The Golden Space

by Pamela Sargent

  Yasmin smiled. “You would say that.”

  It was very dark outside now. The air was still. The dim light in the room left faces in shadow. Teno seemed to be smiling, but that had to be an illusion. Leif lolled in his chair. Mikhail’s mouth curved; his eyes gazed longingly at Teno. Once, Nola thought, he had looked at her that way. His eyes met hers. For a moment, she thought he would speak.

  She felt as though she were smothering. The air was humid; the silence pressed against her ears. She stood up slowly.

  “Nola?” Yasmin said softly.

  “I’m tired. I think I’ll excuse myself.” Nola continued to look at Mikhail.

  “If you like,” Yasmin said, “come back down later.”

  Nola turned to go, then let one hand rest on Leif’s shoulder. “If you like, come upstairs later.”

  “Oh, I’ll come now.” He followed her to the staircase without saying a word to the others. Nola glanced at Mikhail. He didn’t care. She was surprised that she had thought he would.

  She led him up to her room, opened her door, and put her hand on the wall panel. The ceiling flowed with light. She took off her robe.

  Leif said, “You’re direct. No flirtation for you.”

  She shrugged.

  “That fellow down there is the one you followed, isn’t he.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I can tell.”

  “It makes me sick.”

  “It shouldn’t.” He shed his shorts. He was a dark shape with a golden nimbus around his head. He came to her and traced the wires on her body. “You’re right.” His fingers touched the metal threads over her hips. “They don’t get in the way.”

  She turned to the floater and led him inside, then signaled the generator. She drifted up and he reached for her, pressing his lips against one small breast. He seemed more awkward in the floater; his head bumped hers. She circled his waist with her legs and held him as her fingers caressed his chest.

  His fingers dug into her skin, clawing between the wires on her back, then grabbing at her ribs; his hands seemed hard. She thought of Mikhail, remembering how he had twisted under her as she had hovered over him. She nudged Leif with her legs, then released him, brushing his belly lightly with one hand.

  Leif spun and twisted. His feet met a shield, and he launched himself toward her. She held his shoulders with her hands. His blue eyes were wide; his mouth was a straight, narrow line. He gripped her again, firmly; his hands held her buttocks. The walls outside the floater swirled past her until she was floating upside down, with Leif behind her, their feet pointed at the lighted ceiling. She gasped as his fingers danced over her; he let her drift away, then touched her again, and she moaned as he floated under her.

  She was about to speak but something in his eyes, a flicker, stopped her. They circled each other, touching only with lips and fingers until he suddenly reached for her. Her shoulders bounced against a shield. He was holding on to her very tightly, gripping her waist while thrusting against her. Before she could pull away, he was inside her, hanging on to her hips, his body arching away from her; she could not see his face. She heard him cry out. She shuddered and moaned, drawing up her knees until her feet were against his ribs. As she came, she cried out, and part of her mind seemed to leave her body with the cry.

  He let go. She drifted toward the floor. She did not look at him. She felt his breath on her ear. His arms circled her, more gently this time. She closed her eyes, still feeling the roughness of his hands.

  Nola was awake early; she saw gray sky outside her window. The room was dark. Leif was gone.

  She left the floater and went into the bathroom. As she washed, she noticed small bruises, the size of fingertips, on her hips and legs. Mikhail had never left a bruise.

  She put on her robe and went downstairs. She heard footsteps; the front door clicked shut. She hurried to the window and looked outside.

  The morning mist deepened the green of the grass. There were puddles in the hollows of Yasmin’s lawn. Mikhail and Teno were walking toward the road. Teno held out a hand to Mikhail, and the two joined arms as they strolled toward Mikhail’s house, becoming shadows in the mist.

  She stared at Teno’s back. I hope you die. I hope something goes wrong, and that Giancarlo can’t stop it, and you die. Her hands were shaking. The others would turn on Giancarlo then; Leif would be there to urge them on. The image was so vivid that she had to catch herself, afraid she had cried out loud. She pressed her forehead against the cool glass.

