Manifestations

by David M Henley

  No, she had nothing to say today. She filled her morning listening to the backlog of petitions. The psi collections had accelerated after the conflict in the Cape, and more and more protests arose from the loved ones of those who had been taken. Charlotte tried to listen and respond to each of them, but it was heartbreaking. She only listened to remind herself who she spoke for.

  Charlotte had dedicated boosters now who spread her words and backed the motions she put forward. Not that it was doing them any good. She hadn’t achieved a single thing since her rise to office. Not one psi released, not one apology from the Prime. It was frustrating. Some days she didn’t know why she bothered and Max had to remind her that she was the conscience. She was meant to be the voice of reason so that things didn’t get any worse.

  Nothing was right with the world and she had to find a damn outfit for a party she didn’t want to go to. She could write about that, no problem!

  Every item of clothing she owned was now spread out on her bed, chairs and desk. Amy reminded her when she had worn a particular item before, and thus it couldn’t be worn again for this occasion. Why is it that every occasion needs a new dress? Though, perhaps, this occasion calls for it. Your mother only turns a hundred years old once, after all.

  She needn’t have worried. Amy found something for her on the Weave and arranged for it to be delivered; a benefactor who wanted Charlotte to wear her dress to the ball. Charlotte admitted that it fitted her well, a combination of two whites, and it was slimming where she wanted. Respectful to the event, combined with muted celebration.

  ‘Come on, Charlotte. Time to go,’ Max said. He was dressed in a three-hued suit: chocolate with black cuffs and blue edge-to-edge lining. At least he looked nice. Max was shaved and more neatly groomed than she’d ever seen him.

  ‘Do I have to go?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes. It would be a disaster if you didn’t show up. Don’t worry, I’ll be with you.’ He held his arm up for her to hold.

  ‘Well, that will help. My mother simply adores you,’ she said sarcastically.

  ‘She doesn’t hate me, does she?’ Max asked uncertainly.

  ‘Only by association, I’m sure.’ She patted his leg.

  Ellizabeth Betts’s gala — an orgy of civilised society — was on the boot of old Europe, which meant a jet and a squib for three hours. Deep in the Roman empire, in a fine old ruin just like her.

  Ellizabeth Betts was a real lady. She believed in civilisation, and so she was civilised. She managed to maintain a place in the highest society with nothing but her intelligence and refinement to make her ‘desired company’. Her art was the finest; her furnishings were art. Men and women gravitated to her for moments when their more animal instincts could be soothed and bathed in her fine example.

  Charlotte tried not to think certain things. She hadn’t spoken with her mother, or connected to her stream, for nearly forty years. She felt bad about that, but she had just never been able to face it. Like the lady she was, her mother respected her wishes.

  She had grown up wanted by the world, or so it had seemed. It took a long time for her to understand that when people couldn’t get what they wanted from the mother, they tried to curry favour with the daughter. Gifts and treats and favours were all Charlotte knew from the day she was born.

  Then one day she realised this and broke the chains. Anyone who had ever tried to use Charlotte for leverage was blocked from her life and from her stream. In her tantrum, she didn’t question the difference between friends and enemies. She wanted to start afresh and Charlotte did every despicable and public act she could think of until finally her mother had no choice but to distance herself.

  She ran into the arms of any man who would have her, of which there were plenty, so long as they had nothing to do with her mother. There were innumerable men her mother had thwarted, plenty who wanted the status of tapping the Betts girl, plenty who liked her young and willing body. She was starting to suspect that the main reason she hadn’t forgiven her mother was that she would have to admit to herself what a giant fool she had been.

  ‘I don’t know why my mother always insists on dragging people out into the wilds,’ she said.

  ‘This is hardly the wilds, Charlie.’

  ‘It will be cold.’

  ‘A cold night in the haunted lands.’

  ‘Don’t call them that.’

  ‘You’re not worried about ghosts, are you, Charlie?’

  ‘Don’t be silly, Max. It’s just cruel to the people who still live there.’

  ‘Ah, you’re right. We must remain respectful at all times. I learnt that from you.’ Max smiled. He was happy with himself. For once, he’d attached himself to the right train and his prospects were rising. Max’s association with Charlotte had elevated him significantly in the last few months and, if he chose, he could be an independent voice in his own right. For now, though, he stuck by Charlotte’s side.

  ‘What are you thinking about?’ he asked.

  She hit him with her clutch purse. ‘Why do you have to ask that?’

  ‘It’s a long ride, I’ve got nothing else to do.’

  ‘If you must know, I was thinking about you.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Have you ever met my mother, in person?’

  ‘No. I never received my invitation.’

  ‘Well, now you can be a plus one.’ She patted him patronisingly on the knee.

