Weight of the Heart (Bruna Husky Book 2) (14 page)

The archivist stopped speaking and waited expectantly. Bruna shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She’d found the story interesting and she had a vague feeling that there was something important in it for her, but she couldn’t unravel it. She frowned.

“Well, I think it’s silly.”

“What an idiot you are sometimes, Bruna! Don’t you understand? In the first place the only thing that gives life meaning is knowledge, art, beauty. But more than that, it makes no difference whether you spend ten years or ten minutes learning a song before you die, because it will always be an apprenticeship in the face of the void, a fragile and momentary construction. We’re fleeting beings, all of us, my dear. Technos, humans, aliens.”

Yes. Now she got it. But nothing had changed.
Three years, ten months, and six days.

Just at that moment there was a knock on her door. Bruna glanced at the wall clock: 21:27. The tactile’s
face appeared on the home screen. Deuil! She’d forgotten about him. She quickly said good-bye to Yiannis and went to open the door.

“What are you doing here?”

“We had a session. Don’t you remember? I came earlier, but you weren’t here.”

“But you’re injured! I thought . . .”

The tactile smiled and walked into the apartment, limping slightly. “It’s nothing. I didn’t even go to the hospital. A doctor friend treated me. They inserted a small implant made of artificial material.”

He looked pale. And handsome. It was obvious that he was in pain, but the pain sharpened his features.

“I have a morphine injection I can give you if you want,” said the rep, amazed at her own generosity, since she typically hoarded her small stash of analgesics.

Deuil smiled. Those sharp white teeth of a young vampire. “No. I don’t like to lose awareness of my body. My body is what I know and what I am. I respect it and try to receive its messages.”

Bruna looked at him incredulously. “I regret having put you in danger, Daniel.”

“Don’t worry about it. Shall we get started?”

“Will you be able to?”

“Of course.”

Bruna sat down on the couch, as she had the previous day before the Black Widow burst in. Deuil installed himself behind her again, but on this occasion he placed his hands at the base of her neck right from the start, with his fingertips barely touching her collarbone. The rep experienced a very faint, disquieting electrical discharge.

“Daniel, just one more thing. You have to be careful. That woman could return. And she’s dangerous.”

“Tell me why. Explain to me why I’ve lost a square centimeter of my foot,” whispered the tactile from behind her head.

Bruna told him. She spoke slowly and openly. She spoke as if she were telling it to herself, as if she were alone. But she wasn’t. Deuil’s fingers touched her neck lightly like drops of rain, and the world gradually faded away. Bruna closed her eyes and concentrated on those fingers, on those hands that, now open, attached their palms to her skin and spread warmth over her neck. The rep stopped speaking midsentence. She fell into herself, into her body, which was ever more present, ever more eloquent, ever lighter. Her blood hummed in her ears, and deep down within her another heart began to resonate with a beat that matched her own. Her flesh lit up like a star; even with her eyes closed the rep was certain she was shining. She was immense, limitless, invulnerable, because she was no longer just herself but two. At the height of that time without time, Bruna simultaneously remembered all the minutes of her past, and she loved life as she had never loved it before. Without any shadows, without violence, without death. She intended to break into laughter out of sheer happiness and surprised herself when she started to cry. Deuil gently removed his hands from around her neck, and the lights of her flesh went out.

Deeply affected, Bruna opened her eyes. Tears were rolling down her cheeks. “What have you done to me?” she asked in a strangled voice.

“Did you like it?”

The rep tried to hold back her tears, but she couldn’t. Disconcerted, she felt fragile, unanchored, but at the same time something seemed to have untangled itself inside her head. Somewhere in there a tiny little seed of hope, of inner peace, was growing.

“I don’t know.”

“Take it easy. Let life happen. Let your emotions take root.”

The rep looked at him. Dark shadows covered the tactile’s eyes. His expression was impenetrable. He looked like a carving of an Oriental god.

