by Jerry
“I must explain that for convenience we named them alphabetically. The men were given names beginning, in turn, with A, B, C and so on through the letter Z. The women were similarly named. It was patently artificial, but we were in a hurry. We never thought—” The man shook his head.
“What is the problem, sir? Names are just names.” Actually, in fantasy, names were things to conjure with, literally, but there was no point in trying to clarify that.
“Arthur matched with Angela; Bradford with Belinda; Charles with Carla. We didn’t do that; we named them randomly by computer. They did it. It seems that there is magical significance in names, so they believed they were destined for each other. Hundred per cent alignment.”
“But you said some were children!”
“Down to age ten. Didn’t matter. Todd is thirty, Tara is ten. They are a couple.”
“Maybe like father and daughter—” Duff protested.
The Colonel merely looked at him.
They spied on every act of the colony. Evidently it was a complete union. This was apt to be more of an assignment than he had anticipated!
“Victor died, so Violet is alone,” the Colonel said. “That was the one remaining thing that brought you to the head of the list of availables.”
“My name. Van Dyke.”
“Yes. You will be Van, there.”
“But Violet may not—”
“Don’t be concerned. She will come to you.”
“But to be assigned a woman, just because—I never agreed—”
“Sergeant, you have a mission to perform.”
Duff saw the way of it. “How did Victor die, sir?”
“He was slain by the dragon.”
“But there is no dragon! Not a real one!”
“Precisely.” The Colonel took him by the elbow. “I regret that we lack time to brief you on the nuances of the culture, but all you have to do is say you can’t remember, and act disoriented. If they accept you, you’ll pick up on it quickly enough. When you discover how they do what they do, return here to the building and we will take you in. After your report, you will be done, and can return to your regular unit.”
“Just like that, sir? In and out?”
“That’s it, Sergeant. But it may not be easy to fathom what they are doing. They baffle us now in much the way the aliens do. In fact, they have become eerily like the aliens. So our problem may also be our success: If we can understand what has happened here, we may have the key to dealing with the aliens. That’s why we have come to call their reservation the Alien Plot.”
“Plot, sir? As in conspiracy or as in land?”
“Both.” They had come to a door in the back. “Out you go, and good luck, Van. We are depending on you.”
The door opened and Van stepped out. He heard it close behind him. He turned to glance back, and saw that it was a weathered stone wall without sign of an aperture. Excellent camouflage, that.
“I beg you—what is your name?” It was a dulcet woman’s voice.
Duff turned. There stood an unattractive woman of perhaps thirty, wearing what he took to be the feminine equivalent of his own costume. It was green, like his, with the pointed slippers.
“Van,” he said. Then he remembered to act confused. “I—where am I? I don’t remember—”
“I am Violet. I knew you would come, Van, for I have need of you. I will take you home.”
His heart sank. This was the single woman matching his initial. He had not had time to think about it, but given any choice he would have hoped for a beautiful creature, and settled for average. This woman had straight, hard facial features and dark brown hair tied into a severe bun. She was somewhat heavyset.
Well, duty was duty, and at least he wouldn’t have to flounder around the countryside. The Colonel’s notion that it took the villagers a while to catch on to the identity of new people had been proven false already; the woman had been expecting him. “Thank you, Violet. I—are we—I don’t remember you—”
“We have not met, but we are destined for each other,” she said, taking his arm much as the Colonel had.
“But why?” he asked, not having to pretend confusion.
“Because of the way of the name. Had you been any other letter, I would have known you were not for me. But you match, therefore it is ordained. We will be lovers tonight, and tomorrow I will begin to teach you the Way.”
“But—”
“You do not feel it?”
“I don’t feel anything! I don’t know you, and as for being lovers, I’m certainly not ready for that!”
“You will be ready tonight,” she said confidently.
Duff stopped arguing. He had a mission to accomplish, whatever sacrifice he had to make.
They came to the village. There were, he was sure without counting, twenty-six crude structures, each occupied by a couple. They were fashioned from local materials: stone, sod, branches, mud and grass. No trees had been cut, and the landscape remained wild except for the paths to the houses. This was truly a natural community, and he liked that.
Violet’s hut was green, which at this point did not surprise him. It was open and neat inside, more attractive than he had expected. He hoped there would not be bugs.
“First we must address the hearth,” Violet said. “I know this is new to you, so I will explain to V. I’m sure he will understand.”
“Vee?”
“The patron spirit of this house. You must have his approval if you are to stay here, and you must stay here.”
Duff remembered the Colonel’s remark about rituals. Well, that was what he was here to understand. He knew that the monitors were recording them; in fact the Colonel himself was probably watching personally, to be sure Duff was settling in. So he would join the ritual, so that Violet and the others would accept him.
The patron spirit was unmistakable. It was a figurine in the shape of the letter V, with an eye and ear on each side and a mouth below, making a distorted face whose nose was formed by the hollow center of the V. It sat on the mantel above the fireplace, and its eyes stared into the main chamber.
Violet fetched a cushion and set it on the packed-earth floor before the hearth. “Kneel here. Bow your head. Do not gaze at V until I tell you. I will guide you through it.”
