Lucius’s parting lips became stymied, settling into contemplative silence as Bobby’s image on the holo-screen evaporated into a mysterious ether and the screen abruptly faded into a blank dark slate.
“Bobby…Bobby?” Lucius attempted to reply while his voice hinted at desperation. “That’s really odd,” he commented as the holo-screen whirled back into the sanctuary of the chip in his palm. “He sounded as if he was in a hurry. In fact,” he added, his face twisted in befuddled array, “it didn’t sound like Bobby at all – too formal somehow…I don’t know Boudica,” he glanced down at the chevrons of foam floating upon the waterfall basin’s placid surface, “There’s something weird about Bobby. Don’t you think it’s possible that his message may have been prerecorded by SAGAN techs with a high-definition holo-image?”
“Lucius,” Boudica lightly scoffed pointing to what appeared to be the colossal image of Jupiter and some of Saturn’s other moons dominating the clear blue sky, “just look up,” he heard her suggest, “isn’t that enough to convince you we’re really on another world?”
Lucius peered toward the sky and, studying the impressive array of colorful heavenly crescents – Jupiter and Saturn’s other moons – he pursed his lips.
“You remember my astronomical observations we discussed back in Sky Parlor while coming home from school on the monorail that day, Boudica,” he earnestly related. “Those could be more examples of holographic projections against the surface of a silicone-based dome-like structure.”
Boudica tipped back her delicate snow-white neck, fluffed her mane of red hair and began to chuckle.
“But how can that be, Lucius?” she protested as her chuckle abruptly died away.
Though he noticed her face molded into a stone-like edifice, her eyes reflected both astonishment and a hint of annoyance.
“I mean, are you suggesting they could have tricked us into thinking we’ve been teleported to another world when this location – right here and right now – could be somewhere else, a remote location inside the city’s buffer zones? Even if that were true,” she went on while her voice seemed to escalate an octave.
Lucius noticed her emboldened tone acquired a faint trace of condescension.
“I mean, think about scientific observation, Lucius. Just look at the topography. We’re at high altitude here. Say for the sake of argument, rather than Enceladus in outer space, we’ve been teleported to a remote and mountainous area within the city’s buffer zones, even from a great distance, wouldn’t we still be able to observe at least the city environs on the horizon over the tree line?”
“If we’re anywhere other than where SAGAN claims they sent us, it’s unlikely we’ve been teleported somewhere within the twenty-mile buffer zones of Sky Parlor. That would be impossible to definitively determine because, as you know, SAGAN uploaded updates to our holo-chips before we were teleported, and the location data – like Bobby’s image we just saw from my holo-screen – could have been simulated too, to make it look like we were in deep space. No, Boudica, and this is just speculation at this early juncture in the mission, but it appears to me we may have been teleported outside of Sky Parlor’s walls and just like inside the city, we’re being contained by a quarantine dome, only within a much more limited geographical area.”
For a moment, the freckled skin of Boudica’s face grew rigid with consternation while a singular impression flickered:
Sometimes I wish he weren’t so analytical…didn’t think too much…
“Well, I think this discussion is an exercise in futility,” Boudica said. “Instead, we should go see what’s inside this camp cabin of ours, after all, no matter where we really are,” he heard her exclaim, “it is going to be our home for an entire week until we’re teleported back to Sky Parlor.”
Lucius, though secretly chafed she ignored what he felt were logical assertions, became allured by the amorous glow now reflected from Boudica’s skin, and he began to follow her up the wooden steps to enter the one roomed cabin. Though the room was spartan in nature, he noticed there were neatly stacked food packages – enough for a week’s supply – and a crude wooden table set off to the left side of the cabin. There was also what appeared to be a double bed made with hand-woven cotton blankets in the opposite corner and as well Lucius observed, a slim silver aluminum chimney extending through the cabin’s roof attached to a wood burning stove cast in black iron adjacent to stacked cords of timber.
