When We Were Real (Author's Preferred Edition) (6 page)

I guess, in another world, in another time, they’d’ve all screamed,
Surprise
!

I guess maybe I’m pretty stupid.

When I looked at Father now, he returned my gaze, stood stock-still by my side, and said, “I’m sorry, Darius. I’m truly sorry.”

Sorry. Wonderful.

As they led me forward, the silver organist began to play
Posting of the Banns
, priestess lighting her candles, making her ritual announcements, telling everyone concerned that in six weeks, if nothing unwholesome turned up, Dagmar Helgasson would be sealed in holy wedlock to Ludmilla Nellisdottir, and that would be that.

Somewhere else in the house, I suppose, my so-called friends will be hastily assembling some kind of bachelor party. Barrels of sweet red ale. Some cheeky little pornoflick or another. Styrbjörn drunk, slobbering all over me, going, See, buddy? Now we can go hunting together forever and ever, while our fuckin’
wives
do whatever they fuckin’ want.

Sure, pal. Fulfilling my every dream.

They led me to the altar, led me to stand beside Ludmilla Nellisdottir, who stood oh-so-close, hip touching mine, and whispered, “We’re going to be happy together, Daggy. I just know we will.”

So. Banns posted and prayers said, symbolic white satin ribbon tied around our wrists. Ludmilla giving me what was supposed to be that symbolically chaste “first kiss.”

Torgunn and Mother and all the fine Ladies of the Motherhood heading for the banquet board, talking, talking.

My father standing silent in one corner of the room, looking down, as if at his feet.

Ludmilla led off by her friends to the Virgin’s Retreat.

Me led off by mine to Final Night.

All I remember of the latter is a drunken, slobbering Styrbjörn asking me, “Hey, Murph. She give you any tongue for firstie?”

And remembering with a peculiar pang that she had, just a tiny flicker, the tip of her tongue briefly poking my lower lip. Earnest of intent?

And realizing that not one of my little friends was a Timeliner boy.

I imagined the Orb, astride his bull, looking down at me with scorn.

What are those words he’s mouthing?

Mother’s boy.

Sure.

That’s me.

o0o

Eventually, the day came to an end. I went to my room, refusing to talk to anybody, went to bed, and lay there in the darkness, head spinning from too much liquor, looking out the window at darkness, at the Audumlan landscape, at the dark skyscape with its bands of stars alternating with bands of nothing at all.

After a while, Ygg started to show itself, edge of dim, sullen red sliding out of nowhere, slowly growing.

Well, you knew this would happen. Knew it. Knew it and did nothing about it, because... well what the hell
could
I do.

No place to run. No hiding place.

Angry at myself. Angry with Father, with Rannvi, refusing to talk to either of them as I stumbled off to my room.

My room. What a laugh.

Nothings mine. Not here. Not anywhere.

In a little while, I’ll go live in Ludmilla’s spanking new house, and nothing will be mine there, either.

What’s going to happen to me? Life with Luddy. Life working with father. Nothing will change, except I’ll have to contend with Luddy’s cunt every day and the girls won’t come to me anymore.

Maybe one day, I’ll have a son of my own, and we can go down to the bayou county together, visit with the Himerans, fix their little woes, play with all the cute little kits and pretend...

Right.

Suddenly I was back down in the bayou again on a bright and stemshiny day, walking along some drytrack through the swamp, Father and I together, airguns under our arms, daypacks on our backs, fishing poles folded away in their cases, waiting for us to take them out and use them.

We could have flown the flitter in to the little lake Daddy’d found, but, as he said, walking in along the drytrack made it... nicer.

I remember the look on his face as he looked down at me. Looked down at his son. “Ah, this is the life.”

When I walk the drytrack with my son, I’ll have to remember to say that to him, make him smile, make him... dream. Remember, because one day, after I betray his trust, he’ll never look at me the same way ever again.

Will it be my fault when that happens?

What choice will I have?

Somewhere else in the house, my father would be sitting in darkness all alone, thinking his bitter thoughts, waiting for me to come for him and say it’s... all right. It’s all right, Dad. I still love you.

There was nothing you could have done.

