Soul Rider #01: Spirits of Flux and Anchor

by Jack L. Chalker

  Still, they got some arms training, and some other fighting techniques as well, but clearly it would take far longer than the two nights and few breaks they had for the starter lessons. Although Dar proved to be the best natural shooter, it was Cass and Nadya who were presented, their last night out, with their own guns by Matson on recommendation of their dugger trainers.

  The final day in would be a short one, and Cass rode up to Matson as they approached the Fluxland. "Just wanted to know something about the place before we got there," she told him.

  "Well, it's like its name. Exactly," the stringer replied casually.

  "It's like a globbus? What's a globbus?"

  "It isn't anything. It's a nonsense word. And that pretty well describes the place. It was set up by the guild the wizards have as one of three places where young wizards could study and practice and perfect what powers they have."

  "You mean it's like a school?"

  He nodded, "In a way. But no school you've ever seen before. Think of the mess a hundred or so practicing—and mostly not very good—young wizards might make, then multiply that by the number of students who went through it, and you have an idea of what real insanity is."

  "It's dangerous, then?"

  He shrugged. "If you mean in the sense of kidnap and kill, no, it's not at all dangerous. But if you think of it as a playground for a bunch of children of gods, then you get an idea of what it really is. Just remember to stay on the road, trust nobody and believe even less of it, and stick to the central district which is fairly safe and sane by comparison. Don't let one of the locals sucker or seduce you into something, no matter how innocent. They have what is known as an implied consent rule."

  "What's that mean?"

  "It means that nothing you see can hurt or affect you no matter how it seems otherwise unless you give your implied consent to it. It's a game with them to get that implied consent, and you don't have to say 'yes' to something to give it, which is why it's implied. Just think everything through and use all your common sense and you'll find it is something of an experience."

  She went back and briefed the others on what he'd said, but she couldn't answer their questions because Matson either couldn't or wouldn't. The only way she got the implied consent idea across to herself, as well as the other three, was to remind Dar of his experience in trust in the bar at Anchor Logh that had cost so much.

  Globbus began in the manner of all Fluxlands, with things becoming a bit more solid, normal senses returning, and, finally, it opened up into a real place in every sense of the word. Or was it? It was very easy from the start to see why Globbus was nonsense.

  Grass grew in multicolored striped and checked patterns. Cows and horses in the fields had any number of legs and even heads, and looked like creatures put together by a bunch of drunks and then painted in outlandish patterns— Trees in places looked like nothing they'd ever seen, and some grew upside down, roots high in the air, while others had weird looking fruit. Dogwood would occasionally bark at them, and pussy-willow purred or hissed, and at one part tiny crab-apples scuttled back to their branches, pincers closing. Hills and bushes were sculpted into fantastic shapes, and even the sky often changed colors and at one point was half a dull pink and half dark as night, with stars shining, some of which had the disconcerting habit of occasionally racing to new positions and patterns as you watched.

  Water flowed in no particular direction, and some waterfalls flowed up. Large clouds floated by overhead and suddenly decided to make obscene gestures at the travelers below. Few people were seen, and none close up, until they approached the center of the Fluxland and its university proper.

  There were buildings now, large and small, no two even remotely alike. One very normal-looking stone house was atop a high and very fragile-looking tree with no sign of a way up or down; another was a traditional cottage with peaked red slate roof, sitting upside down on its roof point: As they watched, two rather ordinary looking young men approached the house, stood there, flipped upside down in the air, then walked in the upside down door, their heads about three meters off the ground.

  It was a bit much for any of them, but it was particularly stunning to the captives, for this was the first Fluxland they had ever seen. Most just gawked in disbelief or tried not to look, particularly at some of the people, who were only theoretically people. It was easy to see, looking at them, why this Fluxland was no inhibitor to duggers. The entire train moved into the center of what could be loosely called "town".

  The street was not crowded, but was nonetheless a mob scene. In front of them, a small horse was riding a man, while on a porch two ugly-looking old dogs were arguing in perfect human speech about the proper solution to an abstract mathematical problem. People with two heads argued with each other, while others looked lizard-like or were part animal, pan human, part something else. It was, nevertheless, less a chamber of horrors than a lunatic's view of World—no, every lunatic's view of World, all at once.

  There was, however, an area in the center that looked normal. It was really four huge two story square buildings around a central open plaza, but that plaza had a large circular stage in the center and cordoned off areas of turf all around it. It was empty now, but it was clear that it was used often.

  "That's the Market Block," Matson told them. "That's where we're going to unload most of our surplus merchandise in three days."

  "Three days! You mean we have to spend three days in this place?" Dar exclaimed nervously. "I mean, two blocks over there is a square rainstorm— and it's raining up into the. clouds!"

  The stringer grinned. "Yep. I hadn't expected to be here so early, but it's not bad so long as you can get used to the people and animals and whatever wandering about. So long as you all stay in this area, within the Market Block and the four big buildings facing it and on the streets between them, you're safe. There's shops and services available in these places that you can't get anywhere else, particularly at decent prices, because they're all practice shops for the best students with specific talents rather than the general type like the goddess or Haldayne."