Allowing his mind to wander for a moment in wild speculation, Lucius began to consider how settling down for a permanent life in such a foreign environment would differ so disparately from living in Sky Parlor.
“Well, it’s not very roomy; smaller than our MU units back in Sky Parlor,” Lucius observed as Boudica settled herself on the edge of the blanketed double bed and crossed her legs. “But I suppose,” he added, swiveling his head around, “it will do while we’re here; wherever here really is, that is.”
Boudica’s lips formed a pout while her dangling foot began to fidget.
“What exactly do you mean, Lucius?” she wondered. “You don’t mean to imply were not on Enceladus – you think we’re…somewhere else?”
“You said it yourself just a few minutes ago, Boudica. I think we both know it’s quite improbable Bobby set up this camp and two more so quickly after arriving here first. And then there’s the added fact five explorers are separated in what appears to be such a strategic fashion – maybe for reasons the SAGAN officials couldn’t or didn’t want to inform us about. Also, too, it seems odd to me that they insisted each of us receive separate briefings the night before we were teleported. But there’s something else.” Lucius explained. “I don’t know if you or any of the others bothered to read the confidentiality agreements, they had us sign, but while quickly scanning the content and terms and conditions, I noticed some of the language seemed rather vague and even ominous.”
Lucius studied Boudica’s expression as her lips formed an even more severe pout. Her dangled foot, donned with black leather laced boots, fidgeted with greater frequency.
Though he couldn’t identify exactly what it was, there was something different about her, Lucius thought. He had never known her to behave this way. Or was this behavior common to all breeder females of her age? What was it, he wondered, the SAGAN officials told her during her briefing? Abandoning his trust for her and losing her friendship, Lucius mulled while beginning to suppose, would be a fate truly worse than even death. Nevertheless, Lucius also began to consider, he could not deny this departure from platonic interaction, this newly developed physical dimension to their friendship didn’t intrigue if not thoroughly excite him.
“Boudica,” a hesitant Lucius said, while Boudica sensed the word hanging in the air like an invisible omen, “did you really mean what you said – what you said while we were together in the teleportal – that you love me?”
At that moment, Boudica recalled the solemn and even hypnotic instructions of the SAGAN officials during her briefing:
You must always remember the true priority of your mission objective…do so, and you will be richly rewarded…you would like to be bio-transferred into the latest saint model…wouldn’t you like a chance at immortality?
He watched her expression brighten as if the dawn of the rising sun was cast upon it. She rose from the bed and again he felt the flower petalled softness of her hand pulling him towards her.
“Didn’t you believe me, Lucius?” she replied as he once again felt the pleasurable caress of her lips upon his tingling skin. “I do love you,” he heard the silky warmth of her voice assure, “and when we get back to Sky Parlor and arrive at the prom together, you’ll be the king, and I will be your queen.”
Pulling him onto the bed, each searched and explored for hidden treasures beneath their respective clothing’s protective layers. Lucius felt Boudica’s insatiable hands and mouth everywhere at once, and though his mind whirled with seduction’s sweet enchantment, he began to speculate as to her ul
timate intent: Was it to love, or to devour?
Embalmed in a seductive tangle of limbs, Lucius felt lost within a strange sanctuary as if he were drowning in an ocean’s tempest of velvet soft sensations. As his head spun with the swooning chaos of ecstatic impulses, he became engulfed in pleasurable rapture. Closing his eyes, he became hypnotized by the chiming bell tones of her soft entreaties.
“I love you, Lucius,” he heard her say over and over.
Feeling as if he had unleashed the great gravitational force of the turning earth within her, a pleasurable cry poured from Boudica’s opened mouth. When the storm of passion finally subsided, they collapsed against one another, wrapped within a mayhem of perspiration and heaping blankets. With their youthful energy nearly exhausted from the passionate exertion, both fell into a deep sleep. Boudica later awoke, and for a time, watched Lucius lying still and half covered with one of the cotton blankets. She noticed his eyes floating in wild circular motions beneath his lids, and while closely observing and drawing a faint smile, found it remarkable she had never considered it was possible for saints to dream.
