It was better for them that way, like in her comics and Tia’s soaps, which kept going and going nowhere. They were true because happily ever after never happened.
Haruhi Suzumiya was under continual observation by galactic powers for her ability to bend time around herself, a power of which she was almost completely unaware. It should seem ridiculous to her that days never reached nights and that the same school uniform was always fresh and that her perfume never faded. Poor Kyon, always coming up with excuses for her when all she really wanted was the truth to set her free.
In the end, it only made sense that she would destroy the boy for the devotion that had kept her imprisoned, even if it meant she must battle the universe for her place in it. If she knew what was good for her she would follow her heart and not his.
But comic book stories also had to wrap up, for good or for bad, in a fixed number of scenes. Then you had to buy the next one. That was why Francesca escaped into them. Life was not like that. One thing just bled right into the next thing. Which brought her back to Raoul and her, something which would never nor should ever be.
Francesca went off her food. After days of winnowing away like this, one memory in a string of memories finally brought her back to her senses.
Tio Luis used to drop in, following day long SkyTran rides all the way from Manzanillo, to preside over Santeria rites, initiations and funerals, since he was the main Ifa for her Hub. He always brought small trinkets and toys that she and her sister treasured.
Tio and Tia had split years ago, and he had remarried, but they still had an affection for each other that was clear. Perhaps this was the shadow of the True Love Tia yearned for.
The coming of the Fall was augured at one of these impromptu gatherings. Tio Luis, in the thrall of possession by Orunmila, the spirit of prophesy, had gazed at her casually from under his trance, and declared.
"This one will run a long way. She'll run, and she won't know any rest until she dances in the clouds."
Tia had yelped like she had been bitten and had swung her niece behind her dress as if her physical intercession would be enough to block the curse. If not for her Tia's clear distress the event might have faded from her mind. Tia didn't smile so much when Tio came to visit after that and then he had died.
That dreamlike memory of the curse, which was never mentioned again by the family, served as her salvation. They might have thought it was beyond her kid brain to comprehend but it had caught hold in her picture of herself. The curse became an impenetrable force field, separating Francesca forever from True Love. The curse was who she was fated to become so why try to trick herself that she could go beyond it. The Fates had written it in her bones, to run and to fight. There was no point fooling herself that there was any other way.
Her Tia had protected her back then, but not in the end when it really counted. Those soaps that told her Tia of True Love were also loaded with a paranoia that betrayal lurked in every heart. So, when Francesca told her of the horrible stuff happening with Elena, her bitch of a sister had already gotten in and poisoned Tia’s thinking.
“You shouldn’t do this to your sister Francesca. Don’t tell me these lies. Hector is right to turn you down. You shouldn’t act like a little slut.”
Before Francesca could lose herself again in more stupid dead-end memories, the anti-matter drive kicked in and she spent another day with her ass being squeezed through webbing. As was usual for her, she welcomed this minor pain in her ass because it distracted her from all her larger pains. But it was still pain, that’s what it was. So, was the purpose of her existence only to suffer? It seemed like that almost all the time. In his own way, Raoul was a pain too, the very worst kind, because that pain tried to fool her into loving it. Into craving it. She’d spent her whole life not being fooled, so why was she letting it happen now. It didn’t make sense.
Finally, the wormhole ring slid into view, a magical sight. She was about to fire full guns to go home when the guys in mission control stopped her.
“Salvador. The mission crew have identified a problem.”
That was totally predictable. “What is it? I’m about dead out here.”
“Well, it turns out that the anterior diameter fin to fin of a Persephone 34G transit craft is 5 centimeters larger than interior diameter of the wormhole.”
“You are telling me my ass is too big to go through that thing?”
“Apparently.”
Apparently, you are an idiot for just now looking that up.
“That’s it? I’m just gonna die.”
“Well, probably not. With exact firing we could get you through but there would definitely be structural damage to both your ship and the wormhole generator.”
“So what.”
“Well we don’t really know what happens if that happens. The alien technology behind this isn’t well understood. Massive forces are involved.”
“You are telling me I might blow up?”
“We don’t really know. We would position the jet fins to intersect the wormhole ring at a point of maximum structural integrity.”
“What are you saying? Like what are my chances?”
“Well, we don’t really know.”
Useless. Why do they build stuff they didn’t even understand? Of course, Francesca had helped bring it into existence, so who was she to dish out about it? And how were they to know this wide ass clunker she was driving had to fit through it?
“And we might blow up the universe too?”
“We don’t think so.” Which was so reassuring because the universe was a pretty big thing to blow up.
“Like, how long do I have to make up my mind?” Because she had to weigh her life up against all the rest.
“Not too long.” A tick down clock appeared in her neuroview. Like the kind that super villains always had on hand to tell the good guys how much time was available had to bust the evil plot.
“Why?”
“If you don’t go before then the orbital window will be lost for us to collect you.”
“And if I wait for the next one?”
“Well.” What was it with starting into bad stuff with ‘well’? Did it make it any easier to hear? “Well, you would die from radiation poisoning before then.”
