Suggestion. Felony had said she had a crush on him, and strongly hinted that she would do anything he wanted her to. She had held his hand in a really suggestive manner. That had put the idea forcefully into his head. Then she had looked into his eyes. Since she was after all just an image, she could arrange to have her eyes magnify; all she needed was a special code to alter her eye image, just as she had altered her body image. Sleight of hand, in a manner, not magic.
Then the jolt of love had hit him. No pheromones? There could be pheromones! He was in a controlled environment, the air in the cell provided by the air conditioning of the building. Introduce a waft of the right pheromones and he would feel it immediately. He had read about it: touching, massage, or sex evoked something called oxytocin that seriously affected feeling and behavior. It could be released as a nasal spray. Put that in his cell, and his emotion would leap, and he would interpret it as he had been conditioned to: as love. Voila!
No now he had the answer. But it evoked another question: why did the professors of Pomegranate facilitate such a thing? Obviously they had done it for Felony; she had asked them, and they had set it up. Were they playing favorites? He doubted it; the relationship between applicants was no proper concern of theirs. They wanted the best potential students, and if they had already chosen them they would not need to bother with special effects. Why, then?
That question brought its own answer. Magic might not be real in real life, but in the framework of the setting it was valid. They could hardly have made a more persuasive demonstration than this. Now Ike would take magic seriously, as Felony did, at least in the context of the exam. That was surely the lesson.
Now all he had to do was give the “spell” time to wear off. Already his feeling was fading, though one thing was clear: it was a good feeling. It would be no bad thing to be in love with Felony.
Next day when they met she was lovely but reticent. “Are you over it?”
“Pretty much.”
“Do you want to do anything?”
“Oh, yes! But not right now. We need to study shields, and we need to talk.”
“Have you figured it out?”
“I think so.”
“Good. Because I don't really believe in magic.”
“Next time come in your own body. Then I'll kiss you.”
“You're getting to like me!”
“Yes. I love your luscious illusion body, but I want to get to know you better as you really are.”
This time they were down to a class of two. It seemed the other applicants were attending other classes, or were out in the field. Professor Entrep happily demonstrated the formats of the laser shield. It could be made to seem hard, so that it was physically solid to outside objects, or sticky, so that what touched it became tangled in it. But the one that most interested Ike was reflective: whatever came at it was bounced back the same way it had come. So a sword beam would either glance off or return to tag the one who sent it. That could be a nice response to assassination from ambush.
“I think you've got it,” Entrep said. “I have no more to teach you. Either of you. You may keep the laser stubs; you are ready to use them in the field.”
“Thank you,” Felony said, and kissed him on the cheek. She remained in her lovely image, and it was apparent that it had impact even on one who knew better.
They walked out to the tree where the predator bird had hidden, but this time there was no attack. They sat down beneath the tree, and Ike explained about suggestion, sleight of hand, and pheromones.
“So that's it!” Felony exclaimed. “But why would they--”
“Because to get along in this setting, we need to believe in magic,” Ike said.
“But if we use magic to win our passes, and get admitted, what then? There can't be magic in the real Pomegranate, can there?”
“There might be science that resembles magic. We need to be able to figure it out. That may be the mental agility they are looking for.”
She was troubled. “I really don't know if I want to commit to a college blind. I prefer to know what I'm getting into. As it stands, my main reason to sign up is to continue my relationship with you.”
“Mine too,” Ike said. “But in case we don't both make it, let's exchange addresses now, so we can get in touch in the real world.”
“You really want to? Knowing I'm not your type?”
“You are my type. I was hung up on bodies. Now I'm learning better. You are more woman than I ever encountered before. You can put on a luscious body to give me a treat, but my real relationship is with the real you.”
“Oh, Ike!”
Then they kissed, exchanged addresses, and parted.
Chapter 4:
Familiars
Back home, Ike texted Felony. Are you there, for real?
She answered immediately. I am here for real.
They had established real-life contact. Ike was thrilled, because he had somehow feared that the whole thing was illusory, and that he was falling in love with a nonexistent woman. But now that he could talk with her outside the context of the Pomegranate setting, he discovered he did not have a lot to say.
Yet somehow when he put down the phone, an hour had passed. They lived a thousand miles from each other, geographically, but now it felt as if she were in the next room. They had agreed to try another class before going out into the field; it would delay their quest for passes, but it seemed safer. There was just too much they did not yet know about Pomegranate.
Next day they met on campus. Felony was back in her unenhanced body, lean and plain, but he no longer cared. His foolish fascination with appearance was abating. He took her in his arms and kissed her. She melted.
Then they went to the class listed as Familiars. Neither of them had any idea what it was about, but they were pretty sure all the classes related to survival, so they needed to get a proper notion of this one.
Again, they were the only ones. The professor was a woman of motherly heft and manner. “Welcome, Ike and Felony,” she said. “I am professor Howell, and this class is on Familiars. Do you have any idea what it is about?”
“No,” they said almost together.