Obediently, Duff kneeled and focused on the floor. Violet set a similar cushion down beside him, and kneeled on it herself.
Violet looked at the fireplace. Suddenly the coals blazed up, making a warm fire.
“Oh V, master of this house,” she intoned. “I bring to you a new man, and I plead for your favor toward him.” She paused. “Yes, he is of your clan. His name is Van.” She paused again. “What?”
Then she turned to Duff. “As you value your life, tell me your real name!”
Startled, he answered before thinking. “Duff Van Dyke.”
She turned back to the statue. “Oh V, I did not know! I thought he was—” Again she paused, as if interrupted by another person. As if she were having a dialogue on the phone, and he could hear only her words.
“Victor was true,” she said after a moment. “But he found disfavor with the dragon, and the dragon killed him. I knew there would be another, and I hope the dragon accepts him, because I must not be alone when we go home. So I went daily to the wall, and today this man came out from it, and I asked his name, and he said Van, and I knew he was mine. I will teach him our way, and he will love me and be by my side when we go. I beg you, V, make it all right, for time grows short and there may not be another man for me.”
She paused once more, then turned to Duff. “V will address you now. Lift your face and meet his gaze. Do not look away until he gives you leave.”
Duff tilted his head up. He looked at the statue.
The face seemed larger and more lifelike. He stared at the eyes. They stared back at him.
“Say your name,” Violet told him.
“My name is—” But somehow he couldn’t speak it as he had before.
He wanted to be accepted by this group, and he realized that it had been a mistake to give his full name. It really was irrelevant, because all the members of this planned community had been randomly renamed. So it would be consistent for him to adopt a new name too. Part of his own name was fine. So it wasn’t even wrong to say it; it was appropriate. Especially since he would fail in his mission if he did not. “Van.”
Only then did those penetrating eyes release him. Van looked down, relieved.
Violet reached across and hugged him. “V accepted you!” she exclaimed. “Now it’s all right!”
They got up and returned the cushions to the chairs. Van felt somewhat light-headed, though that might be because he had stood suddenly after kneeling for a while.
“You must be hungry,” she said. “I have nuts and fruit.” Indeed she did. Van was unfamiliar with the varieties, but satisfied to eat them. There was some kind of berry juice too, just at the edge of fermenting. It was a delicious drink.
“Uh, that trick with the fire,” he said, remembering. “I could have sworn you just looked at it, and it blazed up.”
“Yes, of course. I did a firemaking spell. It’s not nice to address V without a fire, because fire makes him strong. If his fire ever went out completely, he would dissipate.”
“You made it burn, just like that? How?”
“I thought the spell. I just focused on it and thought ‘Fire, fire, light my hearth,’ and it responded. Of course there has to be fuel.”
“Of course,” he agreed weakly.
There was a knock on the door. Violet opened it. A child of about four stood there. “Is it all right?” he asked.
“It is all right, Keith,” Violet said. “The spirit of the hearth has accepted my new man. I will mother his children.”
Van opened his mouth to protest. But he remembered that there were no children younger than ten here. Where had this younger child come from?
Violet closed the door as the child departed. “Keith will spread the word,” she said. “It is all right, now. Except for the dragon. I hope he doesn’t reject you!”
“I hope so too,” Van agreed. “Uh—the child—Keith—”
“Kane and Kay’s son,” she said. “He’s a good boy. You and I can’t keep a child until the dragon approves you, but we can choose one if we wish. Tonight we can make love. In fact we had better, because the dragon may inquire whether we are sexually compatible. Go ahead and strip and use the sanitary closet while I get ready.” She indicated a curtained alcove.
The woman was serious. She had accepted him the moment she verified his name, and in her view they were much the same as married already. How was he going to dissuade her, without risking the success of his mission? Because he realized now that it was all very well to dream of a nondescript woman, but this was real, and she did not turn him on.
For want of an answer, he went to the curtained alcove. There was what was evidently a small composting toilet, probably installed by the project personnel, and a basin and pitcher with water. A furry towel and small sponge were on the counter.
He used the toilet. What now? She expected him to remove his clothes, preparing for a sexual encounter. He would have to tell her no. But would she accept that?
He stalled for time by undressing and washing up. It took a while to figure out exactly how the clothing attached, because he had not donned it himself. The robe seemed to hook into the underwrapping so that it would not slide around. It was comfortable enough, just odd. He poured some water into the basin, dipped the sponge into it, and sponged off his body. That worked well.
All too soon he was clean. He could stall no more.
He reached for his clothes—and they were gone. He stared at the place on the counter where they had been. No one had come in here, but somehow the clothes had been taken.
He poked his head out of the alcove, holding the curtain so that his body was concealed. “Uh, Violet, did you—?”
“I am ready, Van,” she said. She had changed too, and now was in an opaque nightie. The material flattered her contours, but she remained by any standard an ordinary woman. “Come and make love with me.”
“But—”
“Oh, I forgot!” she exclaimed. “I haven’t used the love spell!”
This was proceeding in the wrong direction! “I really don’t—” He was not being gallant, just desperate.
