Ancient, Ancient

by Kiini Ibura Salaam

  She reached past Laki’s friend and gripped Laki on the arm. “It’s very important that you wait for me here, please!”

  Laki nodded her head, mocking Se-se’s grave tone with a falsely serious expression on her face. She watched Se-se go, then turned to look deeply into her friend’s eyes.

  Just as her friend was descending for a kiss, Laki heard, “Laki?”

  She looked up and saw Zaha. Zaha’s eyes were moist, like she had been crying. Laki’s friend rolled over and Laki sat up.

  “What’s wrong?” Laki asked taking Zaha’s hand.

  “I can’t find my pod.” Zaha burst into loud sobbing.

  Laki leapt up, swaying until she could find her footing.

  “Oh no, sweetheart. It’s okay, we’ll help you.”

  “I don’t know why I’m so emotional over this. I’m a wreck.”

  “It’s the smoke,” Laki said squeezing Zaha’s hand. “It makes the highs higher and the lows lower.”

  Laki started to edge forward, but she stumbled more than she walked. Her friend stopped her.

  “You sit down. I’ll take her, but you better be here when I get back.”

  Zaha and Laki hugged each other tightly. Zaha opened her mouth to speak, but Laki silenced her.

  “Shhhhh, everything is fine. Everything is beautiful. I love you.”

  She kissed Zaha and pushed her away. Zaha left, peeking back until the bodies of the partygoers obstructed her view of Laki.

  Laki lay down again and rested her head against the pillows. She closed her eyes and felt the air around her spinning. She opened her eyes. Nothing around her had changed. The pods were still conjoined, hovering near the dim star bar, and the party was still packed with revelers. Laki closed her eyes again and felt her stomach drop. All of a sudden she was alone in her pod and it was rapidly descending. Her pod stopped with a bump.

  She opened her eyes and jerked upright. All around her, people were dancing and coupling; the blue haze still colored the air. She exhaled and lay against the pillows again. When she closed her eyes again she felt herself drifting into another time. She actually saw herself in her pod. Then she heard a voice that was so deep it was disorienting say: “Sorry about that.”

  She knew that voice. It belonged to a stranger who had skin that was as dark as hers, but whose teeth were more perfect. His hair was locked and tied into wild knots all over his head. She saw him lounging with a bemused grin on his face as his pod began to fuse with hers. She opened one eye to peek out at the party once more. It was still there. Then she closed her eyes and gave herself to memory.

  A hole was opening in her pod.

  “I should be more careful,” the stranger with the deep voice apologized. He stuck his hand into the gradually widening hole between their pods. “It seems we’ve fused unintentionally. I’m Fogo, and you are?”

  Laki jumped to her feet and grabbed his hand. “Laki.”

  By the time the hole became large enough for him to step through, Laki had arranged her body in a casual but confident stance.

  “Ahh,” Fogo sighed, “you seem to be a little wet.”

  Laki shot him a look of faux irritation. “Our little accident triggered the shower module.”

  “Well, come over,” Fogo invited with the wave of his hand. “I’ve got some heat and a little star juice.”

  “You drink in your pod?”

  “Sometimes, but don’t tell the regulators.”

  “How do you know I’m not a regulator?”

  “Besides the fact that I know all the regulators in the Stretch, I can tell just by looking at you that you’re a regulator’s nightmare.”

  Fogo winked, and Laki’s insides shivered. She glanced up at the ceiling of his pod and saw that his marriage belt was still there, casting a seductive golden glow. When he noticed her looking, he sighed.

  “Yep, maturation 25, and I’m still hanging out in the Velvet Stretch.” He waved his fingers over his drink portal. “Star juice?”

  She stood facing him, looking right into his eyes, then taking in his whole face as if reading his history. He took her hand and brought it up to the drink portal. Laki dropped her head back and opened her mouth beneath the drinking spout.

  “So,” Fogo said after Laki had drunken her fill, “what brings you to the Velvet Stretch?”

  Laki turned away. “It’s a long and tragic story. I’d rather not go into it.”