“A familiar is a supernatural spirit in the form of an animal that aids a witch or warlock in performing magic. This is always by mutual consent: you do not catch and tame an animal, nor does the animal choose you. As with human relationships, chance and compatibility play a significant part. So the first thing you need to do is find your familiar. Name it, and bring it back here. Then we will be able to exploit the relationship for mutual advantage.”
“The familiars--if we don't choose each other,” Felony asked, “how to we get together?”
“In real life this can be difficult,” Howell said. “But here in this setting it will be facilitated. Go out and look in the greenhouse, and it should occur.”
Ike and Felony exchanged a glance, mutually shrugged, and left the classroom. Now their guiding lines reappeared, leading them around the campus to what appeared to be a larger greenhouse. Exotic plants abounded, and so did a number of small animals: dogs, cats, rabbits, hamsters, tortoises, lizards in the foliage, and assorted colorful birds perching in the limbs of small trees, ranging from wrens to hawks. Many of those were spectacular in their plumage, sporting displays unlike those Ike had seen on Earth.
“All potential familiars,” Felony murmured. “I have no idea which one is mine.” It was a question.
“The plain one,” Ike said, in a moment of inspiration.
“Who can have other merit,” she agreed wryly. It was a personal matter, but new she knew he had seen beyond appearance. She held up her hand, and an olive- drab parrot flew to it. “You called?”
“You talk?”
“Some.” And there was the indication of merit: no only was it talking, it was making sense.
“Do you have a name?”
“Not yet.”
Felony smiled. “Then I will call you Demeanor. Miss Demeanor. B
ecause my name is Felony, and you're not as bad as I am.”
The bird laughed. “You're a rare one, Felony! I like you. I will be your familiar.”
Felony smiled. “We'll get along.” Just like that, she had her familiar, in this contrived setting, having identified the correct one.
Now it was Ike's turn. Like Felony, he had no idea, except that he didn't like to be too conventional. Witches had cats or frogs? He wanted something else. So he walked around the greenhouse, looking. The animals looked back. It was increasingly impressive. There were foxes, wolves, goats, pumas, leopards, bears, alligators, rattlesnakes, pythons, and some that seemed foreign to the planet. None of them particularly turned him on, and the feeling seemed to be mutual. He was not looking for a fancy animal, but a talented and compatible one, quite a different matter.
Then he saw a small blue snake caught in a crevice. It was struggling to free itself, without success. It must have tried to crawl through the panels from outside, and gotten stuck. Ike reached across, caught the edges of the crevice with his fingers, and carefully pried them apart, enabling the snake to slide free. “There you go, fellow. But watch it, in here; there are formidable predators. You might be better off outside.”
Then his jaw dropped, because the snake slithered into the air and did not drop. It hovered there, floating.
“I could be mistaken,” Ike said. “You do have your special ability.”
The blue snake remained suspended, gazing at him. Was he missing something?
Then Felony spoke behind him. “Familiar.”
The familiar! He had forgotten in his distraction with the snake's ability. “You want to join me?” he asked, holding up his open hand.
The snake slithered smoothly through the air to his hand. Just so. He had found what he was looking for, where he had not expected it.
“Name him,” Felony murmured.
Oh. Yes. But suddenly his mind was blank. What was an apt name for a small flying snake? All he could think of was the odd color. “Blue.”
Felony sniffed. He had muffed that one.
But the snake seemed satisfied. He slithered out of Ike's hand, crossed the air in front of him, found his breast pocket, crawled in and curled up. He was at home.
They exited the greenhouse and returned to the Familiar classroom. “Good enough,” Professor Howell said. “You have chosen well.”
The parrot perched on Felony's shoulder. Blue poked his head out of the pocket.
“It was mostly accident,” Ike said. “It just happened.”
“Exactly. Now the thing about your familiars is that they are of this setting in a manner the two of you are not. You are emulating your presence here, acting via film suits and film interfaces, suspending your disbelief. But the familiars are integral to this setting, needing no film. So you don't need to worry about feeding them; they can forage for themselves. They will wait for you when you're off the set. They can accomplish things you can't. They are also familiar with this realm in a manner you are not. They can warn you of hazards you will otherwise miss.”
“Suppose we aren't paying attention at the moment?” Ike asked. “Blue does not appear to talk.”
“Your familiars understand your speech perfectly. Miss Demeanor can say a few words. Blue can hiss: once for yes, twice for no.” It seemed the professor already knew the names they had given the familiars, though they had not mentioned them; yet another reminder that nothing here was truly private. “You should practice communication now, because this is vital.”
“Is this true, Blue?” Ike asked the snake.
Blue hissed once.
“You understand everything I say?”
Hiss.
“And you think the professor is an idiot?”
Hiss. Hiss.
They all laughed. Ike had tried a trick question, just making sure.
“You said our familiars can help us perform magic,” Felony said. “What kind of magic?”