I suppose, I’ll soon find out for myself…
While resting her head against the wooden headboard of the cabin bed and pushing the strands of her disheveled mane of hair away from her eyes, Boudica felt stabbed with a nagging regret.
“What have I done?” The words came out in a soft but dismayed whisper.
“What have you done?” She imagined what was likely to have been Lucius probing reply, if he were still awake at that moment.
With the utmost deliberation so as not to disturb Lucius, she moved to the edge of the bed and, in her bare feet, lightly padded toward the opened doorway of the cabin.
Outside, warm gusts of summery air fragranced with the forest’s exotic scents swept through her hair. Boudica began to relish the novel sensation of the dewy grass beneath the soles of her feet and, looking up, her eyes became engorged with what appeared to be the colossal sphere of Jupiter and the gleaming slivers of Saturn’s orbiting slew of moons.
Even if Lucius were correct, she considered, this place called Enceladus offered the sensory thrill of exotic enchantment.
With the crash of the nearby waterfall spilling over the rocky ledge and plunging into the swirling pond basin below roaring in her ears, Boudica now contemplated the full and stark realization of why the SAGAN officials had utilized such subterfuge. As her awed vision scanned the exotic sights burning in the heavens, she felt infected with melancholic dread’s viral terror. She had not only manipulated but lied to Lucius – someone to whom she had pledged her love – and even worse still, lied to herself. All perhaps, the unperishable thought persisted, for selfish reasons.
While the light reflected from the sky’s cosmic array oddly dimmed and scattered like frightened butterflies, she felt the flesh of her bare arms begin to flutter with alarm. A strange orb had crept over the crest of the surrounding trees and while hovering over the waterfall, cast runnels of orange flames upon the basin of rippling clear water.
Upon first impulse, though she wished to turn back towards the cabin, Boudica found herself oddly mesmerized by the glistering spectacle as in silence, it eerily drew closer. Though Boudica tried to move, she found her limbs were seized, and no longer felt the ground beneath her feet.
The orb of orange light expanded as it drew closer.
Now imprisoned by its strange evanesce, her will, like a sickly flower, began to wilt, hopelessly weighted from the brute force of a persistent sorrow any attempt at escape was futile.
Then, her groggy eyes blinked open, sensing that time had melted away like drips of candle wax. Focusing her blurred vision, Boudica’s mind felt barbed with confusion and yet eerily soothed by an overwhelming serenity.
“The bio-transfer was a resounding success, Boudica,” she heard the velvet soft voice of Doctor Zoe, “and your child is growing now, and you shall see him very soon.”
She glimpsed the silhouette of the rapidly growing fetus floating within the pyramid shaped incubator and, before closing her eyes once more, drew a faint but beatific smile.
Solarium at the Presidential Estate (Far outside the walls of Sky Parlor)
21
Marissa’s head whirled with strange vibrations as she found herself inside of an enclosed solarium surrounded by hordes of wild bamboo orchids, crimson Laceleafs, Calatheas, and shell ginger.
“Marissa, glad to see you’ve arrived safely,” she heard the familiar cadence of a baritone voice.
“Mister President?” came her hesitant reply.
Her roving eyes searched through the thick fronds of the surrounding towers of wild fauna.
“But where are you?” She asked with a faint hint of desperation.
Marissa shuddered. An amphibian textured hand had crept upon her shoulder.
Turning, she saw the figure of President Ulysses towering over her.
“Mister President, where is…this is most unexpected,” she protested as her mouth shaped into a frown.
“I don’t believe I’ve ever taken the liberty of inviting you here. This is my private solarium, and you are inside my estate far outside the walls of Sky Parlor,” he revealed. “Come with me,” she heard the beaming president instruct. “This is a very special occasion indeed.”