  "You mean the Rory Montagne type," Cass noted sourly.

  "Yeah, like that, but service oriented rather than criminal types. It's all magic, of course, but it's all the permanent type. Just about none of this is illusion, remember. There's hotels in that building over there, as well as holding areas for the Market Block. That one next to it has a huge number of eateries of every size and type. The building across from the hotel is the services building. That's where you go if you want numbers removed or hair or a whole new you. The one across from the food pavilion is the merchandise mart. Got it?"

  They nodded. "Now, how do we draw on our accounts?" Cass wanted to know.

  "First you say you're with the Matson train, then sign for it when they give you the bill— I'll let you know any time you want what your balance is, since they're all posted to the train bill at the hotel center. Most Fluxlands have their own money of some kind, just like the Anchors, but the universal unit, used here as well, is the kil. It's short for kilogram, but nobody knows now what it's a kilogram of. That's long lost in history. It's broken down into a hundred grams, of course, but don't look for it— It's all on paper, and settled on common bills paid out of established accounts."

  "Well, that's fine," Nadya put in, "but how do we know how much we have to spend of this money?"

  He thought a moment. "You don't, since I haven't sold your stakes yet. Cass, you and Dar should figure on no more than two hundred kils each, while Suzl and Nadya might have a little more— but, remember, you two girls, you have to stake yourselves out of that when we pull out, so keep it in the fifty to seventy kil range. That's for everything here except hotel, which the train picks up."

  It was clear from the central lobby of the hotel building that they were far from the only train in Globbus. In fact, there were at least four, and Matson was greeted with shouts and waves from a host of duggers, most of whom looked even wo
rse than his, and at least one tall, dark, exotic-looking female stringer who ran up and gave him a big hug. Cass had to suppress more than a little tinge of jealousy, but she kept control of herself. It was just a reminder of the new enigma, that the unattainable, now attained, was still unattainable.

  The rooms were large and comfortable; in fact, more comfortable than those Cass had stayed in in Persellus, with the floors fully carpeted and a small parlor area with two chairs and a sofa. The room had a bathroom, and Cass, who elected to stay with Nadya, had the joy of being the old sophisticate showing the rube the joys of running water and Hush toilets.

  They weren't needed to check in the team and cargo, so they were free as soon as they were settled in, and the foursome met again in the lobby and went first to the food pavilion to eat. The amount of choices was overwhelming, although some of the prices gave good indication of just how far a kil did, or didn't go— Although they had all dreamed of a real restaurant meal, they decided to settle, for now, on sandwiches and beer from a walk-up. They noticed, though, that the first floor only was devoted to countless eateries— upstairs were all sorts of bars, entertainment joints, and other signs of a wide-open place the likes of which even Main Street had never seen.

  After eating, they decided to tend to first things first, going to the "services" building and trying to ignore the six men and women going by who had wheels instead of legs and feet and seemed to just roll along effortlessly, as well as the woman with the body of many men's dreams and the head of some sort of short-beaked bird and other oddities.

  Dar did remark, though, that in this company he was absolutely ordinary, and there was no denying that.

  The building directory listed what seemed to be hundreds of service experts, most of whom were specialists in things they couldn't make head nor tail of. What, for example, was a master of sustentation? Or a storax modifier, for that matter? And did they really want to know?

  Fortunately, there was an information kiosk at which to ask for what was needed. In point of fact, the kiosk was asked directly, for it was a human-looking man down to the waist, but below it he had a huge, round mass on which he could apparently swivel. He was surrounded by a rack with all sorts of handouts, particularly accessible because in place of those legs he had four hands. He looked at them as they approached and said, "May I serve you?"

  Cass swallowed hard. "Tattoo removal and hair growth?" she tried tentatively -

  The information kiosk nodded. "Corridor C, office 202," he responded briskly. "General cosmetic alterations." One of the arms shot out. "Right over there. Anything else?"

  "How about breaking transformation curses?" Dar asked.

  "General, group, specific, or personal?"

  "Ah, personal."

  "Corridor F, office 509."

  They nodded and walked away. "I'd say let's see about you two first," Cass said to Suzl and Nadya. "After, we'll check on Dar's situation."

  "I can meet you." Dar suggested. "I don't need anything where you're going."

  It was agreed, and the three young women headed for the designated corridor and office. The sign on the door said to walk in, and they did to a small waiting room. One wall was covered with pictures of all sorts of people and creatures and combinations of same involving women, the other involving all men. Obviously, this one did quite a bit more than they were after.

  A small window slid back, revealing a very dark woman's face. "Yes?"

  As briefly as they could, they explained what they wanted, and Cass added, "I guess I can stand some minor work myself." She hadn't intended to, but there was something about seeing that lady stringer embracing Matson that just changed her mind— She knew it was silly, but it meant very little one way or the other.