“Now watch,” she said. She turned toward the statue on the mantel. “Oh V, help me bind the man to me in love, and bind me to him, so that we may enjoy this night and have a good report for the dragon two days hence!”
She paused for a moment. Then she fetched a small candle and lit it from a coal in the fireplace. She set it on the table, so that its musky smoke spread into the room. It was incense, he realized. She began to dance. Van watched, wishing for a way out of this. If he could spot his clothing, he could get it while she was distracted by her dancing.
She moved well, making intricate little steps. As she moved, she unbound her hair, and it dropped to her shoulders and then below them, swirling about her head. Van had never understood what was supposed to be so sexy about undone hair, but had to admit that this was doing something for her. The lines of her face softened and her eyes seemed larger.
As she danced, she stroked her nightie, and with each stroke it became lighter, turning translucent. Van saw that her body was not as chunky as he had thought; indeed, it was manifesting as voluptuous. The nightie seemed to disappear after a while, and she was dancing naked, and it was a sight to madden a man’s mind. His mind—and body—were responding; he was changing his attitude about her.
She made one more turn, then glided close to him. “How do you like me now, Van?” she breathed, her breasts heaving.
He let go of the curtain and stepped out to embrace her.
He woke beside her in the morning, appalled. He must have been drunk! That berry drink, that incense—what a night it had been! And all being recorded by the hidden cameras. How could he have forgotten about that?
He got up and went to the curtained alcove, where he discovered his clothing. What a relief! He cleaned up and dressed. It took time, but he was getting the hang of the costume. He had to admit that it fit him well, and gave him that otherworldly look he liked.
He returned to the main chamber. Violet still slept. Well, that simplified things. He couldn’t blame her for what had happened last night; she obviously wanted a man, and he was it, and she had used what she had to seduce him. But he was going to be wary of that berry drink after this!
“Van.”
He jumped. The voice had not come from the bed. He went to the door, but no one was there.
“Not there, Van. Here.”
He looked toward the sound. There was the V statue.
Oh. One of the monitors would be there. It must have a speaker. Someone from Project HQ was trying to contact him.
“No. We allow the men of science to see only what we choose for them to see. Kneel before me. Bow your head. Honor the ritual. You do not need to speak; I can hear what is in your mind.”
Bemused, Van did as he was bid. Obviously someone had made a shrewd guess about his reaction.
“Enhance my fire.”
Van concentrated. Fire, fire, light my hearth, he thought, remembering the spell.
The flames rose in the hearth. He had done it!
“Thank you, Van,” V said, his voice stronger. But why didn’t the voice wake Violet?
“I have put a sleep spell on her. There is something I must clarify for you, because time is short. You are correct about her; she feared becoming a pariah when she lost her man, and she is desperate to make this house whole again. Her discretion can not be trusted; her need overwhelms her judgment. But she is a good woman, and will make you a good wife; when you are one of us, she will always appear to you as she did last night, and will need no love spell. The question is whether you will make her a good husband.”
If this was not a speaker in the st
atue—if it really could read his mind—it would know when his thoughts took a different tack. Green monkeys and purple slime, he thought.
“I will indulge you, Van. You are testing me. You are thinking ‘Green monkeys and purple slime.’ While I deplore such artificial mechanisms, the press of time requires that I satisfy you quickly, so that you will heed my warning. Try another test.”
Either this thing really could read minds, or he was suffering a hallucination. The Colonel had said nothing about this! But since he was supposed to find out exactly what was happening here, he would play the game. I am a spy from the outside world. Tell me what’s going on here.
“Now that’s direct! But it is no news to me. Of course you are a spy; we knew that the outsiders would realize that their sensors are not doing the job. You are the only one sent in; by elimination, you have to be their agent. Try me on something else. Then I will tell you what is happening here, and deliver my warning.”
Brother! Could he trust any of this? He could at least make it difficult. Have Violet wake, and come to kiss my hand, and return to sleep without a word. If that happened, either V had the powers it claimed, or he, Van, was hopelessly lost to reality.
Behind him, Violet stirred. Van did not move. She walked sleepily across the chamber and knelt before him. She was lovely. She leaned forward, took his right hand, brought it to her lips and kissed it. In the process her nightie, which had reappeared opaque, fell low, so that he saw her fine breasts. He experienced an involuntary thrill of passion.
“Already you are seeing her as you want to,” V remarked.
Violet got up and returned to the bed.
Phew! Hallucination or no, Van had the urge to go and resume their activity of the night.
“You may do that in a moment. She will welcome your attention. I should clarify that in her prior life she was as you first saw her, unattractive to men. The love spell is a blessing to her. She will love you truly, if you become one of us. This is one of the things we offer you.”
But you are suggesting that magic works!
“Magic does work, here in this colony and in the world it emulates. It is your science that is foreign to us. We must come to understand it, for it is dangerous. This colony will be the mechanism by which we learn. But for you, who are new to magic, there are formidable dangers. We can not let you go loose in our world. Even here in the colony we must protect you. That is why the spirits of the hearth are in every home. We advise our families so that they can survive and prosper. You must heed me not from any subservience, for you are the master here, but because I know the ways of magic you do not. I will keep you safe.”