  ‘Just what I always dreamt of.’ He put his hand over hers and winked. Charlotte looked at him and smiled. She still wasn’t sure how she felt about him. ‘Amy says you haven’t put out your release this week. Did you snap at her when she asked?’

  ‘Yes. I’ll apologise. I just haven’t got anything to say.’

  ‘Impossible.’

  ‘Will you stop trying to jibe me? There is nothing you can say or do to get me in the mood for this.’

  ‘It’s worth trying. I’ve heard so much about your mother’s parties. Why aren’t you looking forward to it?’

  ‘I would if my mother wasn’t going to be there.’

  ‘Charlie, it’s time to smooth that out. You would get quite a bump if she supported you,’ he coaxed.

  ‘I’ll do my best, Max,’ she replied.

  They landed in a sheltered squib pad. The wall was artfully lit and delicate plants were spaced as if they were in a courtyard. Four assistants rushed out to meet them, holding fluff coats and hoods for them to put on.

  Great, she thought. I love the cold.

  They didn’t have to walk far though, just to the edge of the tent where a fat-wheeled jeep waited to take them to the party. This was only a staging area, the villa itself being further up the mountain. The elder Betts didn’t want flying traffic to distract from the mise en scène.

  The road up was decrepit and crumbling. The jeep was buffeted by strong mountain winds and Charlotte jumped at the thunks as stones blew into the side.

  ‘You still don’t think she’s crazy?’

  ‘Eccentric.’ Max squeezed her hand.

  Ahead of them they could see a glowing yellow canopy where an artificial dome had been erected, looking like an egg yolk had dropped onto the mountain. As they entered, the wind fell silent behind them and they stepped into a warm pavilion tickled with music.

  Luckily her mother was too busy to meet her. Perhaps it was just that amongst such esteemed company her daughter had been deprioritised, even if she was part of the Primacy. Max and Charlotte turned in their invitations and were taken into the party tent.

  Ellizabeth had brought all her friends to this remote ruin for her centenary. There were luminaries from universities across the globe, such as Neruda Yunque, Tera Gienau, Conrad Ricci, Liza Obrokta ... Celebrities of every make and model, including the young mistress of the erotic sensorium, Wendy Berkan. Max winked at Charlotte again and then disappeared into the circles of conversation.

  Charlotte grabbed up a flute of champagne and with
drew to stand by the wall where she could watch the people she used to know. She recognised her mother’s former protégés and Servicemen of the previous wave who had been in attendance when she was young.

  Despite her efforts at hiding, many people wanted to talk to her, to say hello to Ellizabeth’s daughter — they had heard so much — but Charlotte found them easy to get rid of by trying to engage them in discussion of the psi situation. They slipped out of such topics with generalities about how terrible the business in the Cape was, or by bringing up the black thing from nowhere.

  She found herself drawn into conversation with the youngest member of the FutureFuture Club, a loud man called Lucius Gregg who was running a public hypothesis about natural diversity. Charlotte was amused by his cocky manner and was almost swept away by his antithetical approach to research.

  ‘You see, all I have to do is pitch theories to the Weave and let the masses complete the research. I have five hypotheses out there now and I don’t have to do anything but monitor and summarise the results. Most of that can be done with automation.’ He laughed large. The coterie of entranced women around him tittered.

  ‘Did you really once say the World Union was ridiculous?’ one of the gushing young women around him asked.

  ‘Oh, not at all. I was misquoted — taken out of context. Global government is a noble pursuit. We just shouldn’t be too idealistic about it. The founders of the WU recognised that we will never all agree, so they built a system capable of handling diversity. The World Union is one of the few human-made systems I do have faith in. It is the smaller groupings that fight the law of diversity, but some things cannot be fixed.’

  ‘The law of what?’

  ‘That’s what I’m calling it: the law of diversity. In homage to the great Darwin, of course. I’m not surprised if you haven’t heard of it, it hasn’t been proven yet. In fact, I only came up with it yesterday but I’m having fun extrapolating already. Look at anything, art, history, families, group psychology — all can be explained if the law of diversity is recognised. While we strive for unity, nature is pulling in all directions at once. Diversity is why we will never get everybody to agree. Diversity is why we will never cure every disease. We were born to be different, and that’s why humanity can never be controlled,’ he explained.

  But he wasn’t talking to impress Charlotte, he had his audience.

  Her arm was pulled by strange fingers, elongated four-knuckled hands and claws of blue. Her mother didn’t normally welcome the augmented, or ‘freaked’ as the younger generation called it. ‘Charlie dear, it’s been so long. How long has it been?’

  Charlotte ran a scan to find out who this was. The woman was Miz Ramona Schnell, patron of the animal underclasses.

  ‘It is so nice to have you as a Representative, Charlotte. I cannot say how good I feel knowing there is a kind heart speaking at that level.’ Charlotte tried to thank her, but Ramona continued over the top. ‘And that you are a Betts, no less. Your mother must be pleased.’

