The Golden Space (29 page)

“Welcome to Pine Point,” the man said. Merripen shook his hand and he offered it to Andrew. “My name is Karim. I hope you enjoy your visit. Will you be staying long?”

“We’re not sure,” Andrew replied. He slapped his sides with his hands and danced a little on his feet.

“You’ll be comfortable,” Karim said. “We may seem somewhat rustic, but we don’t shy away from convenience.” He waved one long arm at a house across the street. “You are free to stay there. The house is empty now. One of our residents left us for warmer climes. I suppose it’s fitting that men from the south should stay there now.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Andrew said. Karim’s glance had fallen to Andrew’s pocket, which bulged slightly.

“Excuse me.” Karim extended a hand, palm up. “May I see what you have in your pocket?”

Andrew reached in slowly and drew out a knife in a leather sheath. Merripen tried to hide his surprise; he hadn’t known Andrew was carrying it. “I like to whittle and carve,” Andrew explained.

“May I have it, please?”

Andrew gave the knife to Karim, who drew it out, then sheathed it again. “It doesn’t look much like a carving knife.” Andrew was silent. “I’m afraid I’ll have to keep it. We put all weapons there.” He pointed to a low one-story cabin. “If you want it back, you must go there and tell the computer how long you need it for. You may of course have it back when you leave. The only weapons we keep in our homes are trank rods; there is too great a chance of accidents otherwise. You do understand. If there are other weapons in your craft, we’ll have to take them, too.”

Merripen tried not to show his apprehension. He was not disturbed by the confiscation, but by the realization that the town had weapons other than tranquilizing rods. He silently cursed Leif; he had not even mentioned this. Perhaps he hadn’t known.

“It’s a carving knife, not a weapon,” Andrew was saying. Karim smiled, but kept the knife. Andrew leaned forward as if about to object.

“Don’t let me keep you,” Karim said. “As soon as we’re finished with your craft, we’ll bring it to your door.” He turned and walked down the road toward the vehicle.

Merripen and Andrew hurried toward the house. As they reached the door, Merripen said, “That was stupid.”

“Bringing the knife? We might need it.”

“For what? Carving? You shouldn’t have brought it.”

Andrew ignored him and went inside; Merripen followed. The front of the house was one large room. The paneled walls were bare; there was a fireplace in the wall to the left. A wooden stairway led to a balcony overlooking the room. There was little furniture; a table and chairs at one end by the windows, an old brown couch and two overstuffed chairs near the fireplace. But there was also a computer, and a holo with a large screen, and, by the table, a dispenser.

Andrew prowled the room restlessly, turning his head from side to side. He strode back to Merripen. “I hope we don’t have to stay here long.”

“Leif told us we’d be all right,” Merripen said, trying to believe it. “We just have to be careful.”

“Leif might have been wrong. He didn’t know about the weapons.”

“I’ll start worrying when I see a line in front of that cabin.” He tried to smile. He heard voices outside and went to the door.

The hovercraft was there. A woman standing near it glanced at Merripen as he came outdoors, then turned away. Karim stood with two other men, gazing up the road that rose before them and disappeared into the forest. A woman dressed in a red parka emerged from the woods; she carried a rifle. Two men behind her struggled under their burden, a deer carcass that was tied to a long pole.

Merripen lifted a hand to his mouth and felt sick. He pressed his lips together. The deer’s hide was caked with blood. Karim was staring at him. Merripen’s legs shook; he leaned against the door frame. The taller man came over to him. Merripen could not speak.

“We have to trim the herds,” Karim said. “Otherwise, they would starve. That would be a more painful death. We don’t waste anything. The meat is good and the hides can be made into clothing. The tracking and hunting keep us alert as well.”

Alert for what? Merripen thought, keeping his eyes from the deer.

“You believe we live in the world without being part of it,” Karim went on. “It isn’t true. Go out there while you’re here. You’ll see the little white rabbits and tiny elephants and even a few little elves. Human beings made them, thinking they were harmless toys. But they live, and they breed, and they eat, and the deer have less because of them. We honor the deer, in our way. But when we see one of those laboratory creations, we use it for target practice. That is their only useful purpose.”

