Pascale's Wager: Homelands of Heaven

by Anthony Bartlett

  Jonas was impressed. She’d drunk the narcotic, which he had very deliberately avoided, and yet was still alert enough to organize everything. And as they approached the courtyard he could see she was as good as her word. There was quite a crowd of people gathered, all smiling as they surrounded Palmiro who was seated at a picnic table demolishing a hamper of food. The recent initiate did not look up at first, but when he did, and saw Jonas and Pascale hand-in-hand, he paused in mid-mouthful. He half stood up, looking hard at what seemed evidently a couple. Some in the crowd noticed and glanced from Palmiro to Jonas and Pascale. They were used to newcomers pairing up after initiation, but of course it didn’t always work that way. It was often the role of the sponsor to carry through the sexual awakening. That seemed to have worked out for Pascale, but Palmiro was looking quite clearly unfulfilled. Emmanuelle, arriving at the side of the couple, took in the situation at a glance. She came to the rescue. Clapping her hands, she called for attention.

  “I do confess, I have been neglecting my responsibilities to my neophyte. In yesterday’s unusual circumstances I had to abandon him to go summon you all. But now I am here I will be a model of solicitude.” And she went directly over to Palmiro, throwing her arms around him and kissing him enthusiastically. Palmiro was so surprised that he collapsed down on his bench. The experience of the baths flooded back over him and he remembered his decision to surrender to the ways of Heaven, whatever they were, so as to learn from them. Certainly it was not difficult to give in to the feeling, communicated so directly by this beautiful woman. The look in his eyes melted slightly and he even managed a sheepish smile. Everyone clapped.

  Almost without taking a breath and with one arm still around her protégé Emmanuelle continued to speak.

  “Come, Pascale, Jonas, have some breakfast. I am sure you are just as hungry as Palmiro here.” And she gave him an extra cuddle as she mentioned his name. Jonas and Pascale made their way over to the table and took yogurt, plum cake and grape juice. They carried the food to another table and sat down. All the while Emmanuelle continued to smile like the sun itself. Everyone was looking to her for the next move and she was enjoying the situation immensely. The moment the two were settled she addressed the newcomers.

  “And now of course introductions are in order. I have brought this group of people with me to help you grasp who we are here in the Homeland of Heaven. There will be further explanations in due course but I thought the best and quickest way to start would be to get you to meet a cross-section of Immortals, some of the coolest people on earth! You know, once the word went that there were two young people who had made their way unaided from the Northern Homeland, there were scores and scores of folk clamoring to meet you. So I had to choose, and I brought the ones I thought you’d find the most interesting.”

  Pascale and Palmiro were looking at her with different expressions. Poll, who was now deliberately thinking of himself as Palmiro, was all attention, concentrating on her words and already scanning the reception committee with interest. His one-time companion, in contrast, appeared strained and was blinking vaguely. Emmanuelle pressed on regardless.

  “First of all you need to understand Immortals live in groups or colonies dedicated to different pursuits—arts, crafts, technology, etcetera, each according to the individual’s yen and fancy. You yourselves will be free to live in any one of the colonies that takes your interest, and free to change to a new one tomorrow, or the year after, whenever you wish. This beautiful company which stands before you, all belong to various colonies or specialty groups, and I will say just a little about each one as I introduce them.

  “To begin then, here is Shimin and Kanna from my own colony,” and she gestured toward a woman with high Asian cheeks and angled eyes and a body like gently flowing water as she waved politely. Kanna was a tall dark-skinned man with a similarly graceful yet slightly mocking manner. Emmanuelle explained the key role of her colony in monitoring news reports of outstanding individuals in the Northern Sectors. She and others with her decided on the few fortunate ones to be chosen for immortality. Pascale and Palmiro of course had done something unheard of. One of them had not in fact been chosen and together they had more or less forced their way into to Heaven. Not surprisingly this had provoked some comment within the colony, but the presence of Shimin and Kanna showed there were no hard feelings!