I can get up right now and...

His room was empty when I got there, door standing open, door to my mother’s suite closed and silent. Most likely, she’s got him in there now, making him perform.

When I turned away, my favorite old silvergirl was standing in the dark hallway, looking at me, motionless. Maybe wondering if I wanted her to come play with me? Who knows what silvergirls think?

I went back to my dark room and lay down in bed again, looking out the window at full-blown Ygg, watching it transit the patch of starry sky, moving with the background stars at Audumla’s rotation rate, waiting for it to set behind the next panel.

After a while, I fell asleep.

o0o

The next day, early in the morning, before anyone else had gotten up, I was breakfasting on the patio, watching Ygg fade as the stemshine blossomed, drinking strong black coffee, eating sweet, dry crumb cake, when Dad came out and stood by the hillside rail, looking out over the landscape. Not saying anything.

I was... I don’t know. Angry still, I guess. But there
really
was nothing he could’ve done, and I could see how badly he felt about the whole business. Finally, I said, “It’ll be better this way, Dad. I knew the rest of it, the idea that I could
ever
be anything other than what they said I was to be... well. It was just a silly dream. Now... once Luddy and I get settled in, you and I can...”

He turned and looked at me then, and I saw with considerable relief that he could see right through me, understood I was being nice to him, making sure we could go on being what we’d been since before I can remember: friends. Saw his relief and mine, and beyond that a future in which life went on, more or less unchanged. Dr. Goshtasp and his intern, Darrayush. Mr. Fixit and Son, friends to every machine, everywhere.

And Luddy?

Hell, a gate’s a gate, and what the fuck else was I going to do with my life?

Grow up. Be a man. That’s all.

He made a weak attempt at a smile, and said, “You want to go for a drive?”

Drive? I shrugged and said, “Sure. Why not?”

We got in the flitter and took off, to my surprise heading uphill through the heart of Lydia City, away from the bayou country, away from the old lowland habitats, abandoned city, Timeliner Firehall, whatever. Went under the monorail overpass and skirted the Knossian Beltway, following bright stemshine up toward the axial core. Finally, we got to a point where the gravity was too low and the topography too steep for the family flitter, boarding an elevator and going straight up the face of the red ersatz cliffs.

The elevator was a big one, a sliding glass room the size of Mother’s dining hall, full of passengers, women, men, children, many of them with luggage piled round their feet. Mothersbairn, sure, but a lot of strangers too. What looked like a Timeliner couple from the cut of their clothes, the angular look of their faces. A group of young men in some unfamiliar uniform, red cloth, black boots, green trim, golden badges. A stiff, uncomfortable looking fat man with a robot toolbox standing placidly by his side.

I looked at my father, studied the conflict in his face. “Dad? Where’re we going?” No sense asking why. He’d answer one if he answered the other.

He looked at me, eyes guarded, making me wonder about the indecision I so plainly saw. Finally, he said, “I thought we might go on up to the South Axial Port, you know? Watch the, um... goings on.”

Like we used to do when I was a little boy. I remember those outings plain as day, Dad and I floating in one of the big obdecks, back behind the stemshine mounting bracket, looking toward the industrial complex with all its fancy stevedoring cranes, toward the big, fantastic ring of starship docking platforms. Sometimes, if we were lucky, there’d even be a ship in port.

He said, “I checked the schedules when I got up. There’s a ship in dock now,
Sans Peur
, property of
Les Citoyennes Occidentales
. About ready to undock, heading out for Telemachus Major, then on down the Jet to Proxima.” He looked at me with the oddest shine of fear in his eyes, then swallowed softly. “I thought we could... watch her go.”

The elevator came to a stop, big doors sliding upon, and all the people struggled to get out, families floundering in unfamiliar low gee, up here at the 0.05 level, others, accustomed, loping away with long, easy strides. I expected up to go up the footstrap escalator to the obdeck, but instead we began following the crowd.

“Dad?”

He looked away, avoiding my gaze, then said, “Let’s go down to the boarding ramp. We can...”

“You can stop lying to me now.”