Merripen did not reply, and at last Karim left him.

Andrew had met Seda, the woman who had spoken to Leif. He had been paying her visits for three days. Merripen had worried at first that Andrew might push things too quickly and rouse the woman’s suspicions, but instead Andrew had been cautious, and Merripen was now repressing his impatience.

Seda had invited them both to her house. Merripen walked with Andrew down the road, passing the spot where the deer had been butchered and its haunches carried away. He fancied he still saw blood on the road. Andrew stopped before one house. It looked like all the others, simple and plain.

Seda met them at the door. “Hello,” she said in a husky voice almost as deep as a man’s. Merripen studied Seda while Andrew introduced them. She was very small and thin, with birdlike bones; her large black eyes were her most prominent feature. Her smooth, unlined face was like a mask. He could lose himself in her eyes. They were ancient eyes; he saw her age in them and suddenly felt that she knew everything about him. He had kept one fear to himself, mentioning it to no one: that he might meet a person old enough to remember Merripen Allen.

“Please come in,” Seda said. She drew them inside, gliding into the room, her long blue dress trailing across the floor. The large room inside her house was cluttered with velvet chairs; a love seat with embroidered flowers and gold arms stood near the fireplace. A chandelier studded with prisms of colored glass hung from the ceiling, and the windows were hidden by heavy red velvet curtains. It all seemed out of place in this setting. Merripen tried to imagine Seda in a parka, tramping through the woods with other hardy residents of Pine Point.

The chandelier tinkled and swayed. Seda waved at it. “Boadicea,” she said, and Merripen saw the heavy coils of the snake resting among the prisms. He stepped back hastily. “She’s a boa constrictor, of course. Don’t worry, she’s harmless and very lazy. A friend gave her one of those awful little rabbits a few days ago, so she’s quite well fed.”

She led them to the chairs near her fireplace. Merripen sat down carefully, afraid the delicate chair might break beneath him. Andrew sat down while Seda draped herself across the love seat, curling her legs. “You didn’t pick the best time to come here,” she went on. “It gets so muddy during spring. Summer’s nicer. Autumn is quite beautiful. From the top of the hill, one gets such a fine view of the foliage.”

“Do you have many visitors then?” Merripen asked carefully.

“Oh, no. No one travels often now. It’s so much simpler just to wire up, don’t you think? Perhaps you don’t, since you’re here. I’ve journeyed all over the world wired up to my lovely holo. It’s exactly like being there, but without all the problems. I suppose many places have changed since they were recorded, but I can visit them as they were, when everything was so much more pleasant. There are terrible things in the world now, terrible things.”

Merripen nodded, trying to think of how to bring the conversation back to visitors.

“You must have met Karim,” Seda said. “Such a lovely man, so cultivated. He hasn’t spent his life in banal pursuits, unlike others. He’s well suited to long life—he nourishes his mind and intellect while exploring our older instincts. If our systems broke down, he would survive, which is more than you can say for some people, who think our cozy cocoons will protect us forever. Karim was a biologist, you know.”

Merripen looked up. “I didn’t know.”

“Oh, yes. He was a microbiologist in one of the off-world research centers. He did important work in cell biology, and also in genetic transplantation using viruses. You can thank people like him for the fact that your body can produce its own ascorbic acid. Don’t look so disapproving, Allen.” Merripen had started, then settled back in his chair. His memory had been jostled. “Karim still does some work, but it’s only pure research now, not the kind of thing others have done. He came back here when he saw what was happening out there.”

Merripen tried not to fidget. Andrew seemed calm, his arm draped casually over the chair arm, but his fingers twitched and his face looked tense.

“Oh, Karim still likes to dabble,” she continued. “He even has gravitic generators in his laboratory so that he can produce the weightlessness he needs for his cells to remain suspended in their culture medium. But he’s not really interested in applications, only the work. We draw the line.” Seda raised one thin eyebrow. “I see you still seem disturbed.”

