by Corey Furman
Her tresses rustled on the pillow around her head as she nodded.
This was new territory for him. What do I say to a thing like this? How do I support her? He rolled towards her and put his arms around her before speaking. “You can trust me with this. Why would you be suffering?”
“I don’t know, Joss. It’s just a thing I’ve had to struggle through sometimes.”
This gave him something new to focus on. His mother’s death no longer seemed quite so important, and he forgot his anger. He spooned into her and brought his hand up to stroke her face with the pads of his fingers. “I’m sorry. How often do you feel that way?”
“Only sometimes.” She brushed the back of his hand. “I’m fine now.”
How can I fix this? Can I even fix this? “What do I do to help when it happens? Will you tell me?”
“Just hold me.”
He put his arm around her again and squeezed. “I’ll get started now. Thanks for coming, hon.”
She set her pad down and squeezed him back in reply. “Of course.”
He gestured at her drawing. “That’s really quite good, you know.”
“I like her a lot. Odessa is a beautiful woman.”
“It’s a lot to ask, but may I have it? I’d like to get it into a nice frame and hang it in my room.”
“You big silly,” she said. “It’s for you.”
One quick push from a hypo-spray, and Mom’s eyes closed slowly. It was done. Joss tried not to let his emotional mask slip, but the old man sobbed. After the conversation the day before, Joss was surprised by Senior’s show of emotion. Maybe Riss was right after all…
“I’m sorry, Dad. I know you loved her.”
“Yeah… I’m sorry for you too, son.” He seemed to be casting for the words before continuing. “There will never be another like her, and I can’t live without her.” His eyes were sad and far away, and as the contact stretched something in them helped Joss to begin to understand what his father was feeling – grief. Comprehension began to fill the void that had been occupied by his childish annoyance, and it helped him to finally see what his father had really meant by moving on.
“I’m glad you’ve found someone, Junior. Revel in each other while you can. Life is too short.” He began to weep as his anguish took root.
After a few moments, Senior pulled himself together and turned to Larissa. “Will you take care of him, dear? Do you promise to cover him with the love he’s going to need? You’re all he’ll have.”
Larissa looked at Joss as she spoke softly. “Nothing can stop that from happening.”
“I’ve got to go now, Joss, to be with your mother. We gave you all the love we could. Will you forgive me after I’ve moved on?”
He spoke as he moved to sit beside the old man. “It’s okay, Dad – I think I understand…” He put his arm protectively around his father as they both wept.
One evening shortly after they had returned to Mars and resumed their studies, Larissa said, “I’m tired of the food in the cantina and I don’t feel like cooking on the hot plate tonight. Will you go out and get us something?”
He put the book he was reading down. “Yep. Do you know what you want?” he said casually.
“Surprise me. And you’d better pick up decent beer with it.” She began to hum something pretty he couldn’t identify as she began a fresh sketch in her pad.
The door had closed behind him before what she’d said registered, and he stopped dead, dumbfounded. Wow. Is she really asking what I think she’s asking?
Joss had found his equilibrium and a wide grin was splitting his face by the time he’d made it back to her room. Riss set her pad down and unpacked the food. Looking past her at the drawing that was complete enough for him to identify, he could see the picture was another illustration of the tree of life that the Celts of her ancestry were so fond of. His smile widened.
“Is this real meat? And real glass bottles of beer from Earth? I didn’t quite expect this… You must have spent a fortune!”
“Nearly a month’s worth of my allowance,” he said with the mischievous voice of a little boy, but then he got serious. “Actually, it wasn’t too bad. I hate dipping into my resources, but I wanted to make this something special. Sorry I can’t do it every night. You’re worth every penny, though.”
“Gimme a break,” she said and gave him a light shove, but she was smiling as she did it. “What took so long?”
“This stuff has to be prepared fresh. And I needed to pick a few things up from my room.” Gesturing at her pad he said, “will you color this one in?”
“I haven’t decided yet,” she said in an airy tone that contrasted with her lidded eyes, and he warmed at her playfulness.
As they sat down to dig in, Joss said coyly, “So what’s up?”
“Hold on there, cowboy. You may know what’s coming, but if you think I’m going to roll over and give you the keys to the castle that easy, then you’re crazy. Besides,” she said with a very self-satisfied tone, “I want to savor the moment.”
“As you wish, and I already have several castles drawn by you hanging in my room. What do I need with the keys?” he said with a snort, but then he got serious. “Will you tell me why you’re ready now? I thought you wanted to wait until after graduation.”
“Let’s just say recent events have made me take a look at what’s important in life. Focusing on grades and careers doesn’t stack up like it used to.”
Waiting wasn’t exactly his cup of tea, so Joss sat and ate full of nervous energy in the expectant silence. If the feel of the atmosphere affected her, she gave no sign he could detect. In fact, he took the small smile playing on her lips as an indication that she was enjoying his squirming. The nerve of her!
When they cracked open the last round, she leaned in and whispered, “if you’ve got any questions to ask, now might be a good time.”
He decided to give her the same small smile. “Maybe I want to savor the moment, too. Or… maybe I have to screw up my courage.”
