by Greg Bear
Puzzled, she rested her chin in one palm and tried to calculate the advantage of being so far from the prechosen channels. Had Burke come across something unusual? He was much closer to deep dream channels—those associated with fixing of final permanent memory and reduction of temporary data storage—than he was to the channels commonly associated with the Country.
“Erwin, look at this.”
Erwin walked up beside her. He calmly looked over the display and lifted an eyebrow. Then he called up Goldsmith’s neural activity chart and pointed to a spike and a fold. “There’s something going on in deep dreams,” he said.
“He’s in neutral sleep. Memory fix dreams don’t happen in neutral sleep.”
“Not normal mf dreams,” Erwin said.
“Should we contact them and find out what they’re up to?”
Erwin considered this possibility, frowned and shook his head. “They have ripcords. Their traces are close to normal. Spike and fold might signify surprise but maybe that’s good; maybe they’re finding something significant. Let them wander for a while. I’m sure Burke knows what he’s doing.”
Margery shook her head but finally agreed; Burke had been up Country many times.
The New Marassa
They had been born an age ago twin brothers one white one black children of the great white father Sir who brought them up in the land of Guinée Under the Sea and who favored the white brother over the black, the black being favored by his mother Queen Erzulie, who lived far from Sir in a small home across the gulf. At low tide the twins often sailed across the gulf in a tiny shell boat of their own manufacture, their oarsman an ancient chimpanzee who told them stories of the refugees and the slaves, stories that broke their hearts but especially the heart of the black twin, whose name was Martin Emanuel.
The white twin’s name was Devoted to Sir. He was the more feminine of the two in appearance; at times he grew breasts and sprouted long brown hair, to startle his brother, but this was a land of magic and change and anything might be expected.
Both Sir and Erzulie told them they were gods and had the great responsibility of looking over all the citizens of Guinée Under the Sea. The twins carried out this responsibility solemnly and carefully but could not always satisfy Sir, who would fly into a hideous rage when some aspect or another of the ceremonies was not observed properly or something else went wrong.
When snow fell on Guinée Under the Sea and covered the towns to their rooftops, Sir would be reminded of his defeat and death in the old times and become terribly angry. When he was angry his white skin would darken like the mantle of a storm cloud until he was black as night,
black as sin, black as iron black as sleep black as death.
Sir’s rage went beyond all bounds and he beat Martin Emanuel severely but only cuffed Devoted to Sir. Erzulie took Martin Emanuel in her arms and comforted him and said this would all soon be over. Your father is a strong and willful man, she told him. But you are a sensitive and intelligent child and you must learn how to placate him, how to make him love you.
This was important when living in Guinée Under the Sea for Sir governed over all the land and had the power of life and death, happiness and unhappiness.
| Then why can’t he command Frost and Snow to go away?
Guinée Under the Sea was a tropical land in the good seasons, mountainous and covered with thick forest through which Martin Emanuel and Devoted to Sir wandered at will when free of their duties. They climbed trees like monkeys, built fortresses in the high hills and filled them with cannons like a blacksmith’s bag full of nails. They built large ships from the trees of the forest and then hurled them across the beaches into the bright azure sea.
Frost and Snow
white as ice white as the sun white as life white as a boil
sailed these boats to far lands and filled them with dark and pitiful children of death, and sailed them to other lands to sell the children, and the boats returned to Guinée, their holds stinking with pestilence and sewage and decay. Martin Emanuel told the beautiful Devoted to Sir that Snow and Frost were ruining their lovely boats and they went to Erzulie to ask why this was allowed, and Erzulie told them a story, an important story that would complete their education and make them Marassa, the sacred twins.
Never before, she began, in no other time and in no other place, Sir was a mighty king who ruled over all the lands, not just Guinée Sou Dleau (she used its other name). In those times Sir was black as ebony, black as a cave.
But came Frost and Snow to these lands in mighty ships, carrying thunder and threats of wind and storm, and asked Sir if they might eat his people a few at a time, at immense profit to Sir.
Sir saw the way of this and consented, saying, You may take all of my people some of the time, you may take some of my people all of the time but you must not take all of my people all of the time. Frost and Snow agreed to this and paid him with great mounds of gold which he turned over to his artisans.
(Then it was also, Erzulie explained sadly, that Sir saw the females from the land of Frost and Snow and lusted after them; and Devoted to Sir was distressed but this was not the time to explain why.)
Frost and Snow took some of the people away at first. These people never returned. They wailed on the beaches and shook their heavy black iron chains and lifted up their weeping squirming babies as the boats that the twins would make were drawn up
| But that was after, wasn’t it?
but there was nothing Sir could do for he had his gold, and his name, and this was the way it was.
After many years Frost and Snow returned to the lands of Sir and they told him, Our lands need more of your people, for many have died on the Island of High Mountains and many more have died to build great farms across the sea, and the need for your people is even greater.
And Sir told them, I have sold you all I will. You may take some of the people all of the time and all of the people some of the time but you must not take all of the people all of the time.
But Frost and Snow said, We have paid you our gold and there is enough of it for you forever, great mounds, thirty pieces. And they took more of Sir’s people away forever to the lands across the sea.