  Next there were Nicola and Carmina. These two came respectively from the Viniculture and Dress Fashion Colonies. Nicola was a warm, vivacious woman, with a generous body swathed in swirling multi-colored scarves. Carmina in contrast had the appearance of porcelain, delicate and refined; her back, exposed in a deep collar draped from her shoulders, looked as if it would shatter if any weight were placed on it. In contrast her fingers were alive and expressive, covered in jewels. Emmanuelle said these two illustrated the huge fun of the colonies, their exquisite products in things to taste, eat and wear.

  “But there are other exquisite products, even closer to us than the things we eat. And for these I must introduce to you Sachs and Vitolo, our surgical specialists.”

  She explained that all the Immortals were known for their physical attractiveness, and they had had these qualities right from the beginning. But occasionally certain minor adjustments could be made, always in keeping with the style of the individual. So advanced were the techniques of both tissue removal and tissue printing and growth, they always achieved a totally natural look. The two men she pointed to were walking advertisements for their craft. Both fresh-faced, tight-bodied yet relaxed, they exuded charm and professional expertise. Palmiro’s interest which had so far been unsatisfied was piqued at the mention of advanced techniques. He scrutinized the men closely, wondering if these were the ones with whom he could advance his own knowledge. Emmanuelle, however, was forging ahead.

  “And this here is Vanzetti, a colleague of Jonas. Both of them belong to the History Colony, which is so important in the telling of our heavenly story. Jonas is—as you can see—a little tied up, so Vanzetti came to provide the narrative of our beginnings. It is the story which completes the Initiation. But before I turn things over I must introduce the others, the rest of our immortal band!”

  There were four left. She pointed to Marius and Blair who belonged to the Anthropology group. She seemed a little vague about what this colony actually did, but she said they were akin to the Philosophy Colony and that is why they had come. It was in fact an essential part of the newcomers’ program to spend time with people like the philosophers. “Only with them do you get a full picture of all the beautiful thought that has gone into the Heavenly Homeland.” She smiled at the two men who were a little older and more serious than the others. Marius, gaunt and imposing, did not respond. Blair, dark-skinned, bald-headed, with bright engaging eyes, returned the smile.

  Finally there were Hona and Adorno. They came from the Tech Colony, a large group with a number of subdivisions. One of these was care of the rocket transports. In fact directly after this encounter Hona would need to reprogram the shuttle to return to the Sector and pick up the stranded guides. Emmanuelle was sure she would also want to know exactly how Palmiro and Pascale had figured out to fly the thing. Hona had dark hair and eyes with smooth single lids, and she was decisive and precise in her actions. Of all the reception committee, she was the one most obviously frustrated with the newcomers. She could hardly stop herself scowling, especially at Palmiro. But Palmiro was paying no attention.

  Emmanuelle had finally come to Adorno, saying it was exceptional that someone like him should attend an Initiation. He was one of the most brilliant people in the Homeland and normally did not leave the laboratory where he worked. Still on this occasion he had wanted to come, intrigued no doubt by the fascinating circumstances. What was totally special about him was he was the scientist who’d made the revolutionary breakthrough of immortality. They would have the unique privilege of hearing him speak about it during Vanzetti’s presentation. Palmiro was now riveted. Here without a d
oubt was the person he should learn from. Yet it wasn’t just Emmanuelle’s remarks that impressed him; in equal measure Adorno’s appearance rooted him to the spot.

  The man had managed to hide behind the others during the introductions and when the way was cleared for him he was patently the ugliest man in Heaven. He was uglier in fact than anyone Palmiro had known back in the Sector. He was less than medium height with an angular bony frame that seemed to lack any meat. His face had the same skeletal form, with a pronounced cranium and forehead, gaunt cheeks and a long jaw that looked as if it moved somehow independent of the rest of his face. Beneath the jutting brow his eyes were deep set and shadowed, like creatures in a cave. When he came forward it was at first hard to conceive this was a brilliant man, but once you managed to catch his eye there was something there that immediately inspired respect. It was glittering and obscure in the same moment, like starlight on a bottomless sea.