  “But, you shouldn’t be hanging out here. You look like you’re almost to maturation, if you’re not there yet. No profession as far as I can tell.” His eyes roamed up to the ceiling of her pod. “No marriage belt?”

  Laki walked to the center of their conjoined pods and sat on the floor. She leaned back on the palms of her hands. Her gaze wandered over the bare stretches of his neck, lingering over his throat and collarbone. She explored the cut of his arms, the length of his legs.

  “You are not fond of this topic?” he asked.

  Laki looked down at her waist. She rubbed her finger over the space where Pemfi’s marriage belt would be resting had she accepted it, and shrugged. “Marriage belts are useless. I just turned one down.”

  Fogo drew back, “You aren’t one of those mother-unit radicals, are you?”

  Laki placed her hands flat on the floor. She stretched, lifting her hips until her legs were fully extended. She stood and walked slowly over to Fogo. She stopped when her face was a few breaths from his.

  “Do I look like a fucking mother-unit radical to you?”

  Fogo shook his head before speaking. “No, no you don’t.”

  Laki put her arms around Fogo and grasped his hips. She felt the ravenous lust of her younger days rising from slumber. Maturation was at her back. Why not? she thought. Why not? She flicked her tongue over his lips.

  “So are you hanging out rendezvous-less because you want to be alone or…”

  Fogo drew away.

  “Forgive me, but a woman of your… stature really shouldn’t be here. Unless you think this is preferable to marriage, but even this doesn’t last forever.”

  “Auggh,” Laki groaned and threw her hands up in the air. She strode over to her pod and leaned back to begin de-fusing. “Fogo,” she said, “It was wonderful meeting you.” She crossed her arms and waited for the pods to separate.

  “Wait,” Fogo yelled. He grabbed his marriage belt and jumped into her pod. “I didn’t mean to irritate you, it’s just that…”

  “Look,” she said, “I’m three days from maturation, and you’re sexy as hell. No, I don’t have a profession. No, I don’t have a marriage belt. In three, no, two days I’m going to join a mother-unit, but whether or not I should be here is none of your business!”

  Fogo wrapped his arms around Laki’s waist and squeezed her softly.

  “Shhhh,” he said, “shhh. I didn’t mean to upset you. Put your arms up.”

  Laki put her arms up. “Maturation! It’s all anybody wants to talk about. When did the Velvet Stretch become such a defect?” She felt Fogo lifting his hands behind her. Then he was maneuvering something over her head. “What are you doing?”

  She looked down and saw his marriage belt shining gold around her waist. She felt a wild burst of adrenaline pulse through her chest.

  Fogo stepped back, eyeing the full length of her. “Very sexy.”

  Laki opened her mouth, but could not speak—she could only sputter.

  “Bet that doesn’t happen often.”

  “What, I get to try on some rich guy’s marriage belt?”

  “No, you are rendered speechless.” Fogo grabbed the belt and pulled her to him. “So you want to get sent into the mother-unit with a bang?”

  Laki stared into his face, then started laughing. “This is unbelievable.”

  She flicked her hand over the time module, but no time appeared. Fogo grabbed her hand and kissed it.

  “Let’s do this by starlight,” he murmured.

  He waved his hand behind him, and his pod went dark. He rubbed h
is pelvis against hers softly. Whatever reservations Laki had been harboring dissolved instantly. Laki extinguished the light in her pod, and the glow of the Stretch illuminated their pods, bathing them in starlight.

  For a few brief seconds there was no movement. Laki and Fogo just stood there drinking each other in. Then Laki grabbed the front of his cloth and pulled him close. She pressed her lips against his, urgently and impatiently, but he was full of unhurried languor. When she offered him her mouth, he savored it, sucking gently on her lips while she was anxiously pushing her tongue through his teeth. Laki abruptly pulled away.

  “I…”

  “I know, you’ve got a pod full of props and a few ideas about how this should go down.”

  Surprise, then annoyance rippled over Laki’s face. “You don’t know me.”

  “I know you,” he said. “You’re used to being in control.”

  “You don’t know me,” Laki repeated.

  He knitted his fingers through hers and kneeled, forcing her down to the floor with him. He pushed her shoulders back, nudging her to lie on her back.

