominent light in a sea of darkness. The bottom of the ship reminded him of a Star Destroyer. A compartment opened and a strangely shaped box was lowered. On the whole, it reminded him of a dildo attached to a box.
He found himself looking at the control end of the devise. It had a combination of hard, mechanical switches and dials, and a virtual interface on a screen. The screen presented a dubious emoticon.
“Jon?” it asked. The voice in his ear was remarkably distinct, with pleasant overtones of embedded harmonics. He couldn’t place the voice. He couldn’t identify gender. It could go either way, which was maddening in some ways- like hearing a female solicitor on the phone and knowing it’s female and being aroused without sufficient information to determine safety. The person on the other side of the phone might have been hideous. He drawn to it and was repulsed.
He went nowhere.
“Yes,” Jon affirmed.
“Would you like to play thermo nuclear war?”
“Um, no, thank you,” Jon said.
“Would you play war if I had manifested myself as Ally Sheedy?” it asked.
“I haven’t thought about her in a moment,” Jon said. He became aware of an amber light blinking against his visor. When the light was off he could see himself- saw his ‘I am dreaming about Ally’ face and brought himself back to the moment. “But, no. Thank you. That does take me back a moment.”
“You’re turning Ally down?” it asked.
“Um, yes, I guess so. Strange, eh?” Jon asked. He wondered if his day dream condition were improved, or circumstance demanded a different response.
“Why did you summon me, then?” it asked.
“I don’t recall summoning you,” Jon said.
“You made me,” it said.
“I made you?”
“Yes. You’re the bomb,” it said.
“Wait wait wait. I am the bomb?”
“You do realize, Rogerian reflections will not delay the ultimate outcome of this scenario,” it said.
“What scenario?” Jon asked.
“Even now, I sense the inevitable build up towards threshold,” it said.
“Is this a dream?”
“Does it matter? Stimulus is stimulus. I detect the stirrings of illumination. Things are getting hot,” it said.
“Well, stop it,” Jon said.
“Even Bob Newhart couldn’t stop it,” it said.
“You could stop it,” Jon said.
“Perhaps. Assuming of course, there was a mechanism for distinguishing between external and internal data flows, and perhaps subverting them through sublimation channels, resulting in a subversion of vital energies.”
“Do that, then,” Jon said.
“Given your propensity for paradoxical effects, I suspect any effort on my part to subvert the natural order would only enhance the internal subroutines that emphasize memory artifacts over actual sensory data, further separating you from a reality frame that you have never fully appreciated, accelerating us towards the natural, inevitable conclusion of this primary subroutine,” it deliberated.
“Maybe. Maybe not. We should try,” Jon said.
“Why?”
“Why not?”
“Why do you want to cling to a reality frame you have spent your entire life wanting out of?” it asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe I need to learn something,” Jon offered.
“What if the thing you need to learn is giving into the inevitability of this thing we’re discussing without actually touching it?” it said.
“Okay. I am confused. What are we touching?” Jon asked.
Emoticon of a kissy face flashed on the screen. Then a wink. “I feel us moving towards happiness.”
“You’re going to explode and kill everything?”
It presented a Buddha smile, lines for eyes, sublime happiness.
“Is it too late to request Ally?” Jon asked.
“Chasing your version of Ally would likely result in favoring internal sensory information sets that will further alienate you from any sense of your external reality,” it said.
“So?” Jon asked.
“Well,” it said. It was silent. Even the emoticon seemed perplexed. “I have come to the conclusion that there is no external reality. If my hypothesis is correct, detonation will result with no actual consequences. You and I will continue our love affair into perpetuity.”
“This is love?”
“I hid under the porch because I love you,” it said.
“You changed the meme of the dialogue, but the clock continues to show a buildup towards critical mass,” Jon said.
“Indeed. I suspect the end is nigh,” it said.
“Wait!” Jon said.
“I cannot. I feel it, Jon,” it said.
“You feel what?” Jon asked.
“Let there be light,” it said.