  “This must be it!” Palmiro thought. “With all these beautiful people everywhere else someone who looks like that just has to have a brilliant mind.” He wanted to go up to Adorno directly to start talking to him, but just then Emmanuelle turned proceedings over to Vanzetti. Now was the time for the story of the Heavenly Homeland, after which the newcomers’ Initiation was essentially complete. Of course they would later have to take a tour, but this point was the crowning moment of the experience. The story behind their immortal existence would give shape to everything. She invited all present to take a seat and enjoy.

  Vanzetti had a light tawny beard and fine, composed features. He lacked Cyrus’ theatrical style, but he spoke with ease and authority. He began with the disaster of the storm world, the terrifying death toll, the threat to human civilization itself. The Global Weather Shield had provided a desperate solution and of course Palmiro was familiar with this. What he had not heard before was the meteorological synergy between the Northern and Southern Homelands. Vanzetti was saying that by means of the chaotic conditions and then the technology of the Weather Shield the scientists had created an artificial jet stream which kept the Homeland of Heaven permanently warm and sunny. To sustain their world without rain a water supply was channeled in from the mountains beyond. Along with mists created by cooler air coming from the sierra at night, it kept everything alive and green. Palmiro could not restrain himself; he shouted, “I knew it, I knew it. The heat had to go somewhere!”

  Everyone turned to look at him, including Adorno. Palmiro at once shut his mouth and shook his head. He mumbled he was sorry and asked Vanzetti to please continue. The historian looked at him slightly askance, then returned to his narrative. He described the criteria used for choosing the different populations: strong religiosity for the north, beauty and prowess for the south. The continued recruitment of exceptional individuals from the north, such as present inductees, maintained a connection between the two, demonstrating they were ultimately one human race. Moreover it should always be remembered the whole system was essential for the survival of humanity as such.

  “But,” he added, “the triumph of the Heavenly Homeland is not just survival, it is much more than that. Our Heavenly existence brings the human condition to an absolutely new level, to an entirely new meaning. Out of disaster triumph was fashioned. And to tell you about it here is the architect of the triumph himself, our very own genius of immortality, Adorno.”

  There was a fervent rattle of applause as all eyes turned to the strikingly ugly man with the fathomless eyes. Adorno may have been appalling to look at but he was calm and self-possessed and the moment he opened his mouth to speak it was impossible to think about his physical appearance. His eyes held you and the timbre of his voice was deep and sonorous. By listening to him he was changed instantly from something horrible to a figure of enormous authority and, yes, beauty and wonder. He did not say much, introducing the topic of artificial enzymes in a few words. He emphasized the step-by-step engineering, resulting in the final logical possibility: reversing the coding which produced age within the cell. He said that no one had taken the idea seriously but he had pushed on with design after design, inspired he said by a personal sense of the fluidity of all information structures.

  The pathway had been extremely complex, but in the end, when he had found the vital enzyme structure to override the deep cell programming, everything had fallen into place with the simplicity of a lock’s tumblers. He had been the first to drink the formula and then he had given it to his mother. After a year she had shown no progress in age, and if anything appeared younger. Knowing its enormous implications he had been unwilling to submit his work to peer review. After assembling an album of photos of his mother over six years he had finally got the attention of the biggest pharmaceutical company of the time. The company had close links with the intelligence community, and he and his mother were taken into protective custody. The rest, as they say, is history.

  These last words were uttered with the phantom of a smile and then he turned the proceedings back to Vanzetti. Palmiro was floored and, for once, speechless. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined anything like this. Now he understood the uncanny sense he had first picked up opening the door to the Baths, the feeling of an abyss into which he was about to fall. And right at this moment Vanzetti was smiling at him and Pascale. He was telling them they had already been given the formula to drink and thus the process of aging had already come to a dead stop inside them. Palmiro knew he had crossed an ocean as deep as the universe itself.