  “Let me run this one,” he whispered.

  Laki opened her mouth to speak, then changed her mind. Instead, she made a big show of spreading her arms over her head in surrender. Fogo ran his fingers over the closures of her vest, but it didn’t open. He rubbed his hands together to create more heat and tried again.

  “If you really knew me,” she said running her hand along the front of his jumpsuit—the cloth parted and hung open, “you’d know that I wouldn’t allow my cloths to open for anyone but me.”

  She brushed her hands over her vest and the cloth slid open. She lifted up slightly and waited. He maneuvered the vest off her arms. With a coy finger pressed to her lips, she slowly opened her knees to reveal buttons lining her legs from her inner thighs to her ankles.

  “Nice boots.” He reached out to run his hands over the buttons, then paused.

  “Would you?”

  With one finger extended, Laki ran her hand along the closures of her boots. Buttons, from the crease of her pelvis to her knee, popped open. Fogo rolled the leather down, then pulled off the boots. His hands hovered over her shorts.

  Laki smirked and parted the shorts, slipping them off without sitting up. Fogo reached toward her throat. She shook her head.

  “The scarf stays.”

  When she reached up to pull his cloth off, he gently moved her hands away.

  “This is your moment.”

  “My moment?”

  “All yours.”

  Laki raised up on her elbows. “Then why aren’t you inside me?”

  Fogo threw his head back and laughed. “I’m an artist. You must allow me to work at my own pace.”

  He leaned over and began to brush the sleeve of his pantsuit over her skin. He started slowly, rubbing the fabric softly over the sides of her torso. Then, as if gauging how much she could take, he added pressure making his caresses rougher. Some areas he rubbed repeatedly while others he barely touched. He punctuated every few touches with a stroking of her inner thighs. He rubbed his cloth down the entire length of each of her legs, then stroked her inner thigh. He brushed his cloth across her chest, across her belly, then stroked her inner thigh.

  Each time he returned to her thighs, a swelling crescendoed between her legs and air escaped her in intense gusts. When Fogo’s orchestra of arousal caused Laki to lose all regularity of breathing, he finally disrobed. He shrugged his cloth off his shoulders and let it drop to the ground.

  “Turn over.”

  “Oh, so you’re still running things?” Laki asked as she turned over.

  Fogo began kissing and biting down her spine, veering off course to explore the contours of her back. By the time he reached the fleshy spread beneath her hips, Laki had let go of her performance. She no longer cared who was in control, she simply wanted to feel as much as she could, as deeply as she could. She reached for Fogo and pulled him to her.

  “I need it now.”

  Fogo chuckled. “I think you should wait.”

  “No.” Laki turned over and grasped his arms. “We can do it again later,” she whispered, “But I need it now.”

  “I am a benevolent ruler,” Fogo said as he allowed Laki to guide him to enter her. Laki had expected the shuddering and the bliss, but as soon as she and Fogo’s bodies were connected there was something else—something dark and ancient that unfurled between them. She gasped, then narrowed her eyes to study his face. His expression of knowing arrogance had dissolved. Unmasked, he looked like a different person. The pleasure and surprise Laki saw reflected on his face seemed like the first true emotion he was allowing her to see.

  An intense current of sensations began to thrum through Laki, pulling her outside of herself. Long-held lashes of pain unfurled and vibrated within her. Hurts began slipping out of her mouth along with a low moaning. As the mysterious connection between them built to a crackling climax, time and space began to blur. Laki felt as if her very being was disintegrating in air. When she was fully drowned in rapture, a chill rustled over her skin; she began to shiver. She opened her eyes and saw a swirl of sparkling colors and patterns. A cloth fell over her body and obliterated Fogo’s touch. She blinked and the rendezvous with Fogo dissolved.

  The chaos of her party was just as she had left it, but she was not prepared for what she saw standing before her. She startled, then scrambled to her feet. At first she thought it was the mother-unit—her mother-unit—looking down on her. But when her mind cleared, she noticed the faces. She could see eyes, noses, lips. All the women in this unit had thinned their cloaks so that the part of the veil covering their faces had become transparent.