“I felt an inkling of the pain from the wound in your foot. I felt your heartbeat. Your heart was beating for me, too,” said an overwhelmed Bruna.

Was this what the alien Omaás experienced when they made love? Her Omaá friend Maio had explained to her that when the aliens made
guraam
, their
kuammils
, or spirits, connected. They became so interconnected after this act of copenetration that they were capable of reading each other’s thoughts. In fact her friend Maio could read Bruna’s thoughts. The rep shuddered. Just as well she had been so drunk when she made love with the alien that she had no memory of it. She was fond of Maio, but she continued to find the idea of physical intimacy with him slightly repugnant.

“Is this what the Omaás experience when their
kuammils
connect?” she wondered aloud.

The tactile smiled.

“I think the notion of
kuammil
is more sexual. But yes, there is a special physical relationship. I made use of a technique that tunes into the electrical currents of the connective tissue, as well as biorhythms and brain waves. In a certain sense we were organically connected, almost like a mother with her fetus.”

Or a giant with its dwarf,
thought Bruna.

“In reality humans are in tune with each other in many ways, not merely through sight and sound, patterns of verbal or visual communication, and the most primitive contact—a bump or a caress. It’s been known from earliest times that if you have several humans living together in close and ongoing contact, a common atmosphere is created, a type of collective organism that synchronizes physical happenings. For example, female adolescents in boarding schools or correctional institutions and women in prisons often menstruate at the same time. We know virtually nothing about ourselves, Husky, and being the total ignoramuses that we are, we don’t even respect what we don’t know.”

When he talks about humans, is he including technohumans as well?
Bruna asked herself, suddenly irritated, suspicious, and uncomfortable.

“‘I am merely the instrument through which life manifests itself. My voice blends with the other, who is listening, sharing. An open heart disposed to prayer. Life, how beautiful you are,’” recited Deuil. “Those aren’t my words. It’s from Tanawa. Do you understand? That’s why one shouldn’t take drugs of any sort or alcohol. The body has its own language, and it is powerful. Don’t anesthetize it.”

The rep frowned, feeling like a little girl who had been scolded. There was something too esoteric, too mystical about the tactile. The rep was irritated by human mysticism, its fanatical and deceitful pretensions to transcendence. A technohuman, a pure laboratory product, couldn’t be mystical. You only had to look at the difference between the sordid moyano and the Almudena crematorium. Spirituality was a luxury that not everyone could afford. On the other hand, it was also true that Deuil had made her feel something extraordinary. As if her heart’s icy core had started to melt.

“Are you a believer? I ask because of your comment about prayer,” muttered Bruna.

“Believer in what? I believe in many things.”

“I don’t believe in gods or souls or magic or any of those things,” said the rep somewhat brusquely, feeling the need to make a declaration of her principles.

“That seems fine to me,” Deuil replied with a broad smile. “But now I’d like to talk to you about something else. You somehow sensed the pain in my foot, and I have felt your anguish, your confusion. You’ve told me that Preciado Marlagorka’s offer disturbs you, that you feel trapped because of the little Russian girl’s needs, and that you have a bad feeling about this trip. I’m going to propose something you might find surprising: let me come with you to the Kingdom of Labari.”

“What?”

“Let me come with you. You’ll be less noticeable if you go with a human, and I can also be useful in a tight spot. I’m a good judoist.”

“Why do you want to do this?”

“I could tell you that it annoys me to stay here, waiting like a lamb tied to a stake for the assassin to return and vaporize the rest of my foot. Or that since I’m already involved in it without wanting to be, my curiosity has been aroused and I’d like to solve the mystery. But the fundamental truth is that apart from my work as a tactile, I’m a neo-anthropologist. I finished my undergraduate studies some time ago, but I’m now working on my PhD. My specialty is Floating Worlds, and my thesis topic is ‘Dogma as a Homogenizing and Cohesive Factor in Geographically Remote Communities: Utopianism versus Faith.’”

Bruna looked at him, stunned.

