The Golden Space

by Pamela Sargent

  Terry arrived a few hours later, more punctual than he had expected. She strode past him at the door and sat down by his front window without a greeting. She brushed a hand through her reddish-brown hair and crossed her legs, swinging one leg nervously. He sat in a chair across from her.

  “May I offer you something?”

  She said, “You’re going to leave the Citadel with Andrew.”

  “So it seems.”

  “I don’t think you should.”

  “You’re not the only one. If you don’t want Andrew to go, then talk to him about it. I don’t want to interfere.” He thought of all his plans, but his regret was tinged with relief.

  “It’s not that,” she replied. Her abrupt tone and belligerent stare were making him uneasy. “You don’t know anything about him. I’m saying that if you go, you should take someone else.” She extended one leg, then crossed her legs again, jiggling her foot. “I know Andrew. I’m the only one who does. You could call it a fixation. He always finds me, wherever I go, or I find him. There are things we can’t really share with anyone else, even though we never talk about them. That’s how it is.” She heaved a sigh. “I don’t care if he goes; we can’t be together all the time. I’ve always looked out for him, though. I protect him.”

  Merripen was bewildered by this contradictory speech. “What is it, Terry? I still don’t know what you want.”

  She uncrossed her legs and was still. “Andrew’s afraid. He’s always been afraid. He has his reasons, but I won’t talk about them. The point is that he keeps trying to show that he isn’t. He tests himself against his fears. He’ll do something to prove he isn’t a coward rather than deciding calmly that it’s not worth the bother. I don’t even think he would go on this trip of yours if you hadn’t asked him to—he would have gone somewhere else he knows, where he’d be safe. But you gave him a challenge. He could do something reckless. It might mean trouble for you.”

  “What should I do, then? Call him and tell him I’ve changed my mind? I won’t go at all, then. I don’t mind admitting that I am afraid. I won’t go out there alone.”

  “Don’t be stupid.” He started at her rudeness. “It’s not that dangerous. I don’t care what anyone says. Really murderous people must have died out a long time ago. But Andrew might cause you trouble. He’s drawn to danger, in a way.”

  Merripen stood up. “If you don’t want Andrew to go, then work it out between yourselves. I’ve made my plans.” He spoke with a confidence he did not feel. She would talk Andrew out of going, or he would travel with a companion he would have to worry about. He continued to stand, but Terry showed no sign of getting up to leave. At last he sat down again.

  Terry bowed her head. “If you insist on going, then be careful. If you get into trouble, just look out for yourself. Don’t let Andrew get you into something you can’t handle.”

  “Maybe you’ve known him too long. He might have changed.” He looked at her hopefully for a sign of confirmation. “You might be seeing him the way he was.”

  She shrugged. “Don’t tell him I talked to you. He probably suspects I have, but I’d rather his suspicions weren’t confirmed.”

  Merripen grimaced. Now she wanted deception from him. He hardly knew the woman, and with one short visit she had disoriented him and threatened his plans.

  She got up and moved slowly toward the door. “Tell me something,” he said quickly. “If it’s not that dangerous out there, then why are you here? You don’t seem to like it, but you stay.”

  Terry looked away from him. “I’m dangerous,” she said in a low voice. “I’m dangerous to them. I’m all right here.” She stared at her hands, as if wanting to thrust them from her. Then she left.

  II

  Merripen and Andrew stepped outside. The massive door closed behind them with a clang. The light of false dawn, reflected by the vast, flat surface of the wall, lighted their way to the hovercraft. They would go north for a bit, then approach the settlement Leif had visited from another direction. No one would know they were from the Citadel. They had made up a story to offer if asked about themselves: they were two visitors from the south, bored with long, idle days.

  The night air was cold. Merripen shivered; he had not slept. The sprouting grass glittered after the frosty night; spring would be delayed. Merripen got inside and waited for Andrew, then put in their route. The craft lifted and floated forward silently. Merripen leaned back and gazed at the stars.

  He had seen Peony only yesterday. She had asked him again not to go, hinting that she might not let him return, but he had not relented. Then she had given in, apologizing, looking defeated and unhappy.

  Merripen still wore his Bond, but he would soon be too far from the Citadel for help to arrive in time. The craft would be their only protection; its motion soothed him.

  Andrew was silent. At first Merripen thought he was sleeping, but the other man stirred in his seat and cleared his throat. The hills in the east, outlined by gray light, were black; Andrew’s face was hidden in shadow. He said, “It’s an odd name.”

  “What is?” Merripen asked.

  “Your name. Merripen.”

  “It’s a Gypsy name. It means life. It also means death.”

  “I suppose that’s appropriate.” Merripen heard Andrew move in his seat again. “You should enjoy traveling, then.”