The time Joss had long anticipated had finally arrived, and he wondered if she was as nervous as he was. I hope so, at least.
Stars, he picks now to try his hand at my game? She gave in quickly; although she loved pushing him – and she knew he loved the pushing – now wasn’t the time. “Do what you have to do, Joss.”
“That’s a very practical attitude you got there, lady,” he replied nonchalantly.
“I think you’ll find I’m pretty much all business,” she said amicably.
So they sat on the sofa in the wan light of her room, listened to instrumentals broadcasted across the global nets, and enjoyed the rare treat of Earth-grown hops. She was flushed and nervous now, but she did her best not to let on. She reached for her pad several times – her art always had a calming effect on her – but left it lay in each instance, not trusting her hands to betray her tension by shaking.
Eventually it was more than she could stand, though. “Just do it, already!” she said after only a few minutes.
Grinning ear to ear – the nerve of him! – he drained the last of his beer, set the empty bottle down, and picked up his backpack from the floor next to the sofa. Unzipping it casually, he pulled out a holo-recorder, and set it down on the table. She knew he could feel her eyes watching him, and he was most definitely enjoying himself. Will you quit screwing with that friggin’ thing and put it down?! He caught her glare and smiled wider! Finally, he turned it on, and a little blue light on top lit up.
Walking over to her, he took her hands and drew her to her feet, then dropped to his knees before her. He brought her hands to his face, closed his eyes and inhaled her scent deeply, then kissed the back of each one. When he looked up and they locked eyes, she could see that sweat was standing out on his forehead. He spoke in a near whisper. “Larissa Oralla-Sadler, you have been my colleague and confidant these past five years. You have been my constant companion and supporter in tough
times.” He smiled. “You have even been a competitor, making me be a better man to match you. You deserved nothing less.”
Her lips parted, but she closed them. It was obvious that he had been practicing this, and knowing him, almost certainly he had many times. Though the anticipation was really working on her, she would wait and see what he would make of the moment.
He continued. “You are beautiful of form, but more importantly, your character is stunning. Shy and quiet, yes, but trustable and creative. Sometimes you seem completely oblivious to the power you have over me, but other times you know exactly what to say and how to say it and we both know I’ll gladly give you whatever you want of me. You are self-effacing at times, yet perceptive where others are concerned, and possessed with a strong sense of value in the truth. You are,” he said, “the best woman I have ever met. I have to ask myself if I can ever be worthy of such a creature as yourself.”
The words hung for a few moments before he continued.
“You probably expect me to ask you to marry me, don’t you, Riss?”
What? What did he just say? If he doesn’t ask me to marry him, I’ll kill him! Confused, scared, she slowly nodded her head yes, and tears began to well in her eyes.
He barked a brief laugh, and her confusion deepened.
“That may be the vulgar form of public expression… but it will never be an adequate interpretation. Larissa, I am taken by you. What shall I do?” He paused to catch his breath while tears began to stream down his beautiful face. “When we are apart, the pain closes off my throat and I cannot breathe. When we are together, my heart threatens to smash itself against my sternum and my innards twist.”
Unable to hold them back any longer, she began to softly cry, too, as his words resonated within her. She could feel his hot pulse racing in her hands. Or is that my heartbeat racing?
“My soul is yours, my dear, if you will have it.” With one of his hands he withdrew a ring from his pocket, plain but with a solitaire diamond of fair size that flashed with the light it caught. “This was my mother’s ring – Dad gave both to me before we left Earth. Please understand this, Larissa; I am not asking for your hand, because I don’t deserve it. What I am asking you, Larissa Oralla-Sadler, is to be my true queen. If you would accept me, all of me, then I would be your subject, dedicated to your protection, well-being and happiness. My only wish is that my submissive love would be cool water on your parched days.”
When he was done, she simply presented her finger, and he slipped the band onto her. She wiped her tears and took his upturned face in her hands, mingling their water and salt, and bending down she gave him a long, chaste kiss that tasted like him. Nothing more needed to be said.
Two
Different areas of her brain stirred from the dark depths to break the surface of consciousness. She began to perceive the random waxing and waning of flaring phosphenes, but nothing else, and if they had any meaning or order it had utterly escaped her.
She became more aware of being. Vague impressions, ghosts of experience, swam through her mind, but try as she would nothing would solidify. Though her eyes were closed, she could sense the harsh glare of overhead lights. She gave up and tried to settle back into the quiet nothingness.
Still, she eventually became aware of the slight pressure of a mask on her face, and the muted susurration of air flowing from it. She began to hear beeps and ticks, and the low, dissonant music of electronic machines. Slowly but insistently, reality intruded.
Cracking her eyes open was difficult, as if the lids had been stuck to her cheeks with old glue. The glare worsened and forced her to squint, though its hard light was helping to bring her around.
A woman’s narrow face framed with dark hair leaned down into view. The woman appeared to examine her, first holding a probe to her ear, then uncomfortably drawing back her eye lids. The woman stood erect but stayed mostly in sight, and she could feel pressure at various points on her body. Something about the woman seemed… familiar… but the vision wouldn’t materialize.