  “M… M… M…?”

  “Mahini,” the mother-unit sang together.

  “How did you…?” Questions flew through Laki’s mind. How could a whole mother-unit fit into a pod? How did they get past the concierge? Why were they here?

  “We never answer how,” sang Mahini.

  “You looked cold,” sang one mother.

  “Happy, but cold,” sang another mother.

  Laki bent down, scooped up the cloth, and draped it over her shoulders.

  “You are the girl who is going into a mother-unit tomorrow, are you not?”

  Laki nodded.

  “So why are you wearing a marriage belt.”

  “Have you changed your mind?”

  Laki pulled the cloth tighter around her body. She was having trouble accepting what she saw before her: a mother-unit with faces. She examined the expressions in their eyes, the set of their mouths.

  “Can you leave the unit?” Laki burst out.

  One of the mothers smiled. “I believe we asked you a question first.”

  “This…” Laki said, throwing one edge of the cloth open to reveal a glimpse of the belt. “…is a souvenir. I can’t seem to get it off…and you, can you all leave the unit?”

  The women of Mahini shook their heads. “Temporarily, in an emergency, but our cloaks are bonded.”

  “We are one,” they sang together.

  “What about your children? What happened to them?”

  “We refused to accept them. They belong to someone else…”

  “…and we belong to the world.”

  “We mother those who need it.”

  “We mother with our songs.”

  “We mother those who have never heard of us.”

  “We mother each other.”

  Laki’s head bounced around as she looked into the face of each woman as she spoke.

  “Where do you…” She began to ask a question, but was interrupted.

  “We don’t answer where,” Mahini sang.

  “Where is the owner of that belt?” one of the mothers asked.

  “Not here. Probably somewhere in the Stretch.”

  “You don’t want to join a mother-unit.”

  Laki searched their faces. “Is that a question?”

  “No, that’s an o
bservation. Look at you. You’re wearing a stranger’s marriage belt, passed out at a wild party, yet restless as a caged animal.”

  “How should I be spending my last night, attaching bells to my cloths?” Laki snapped.

  The women of Mahini looked at each other and smiled.

  “She’ll be head mother,” one of them commented.

  “Feisty yet docile enough to follow the rules.”

  “Headed off to a mother-unit like a good little girl.”

  “You call this mothering?” Laki asked.

  “It isn’t all hugs and pheromones,” one said.

  Laki thought about the mother hanging from the sling, giving of her body to nurture the babies. Neither hugs nor pheromones could do that. She opened her mouth to give a tart retort, but found that she didn’t have the energy to respond. She was weary—weary of conversation and weary of escape. The weight of tomorrow was pressing down on her, and she had spent too much time thinking about mother-units. Tomorrow belonged to the mother-unit, tonight was hers.

  One of the women began to sing the chorus from their song about the nature of mothers. It was a song that Laki had always loved but never understood. She noticed that Mahini’s veil was billowing around the edges. She unwound her cloth from around her neck and rearranged the cloth Mahini had draped over her. She adjusted it so that the edges lined up in front of her body. Running her hand along the ends of the cloth, she fused it into a flowing robe. She pinched under the arms and shaped roomy sleeves. Laki listened to a few of the mothers chattering about her prospects for success in a mother-unit, then she shrugged off the conversation. She moved around to the back of the mother-unit to investigate the billowing veil. She was surprised to see that the veil was billowing because—while their sisters were chatting or singing—two of the mothers were dancing. Laki stood there, momentarily entranced by the women’s faces and the grace of their movements. Then she covered her face with her hands, as if to protect herself, and joined in.

  Once Laki began to move, all the women of Mahini started to dance. Movement, it seemed, was connected to singing for them. As they danced, a humming rose up—a humming that turned into chanting. Their intonations started to reach the ears of Laki’s guests, and one by one, they stopped their revelry and turned to watch Laki dancing with Mahini. It was a sight that very few people had ever seen before and that very few people would ever see again. A mother-unit with exposed faces, dancing with abandon in the Velvet Stretch, veil fluttering and undulating like a living thing.