“And if I miss the window?”
“Well, since we jettisoned excess weight to get you here, you’d probably starve before we could intercept your ship.” This was like picking up from a pile of shit-out-of-luck sticks.
“And there is a chance I could blow up everything?”
“Well, theoretically anything is possible. Unlikely though. We think.”
Seeing as she was in no rush to end the universe, maybe or possibly or whatever it was, Francesca dialled up the exterior neurocams to check the hull for one last check of the debris field. That was when she spied it. Further out from the debris field, a small piece travelling towards her. She zoomed in and her heart jumped into her throat.
“He’s alive.”
“Sorry Salvador. Please repeat.”
“August Bridges. He’s alive.”
The signal to Mirtopik had gone dead. It was probably because the wormhole had interrupted line of sight laser communications and she needed to compensate for the effect. They’d programmed it so she just had to push the button hovering in her mind. Instead Francesca realigned her beam to contact August Bridges’ little pod.
“Hola, Mr. Bridges. You there?”
“Hello,” said that voice, she would recognise it anywhere, “this is Icarus. Can you respond?”
He sounded frightened and shook up, not like the confident August Bridges she knew at all.
“Icarus, this is Persephone.” Oh, to hell with it. “Mr. Bridges is that you? Is it really you?”
There was a pause, like maybe he wasn’t sure who he was. Maybe the shock of the blast had rattled him that much.
“Yes. August Bridges. Who else who I be? Who are you?” Francesca sensed fear, like maybe he thought she
had come here to finish off the job she’d started.
“I can’t believe this. It’s really you. Don’t you remember me from the Moon?”
“I repeat. Who is this? Why are you blocking my wormhole?”
That’s right, it was his.
“God, I’m so glad I didn’t kill you when we shot at you.” That sounded amazingly bad.
“You shot me? The Persephone is a Mirtopik model. Did someone send you to finish the job?”
The little craft was slowing down.
“No, no, no, don’t do that! You have to go through first before…”
“Then move out of the way so I can pass.”
Out of his way? The clock was winding down. “I get it. You think I’m here to kill you. I know it makes some kind of sense, but that’s not the way it is. I’m the ComSec on the Moon who knocked that guy with the cam. I stopped them. Do you remember?”
“I, I don’t know. Just move aside so I can pass.”
The clock ticked lower into completely too late territory. Shit. “Look, if I move there isn’t time.”
Mr. Bridges appeared before her in a mneme, likely to check out her body language, so she reciprocated. He had the shakes and looked pale and wiped out. She felt awful for doing that to him.
“I do recognise you,” Mr. Bridges nodded.
This struck Francesca as stupid, a mneme could be borrowed by anybody. She could be anybody. She almost told him so but didn’t because that would be even more stupid.
“You have to get over here or we run out of time.”
“Time? Why?”
Why? Really? August Bridges must be worth a thousand of ordinary people. He was someone exceptional. Someone whose existence would move people out of their shit. Someone admirable. If she died, before she stopped breathing no one would remember her. Souren, people probably didn’t even know he existed, or wished he didn’t. Marco had a family that he didn’t deserve.
“If I go through you can’t go through. Mr. Bridges. Seriously. I almost killed you already. You gotta go now or you won’t have a chance. Trust me.”
August looked at her uncertainly. “Can I trust anyone?”
“What other options do you have?”
August Bridges frowned and vanished. The little ship jumped forward, making its way carefully through the debris field and then accelerating away. The clock kept ticking. The little ship rapidly closed the distance to the wormhole. The clock kept ticking. Francesca was so happy. August Bridges was going to make it after all. The clock kept ticking, and he was mostly there, and the clock kept ticking down to the last.
Alarms sounded. Francesca was determined. Better not to risk disaster. Better that she might have to die so he could live. It was a sacrifice she would be remembered for. Time was out.
Francesca thought of Raoul and never seeing him and never having a shot at True Love and how meaningless her life suddenly appeared. Against that certainty the slim chance of the universe exploding seemed kind of absurd. Without really thinking Francesca fired the programme, engines gunned into action, and they shot forward edging the little ship out.
She had to be with Raoul again. The thought of not seeing him provoked a thirst that was intolerable. She was like a ghost craving for a second chance at life. She had no other choice.
“What are you doing?” August Bridges screamed. “No. You can’t take this away from me. You can’t!”
The larger ship went through wormhole with a small shudder. Suddenly the full Earth was there before Francesca as if she had never left, and the moon, and safety, and Raoul. The little ship was not there. The wormhole ring, when she looked back through it, was now just filled with empty space and faint stars. The lights lining its rim had gone out.
Francesca occupied herself erasing the mnemes from the ship’s computer of her encounter with August Bridges. Her ComSec training was good for this at least. She knew she could not so easily remove the stain in her soul.
Chapter 28 - Kalsang
The cabin of the Garuda grew slowly warmer. Kalsang welcomed the change from the temperatures, which had previously been set at the lower limit of endurance to conserve energy. The feeble trickle of energy from the solar panels increased to a steady stream as the Sun ballooned in size and brilliance. His persistent cough abated.