  The woman emerged from a rear door into the waiting room. She was stark naked, with dark brown face, hands, and feet, but her body was covered in very fine fur that was alternately black and white striped, in a spiral pattern from neck to legs. Her thick, wiry hair was snow white except for a single wide black streak running from brow all the way back, and she had long, pointed ears and a short, shaved tail with a furry white blob at the end. When she talked, it was noted that the inside of her mouth was black with a snow white tongue.

  She took note of their attention and smiled. "Do you like it? It was one of my old teacher's last works for last year's total body collection. It didn't sell, for some reason, but I liked it so much I kept it."

  "It's—stunning," Nadya responded truthfully, hoping not to be pressed.

  The woman seemed pleased. "Step back into here, all of you, please."

  They followed her a bit nervously through the door, Cass starting to rethink the whole proposition of any changes in this way. There were four large chairs in back lined up in front of a single long mirror. The woman indicated that they were to each pick one and sit down, and they did, growing more uncertain-

  "Now, then. Most of my designers are off right now, but I think I can handle the three of you. Let's start with you," she said, going first to Suzl. "Nice build. A good foundation. We could do a lot with you."

  "Just some hair and get rid of the tattoos," she told the woman.

  "About twenty added centimeters and a slight body realignment will do you wonders," the striped woman suggested. "As it is now you'll run to fat and get chunky as you grow older."

  She actually considered it, but finally rejected it. There followed a whole series of attempts to'get her to accept hair with an unusual color or pattern, but she decided on straight, shoulder-length, and black just the way it had been. The striped woman sighed and you could see she thought that Suzl had no imagination or spirit of adventure whatsoever, but she stood back, made a pass with her hands, and Suzl gasped at her reflection. It was like greeting an old friend you'd thought lost and gone forever.

  The tattoo and thumb stain went with the hair. "Now, the hair is low maintenance," the magical cosmetologist assured her. "It will stay at that length and style unless you change it, and if you do just wash it before changing it and it'll remain the new style. If you wish, I can have it grow normally, but right now it can be cut shorter but will always grow back to that length and set."

  "That's fine. Wonderful, in fact," Suzl assured her. "Now all I need are some clothes."

  "I could give you a treatment similar to mine—no design if you prefer, color of your choice—that would make clothing unnecessary up to forty degrees or down to ten below."

  Suzl passed.

  Nadya got much the same spiel from the woman, who was obviously aching to be "creative" and not finding any takers. Nadya chose a permanent dark brown pageboy and declined even the modest offer to do something about her slight overbite. By the time the striped body wizard got to Cass she was resigned. "Just hair and tattoo, right?"

  "I don't have any tattoos. They were taken care of before," she replied. "Actually, I'm not really sure what I want."

  The magical cosmetologist brightened. "Tell you what. Let me try a few things out on you. No charge if you don't like them, and I'll change anything back at any time."

  It was tempting. She looked over at the other two. "Suppose you go check with Dar? I'll meet you there or back at the hotel."

  They agreed, signed the required small papers they were handed, and were gone, although Nadya remained a moment and said, "Don't get carried away. You may hate yourself tomorrow."

  She grinned. "I'll remember. Nothing radical."

  But, the fact is, what was done was a lot of fun. Rejecting the exotic or freakish, the cosmetologist tried a variety of hair styles and colors, subtle— facial adjustments, and body adjustments. She found out exactly what it was like to have large breasts and a sexy figure and decided that it wasn't her style. At least now she knew, she told herself.

  But is was finally a matter of small changes that she settled on, mostly after telling Miss Rona, as the cosmetologist was known, that she was, after all, a mule whip on a stringer train who had to remain both practical for th
e job and human for entry to Anchor. She had an odd impulse for long hair, and finally Miss Rona suggested a reddish brown, thick and straight, coming just below the shoulders, and showed her how to tie it up or into a pony tail, the last her preferred style. Her face was softened a bit, losing a little of its boyish look while not changing all that much, and her complexion was darkened to a light olive to complement the changes. On her body, she wanted strong, hard muscles that would not have to be maintained but would not give her a mannish look, and this proved amazingly easy.

  To balance, her shape was slightly recontoured, her hips slightly widened so now her work pants would hang on them at the waist, and her breasts were slightly redone so that they were still small and required no support but were clearly there and perfectly formed. In the end, most of the changes were so subtle that, except for the hair, it was difficult to really point to them, but the overall effect of the changes was to make her unmistakably female.

  Miss Rona, in fact, was delighted. "This sort of very small detail work is the most challenging," she told her. And so was the forty kil bill, which couldn't really be disputed since the whole thing could be withdrawn with a few waves of the striped woman's hand. She sighed, decided that it was worth it but that this was it, no matter what, and signed the slip.

  No one was at the kiosk except the kiosk, but he told her that the others had gone back to the hotel. Nadya was in the room, just relaxing, and she was enthusiastic over the change in Cass. "Perfect! Just perfect! It's more you than you, if you know what I mean."