  IV

  Nola approached the turret, slowing her pace so that Yasmin could keep up with her. Teno had invited almost everyone to the tower today. “That’s unusual,” Yasmin had said to Nola. “Usually, you ask only a couple of friends. I went in alone, except for Giancarlo.”

  The tall wooden door was open. Yasmin, dressed in a long rose-colored robe, waited for Nola to step through, then followed. Nola shivered; it was cooler inside, and she had worn only a loose cotton shirt and gray pants.

  A stone stairway between stone walls led into darkness. Nola’s heels clattered against the floor; Yasmin’s sandals slapped the surface. They climbed the stairs. Nola moved toward the wall to her left, feeling her way along it. The wall was damp. The stairway curved, bending around the tower. She followed the shuffling sound of Yasmin’s feet, and then saw a distant light.

  The light came from a door in the wall on the left. Nola climbed more quickly, moving toward the light, and followed Yasmin inside.

  The room was large and bright. Overhead, Nola saw openings near the top of the turret. The sun’s rays flooded the room; other lights, resembling torches, were set in the walls. The center of the room held a blue platform covered with wires, which were attached to a console resting on a heavy mahogany table.

  Nola lingered in the doorway, surveying the room. Large red and blue pillows covered the floor. Jiro sat with a tall dark man; he waved at her. Then Nola saw Leif. He was sitting near a wall, his back against a pillow.

  Yasmin walked toward Jiro. “Excuse me,” a voice said behind Nola. She stepped back and let Hilde enter. “I didn’t expect to see you here. Maybe you’ll be convinced, but perhaps you won’t until something terrible happens to you.”

  “Something terrible?” Nola said, annoyed.

  “Someone you love could die. It happened to me. I lost my husband, before the Transition. He died suddenly. Afterward, I thought of all the things I’d never said to him. Often my own words would run through my mind—I kept repeating everything I wanted to say to him and could never say. Later, I forgot. There were decades when I never thought of him at all. Then I underwent the little death. He spoke to me. He’s part of the higher state now, and I know I’ll be with him again.”

  Nola could not speak. Even when most unhappy, she had never thought of staying with Mikhail forever; she had known that they would separate in time. Her feelings suddenly seemed shallow compared to Hilde’s.

  Hilde left her and walked toward the others. Nola went to Leif. His legs were stretched out in front of him; his bare feet were dirty. He smiled as she sat down near him. His cheeks and chin bristled with pale hairs; his blue eyes seemed darker, the pupils enlarged even in the light. His skin was yellowish. He said, “We skeptics ought to stick together.”

  Two men and a woman wandered in and sat near the platform. “I hope he puts on a good show, at least,” Leif continued, leaning toward her. His breath smelled sour, and he slurred the words.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. I’m mighty fine.” Two more women had come in. “It doesn’t look as though Teno’s going to get much of a crowd. Too bad. Maybe old Giancarlo’s losing his touch.”

  Nola was looking at the console. “What is that?”

  “Just a suspender. Standard medical stuff. It keeps the body suspended, so to speak, until a rescue team can get it to a medical center for treatment. They hooked me up to one after my leg got burned.”

  “Did you see visions?”<
br />
  “Oh, come now. Of course not.”

  “Maybe Giancarlo made some adjustments or alterations.”

  “I thought of that. I checked it already; I was here before anyone else. It’s not changed. Besides, he doesn’t have to do anything to it—he’s dealing with people who want to believe. All he has to do is suggest something, and their minds will do the rest. It won’t prove a thing.”

  Nola sighed. She heard Leif chuckle. “What’s so funny?”

  “You’re disappointed, Nola. You want to believe it, don’t you. You want it to prove something. That’s why you’re here. That’s why you stayed.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  “Oh, no, I’m not.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “For amusement. Maybe to see the look on Giancarlo’s face when he finds me sitting here.” Leif scratched his bare thigh. “But that’s not why you’re here. You’d better be careful, Nola. You’re ripe. You could start here and end up in a death cult that means business.”