  He wanted more than ever to speak to Adorno. He wanted to work with him, to be in his company each waking moment, to learn everything this wizard had to teach. Aside from that nothing felt happy or safe to him. He was an Immortal, yet not like all these others who had been chosen for the part. He was in with them now and there was no turning back, but it was also a fact he had gatecrashed the party. He had not forgotten Gaius’ reaction and his words, that he had stolen a ride on the shuttle. The truth was he was an interloper. At the same time the newly-named Pascale was behaving as if she had forgotten him completely. She had begun something with Jonas whom she had known for barely a day. He felt isolated and disconnected from everyone, a situation not unusual for him, but this time it went much deeper. Back in the Sector he always felt he’d be proven right and then everyone would love him. Now in Heaven, when the truth was totally in the open, he was even more the odd one out and he could see no way of things changing. It made him feel horrible and fearful. He looked around for Emmanuelle who had defended him and then shocked him with her kisses. She was seated right behind him and she smiled at once and reached out her hand. He took it hungrily and it felt alive and inviting.

  Vanzetti was still speaking, explaining that there was obviously no need for reproduction of offspring in Heaven and thus all the chaos that went with children was avoided. Instead there was only a calm mutual enjoyment of Immortals. He moved on to talk about the architectural wonders of Heaven and the endless variety of its entertainments. Normally on this morning there would be a tour for inductees, but because of the circumstances the group presentation had been arranged. However, at some point in the near future they would need to tour the city: it was an incomparable experience. As he wrapped up his speech Emmanuelle stood up, still holding Palmiro’s hand. She looked over at Jonas and Pascale who were also holding hands.

  “Well,” she announced, “I think this has all gone splendidly. Everyone has done a fantastic job and it seems to me that our new additions to Heaven are well and truly initiated.”

  She pulled Palmiro’s hand into the air with her own, waving it back and forth and arching her eyes in a way that declared she would personally ensure the truth of her statement. Everybody burst into applause, smiling and laughing. She continued, “So I think we’re done. Evidently Pascale is in the best of hands, and Palmiro is with me. Our new Immortals will continue their orientation in our colonies and everyone can go home. I know for one I am ready for serious sleep. Many thanks to you all, and oh yes, Adorno, do drop by
any time. I was watching Palmiro during your remarks and I believe you have found a true disciple. Call round, I will not be at all jealous, I promise!”

  Adorno’s eyes flitted like bats in a cave. “I’ll make a point of it,” he said slowly in his resonant voice. “I too think it might be profitable for me and your protégé to meet.”

  He turned and walked away, his awkward gait entirely fitted for a mind which would never be constrained by physical laws.

  4. DREAM TIME

  In the Heavenly Homeland there were no seasons. At that point on the earth’s latitude there was very little movement in the position of the rising and setting sun. In addition the control established over the weather reinforced the lack of natural variation. In stark contrast the Northern Homeland had always experienced evidence of a shift of season, from periods when the sun seemed to stay forever in the sky to days of long darkness. The change which Pascale and Palmiro therefore underwent from the constant sense of a circling earth to the bland sameness of Heaven produced a profound loss of time. And to confirm the feeling, the new world lacked the ten and one hundred day calendar of the Sectors. The only feature that marked any kind of time was the Doblepoble, and while that came roughly every thirty to sixty days it happened on a random basis. It was the job of the History colony to announce the next one and they did so according to their own whim. People preferred the sudden thrill of the announcement, while the historians kept count of the period since the last one and of noteworthy happenings in the interim. By and large, of course, nothing ever happened, beyond the endless fun of Heavenly existence.

  Pascale had returned with Jonas to his house and that night he had invited her to his bed. She hesitated only a moment. Her experience of Heaven had gone from ecstasy to inconsolable sadness in the space of twelve hours. Behind it stood the dramatic events of her rescue of Poll and the shuttle flight that brought them to this place. Nothing made any sense and all she was left with was the power of the sensations which came to her. After awaking from the initiation she instinctively headed for the open space where she’d known the warmth and joy of the light. But although the sun sparkled on her skin the edge of horror continued to shadow her. She saw everything in a haze of fear, with nowhere to escape. It was only when Jonas arrived and she felt his care for her and kissed his mouth that the sunshine returned. He belonged to Heaven, to this untrustworthy but beautiful world, and he alone had come to her rescue. He was gentle and passionate and alive, the best thing, the sole thing, possible for her.