“I’ve never been on the Kingdom of Labari, and I have a real need to get to know it. I’ve asked them several times for permission to visit, but they’ve never granted it. I need to go. This is a perfect opportunity for me.”

He could also say that he likes being with me,
thought Bruna impulsively. But she quickly eliminated the idea from her mind. Neo-anthropologist. Judoist. This human was unusual. All things considered, it might be a good idea if he came. Her disguise would be strengthened.

“I’ll tell the Ministry that I’m going with an assistant. I assume there won’t be any problem. But that’s what you’ll be—my assistant. I’m the boss on this trip.”

“Of course!” exclaimed Deuil.

He smiled. With a hint of slyness, it seemed to the rep. The tactile’s teeth sparkled, and Bruna thought they looked more pointed now.

19

T
he next three days were frantic. Bruna picked up her forged documents, studied her new identity, tried out her disguise, stocked up on dermosilicone to take with her in case of an emergency, prepared the false bottom in her suitcase, checked over her weapon, and put together all the material she could find about Labari and Yárnoz. She and Deuil were going to pose as athletes sent by the AWFA, the All Worlds Friendship Association, a private organization that promoted a diplomatic thaw between the planet and the floating platforms. The AWFA fostered the few cultural, social, technological, and scientific exchanges that took place between Cosmos, Labari, and Earth. The organization was, of course, widely infiltrated by the secret services of all three powers, so it served as a kind of chessboard on which to stage clandestine games that would otherwise have been difficult to justify. Many of the participants in the association were nevertheless harmless, well-intentioned but gullible souls. This slightly naive profile was the one Deuil and Bruna, now known as Fred Town and Reyes Mallo, were to portray—a sports coach and an elite basketball player respectively. Bruna liked sports in general and had attended basketball games, but she’d never played. However, she figured that her exceptional physical form would enable her to get out of any jam. Plus her cover explained her height, her elasticity, and her athlete’s body, with its barely developed breasts. All female combat reps had small breasts because it had been shown they were a nuisance when it came to fights.

They had reservations on the space elevator to Labari for Tuesday, July 30. There were two space elevators in the world, one for each Floating World. They were both located on the equator. The one to Cosmos left from what had been known as Indonesia, and the Labari one from Brazil, so Bruna and Deuil were flying to the ele-port of Manaus on Monday evening. The Japanese company Obayashi had built the first elevator in 2067. It reached a height of thirty-six thousand kilometers and ran along a cable constructed from carbon nanotubes, which were two hundred times stronger than steel. This first system was used by the Democratic State of Cosmos to build its platform. Back then an elevator could transport a total of only thirty people and moved at a speed of two hundred kilometers per hour, which made for a nightmare journey of seven and a half days. Nowadays, however, the trip took only two days. But even that was more than enough. The last time Bruna had used it, she had become queasy, a real disgrace for a combat rep.

She arranged to meet Lizard in Oli’s bar that Monday morning. The inspector had insisted on seeing her, and Bruna agreed. She hadn’t told him about learning of his betrayal; she had limited herself to being extra careful and silently hating him. She got to the bar a bit early and was into her second cup of coffee when Lizard arrived. His huge body blocked out the sunlight coming in through the door.

“They tell me you’re going to Labari,” he said in a low voice by way of a greeting.

“Yes, of course. Your good friend Preciado Marlagorka. I see that you now share everything.”

“We’re not friends,” Lizard said with surprise in his voice. “I’ve never spoken to him.”

“Right.”

“If I were you, Bruna, I’d be careful with him. He’s a shady and very slippery character.”

“You should know.”

“I’m serious.”

“By the great Morlay! So how the devil did you find out that I’m going to Labari if he didn’t tell you?”

“Shh! Lower your voice. Yiannis told me.”

All species be damned!
The rep was stunned. Yiannis must have been indiscreet during a high from his endorphin hit. The old archivist was a danger.

“I’m speechless,” Bruna seethed.

“So Preciado Marlagorka is sending you to Labari?”

“I’m not going to tell you anything.”