  “You’re wrong. You don’t know me at all.”

  “I know enough. You think that you accept the world as it is—that’s what you tell yourself. But you don’t. You hate it. It’s too bleak for you; you struggle against it. That’s why you don’t like being around Teno. A person like that is a reminder of something you’d rather forget.”

  “And what is that?” she asked softly.

  “That human beings will eventually create their own successors. That people like us aren’t the crown of creation. I’ve seen your type before. How you struggle against the idea that perhaps the only thing we have left to do is die out. The cults are just the first sign of that. We cling to the notion that there’s something else beyond this world, and we still want to die, but we also want to live on.”

  She said, “You’re making no sense.”

  Leif’s eyes were slits. “Giancarlo may be cleverer than some—I’ll grant him that—because he’s tried to make his beliefs compatible with the world we have. He accepts immortality and biological change. It’s a path religions often took before the Transition—they’d modify certain tenets or try to show that new discoveries or attitudes didn’t contradict their truths.” His lip curled. “But it won’t work, because his beliefs are based on a dogma that can’t be proven or falsified and must be taken on faith. Eventually, something will happen that he’ll have to reject, and his followers will have to choose—accommodation won’t be possible.”

  Nola turned away from him, wrapping her arms around her legs. “Our successors will be great,” Leif muttered. “I’m sure of it. They’ll reach for things we can’t even envision.”

  Teno and Mikhail had entered the room, with Giancarlo just behind them. Nola followed them with her eyes as they moved toward the platform. When they reached it, Mikhail looked around and saw her. He stared at Leif for a long moment. Leif stared back and showed his teeth; the muscles of his arms tightened. Then he leaned back, as if bored once more.

  Teno stretched out on the platform. Giancarlo began to attach the wires and circlets. Mikhail sat on a cushion and bowed his head.

  Nola had always known that her real work was learning, not meteorology. She orbited the earth, not to do the tasks that cybernetic minds could have done as well, but to conserve the knowledge and experience in a human mind. Weather was still sometimes indeterminate, unpredictable—storms could change course, a stream of air could shift.

  Now she felt as though she had been watching the unpredictable patterns of this community as they swirled around Giancarlo, the eye of the storm. She frowned at that comparison; the settlement was placid and dull. Yet her nerves hummed, as if sensing that the weather was about to change. She was doing the same work she had always done, except that here she could not observe from a distance. She was part of the pattern, and her own mental weather was being affected.

  Giancarlo stood behind the console. He wore a white shirt and white pants; a beam of light shone down on him, making his pale face luminous. Nola frowned at the obvious theatricality. He pressed a panel on the console. Teno seemed to be asleep.

  “Most of you have heard what I have to say,” Giancarlo began. “But I speak for the benefit of our visitors, who are unfamiliar with my message.” His voice was low, but Nola heard him clearly.

  “There is a higher state,” he went on, “and another life. I know this to be true, because those who have been near death have returned to this life to speak of it. They tell the same story. They step outside their bodies, they travel down the tunnel, they witness the events of their lives, speak with those beyond, and meet the Light of God.”

  Leif cleared his throat.

  “Now, some will say that there are those who have been through such an experience and have no such tales to tell. Some, of course, may only have forgotten.” Giancarlo stood very still, arms at his sides. “But I have found that certain injuries or medications can interfere with a person’s ability to perceive the higher state. That is why I use this suspender.” He waved a hand at the console. “It shuts down the body gradually. For a few seconds, the body will not function—it will be dead, in a manner of speaking. The soul will be outside that body, and then, before any physical harm can take place, the body will be revived, and the mind and soul will speak of what they have seen.”

  Teno’s chest still rose and fell. The head was circled by a wide metal band; the face was very pale. Nola wanted to hear what Teno would say; the strength of that desire surprised her. She glanced at Leif. He leaned forward, eyes on the console.