  ‘Oh, I’m not sure my civic status has ever been high on her priorities.’

  ‘Tish. As a mother myself, I can assure you she is very proud. Have you heard of my campaign?’

  ‘Only a little ...’ By which she meant not at all.

  ‘I don’t want to bore you at a party, but perhaps if you have the time, I could tell you how important it is to bring technological equality to every inhabitant of Earth. Humanity is leaving its cousins behind.’

  ‘Cousins?’ Charlotte asked.

  ‘All the animals on this world are our cousins, my dear. Why should they not enjoy the fruits of our technology like we have? Why shouldn’t animals have the option of rejuvenation? Or to have symbiots that monitor their health?’

  Charlotte was confused. ‘I mean no offence, Ramona, but they are just animals. Do we not try to help them live as naturally as possible? That’s why we have the wilderness parks.’

  ‘As naturally as possible? We do not apply that rule to ourselves, dear, do we? And I think we both know how natural the parks are. We humans use our technologies selfishly, so we can have two lives and they only one.’

  ‘Rejuvenation is still a new technology.’ Charlotte tried to block the woman’s momentum, but she was off on her spiel.

  ‘We are the caretakers for the whole planet. Whether placed here divinely for the purpose or not, we must take care of our fellow Earthlings.’

  ‘I have never thought of it that way. Please send your campaign summary to my people for us to take a look at.’

  ‘You will? Oh, thank you, Charlotte. I knew it was a good thing you were on the Primacy.’

  ‘Excuse me,’ a voice said to her left. Charlotte turned to find a chrome servitor standing beside her. She felt her heart drop. ‘Ellizabeth Betts would like to speak with you.’

  ‘Very well, then. I’m sorry, Ramona, I must attend to my mother.’

  ‘Of course, of course. I’ll look for you later. Tootle.’

  ‘Lead the way,’ she said to the robot.

  She was led further up the hill towards the ruins, where a striped tent sat under the main canopy, providing seating for the party-goers who preferred to sit and have the facilities close to hand.

  Charlotte followed the servitor to a tent where her mother was sitting at a dressing table, tucking away every stray hair and dabbing away every imperfection.

  ‘You’re about to give your speech then,’ Charlotte said.

  Ellizabeth Betts turned around to face her. Those famous green eyes looked Charlotte up and down, peeling her strip by strip. She found she couldn’t meet those eyes and looked away. She managed to notice her mother’s face looked very thin and an elegant gloss cane leant against the table edge.

  ‘You are looking very well, Charlotte. Thank you for coming.’

  ‘Thank you for the invitation, Mother.’

  The green eyes looked squarely at her face. Charlotte couldn’t quite read the expression.

  ‘You don’t have to call me that if you don’t want.’

  ‘What would I call you instead?’ Charlotte asked.

  ‘You haven’t spoken to me in thirty-eight years. Perhaps I don’t need a name?’ Her mother’s eyebrows peaked in the middle, the sign of a rhetorical question she dared people to answer.

  ‘This is going well, isn’t it? I think I should just say happy birthday and leave you to it,’ Charlotte suggested and made to leave.

  ‘I would like it if we could clear the air,’ Ellizabeth said crisply.

  ‘Not now, Mother.’

  ‘Then when? I have been waiting a long time to talk with you.’

  ‘You could have come to me.’

  ‘I did not think that you wanted that.’

  ‘Well ... but ... this is a party. A celebration of your centenary. Can’t we keep it pleasant?’

  ‘I do not want to celebrate while my own daughter hates me.’

  ‘I don’t hate you.’

  ‘Please don’t deny it. The only reason you came here tonight was to help your cause. Don’t you find it poetic that the reason you are pretending to forgive me is the same reason you believe you are upset with me?’

  ‘You think the only reason I came here is for political reasons?’ Charlotte asked.

  ‘Of course. Let’s not start our new relationship with lies, Charlotte.’

  ‘Okay, then. I admit it. I came because Max said your support would help my position.’

  ‘Well, I guess I should thank him for that.’

  ‘He is here with me.’

  ‘I know.’ Her mother smiled placidly.

  ‘Would you like to meet him?’ Charlotte asked.

  ‘No, thank you.’

  ‘He is my most trusted advisor.’

  ‘He is using you.’

  ‘You don’t know anything about it.’

  ‘Do not pretend with me, Charlotte.’ She tapped her hand on the table and her words became hard and cl
ear, chipped. ‘You have to grow up. You are in the Primacy now.’

  ‘That’s right, and I would have thought I would get a little more respect from my own mother.’

  ‘I’ll show you respect when you stop deceiving yourself. You know very well this Monsieur Angelo is using you.’

  ‘Everyone uses everyone, isn’t that how the world works?’