She tried to lift her head, though it felt leaden.
“Please do not try to move yet,” the woman said. “You will need about another thirty minutes before you should, and you will need my help at that. I will raise the temperature a few degrees on the amniotic gel. Please try to relax.”
She had no choice. Amniotic gel, she thought thickly. What in the world is that? And where am I?
A few mild beeps, and within seconds she could tell she was suspended or floating in something – the amniotic gel, she supposed – and that it had gotten a little warmer. She shut her eyes and tried to relax as she was bid. Time passed, though her alertness grew.
“I am going to try to get you into a sitting position. Are you ready?”
Without waiting, the woman got her hands under her shoulders and slowly drew her up, causing her posterior to sink a little deeper into the gel. The woman said, “I am now going to remove your oxygen mask.” The adhesive on it pulled away, and the tangy, chemical smell of the stuff she was sitting in wrinkled her nose. As she looked around the white room, everything appeared to be strictly functional and severe. Down to the few chrome accents, there was nothing of warmth in this place. She looked down at her own cool nakedness and the clear plastic tank in which she sat and wished for a covering, or, failing that, an upward adjustment of a few more degrees.
The woman drew up a stool alongside the pod and sat down. She had mousy brown hair cut in a page boy, and a smooth, white, button-down lab coat. Oddly, she also had a thin, black choker on her neck that prominently displayed “183A” on the front of it, centered just above the dimple at the base of her throat.
“You now need to exercise your lungs a bit with some deep breaths,” she said. “If you understand what I am saying, please acknowledge.”
Acknowledge? But she croaked out, “Yesss,” punctuated with a hoarse cough. It felt as if she hadn’t spoken in a long time – or ever.
Holding a tube to her lips, the woman said, “please blow into this using deep, slow breaths. Try to increase the length of each one as much as you’re able.” Again she did as she was told, since there was nothing else to do.
“I am going to ask you a few questions to see what you remember. Can you tell me your name?”
Her head was still packed with wool, but the question dumbfounded her. She couldn’t remember. Why can’t I remember a thing like my own name? She shook her head no, the confusion plain on her face.
“Please answer the questions verbally between breaths. It’s part of the protocol.”
“No… W-what is…?”
“You may be confused. Please be patient, and I will answer at least some of your questions as we go.” After a few seconds pause to let that sink in, she said, “Do you recall what your job is?”
She had to think, but frighteningly, she didn’t know that, either. Between breaths that were becoming less labored, she said, “No.”
“Do you recall the man you dated in tech school? His name was Tyler,” she prompted.
“No.” She took a deep breath and pushed it out. After hesitating she said, “Can I… get out of this thing?”
“We can try.” And with that, the woman began to help her to get up on her feet, then draped a sheet around her shoulders. She had to lean heavily on the woman; without help she might have lost her footing in the gel, but more than that, her treacherous muscles felt like putty. Simply standing was almost beyond her.
The woman turned her, nudged the stool with her foot to the edge of the tub, guided her down onto it, and then helped pick her legs out. The sheet plastered itself to the sticky gel all over her frame. Immediately, the woman put the tube back to her mouth, obviously expecting her to push through the heaviness in her chest.
“What happened?” She took a breath, and rested for a moment. “Why don’t… I remember anything?”
“Nothing? Surely you remember school from your childhood, yes?”<
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“No… Impressions…” she said with a dispirited voice. “Who are you?”
A small machine off to one side emitted a soft tone and said, “please have subject 370 Bravo perform a stress breath exercise.”
“Most of the people here don’t use their given names. You may call me 183 Alpha, or 183, if you wish. Please take two normal breaths, then as deep a breath as you can. LabSys is trying to gauge your condition.”
She shook her head in confusion. What kind of name is 183 Alpha? As she went through the breathing exercises, she tried to pull at the indistinct ghosts in her mind, but nothing would coagulate. The machine made a few more beeps, but it was meaningless to her ears.
“183, why don’t I remember… anything? Why do… you seem familiar?”
She sighed. “Just a moment.”
She moved over to a cabinet and drew out a white, tapered instrument. She opened a cover on it, inserted a small nodule, and slapped it shut with a click. As she walked back, she drew another small stool from the corner with her. 183 sat back down and said, “I’m going to give you a booster. It will make you feel more awake, and you will feel a lot less shaky, at least for a time. More importantly though, it will send something of a wakeup call to your body. Your heart will race, you will feel flushed as if you have just finished exercising, but it may also cause a headache. If it does, it shouldn’t be bad. Otherwise, tell me and I will administer something for it. Do you understand?”
“Yes. May I stop using the tube?”
183 consulted a small screen covered with inscrutable codes on the wall beside her. “Yes, you may – for now.”
After she turned back, 183 pressed the device to her neck. There was a hiss and twinge, and then she felt the sensations she’d been told to expect. As if someone had turned on a light, her system kicked into overdrive. As her heart began to pound faster than she thought safe, she got lightheaded, and nearly swooned. She reached out and grabbed 183’s arm to steady herself. It did nothing for the dizziness that was washing over her, but at least she wouldn’t fall.