Sir was distressed for the gold was not nearly enough to buy the destruction of Frost and Snow, and he saw that very soon he would have no more people. He could do nothing against these enemies though he ruled all his world.
The third time Frost and Snow came, there were so few people left that they told Sir, We need all of your people all of the time, and he replied, But that must not be. And they said, It is so, and we have paid you our gold. There is enough of it for you for ever, thirty pieces, but if you want more payment, then here is iron black as death.
They clapped chains on Sir, and took him from his land, and took his wife the Queen (Erzulie wept), and shipped them over the seas to lands he did not know.
But Sir carried his magic with him and worked it in secret. Even though wrapped in chains black as sleep he could do this magic, and he set himself free. When Sir was free he slaughtered and poisoned the people of Frost and Snow, and became ruler of the Island of High Mountains.
But through treachery too sad to tell, Sir was betrayed and brought down and he died deep in a prison ruled by Frost and Snow, deep in a cell black as night, black as soot. When he died he became white as ice himself.
This was the eternal mark of his defeat and it burned deep into his soul. He went to the Land of the Dead, the Land Under the Sea (Sou Dleau, she said softly). As a spirit he whispered into the ears of those of his people who still lived but their chains were strong. His rage grew greater.
Finally, on the Island of High Mountains his people rose up and broke their chains and poisoned their masters and slaughtered their oppressors, and Sir said, That is where Guinée the Homeland truly is and shall be reborn.
Then came a change of heart in Frost and Snow. They saw the evil of what they had done and they broke the iron chains and set the rest
of Sir’s people free. But Sir’s people were black as sin, black as death and Frost and Snow feared and hated them for there is nothing more contemptible than someone whom you have conquered.
| What about the Island of High Mountains?
So the people of Sir languished, their memories gone, and they were as the dead. They had forgotten about Sir and about Guinée their home. They took on the memories of their former masters and visited their masters’ altars and sacrificed their children to the gods of Frost and Snow, and soon in their dreams they tossed and turned and murmured, We are not black as iron we are white as sperm, inside. For their masters had violated them in body as well as mind.
But on the Island of High Mountains
| Ah.
the spirit of Sir returned, and called the place Guinée, and though he was white as marble with hair gray as granite, he was strong and he used the knowledge of Frost and Snow to make this place into the paradise it now is. He made many children with his Queen but their favorites are the twins who sit before me now.
Erzulie finished her story and looked with motherly satisfaction on Martin Emanuel and with sadness upon the white, feminine Devoted to Sir.
But Devoted to Sir was not happy with this story.
Mother, he said, why does not Sir visit Martin Emanuel my brother in his sleep and do to him what he does to me?
Erzulie hid her face with shame, for she could not stop Sir from visiting the bed of her own son.
So it must be, she said, to keep our marriage together: that I turn my head away and you bear up under him. You must do your duty.
Then Erzulie left the twins, now called Marassa and very sacred, alone on the beach to build their wonderful boats.
That night Sir came to the bedroom of Devoted to Sir and again had his way with his own child. After he left, Devoted to Sir crept into the room of Martin Emanuel and said, I have had enough. I must die now to forget the shame.
But Martin Emanuel said, No, it is I who must die. I will become hollow and you will fill me up. We will both have a black skin but you, white and feminine, will be inside. You must take one thing from me before I die.
And what is that, brother? Devoted to Sir asked.
You must take my knowledge of song and sing our dreams and our histories and sorrows.
I will do that, my brother, Devoted to Sir said.
So Martin Emanuel kissed his twin, giving him his song, and died. His body became hollow like the black stump of a dead tree. His brother climbed inside and wrapped the skin around himself and sealed it up so that no one might know what had happened.
The next night Sir went to the bedroom of Devoted to Sir and found it empty. He then went to the bedroom of Martin Emanuel and bellowed his wrath. Where is your brother?
I do not know, the new singular Marassa said.
But you must. You are twins. I prefer the other but if the other refuses me then I will have you.
The singular Marassa felt an uncontrollable rage above and beyond anything even Sir was capable of. He leaped from the bed and cried out, I will take your knife, my father, your very own broadbladed long thick steel knife, white as silver, from the scabbard on your belt, and I will slay you!
Remember, I have died before, and I am your father who made you, Sir said, but he shrank before the Marassa with his guilt and fear. So much smaller and weaker became Sir at the memory of his sins that the Marassa was able to grab him from behind, take the huge steel knife and cut his throat from ear to ear.
Still, Sir could not die. He fell to the ground and thick black blood poured from him, making a lake, then a river, the river flowing to the sea, darkening the sea, and the sea caused the clouds to rise thick like ravens and the clouds wept black as rain. Marassa the singular saw what he had done and threw the knife as far as he could across the seas. Marassa then ran from the grief of the people of Guinée Sou Dleau and from the lamentation of his mother Erzulie.