Merripen tried to adjust his expression.

“A long time ago, a man wrote: ‘Beware of the pursuit of the Superhuman: it leads to an indiscriminate contempt for the Human.’” Seda lifted her eyes toward the ceiling. “That is our guiding principle here. We do not try to be something we’re not. Some of the things human beings are or have become are not pleasant, but we acknowledge them and control them—we don’t pretend they’re not present and we don’t seek to eliminate them, as some biologists have thought they could.”

Merripen thought of the dead deer and looked away from Seda’s dark, glassy eyes. He was uneasy; he didn’t want her to dwell on this topic, afraid she might make a connection and figure out what he was. Perhaps she already had. He gripped the slender arms of his chair tightly, then forced himself to relax.

“It’s too bad more people don’t travel,” Andrew said. “I don’t think one could really get the flavor of this place without actually coming here. The pace of the town, the atmosphere—you couldn’t get that wired up.”

“Oh, I think you could.” Seda leaned back and ran a hand through her feathery black hair. “Oh, yes. Anyway, one always has one’s imagination.” She pursed her lips for a moment. “And it would certainly be better if some people didn’t travel at all. We had a Rescuer show up here recently. We realized what he was immediately, because he gave himself away in his conversation with Karim. Of course, we didn’t let him in, and he finally went away, but we were all very careful for some time afterward. Karim is no fool.”

“I’m sure he isn’t,” Merripen murmured.

“He’s also not all-knowing. We had a most disagreeable fellow here lately. I wish I could remember whether he came before the Rescuer did, or later. Perhaps it was at about the same time. Let me think—it was snowing then. This man was from the Citadel near here, so you can be sure that he was up to no good.”

Merripen widened his eyes and smiled blandly. “I hope all your visitors aren’t so unpleasant.”

“Well, you two are here, aren’t you?” Seda sat up, tilted her head, and transfixed him with her eyes. He was trapped by her gaze. “You should have Karim take you out on a trail,” she went on, and her husky voice caressed him. “Perhaps I’ll go along, too. You needn’t take rifles if you’re squeamish. I could bring something back for Boadicea.”

“I don’t know how long we’ll stay,” Andrew said, breaking the spell. “We may go west, to the lakes. Perhaps we could do some sailing there.”

“I wouldn’t advise that.”

“And why not?”

She frowned. “We never go in that direction. Something very strange is going on there. I’ve heard rumors. Some of us think that unchanged people live there, living and dying as human beings did long ago. Others say that some sort of experiment is going on. We are not about to provoke them, needless to say.”

“Well, then, we won’t go there,” Merripen said, worrying that he might have to go there, if only to find a clue. One of his children might have gone there.

Seda rose. “I’ve been neglecting your comfort.” As she spoke, she arched her back slightly; the velvet fabric of her dress tightened across her small breasts. “Let me get you some brandy.”

They left Seda’s house at midnight. She had spoken of her snake, which she praised for its placid, reptilian temperament, and of her skill at archery, and of people she had known, and it was not until they were leaving that Merripen realized she had not told him what he wanted to know. He was oblivious of her words, recalling only the low voice, the large dark eyes, the slender hand that had rested lightly on his arm as they walked to the door. She had told them in parting that she wanted to hear all about them next time, but he suspected that she only wanted listeners who had not already heard everything she had to say. Yet she drew him; her old eyes promised a long flirtation and a skillful seduction.

The town was very quiet as they walked. The moon silvered the road. Merripen stepped on a twig and its crack filled the silence, making him start. Andrew walked with him, head down; he had been unmoved by Seda’s glances, perhaps even irritated. An owl hooted in the forest. The cool air bore the astringent scent of pine.

As they came to their borrowed house, he noticed a light through the half-open curtains. He felt relieved that he had left it on; the thought of entering a dark house disturbed him. Andrew opened the door, and they walked into the welcoming light.