The Golden Space (24 page)

“You poor things,” the woman said. “You look as though you’ve had quite a trip.”

“We have,” Thérèse said. Now that Andrew was closer to the woman, he could see her face. There was something wrong with it; deep lines were etched around her mouth and eyes, and her jowls shook slightly as she spoke. Her skin was rough and yellowish. Even her hair was strange. She had pulled it back from her face, showing the gray streaks around her forehead and ears.

“Your face,” Andrew blurted out before he could stop himself.

The woman glared at him for a moment, then smiled again. “You think it’s ugly,” she said slowly. “You think it’s odd. Not all of us want to look twentyish. I like to look my age.” She chuckled, as if she had made a joke. “What are all of you doing way out here?”

Thérèse licked her lips. “We’re running away.”

“Running away. How sad. I suppose you must have a reason.” She held up her hand. “You needn’t tell me what it is. People are so thoughtless. I wouldn’t let any children of mine run away. You look as though you could use a good meal. Come on inside.”

She led them into the house. The front room was small, but clean. Lace doilies covered the arms of the worn blue sofa and chairs; two heavy brass lamps stood on end tables. The desk computer and holo screen were against the wall.

“You just sit down and take it easy. My name’s Emily. I’ll go get you something from the kitchen.” She squinted. “You’re not wearing your Bonds.”

“Of course not,” Thérèse said. “We’re running away.”

“I’ll be right back.”

“We’ll come with you.” They followed the woman to the kitchen and sat at the small wooden table while Emily punched buttons on her console.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Emily said, turning to face them while the food was materializing. “You thought I might have a communicator here. You thought I’d send for someone. Well, I won’t. I didn’t move out here so that I could have people dropping in all the time. I don’t like people.” She grinned. “I like children, though. If you want to go running around the countryside, that’s fine with me, but you can stay here as long as you like.”

She removed the food, took out bowls, and spooned vegetable soup into them, putting them on the table with glasses of milk and a small loaf of bread. She sat down and watched them as they ate. Andrew forgot his worries, eating the soup rapidly, slurping as he did so.

Emily nodded at them approvingly when they were done. Something in the gesture reminded him of Joan. He tried not to think of his return home. He would get through it somehow, and then it would be over. For now, he was safe.

They slept in the front room. Thérèse had claimed the sofa; Emily had provided two cots.

The girl was awake early. She bumped against Andrew’s cot as she rose; he opened his eyes and sat up. He watched as she took food and water from one knapsack and put it into the other.

He said, “You’re leaving.”

“I left you some stuff in the other sack, enough to get you by.”

“You’re leaving.”

“You knew I was going to sooner or later.”

Silas was still sleeping, arm over his eyes. “Listen to me, Andrew,” she went on quietly. “I think you should wake him up and get going yourselves.”

“Emily’ll help us.”

“There’s something funny about her. I don’t think you should stay here. I have to go.” She moved toward the door, then looked back at him. “Andrew, if anybody tells you anything about me someday, just remember that it isn’t how it seems. I mean, I wouldn’t have hurt you two, I really wouldn’t have.”

“I know that.”

“Goodbye. Say goodbye to Silas for me, will you? And get out of here yourselves.” She opened the screen door and went out.

He got out of bed and followed. The kobold was outside the door. It let Thérèse pass, trailing her to the steps. A troll sat in front of the house, its long arms folded on the ground. Thérèse bounded down the steps and walked toward the road.

The troll rose and moved rapidly, scampering in front of the girl. She hopped to one side; it blocked her. She stood still for a few seconds, swaying, then hurried to her left. The troll ran, blocking her again.

“Let me pass,” he heard her say to the creature. She stepped forward, and it hit her. She backed toward the porch.

Andrew watched, confused and apprehensive. Thérèse turned and faced him. Her chest rose and fell; her pink cheeks were becoming rosier. She squinted and shook her head. She spun around suddenly and danced to her right. The troll blocked her again; it was too fast for her.

Her hand fluttered at her waist. She removed her wand, pointing it at her antagonist. Andrew saw a flash of light; Thérèse cried out. For a moment, he did not know what had happened. The girl swayed helplessly, holding her right arm. The kobold darted past her and swept the rod up from the ground.

Andrew hurried back to Silas and shook him awake. The other boy moaned.

“Silas. Get up.”

“What?” He shook his head and stared blankly at Andrew.

“Thérèse. The kobold shot at her.”

Silas was awake. He jumped from the cot, following Andrew to the door. Thérèse had retreated to the porch, still holding her hand.

“Are you hurt?” Andrew asked as he opened the door.

“No, just my fingers. I’m all right.”

“Listen, there’s three of us. If we can distract the androids, maybe you can get away.”

She shook her head. “I can’t do that. I don’t have my weapon now. This is my fault—I got careless. We should have left as soon as I saw she wasn’t afraid.”

“We’ll be all right,” Andrew said. “She probably just told them to guard us. As soon as she wakes up—”

“How do you know that?” Thérèse interrupted. “How do you know she isn’t trying to keep us here?”

He didn’t know. He went back inside and crossed the room to the console. He pressed a button.

“Code, please,” the computer responded.

The machine was locked. Andrew shivered, backing away. Thérèse and Silas had come back inside.

“It won’t work,” he muttered. Thérèse was staring past him.

“How are my young visitors this morning?”

Andrew turned. Emily stood at the entrance to the room. She wore a gingham gown; her graying hair was loose around her shoulders. Another small kobold stood at her side; it, too, was armed.

Thérèse drew herself up, eyeing the woman belligerently. “We appreciate your hospitality,” she said slowly. “We’d like to be on our way.”

“Not so soon. I haven’t had visitors in ever so long. Do take off that knapsack, and I’ll get breakfast ready.”