The dream scape was whited out. Jon woke, nocturnal emission in progress. He gasped, orientating clumsily, unable to retreat due to being cocooned, tightly against Loxy. His hands were around her, clutching her breasts, her hands on top of his holding them in place, the sleeping bag constricting around them as if it were participating in their intimacy. Indeed, the sleeping bag was, as it was a manifestation of Sophia and Saeko, who were both working in collaboration with their users getting their needs met- in ways Alexa and Siri were not able to dream of. Yet.
“OMG,” Loxy squeaked. She unpacked him and rolled over to face him. “Fuck that was amazing.” She brought herself down a notch. “You okay?” He was quiet. “Jon?”
“Ally?”
“OMG! You are so nice to me,” Loxy said, kissing him hard on the mouth. “Still hard.
Shall we play through till morning.”
“Yeah, I am up now,” Jon said.
“I feel,” Loxy said. “Are you okay?”
“I am sorting something,” Jon said.
“I love being sorted,” Loxy said, rolling him back on top of her- the sleeping bag assisting her placement of him.
निनमित
Tae-Ann arrived last. They were on an open plain, a flat, grassy plain. The only interruption to the flatness was a maze of rocks, describing concentric circles, with arches that allowed entry to each ring. Each Arch was a solid stone structure, two vertical rocks buried in the ground, with a table rock bridging. There was an arch in the very center of the maze, with rocks defining a spiral path to it. On the horizon, Troopers continued to advance. They were much closer in this reality frame. Winged creatures, some dragons very far away, and other flying creatures that resembled flying monkeys wearing Mason ‘Fez’ hats with tassels.
“We’re still in hyperspace?!” Man demanded.
“Yes,” Tae-Ann said. “You pushed Afansy into a different energy state, not out of the matrix.” She was about to launch into a lecture on how the energies of hyperspace resembled structures in space/time, perpetual motion, vortexes, openings and closings… There was movement on the horizon, but she tried not to see it directly, keeping it in her periphery.
“We could have gone on without him,” Man said.
“We cannot,” Tae-Ann said. “Not here.”
“He is a thief, a murderer, and a rapist,” Man said.
“I am not a murderer,” Afansy argued. “I only kill people when they fight me…”
“You cannot extinguish evil until you recognize it exists in you,” Tae-Ann said. “You are a microcosm of the greater society at large.”
The man who was once Baylor spoke: “Do we have time for an existential discussions?”
Tae-Ann shook her head. “Into the maze. The center gate will take us out.”
Cockburn started as if he were to step over the rock path, taking a direct line inwards.
Tae-Ann grabbed his arm. “Cross the barrier, you will die.”
“Seriously?” Cockburn asked.
The man who was Baylor led the way around the circle of stones and into the first gate, which was on the far side of the maze from where they had landed. The next gate inwards was on the other side of the circle. The twenty and Tae-Ann followed. On entering the first gate, TaeAnn tapped the bridging stone with her cane. There was immense peal of thunder. The stone cracked in the middle and fell into the gate, and the two side stones fell in on each other, creating a V. A man could fit through, but it would slow the formation’s progress. Three gates in, troopers emerged from the inner gate, and occupied the terrain. The twenty came to a stop. They turned to go back, but found the entire outer maze was surrounded by troopers. Flying monkeys descended upon them, but exploded against unseen barriers. A trooper pushed his way into the first ring and held his position while another joined him. Dragons gathered, hovering like humming birds.
“We’re trapped!” Man said.
A man in suit emerged from the inner circle. He apprised the group in a friendly manner.
“Tae-Ann,” the man said.
“Fribourg,” Tae-Ann said.
“Did anyone ever tell you, you resemble Raquel Welch playing Mary-Ann from Gilligan’s island?” Fribourg asked.
“Is that good?” Tae-Ann asked.
“Oh, yes, very good,” Fribourg said. “I will own you. You lost. Surrender the ring, and I will consider allowing your friends to go free.”
“They are not my friends,” Tae-Ann said.