“Fine, fine. Do what you want. Marlagorka was at the Gand widow’s cremation.”

“Was he?”

“Yes, just like you. Though you didn’t greet me.”

“What if he was there? What does that mean?”

“Nothing. Of course. But he approached Loperena’s children to offer his condolences and they ignored him. They refused to shake hands with him. They left him in the lurch. That speaks volumes.”

Husky chewed her lip in frustration. How could she have missed something like that? She thought back to what she’d been doing at Almudena. She’d been too upset by the ceremony, too hurt, too obsessed with her own destiny.

“Are you going to Labari to investigate Yárnoz?” asked the policeman.

“I’m not going to say anything.”

“Are you breaking your deal with me, Bruna? Aren’t we playing on the same team anymore?”

The rep clenched her teeth.

“Because of the other night? Did it hurt you so much?” he asked, tilting his head toward the bathroom.

The rep felt a burst of anger bubbling up from her chest like a tongue of lava. She saw red. “You’re an imbecile,” she barked, standing up to leave.

Lizard grabbed her by the arm, and the rep had to control the urge to hit him.

“Wait. Forgive me. Wait. Please.”

The policeman’s tone had changed completely. He was humbly begging her now. Bruna sat down again on the stool.

“I’m well aware that for you to get onto Labari you’ll have to disguise yourself, and you won’t be able to take your mobile with you. On top of that, once you’re there you’ll be isolated. Take this,” said the policeman, handing the rep a small white box similar to a contact lens case.

Husky took it and opened it; inside was a sort of rough and wrinkled little piece of material—a small, ragged piece of skin.

“What is it?”

“It’s an emergency calling device. It’s like synthetic skin. It contains a nanochip. You use it like this.”

Lizard extracted the wafer-thin fragment from the box and with a quick, precise movement stuck it on one side of the rep’s right arm. The fragment instantly stuck to the rep’s skin. It looked like a tiny old scar, less than a centimeter long.

“What the hell are you doing?” Bruna said.

She tried to remove it. Impossible. It was as if it were part of her body.

“Don’t even try. It only can be removed using a piece of equipment we have in the lab.”

“You’re mad! I have no intention of letting you track me!”

“It doesn’t track. It doesn’t have that capability. As I told you, it’s just an emergency caller. If you’re in a jam, activate it. You just have to tap out ‘SOS’ three times in a row on the scar using the old Morse code. You know what it is, don’t you? Three short taps, three long ones, three short ones, repeated three times. You can use your nail: tap the device for the short taps and drag your nail along the scar for the long ones. You can only activate it once, so keep it for a really serious occasion. Then the calling device will transmit your coordinates through the stratosphere for about one hour. I’ll get them, and I’ll come and find you.”

He said it with heartrending certainty and calmness and with such spontaneity that Bruna felt naked, small, fragile. Felt so lost that she almost had an urge to press the device there and then. The rep swallowed. Or rather, tried to swallow. Her mouth was completely dry.

“All right. Yes. I don’t know. Okay. I suppose I have to thank you.”

“That would be nice.”

“Well, thanks, but I’m not going to use it. Oli, put the coffees on my tab. Lizard’s, too,” said Bruna, standing up and walking out without a backward glance.

She stopped by her apartment to pick up Bartolo; she’d have to leave the greedy-guts with Yiannis. She used the walk to brood over her anger, because she didn’t want to make the old man pay for it, but she was outraged. She was going to undertake an operation involving deception in a hostile environment, and the idiot was telling the whole world. Well, not exactly the whole world. Just Lizard. The archivist was a damned meddler, a matchmaker who was trying to hitch her up again with the policeman. Maybe that was what irritated her the most.

The little Russian was still under the bed. There were tiny bloodstains on the half-eaten sandwich lying on the plate.
She can’t die before I finish telling her the story,
thought Bruna absurdly. She sat down on the floor. Gabi briefly poked her dirty little face out from under the bed, glancing around like a sharp, inquisitive little rodent. Then she retreated back under the bed.