“That depends on your aptitude. As with anything, it takes time to develop useful skill. Initially they will mainly warn you of danger. You must learn to be extremely sensitive to their warnings. Some dangers will be subtle; those are the main ones they can help you with. They can also enhance magic you perform. You will discover more as you work with them, just as you are discovering about each other as you associate. In fact, you should go into the badlands now and discover more about this aspect. Be very cautious at first.”
“There seem to be few other applicants remaining,” Felony said. “They must all be out looking for passes.”
“Indeed,” Howell agreed. “But most of them are dead.”
“Dead!” Then Felony recovered. “Oh, you mean eliminated as candidates.”
“Yes. They will not be admitted to Pomegranate College. They went out foolishly and carelessly and were destroyed by things they could readily have learned about in these classes.”
“We will try to be more careful,” Ike said.
“Indeed,” the professor repeated.
They went out to the badlands beyond the campus, their new familiars riding along. “She seemed contemptuous of those others,” Felony remarked as they walked.
“I suspect they deserved contempt. They were given the chance to do it right, but they went out and did it wrong. This is too complicated a setting to be wasted on careless folk. It may be like a game of Scissors.”
“Scissors?
“You don't know that one? This group of people sit in a circle and pass around a pair of scissors. As each one gives the scissors to the next, he or she says “I received these scissors crossed and pass them on uncrossed.” Or whatever way they are. You can see the scissors uncrossed. There's no problem until someone new to the game gets them. Then like as not he does it wrong, and everyone else sees that. It seems that sometimes he has to do the opposite of what he says, to get by successfully. It's maddening.”
“That doesn't sound like much of a game.”
“One by one the newcomers catch on, and start doing it right. Here's the key: what counts is not the scissors, but the legs. If your legs are crossed, you pass the scissors on crossed, even if they're uncrossed. It's just a teasing game, but it can frustrate some folk endlessly.”
“And you think those passes we're searching for are like scissors? That maybe they aren't really the point?”
“Or at least not the point we think. You do need the scissors for the game; without them there is no game. But you have to watch for more than them. They may be only part of the point.”
“I see,” she said thoughtfully. “Miss Demeanor, what do you think?”
“I think he's right,” the parrot said.
“Do you agree, Blue?” Ike asked.
Hiss.
“But if that's true, and they are tracking us, then they know we've caught on,” Felony said.
“All part of the process. We still do have to find passes. They just may not be exactly what we expect.”
“Scissors,” she agreed.
They activated their laser shields and crossed the campus line.
They came to what they thought of as the big bird tree. Blue hissed.
Ike stopped immediately. “That's a warning, isn't it? There's danger?”
Hiss.
“But Demeanor didn't say anything,” Felony said.
Then something dropped from the thick foliage of the tree. It looked like a person. In fact it was a nude young woman, with a flaring mane of black hair, full breasts, and a lovely figure. She opened her arms to Ike.
Hiss.
Ike stepped back. “That's why! She's a danger to me, not to you. She may be trying to tempt me close enough so she can bite me.”
The nymph growled and showed her pointed teeth. Fangs, really.
Ike extended his shield and advanced on her. “Get away, nymph, or I'll burn you!”
The nymph retreated, growling. Soon she was gone.
“Score one for the familiar,” Felony said. “Blue did warn you.”
“He did. Thank you, Blue.”
Hiss. It sounded like “Welcome.”
They walked on, watching carefully. Then the parrot spoke up. “Beware, Felony. There's a male.”
“What would a man want with me?” Felony asked. “I'm not luscious today.”
“Any female is prey to this male. Get away from here.”
“What's the point in coming out here to try out our weapons, if we just flee before we encounter anything? I don't have to fear any man as long as I've got my sword and shield.”
“I can't help you if you don't heed me,” Demeanor said, nettled.
“I am heeding you. I just am not inclined to let a stupid man drive me off without even token resistance.”
Ike did not comment. This was another side of Felony. She had wanted to impress him and had succeeded, but it was clear she had her issues.
“Well, I tried,” the parrot said.
“You tried,” Ike agreed sympathetically.
Felony marched on, and Ike followed. Then a figure stepped out from behind a boulder. It was a naked male with a huge erect phallus. In fact it looked like a satyr, the mythical shaggy goat-footed creature of lust. He looked at Felony. She froze in place. Then he beckoned, and she started walking toward him.
Blue hissed.
“Uh, Felony,” Ike said.
She ignored him. She seemed to be in a trance. Worse, her familiar seemed to be similarly fascinated. The satyr had used his magic to enchant them both. That explained how he could catch even reluctant women: it was a variant of the love spell Felony had demonstrated on Ike.
But Ike was not about to let Felony be raped. “Satyr!” he called. “Fair warning. Desist, go your way in peace.”
The creature ignored him, just as Felony did. His monstrous member swelled visibly, preparing for action. Presumably in this game-context it would fit without destroying her. Or maybe this was another way for an applicant to get killed.
“Well, I tried,” Ike said. Then he drew his sword laser and beamed the satyr through the head.
Odd Exam Page 4