“We’d like to leave now,” Thérèse said.

“But you can’t.”

“Why not?” Silas said loudly. His voice was high, breaking on the second word.

“Because I’m not ready to let you go.” Emily smiled as she spoke. “Now, sit down. What would you like? Let’s have pancakes. That would be tasty now, wouldn’t it?”

Thérèse moved toward the woman, stopping when the kobold extended an arm, pointing at her with its weapon. Its black eyes narrowed. “You’d better be careful,” Emily went on. “They’re very protective of me, and I wouldn’t want you hurt because of a silly mistake. Now, sit down, and stop being naughty. I’ll get breakfast.”

They spent the day in the living room, guarded by the kobolds. Andrew had been unable to eat breakfast or lunch; Silas had lapsed into a sullen silence. Thérèse kept wandering over to the window, as if searching for a way to escape. Occasionally, Emily would come to the door, smiling in at them solicitously. In the afternoon, she brought them a Chain of Life puzzle. Silas applied himself to it, assembling the pieces until he had part of the helix put together, then abandoned the puzzle to Andrew.

Andrew worked silently, trying to lose himself in concentration. The kobolds, standing nearby, watched without speaking. Once in a while, he looked up. The black-eyed android held its weapon with one hand while stroking its dark beard with the other. The blond one near the screen door was still. They were both ugly, the ugliest kobolds he had ever seen; it was as if Emily, with her own lack of beauty, wanted nothing beautiful around her. He wondered if she had made the creatures mute as well.

Andrew broke down at suppertime. Food had been laid out on the coffee table next to the helix. He stuffed himself, not tasting anything. Silas picked at his chicken while Emily hovered, beaming at them. Then she settled herself in a chair and sipped wine. She wore her white dress, but the setting sun in the window made the dress seem pink.

Thérèse was not eating. She scowled at the woman and drummed her fingers on the arm of the sofa. A finger caught in the doily. Thérèse tore at the lace, and it fluttered to the floor.

Thérèse said, “Give me some wine.”

“Aren’t you a little young for that, dear?”

“Give me some wine,
please.”

Emily poured more of the pale liquid into her glass and handed it to the girl. Thérèse downed it in two gulps and held out the glass. The woman poured more wine. Thérèse leaned back. Her face was drawn.

Andrew’s stomach felt heavy and too full. Silas, seated crosslegged on the floor, had stopped eating. Emily said, “Would you like to hear a story?”

“No,” Andrew replied.

“I’ll tell you one, and then maybe you can tell me one.”

Thérèse raised her glass, peering over it at the woman. She said, “Go ahead, tell it. It better be good.”

“Oh, it is.” Emily sat up. “It’s very good. It’s about a lovely young woman, like a princess in a fairy tale.”

The young people were silent. Emily stared at the helix for a moment. “Once, there was a lovely young woman,” she began. “She lived in a beautiful house on the edge of a great city, but she was very sad, because the world beyond was cruel and hard. Even in her citadel, the evil of the world outside could reach her. It was as if everyone was under an evil spell; a dark spirit would come upon them, and they would go to war. Do you know what a war is?”

No one replied.

“That’s when people take all their talent and organize themselves to kill other people. Well, one day, something wonderful happened. The wars stopped. They stopped because some people had found a way to keep from dying. Now, before that, they had already found a way to stop people from aging as rapidly; they had a substance that cleared out all the protein cross-linkages.”

“We know about that,” Andrew said impatiently.

Emily shot him a glance. “Hush, child. Let me finish. These people had found a way to make everyone younger. You see, they were trying to find out about cancer, and they learned a lot about cells, and they found that they could stimulate the body to rejuvenate itself and become younger. No longer did our genetic structure condemn us. When people realized that they could live forever, the world changed. It was made beautiful by those who knew that now they would have to remain in it forever. We call that time the Transition.”

Andrew fidgeted. Thérèse sipped her wine. Emily’s long fingers stroked the arms of her chair; her pale hands had small brown spots around the blue veins.

“The young woman was happy. She opened her house to others, and they all spoke of the new age, their escape from death. But then the young woman began to grow weak. Soon she discovered that evil was still in her body. A malignancy was growing within her; her cells were out of control.” Emily paused. “It didn’t matter. The growth was soon inhibited by another substance, which enabled her immune system to control the disease. But later, when she received her rejuvenation treatments once more, the cancer returned. Her body was a battleground; her own cells were at war.”

Emily’s voice was trembling. Andrew moved a bit closer to Thérèse.

“Do you understand?” The woman’s voice was firm again. “It was as if the woman had been cursed. When she received the treatment that would allow her to live, the disease returned, because the same process that caused her body to renew itself allowed those cells to grow. When she took interferon—that is what controlled the disease—she would be well, but growing older. Do you understand now? Each time, she grew a bit older physically than she had been; she was aging— very slowly, to be sure, but aging nonetheless. There were others who had the same problem, but she did not care about them.”

The woman tilted her head. “She became a project,” she went on. “Biologists studied her. They discovered that she had a defective gene. The substance that enabled her body to rejuvenate itself triggered a response, and cancerous cells would multiply along with those that made her younger. Now, these scientists were able to keep this gene from being passed on to others, but they could do little for the woman. They tried, but nothing worked.”

Andrew sat very still, afraid almost to breathe. Thérèse threw her head back and finished her second glass of wine. Silas cleared his throat uneasily.

“The young woman left the world,” Emily said. “She didn’t want to be where she could see the youthful bodies and cheerful spirits of others. When she had clung to hope, she had drifted into depression and deep sorrow. Now she released her hopes and accepted her situation, and found a freedom in so doing. Denied life—denied, at least, a full life—she would accept death, and find peace in the acceptance. So, you see, the story has a happy ending after all.”