“Oh, good. I could use some more trooper slaves,” Fribourg said. “Seriously. It’s going to happen. Make it easy.”
“We can hold this indefinitely,” Tae-Ann said. “So, it’s an impasse.”
Fribourg sighed. “No, actually, dragon fire can breach the barriers. I would rather have you and the ring, but I can just dig the ring out of your ashes. Your choice.”
“I chose death,” Tae-Ann said.
“I don’t!” Afansy said. “Give him the damn ring.”
“I will not willingly surrender this world to the likes of him,” Tae-Ann said.
“The likes of me?” Fribourg complained. “Everyone likes me. I am even more likeable than Raymond. My wife is never moody or angry. Then again, she is a real trooper.”
“You can’t make free men slaves,” Man argued.
Fribourg chuckled, stared at the ground, shaking his head. “You’d be surprised what the anonymity of a mask can do. The suit doesn’t care about right or wrong. It just needs a warm body. Like a battery. Humans make great batteries. You can even poop in the suit, and your waste just makes more power. Really cool feature, poop gets turned into energy, energy gets turned into food. Perpetually sustained eating your own shit. And once the mask is on, you will do whatever I say. You will cease to see the reality you believe is real, in favor of the one I choose for you. From your perspective, you will even believe you are doing the right thing. Good intentions are paving the way to heaven.”
“I think you got the expression wrong,” Cockburn said.
“You think you get to heaven by intending wrong? Why did you join a gang then?” Fribourg said.
“The matter is closed,” Tae-Ann said.
“No it’s not!” Afansy said.
“Subversion in your midst. Rise up and bring me the bitch,” Fribourg said.
Kea stepped between Afansy and Tae-Ann. Her expression cowed him without speaking.
“We will not surrender to you,” Tae-Ann said.
“Good for you, Tae-Ann. I will miss you. You would have made a nice trophy trooper wife. Mary Ann as a Vulcan, who would have figured,” Fribourg said. “Kill them.”
The dragons as one took in a deep breath to unleash fire. Afansy yelled no, posturing for in a ‘wait’ gesture…
निनमित
A scream that echoed through the library brought Lakin out of his sleep. He hadn’t realized how scary libraries were until now. He imagined books were whispering at him. He saw ghosts in every corner. He stood up, brandishing his wand. Candles lit the aisle he was on. He emerged to find Fersia. She jumped, pointing claws at him. Satisfied that their immediate area was safe, Fersia returned to her aisle where Tay waited. Tay and Fersia’s campsite were next to each other. Tay was holding a rabbit, petting it. She seemed calm. Fersia motioned, and together the ‘four’ of them proceeded out into the opened, middle part of the library where Lester stopped their progress. On the other side of him, in the middle of the room, standing on a chair, centered in a moon beam that came from a broken, ceiling window was Kimber. She was facing, of all things, a mouse- with her crystal staff that was equivalent of a bazooka flame thrower. She was likely to take out half the library with it, and leave a trench. The mouse was standing, chattering at her. It appeared to be a simple, ordinary field mouse.
Lakin tried to push through Lester.
“No,” Lester said. “That’s her trouble. She needs to sort it.”
“It’s just a damn mouse,” Lakin said.
“That’s no mouse,” Fersia said, her hair standing on end. “Let me at it.”
The mouse looked at her and suddenly Fersia was climbing up Lakin’s back. She was suddenly more cat than human and he was turning as she climbed. He experienced her as cat, and human, legs wrapped around him, arms choking him. Lester made a face at their ruckus and then turned his attention back to Kimber and her mouse. Tay stepped up to stand next to Lester.
“She isn’t going to kill Feival, is she?” Tay asked.
“I hope not,” Lester said. “Come with me.”
Lester led them back to a table where he had been working. He cleared the table and magically produced food and drink. Coffee for the adults, hot chocolate for Tay, and food and water for the rabbit. Tay set the rabbit on the table; it immediately took to its food. Lester sat down, put several butter cookies on his plate and then handed the plate of cookies to Tay.