Yet wherever Marassa went the voice of Sir followed, saying, My crime was vile but yours is more horrible still. You cannot kill me. I made you. I am here forever,
White as time.
| My God, I felt it. It raped me. | Carol, I’m here.
| Get me away.
| Can you see your toolkit?
| I can’t see anything. Martin?
| I’m here.
| It raped me, Martin.
| I know. I was there, I think…
| I was a child, lying in bed, and it came into the dark room and…
| All right. Can you see any part of the toolkit, the ripcord?
| I can’t see anything.
| I think I can see something. I’m going to try for it.
| Martin, I can’t feel you.
| I’ve got something. It’s not the ripcord. It’s my toolkit. Can you see yours?
| I see something red.
| That’s it. Look at it. Concentrate.
| Oh, God, I hurt. I feel like I’m bleeding. Martin, is that my blood, the red?
| Concentrate, Carol. I think I can see you. Your hand.
| I see the toolkit.
| I’m going to take over both kits. I’m moving us back to the previous locus, the one before the shadow took us.
| What? Not there. I won’t go through this again.
| I don’t have a ripcord.
| Why not? Martin, it’s playing with us! Why don’t they see something is wrong outside?
| I don’t know. I’m moving us now.
Martin assembled himself on a dark city street. His bare feet crunched dirty snow. Crowds of masked shadows moved in sluggish streams around him. He cringed from them but they all seemed intent on other missions. None of them wasted attention on him.
Carol’s image was a pale pink fog beside him. He concentrated on her, trying to resolve the shape. She formed beside him, naked.
With a start he realized he was naked as well. She wrapped her arms around her breasts and regarded him with a narrow, miserable expression. | Please take us out.
| I’ll try. I can swing us to an uncharted locus. That should trigger alarms. Margery and Erwin will take us out…Or send in David and Karl.
| They shouldn’t send anybody else! Something’s gone wrong.
| I’ll say. But we seem to be in true Country now.
Carol looked at the oblivious shadows surrounding them. There were only smudges with ceramic masks; no other types of character. She tried to shrink into herself and Martin reached out to her. Her flesh felt warm and real beneath his fingers.
| I can pick up what you’re feeling, he said. We’re not lost to each other.
She gave him a withering glare that startled him. Why can’t you take us out?
| Pull down your toolkit. Maybe you can do it, he said, angry at her tone.
She pulled down a red box and grabbed for the visible ripcord but it came away in her hand. The box became a blank red cube without displays or controls. Martin pulled down his own toolkit and saw the same useless red cube.
| It will kill us, Carol said. It will eat us.
Martin sensed her fear like a cold sun beside him. He hugged himself, trying to find his true substance. His flesh felt real. Her pain felt real.
| Am I bleeding? she asked. He saw tears on her cheeks.
He glanced between her thighs. | No. No blood. It wasn’t you being raped.
| Who was it, then?
| I don’t know. A child, I think.
| His father raped him? Is that what we saw?
| It was too mixed. Dreamlike. Memories and fairy tales.
She shuddered and leaned her head back. | I’m trying to keep myself together, Martin. Please be patient.
She closed her eyes and dropped her arms. Clothes appeared on her image, first a slip, then a dress and finally a formal longsuit, dark blue and elegant. Martin imagined himself in a similar but masculine longsuit and felt the clothes form on his own image.
| That’s better, she said. Her fear decreased markedly. They’re
ignoring us, aren’t they? She pointed to the masked shadows.
| For now.
He looked around this new version of the city. The buildings rising high on both sides of the crowded street were still skyscrapers, but ancient, made of stone and brick rather than glass and steel. Their size was anomalous. They seemed to ascend thousands of feet, meeting at a vanishing point high overhead. Martin smelled smoke and gasoline fumes; things he had not smelled since he was a child.
| It’s oppressive, Carol said. What a horrible place to be trapped.
| Better than where we were before.
Carol stepped closer to him. She had her fear and disgust under control but just barely. Her emotions hung around her acid and sour like a bitter fog. He was not sure what his own emotions were. Mixed with his own fear was a professional fascination. Carol felt this coming from him and tweaked his nose sharply, viciously with her fingers.
| Watch yourself, she said. Don’t get sucked in.
| Where are we? he asked. In the same city, but a different stage?
| It feels the same to me. The decor is different. Maybe it’s going to show something else to us—really show us what it’s capable of.
| It shouldn’t know that we’re here. It should have no idea what we are.
| It knows we’re here. It doesn’t like us being here, but it’s going to show us a thing or two—express itself.
I’m not even sure what we mean by saying “it,” Martin complained.
| Something’s in charge here, Carol said. It may be the representative of the primary personality or it may be something else…The model of Colonel Sir you mentioned on the outside. What attacked me was more than a wisp of nightmare.
| We may have tuned in to something drawn from Goldsmith’s childhood, Martin said. I’d still like to find a figure we can talk to—some representative. I’m amazed we haven’t found signs of the primary personality. Where is it?
| The last time we tried to look something resented it. Are you sure we should try again?
I don’t know what else to do, Martin said. The full impact of that admission stunned him for a moment. I don’t know what we are in relation to this…whether we’re exterior or interior, players or observers. But I feel awkward and exposed just standing here talking…