  “This is how we must approach the higher state,” Giancarlo continued. “This way, or through a death which is often violent or painful and which hurls the soul from this world. But it will not always be so. We have extended life now, but each of us continues to evolve. As we live, our souls grow stronger, seeking that other existence. In time, many ages from now, the soul will detach itself from the body, shedding it as the body sheds a coat—or perhaps the body will simply wear away. There will be no death as we know it. All humankind will live on in that higher state. I know this to be true. That will be the Final Transition.”

  He believes it, Nola thought. Somehow, that frightened her more than thinking that he was only a man wanting control of others. Teno was still. Giancarlo bent over the platform. He’s right, he knows. She was convinced of it now, even before hearing Teno bear witness. She sat up, lifting her head, wanting to speak her newfound convictions aloud. The sunlight on Giancarlo glowed; the souls of those beyond sang to her. The others in the room were only shadows in a cave.

  The machine began to hum. Giancarlo hovered over it, his slender hands fluttering. Teno’s brain was no longer functioning; it would start to die. Leif was suddenly on his feet. Nola lifted her hand to her mouth; the moment had passed, the world had pulled her back. Then the console was silent. Leif sighed and sat down.

  Teno’s chest was moving again. Leif moved closer to Nola. He muttered something but she did not catch the words.

  “Teno will speak to us soon,” Giancarlo said. “Our vision will be shared by another soul, and another soul will be at peace.”

  Leif scowled. The others in the room were still. Teno’s arm moved. Giancarlo bent down, touching the metal band with one hand. Teno’s eyes opened. Giancarlo’s lips moved and Teno managed to nod. Then Giancarlo began to remove the wires and bands. Nola fidgeted, waiting. Teno’s words would restore her conviction; she would hear that steady voice describe the vision, and she would know.

  Giancarlo helped Teno sit up. Yasmin’s mouth was slightly open; Mikhail’s back was very straight. Hilde and a man near her smiled complacently. “What have you seen?” Giancarlo asked.

  There was no reply. Teno surveyed the room; Nola thought she saw a frown.

  “What have you seen?”

  Nola held her breath. Teno looked down at the floor.

  “What have you seen?” Giancarlo’s voice was higher.

  “I was in a tunnel,” Teno began in
a weak voice. “I was falling through it, or past it; I couldn’t be sure. Ahead, I saw a dark point. It began to grow larger as I fell. At first, I thought it was black.” Someone in the room gasped. “I could not see it when I looked at it. I had left my body far behind, and it had captured me. Dimly, I recalled standing over my body in this room; images of my life unfolded before me, and I watched them as if they were another’s life. I fell toward the dark spot, and it grew larger as I approached. It was not black. It was nothing, and it was going to swallow me. I was moving toward oblivion. I struggled against it, but I was lost. Then I was pulled back. That is what I saw.”

  Giancarlo held out his hands, as though pleading. “That can’t be. Everyone who has endured the little death has had the vision. It’s never failed.”

  “That was my vision.” Teno’s voice was stronger.

  “It can’t be.” Giancarlo’s voice shook. He peered at the console, tracing the panels with his fingers. “Something must be wrong.”

  Hilde stood up. She looked around the room; her eyes were narrowed. “You know what it means,” she said. Her voice was loud; it filled the room. “You all know what it means. It means that Teno has no soul. The way to the higher state is closed to such beings.”

  Giancarlo was shaking his head, as if denying the words. Mikhail got up and went toward Teno, then stopped, as though afraid to be too near his friend.

  “You know I’m right,” Hilde went on. “This is the sign. The biologists have created beings who cannot reach the higher state, and we must now oppose them. What greater crime can there be?”

  Nola gazed at the others. Even Yasmin, eyes wide, was nodding her head. Teno rose slowly, then walked past Mikhail and toward the door. Nola looked up as Teno passed her; the blank gray eyes met hers for a moment. She looked down.

  Teno was gone.

  She heard a snort. Leif was laughing, covering his mouth and nose with one hand. “You know I’m right, Giancarlo,” Hilde was saying. “If we don’t stand against them, they’ll continue their evil work. Can we enter the higher state with that on our conscience?”