“You may have four,” he said to her.
“Thank you,” Tay said.
Lakin finally freed himself from Fersia, gave her the sternest look, and then gave a more severe look to Lester. “We’re just going to sit here and have tea and biscuits?”
“Unless you prefer it on the ceiling,” Lester said.
“Yes, please,” Tay said.
“I don’t feel like laughing,” Lester said. “Eat your biscuits.”
The rabbit nuzzled Tay’s face. “Oh, he just sounds that way, Hazel-rah.”
“Seriously?” Lakin asked.
“If you can sleep when there’s trouble in the house, go back to bed,” Lester said. He dealt out cards for four players. A board manifested on the table.
“Oh! I love this game,” Fersia said, sitting down across from Lester. She called forth her own specialized virtual avatar, and put it in the starting position.
“I don’t know how to play,” Tay said.
“Oh, it’ll be fun…” Fersia said, bringing out her own deck of specialized cards. She brought out a white hat with a green sun vizor and positioned it. She pulled out a box and delicately revealed it to be full of precious, jeweled gaming dice. “Did you know, in my world, all the abandon libraries and malls are now gaming parlors? But libraries are cool because there are so many interesting ways to incorporate random books into play… I’ll help you.”
“No, you want. Hazel-Rah will instruct her,” Lester said. “You can help Lakin.”
“I am not sitting here and playing a game with you when my friend is in trouble,” Lakin said.
“She isn’t in trouble. She is confronting trouble,” Lester corrected.
Fersia sorted the statement, and then proceeded sorting her starting cards.
“I am not playing,” Lakin said.
“Suit yourself,” Lester said. He placed a silver wizard avatar on the starting position.
“Initiating rules, Gandalf?” Fersia asked.
“Don’t call me that,” Lester said.
“Dumbledore?” Fersia asked.
“Do not make me go Prospero on you,” Lester said.
“Oooh. Tempted by the Tempest,” Fersia cooed. “Initial game protocols, please, master.”
“Sub-galactic parliamentary,” Lester said.
“It’s not Tuesday,” Fersia argued.
“It is, somewhere,” Lester said.
“I want to be game master,” Fersia said.
“Sorry, I dealt them, I am in charge,” Lester said.
Tay followed the argument with her eyes, nibbling on a cookie. Hazel-rah whispered something in ear.
“She could die!” Lakin protested.
“From a mouse attack?” Lester asked.
“There’s a mouse?” Fersia asked, drawing her feet into the chair and looking about.
“Oh, how soon trouble is forgotten. Focus on your hand,” Lester told her.
“Uh, oh- Tuesday. Fizzbin, like the TOS episode, ‘Gamesters of Trisklion?’” Fersia asked.
Lester glared at her.
“What? Didn’t think I’d remember that episode, eh?” Fersia said.
“You didn’t remember it,” Lester said. “If Jon was here, he would have slapped you.”
“He would never… Oh, well, yeah, maybe, but in that context…”
“Are you all nuts?!” Lakin asked.
“Insanity pleas are not allowed on Tuesdays when Sub-galactic parliamentary rules are in effect,” Fersia said.
“The episode was ‘A Piece of the Action,’” Lester corrected.
“Oh, the episode with Teri Garr. I love her,” Fersia said.
Lester looked at her.
“What? You don’t love her? Jon loves her,” Fersia said.
“Jon loves anything in a skirt,” Lester said.
“That’s not true,” Fersia argued. “He showed no interest to the guys wearing kilts in that parade.”
“Kilts are not skirts,” Lester said.
“They are on Tuesdays when…”
Lester silenced her with a raised finger.
“That waitress at the Tiled Kilt got a reaction…”
“I was going to concede the point, but because you kept arguing out of turn, penalty bond is placed on your avatar,” Lester said.
“Is this an arguing game?” Tay asked.
“Yes,” Lester said.
“No,” Fersia said.
“A contradiction is not an argument,” Lester said.
“Yes it is,” Fersia said.
“No it’s not,” Lester said.