How wonderful. It felt like the first months out on Triton where his mind had been truly free for the first time in his life. Except that this time he knew the end was soon to come, and this made him apply himself to his practice as never before. Whenever he felt like daydreaming or falling asleep he would loosen or tighten his mind like tuning an instrument. Soon his body lightened as wave upon wave of bliss descended and his contemplations achieved a new level of lucidity.
d'Song and the others reappeared. It was good to feel them near, waiting respectfully while his focus on them resolved. It was good to not be alone.
These perfect days quickly passed, and as the Sun grew beyond familiar proportions, the temperature approached the upper range of where environmental controls in the Garuda could keep the cabin cool. Kalsang became aware of the change as steady rivulets of sweat drained from his body requiring him to drink more frequently to avoid dehydration. And so his meditations became disrupted.
“Your star is very bright, Melded One. Are we headed to your home world?”
“Not so far. To another planet.”
“Oh,” she sounded worried, “You have a Channel Between Worlds?”
“No. Definitely we do not. Not yet,” Kalsang hoped.
d'Song wiped one of her brows. Could she feel the heat as well?
As the heat grew beyond sweltering, Kalsang began to wonder if he would last as long as necessary to contact Mars. There was no possibility of that now, the Garuda being on the opposite side of the Sun from there. He set up the communications so they would broadcast his message should he die too soon. Without his being there to tell them, there was no way for those on Mars to know the importance of the message. His message could be overlooked as an anomaly, some routine technical download, or a hundred different reasons. Of course, his presence was no guarantee.
“I don’t want to fail you.”
“Fail us Melded One? We have been dead a very long time.”
“The message that you sent.”
“The message that WE sent?”
What did she mean by that?
“So many might die if they build it. I made the wrong decision.”
“You made a decision. You likely could not stop them anyway Melded One. Why are you doubting now?”
All the other aliens nodded their agreement with her.
He didn’t have an answer. d'Song was right of course. He had very little of his precious life left. To spend it second guessing that which could not be changed didn’t make sense.
“We are dead. You are alive.”
For now.
“Stay alive Melded One.”
Stay alive? As long as he could? Stay alive until he successfully contacted Mars and could talk to Aurora or Terry or whoever would listen. Stay alive.
Kalsang drank some more water and tried to relax, folding his robes on his lap. His head began to nod.
He saw a man digging desperately at ground while the sky behind him was on fire. Electric sparks flew up from the soil as he dug, tormenting him. He recognised this man, but he wasn’t sure from where. He felt an impulse to wrap his robe over the man’s shoulders to protect him.
Sweat dripping into his eyes woke him. Kalsang rubbed it away and tried to return to his meditation, but with limited success. It was so unbearably hot. How was he going to survive the coming months?
Kalsang’s training kicked in. He reminded himself that no matter how unbearable his condition was, the suffering of many other beings, at this exact moment, was greater. He turned his attention to the fantastic realms he had many times been instructed to visualise - inconceivable hells and molten surfaces where numberless unfortunates lived and suffered. After he had le
arnt to look beyond his fear of these nightmares told by old monks, Kalsang had become a bit sceptical. When he asked directly, none of his informants claimed to have first-hand experience. Perhaps the only purpose here was to frighten the novices into doing their religious homework?
As he matured, Kalsang had begun to appreciate a greater purpose behind the Buddha relating these woeful tales. No matter how difficult his own circumstances became, he could always move the focus from his own sufferings by developing compassion for others. Also, if the mind could realise the endless bliss of Enlightenment, was overwhelming suffering beyond its capabilities? He didn’t think so.
In Kalsang’s imagination, the atomic flames of the swelling sun became pregnant with the agony of a billion billion beings. Their cries were joined by all others labouring unprotected from heat. Animals crawling in the deserts, ghosts sweltering under the rays of a full moon, and human beings whose minds were on fire. Their anguish took form in his mind as a song.
Inside the trillion crushing suns,
Fire so fierce that flame freezes adamantine,
Brilliance so dense that it hardens to darkness,
Eruption crushing eruption crushing eruption
Every atom in agony, torn and torn again
Here all my elements were born
In this most common of places.
How unlikely there that I was not.
In this way Kalsang controlled his mind.
Chapter 29 - August
Above August’s refuge, the sky burned blue, a blaze of sodium and oxygen stripped from the small planet’s crust by continual clawing of the solar furies.
This blaze, reflected in the mirror of the universe, matched that which ignited in August’s mind. At first it burned slowly, at the edge of his awareness, allowing him to steel his nerves through the challenges of landing the ship in the correct spot on an utterly alien world, in digging through the sediments with the wrong tools to find the pink, organic rich ice, which was buried much deeper than reported, in lugging it by hand aboard his ship to feed it to the terrapod located in ship’s heart. Sparks with the brilliance of welder arcs shot up from the charged ground as he had dug, rattling his heart. Without the anger he might have given up a thousand times, but he had fought through it.
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