“You’re revolting. How long since you last washed?” growled the rep.

“You haven’t been here for a long time,” grumbled the child.

“I’ve been very busy.”

“Well, don’t waste any more time. Get on with the story,” the little voice commanded.

“First, let’s make a deal: when I finish the story, you come out from under there.”

Silence.

“No deal, no story,” said Bruna, acting like she was going to stand up.

“Okay. When you finish, I get out. But only if I like the ending.”

“You’ll like it,” said Bruna with an assurance she did not believe.

Where was she heading with the story? She’d lost the thread again.

“You were saying that the rivers had turned red with blood, and the panther ate the little goat,” said Gabi. “I don’t know why it had to eat the little goat to be honest. It seems nasty to me. The little goat could have woken up before it happened and run away. Little kids are very smart.”

“Well, in my story the panther ate it and that’s that. I’m the one who’s telling the story.”

“Fine, but if I don’t like the ending, I’m not coming out.”

“I’ve already told you you’ll like it.”

Bruna tried to put herself inside the world she had invented. What a strange thought: she had invented a world. She, who was the invention of others, of genetic engineers and the whims of her memorist.

“Are you starting or what?”

“Life was dismal. When time, memory, and Death appeared on Earth, the world became a sad and terrible place. Our dwarf had of course fallen from the shoulders of his giant as well. I remind you that he had been the cause of it all for shouting out, ‘I want you to tell me you love me.’ His words thundered in the air, rolled through the heavens, and created the first storm, the first claps of thunder. Thunderclaps are the cursed words of the dwarf, and they’re still thundering around up there without getting a response. Because it’s a request that can’t be carried out. The request struck the giant dumb. However, despite having lost the marvelous intimacy they used to share, the dwarf and the giant still loved each other. They hadn’t become enemies, as was the case with the other double-beings. Quite the opposite. If before they were united by happiness, now they were united by the pain of having lost it. That painful harmony they still maintained caught the attention of the Old Woman, who was Death. She was irritated by the loving tenacity of that double-being, which was no longer double, and disrupting it became her personal crusade. She let the other creatures kill each other but decided to take charge of the dwarf and the giant herself. So one afternoon, when the two of them were roaming the hillside like lost souls looking for roots to eat, Death flew in from the North, trailing her extended black wings behind her. As she advanced, night fell in her wake.”

“She’s not going to eat them. She’s not going to eat them like the panther ate the little kid. Not this time. Make them run,” protested the little Russian.

“Be quiet and listen. They did in fact run. The dwarf found a particularly thick and juicy root, and instead of eating it he offered it to the giant. The giant bent over to take it, and as he stood back up he checked the horizon and saw that Death was heading toward them at full speed. So he tucked the dwarf under his arm and in four strides managed to get to some nearby caves, where they hid. In other words they were able to save themselves for the time being, thanks to that offering of the root, a small act of love.”

“For the time being?”

“They endured quite a lot, even though their lives became much more difficult. Do you know what it’s like to be pursued constantly by Death?”

Three years, ten months, and three days.

“They couldn’t sleep together any longer because one of them always had to stand guard. They hunted for food at night and hid by day. They became paler, thinner, and weaker. They were eating poorly, they never relaxed, and they never stopped. They always had to be on the go, escaping, moving, always with an ear half-cocked so they would hear the trailing sound of Death’s progress. Stress consumed them. And the other creatures didn’t help them; the other creatures hated them because it was their cry that had ended everything. So they were very much on their own. They were cursed. This went on for three years, ten months, and three days. Until one morning—one fine morning with a blue sky and sunshine, as mornings used to be—in a small and tranquil valley among the mountains, the dwarf woke up, and there in front of him he saw Death leap onto the shoulders of his companion, put her arms lovingly around his neck, and kiss him on the lips. The giant went pale, swayed, and then keeled over like a tree that had been cut down, a gush of blood spurting from his mouth.”

“No!”