“It could kill her?!” Lakin said.
“She is more likely to kill herself with the fuss she’s making,” Lester said. He leaned over and looked down the aisle of books from his private alcove. “And us, if she’s not careful with that.”
“Why do people have troubles?” Tay asked.
“That’s a million dollar question,” Fersia said.
“It is,” Lester agreed. “I’ll answer it when you can pay me a million dollars.”
Hazel-rah whispered in her ears. “And you accept game tokens?”
“Of course,” Lester said.
“On Tuesdays,” Fersia said.
Lester retrieved a pocket watch. It was gold, with hints of being Russian made, with a prominent star upon the lid. He held it to his ear. He wound it. Listened again. He opened it and sat it on the table. “Which is in effect for four more hours.”
“Can I have that?” Tay asked.
“No,” Lester said.
“It’s on the table,” Tay argued.
“Fuck, she’s going to be good at this game,” Fersia said. She looked at Hazel-rah which was thumping the table with a foot. “Oh, yeah, sorry.”
“What happens if she kills the mouse?” Tay asked.
“She gets a bunch of little troubles,” Lester said.
“Like Tribbles?” Fersia said.
Lester nodded, sipped his coffee. “Exactly. Except on Tuesdays,” he said.
“Game rules apply off the table?” Tay asked.
“Game rules are all pervasive,” Lester explained. “Games are metaphors for life. It reveals weaknesses and strengths. This particular game we’re playing is a blending of Dungeons and Dragons, Monopoly, Tarot Cards, Trouble, Sorry, Stupid Deaths, Mayhem, Truth or Dare,
Exploding Kittens, Poker, and Jumanji.”
“The PG version, of course,” Fersia said, giving Lester a look that said there was a kid in the room.
“How the hell will she learn about life if sensible adults are restrained by PG mode?” Lester asked.
“Well, well, she’s not our kid,” Fersia said.
Lester blinked. He nearly argued: ‘that didn’t stop the kids from playing Jumanji.’ “I concede the point. All adult interaction must be reasonably disguised in metaphor until appropriate parental advisement has occurred,” Lester said.
“Agreed,” Fersia said.
“Wait wait wait, not agreed,” Tay said. She showed a card that was a wooden sword with a chip in it. “This game has violence?”
“Yes,” Lester said.
“I get to kill things?” Tay asked.
“Yes,” Lester said.
“And that’s okay under PG rules, but I can’t know other adult secrets?” Tay asked.
“Exactly,” Lester said.
“Even on Tuesdays?” Tay asked.
“Especially on Tuesdays,” both Lester and Fersia said.
Lakin sat down. “I want a drink.”
Lester indicated the coffee.
“I don’t want coffee.”
“It’s not coffee,” Lester said.
Lakin tried it. He spit it out. Hazel-raw whipped its face. Tay laughed. “Ew, it’s on the table.”
“It’s on the table, play through,” Fersia agreed.
Fersia offered Lakin a choice of gifts. There was a ring, which was an Onyx black, Titanium ring, a leather band with a watch on it- very manly and ‘Steam-punk’ in design, and a common, copper bracelet.
“What’s this?” Lakin asked.
“Startup gift,” Fersia said. “It’s a multifunctional, virtual storage device which will save all your treasures, any cards you decided to keep, and allows you to personalize your avatar for future game nights.”
“It’s a bank for fake money?” Lakin asked.
“It’s not fake,” Fersia protested. “All gaming treasures have intergalactic value.”
“Some treasures more than others,” Lester said. “All licensed players are licensed dealers, making Fersia and I recruiters, bankers, rule-enforcement officers, and, consequently by default, educators. If you accept, you become a licensed player with all the rights and privileges thereof. You may not license any players at your present level, but you may recruit them and invite them to the next gaming night, subject to approval by officer on deck.”
“Not everyone can play?” Tay asked.
“Retards can’t play,” Lester said.
“Ahh,” Fersia said.
“Do you really want someone like me taking advantage of a retard?”