He stopped dead, some people behind us, carried forward by inertia, barely avoiding a collision, fumbling with bobbing bits of luggage and swearing at us in a language I’d never heard before, something full of velar gutturals and glottal stops. He sigh, a hard, gusty rasp, “Ah, Orb. I’m not lying, son. I just can’t
decide
. I...”

“So where are we really going?”

One long, hard stare, tainted with an agony of indecision, then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a slim blue markerchit. Held it out to me. Swallowed again. Said, “I keep some of my accounts on the Timeline Segment, instead of down in the Audumlan bankertracks. The whole business is secured behind the firewall at Telemachus Major. Your mother doesn’t know.”

I looked at the thing in his hand, not knowing what I was supposed to do, but suddenly realizing...

He said, “I bought you a ticket on
Sans Peur
.”

Ticket. Moment of stupid misunderstanding, then a bizarre thrill of hope. “We’re running away?” Running away from home, like Tom and Huck and every other lost boy you ever dreamed of? My head filled with fantasies then, impossible dreams, Goshtasp and Darrayush, faring together among the stars and...

There was no diminishment of the agony in his dark eyes, now alight with something that looked horribly like impending tears. He said, “By enforceable legal contract, I’m your mother’s chattel, Darius. If I leave... well. There are laws. Laws everywhere.”

“But...” But
I’m
her chattel too, not just her son, I...

He proffered the chit. “You take this, Darius. The ship leaves in three hours. I’ll... go home and lie ‘til you’re safely away.”

Home. I said, “But... Mother and... well, what about Ludmilla and her mother? I mean...”

He said, “If you leave, the banns are broken. You’re still free, but another ship won’t come by for months, not ‘til after the wedding.”

By which time...

He said, “The Telemachan government will enforce my written contract, but may not agree with her putative progenitive rights over you. I’ve arranged for some people to meet you at Telemachus Major, son. Timeliners. Old friends of mine. They’ll hide you for a while. Help you find a job. Help you... figure out what you want to do.”

“But... Dad, if you stay here...”

Agony in his eyes. And full knowledge of what would happen to him when Mother found out what he’d done. He said, “Take it, Darius. Take it for
me
. Please.”

I held the chit in my hand, staring at it, thinking about all the things he’d wanted and hadn’t gotten out of his life. Thought about all the things I might want, if I could learn how to want. Thought about it for maybe all of a hundred seconds.

Then I hugged my father, hugged him hard, the way I hadn’t hugged him since I was a little boy. Hugged him and turned away, turned and ran down the great docking tunnel that led to the starship
Sans Peur
.

Three. No one who hasn’t lived

No one who hasn’t lived such a moment for himself can imagine the bizarre exhilaration I felt as I ran down the corridor, ran from Audumla and the Mother’s Children, ran from everything I’d been, through the crowded docking tunnel, through the ticketing gate and on into the bowels of
Sans Peur
. I could never have imagined it myself, though I dreamed this dream a thousand times, as a woman in bondage dreams the Amazon dream.

Reality was that fabled bolt from the blue, burning my life clean away.

Burning it away, though it was a long, long time before it dawned on me what that truly meant.

The ship itself was immense, more than a kem in diameter, several kems long, a dirigible world. Unlike Audumla, it was a solid rock world, a three-dimensional space of tunnels and warrens and machinery, most of all a world solid with people. People of every sort, all the kinds of people I’d ever heard of, people the like of whom I’d never imagined.

Naked woman. Fantastically tall, impossibly thin, with huge, burning emerald eyes, pale blue skin, and hair the color of oxygen-rich blood.

Where could she have come from?

 One day, when I’ve got the time, I’ll sit at a freeze-frame once again and look her up. Maybe I’ll go there myself.

My stateroom, when I found it, proved to be a hole in the wall, a little plastic door set in a vast panel of such doors, much like a bank of gymnasium lockers where you’d store your street things before taking to the floor. I slid inside and closed the hatch, lay there in point-oh-five gee listening to myself breathe, looking at the little racks where I was supposed to stow my carry-on luggage.

Orb knows I haven’t got a thing.

Is that what it means to be free?

One long, horrid twist of fear inside me, making me feel like I had to go to the bathroom.