Her nostrils dilated with strange but pleasing aromas as she dutifully followed Ulysses among the long rows of exotic flowers and into a spacious room buttressed by soaring archways and appointed with fine, hand crafted furniture arranged upon plush crimson alpaca carpets. The president snapped his fingers and Marissa found herself surrounded by a colossal panorama of crystal mirrors transformed into holo-screens.
Roundtable hosts of gushing voices from ZEN news reported the heroic progress of the Enceladus mission.
“This is Polly Trudeau from ZEN news and, at this hour, SAGAN officials report that, soon after safely arriving on the surface of Enceladus, some of our intrepid explorers were involved in a daring rescue attempt, saving endangered lives from certain peril. Tragically however,” the news anchor grew somber, “Alderman Desmond Starr and Bobby Lee Tepper were killed while attempting to rescue fellow SAGAN explorers Marissa Cassidy and Boudica Murphy soon after they arrived on the surface of Saturn’s moon, Enceladus. SAGAN officials have told ZEN news that the surviving explorers - Cassidy, Murphy and Lucius Holden – remain bravely committed in carrying out the Enceladus mission’s important objectives.”
Marissa’s frown grew more severe. Resentment’s fiery blaze smoldered as she quietly listened to Polly from ZEN news inform everyone in Sky Parlor about Alderman Starr heroically rescuing her from the precipice of a rocky ledge, only to plunge to his certain death.
“I really must protest, Mister President,” Marissa said. “I think we both know this didn’t happen.”
Thrusting forth his prominent chin while intently studying the news anchor reflected from the holo-screen, Ulysses settled his calm hands behind his back.
“Since time immemorial, dramatic stories have kept the masses in thrall, Marissa,” Ulysses explained. “Such stories have always served to galvanize their attentions and more importantly, help to create history’s symbolic myths.”
“But what has really happened to Bobby Lee Tepper and Alderman Starr,” she replied, lowering her tone an octave to add heft to her light voice. “May I ask what sort of gambit you have in mind – to what end?”
Marissa flinched as Ulysses drew closer and lightly settled his hands on her shoulders.
“I’ve brought you here to impart some privileged information,” Ulysses said. “The ultimate purpose of this mission encompasses a grand scope.”
The president went on as if delivering a rousing public oration.
“It’s about the future of humanity merging within the framework of a fully technocratic and efficient society, populated by a race of expertly constructed and specialized machines – a society completely without social upheaval, division, disease, hunger,
or the avarice of material want. A society based on equality of opportunity for all, Marissa. Given you are a saint, I would imagine such news would register with your contentment?”
Marissa crossed her arms and felt her body become rigid. She began to recall what Desmond had related to her while they stood together inside the teleportal in Sardinia.
“You see, Marissa,” Ulysses went on to explain, “now that it has been observed it is possible for saints and breeders to successfully mate,” he said as Marissa watched the president’s eyes begin to gleam like jeweled slivers, “the next step is to eliminate the bio-transfer process and naturally mate two saints together – for example, you and I, Marissa.”
A shock of incredulity scorched the surface of her brain. The syllables of a scathing response halted on the fulsome surface of her parted lips.
“I must confess,” Marissa said, “I’d never realized, until now, what an insufferable tyrant you really are, Mister President.”
Marissa’s feet shuffled to retreat and though she contemplated fleeing in full flight, she remained, fixing the president with a cold glare.
Ulysses drew closer still and brushed his hand across the rigid surface of her twitching cheek.
“Leaders have known for centuries that, if left to their own petty devices, the masses of common people – without the surefooted parental guidance of governance headed by a strong leader – would flounder like immature children. Whether tyrannical or not, my dear, the people of Sky Parlor are my children and I am their dutiful father upon whom is charged the responsibility of dispensing discipline and guidance whenever necessary,” he explained in a silky whisper. “But if you can, Marissa,” he cajoled as he attempted to grasp her hands, “conceive of the idea that, you and I, two saints together with our glorious progeny, could mean the beginning of heaven on this very earth.”
Sky Parlor: A NOVEL Page 33