  “Wanderlust isn’t a genetic trait.” The hovercraft floated up a hill. If he looked back, he might be able to catch one last glimpse of the Citadel. He did not turn around. He could not go back now. Somehow, the thought eased him; he had been more nervous while planning the trip, while thinking that he could still change his mind.

  He rubbed his forehead. His eyes burned, and his eyelids felt gritty. “Terry didn’t want me to go,” Andrew said.

  “I know.”

  “She talked to you about it, didn’t she?”

  “Yes, she did.” Merripen was sure there was no harm in admitting it now.

  “She thinks I’ll cause problems, I suppose. We’ve known each other a long time.”

  “She told me that.” Merripen glanced into the darkness where Andrew sat. “What happened with you two?”

  “It’s nothing. We’ve separated before. She told me that if I didn’t come back, she’d find me sooner or later. But she’s wrong. I don’t think she’ll leave the Citadel. I’ll have to find her.” Andrew paused. “We lost a friend long ago—I mean truly lost him. He died, right in front of us. Terry blamed herself in part. I guess I blamed myself, too. We were helped afterward, of course; we could have had the experience completely erased. In fact, I think Terry did, a couple of times, but I always brought it all back when she saw me. After a while, we didn’t want to forget. If we had forgotten, our friend would truly be dead. His memory brings us together.”

  Merripen shivered. It all sounded morbid to him; it was unhealthy to dwell on such things. Did it make Terry and Andrew savor life more to ponder their dead friend? It seemed a perversion. He imagined Terry and Andrew behind the shutters of her house, making love in a room dark as a grave. Whatever gratification it gave them, he could see that it imparted little joy.

  “We’re not lovers, you know,” Andrew continued. Merripen looked at him in surprise. He could now see Andrew’s face in the dawn light; his eyes were the black hollows of a mask. “We never were. But that sort of thing doesn’t hold people together for long.”

  Andrew was trying to unburden himself. Merripen did not want to listen. He did not want to know that much about the man; it would only make him worry throughout their journey and distract him from his purpose. He waited, but Andrew was silent.

  The sun was high when Merripen awoke. He looked through the grayish surface, of the dome at a deep blue sky and a bright, round star. The hovercraft was floating over a field of stubby brown grass toward a forested ridge.

  Merripen raised his seat and sat up. Andrew was awake, finishing a piece of fruit. He climbed into the back with the pit, dropped it into the to
p of the materializer, opened the dispenser door in its side, and offered a peach to Merripen. “The town’s up there,” he said.

  “I know.” Merripen ate his fruit. “They’ve probably seen us already.” They had been careful not to bring anything from the Citadel that might give them away. The craft drew closer to the ridge; the slope was steep. A dirt road led into the trees.

  They floated up the ridge, over the road. The sun was hidden by the trees; something small and furry darted away from the path. The road was leading them deeper into the woods. As Merripen began to wonder where the town was, he suddenly saw it. Houses of brown unpainted wood with sharply angled roofs were ahead, lining the road. The town seemed deserted. Merripen took over the hovercraft and brought it to a stop; it bumped the ground lightly.

  Nothing stirred among the houses. Merripen thought he saw a face in a nearby window. Andrew was back in his seat; he had folded his hands so tightly that his knuckles were white. A light flashed on the panel in front of Merripen; he heard a soft chime. He turned on the small screen next to it and saw a dark face.

  “Who are you,” a deep voice asked, “and why are you here?”

  “My name’s Allen,” Merripen replied. “My friend is Andrew. We’re sightseers from the south.”

  “Would you please give me your personal codes and the code to your system, so that we can check?”

  Merripen gave him the information, and the screen went blank. They had arranged with a Citadel farther south to have codes for their false identities placed in the system of a southern town which, although not friendly to the Citadel there, was not overtly hostile either. The man would discover that he and Andrew were two aimless fellows who considered themselves students of geography. Even so, he was nervous. He tried to steady himself. The worst that could happen was that they would be told to go away; in the absence of any reason for hostility, no one would risk a confrontation. But this town was his only lead.

  The man’s face reappeared. “Please get out of your vehicle and walk up the street. You’ll get your things back when we’ve searched them. Keep your hands at your sides.”

  They got out. The sun’s warmth was blocked by the trees around the houses and road. Merripen hugged himself while Andrew stamped his feet. They had worn light clothes, as if unaware of how cold it could get in the north. Merripen lowered his hands, remembering the man’s warning.

  They walked up the street, stopping when they reached an island of grass and benches in the middle of the road. Merripen looked back, regretting that he had left his lifesuit in the vehicle. Three people had appeared and were now climbing into the hovercraft.

  A tall man was walking toward them; as he came closer, Merripen recognized the face of the man who had spoken to them. He wore a parka and baggy brown pants; his frizzy black hair was clipped close to his head. He stopped near Merripen and smiled, showing large white teeth, then thrust out a hand.

  “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.

  S
eda 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.”