Tales of the Hidden World

by Simon R. Green

In my private quarters, lying on my bed on my side, so I could keep an eye on my tubes and cables and make sure they didn’t get tangled, I remembered the crash again.

  We were flying over the Rainbow Falls, my Alice and me, in our old air car. We were arguing. We were always arguing, back then. We had been so much in love, but it hadn’t lasted. That was why I crashed the car. I drove it quite deliberately into the side of the mountain, at full speed. Alice was screaming, I was crying. I wanted to kill us both, because she said she was going to leave me, and I couldn’t bear the thought of living without her. So I crashed the car, and she died, and I lived. They saved me, the bastards. And then they put me in a hard suit, and they put her voice in my head, forever. I couldn’t bear to live without her, and now I couldn’t bear to live with her. Because the memory deposit came from the time when she still loved me. She didn’t remember the crash. She didn’t remember the arguments, or not loving me. She thought we were still happy together, because we were when she made the deposit. She still thought we were in love, and I didn’t have the heart to tell her.

  They gave her to me as a kindness, but every kind word she said was a torment.

  On the transport ship out, the next day, I told the Commander about the old, empty hard suit I’d found.

  “I’m not supposed to talk about that,” said the Commander’s voice. “But you’d just dig it out of the old records anyway, if I didn’t. The crew of Base Two were mostly hard suits. Like you. Their superiors were human, but they stayed inside the Base. Only the hard suits went out into Abaddon to work. And some of them . . . learned to love this world. This hateful, ugly world. They decided they didn’t want to fight anymore. So they just walked out into the jungle and opened up their suits.”

  “But . . . what happened to the bodies?” I said. “Did the plants eat them?”

  “There’s never been any evidence that the plants here are carnivorous,” said the Commander. “The hard suits’ occupants just . . . disappeared. Now and again, some of the work crews would report seeing ghosts, moving through the jungle.”

  “Ghosts?” said Nine. I knew he was thinking of the moving human figure I’d seen.

  “Illusions. Mirages,” said the Commander. “It’s just stress. This planet wears you down. If you see anything like that, don’t go after them. You won’t find anything. No one ever does. It’s just something else the planet does, to distract you, so it can kill you while you’re not looking.”

  “What happened to the human crew in Base Two?” I said. “Did they learn to love this world, too?”

  The Commander had nothing else to say. We flew the rest of the way in silence.

  Out in the jungle again, we walked the perimeter. Maddened raging plants pushed forward from all sides, and I ripped them out of the ground, crushed them to pulp in my terrible grip, and threw them aside. Or trampled the more persistent ones under my steel feet. I blasted them with fire and bullets and energy bolts, giving it everything I had, just to hold the line. The plants never fell back, never slowed down, never for one moment stopped trying to kill us. I thought of years of this, of endless killing, destroying living things that were only fighting to defend their home. Years . . . of living with my murdered wife’s kind and loving voice in my head.

  In the end, it only took a moment to decide. I hadn’t gone native. I hadn’t learned to love this ugly, vicious, vindictive world. It still looked like Hell to me. I was just so very tired of it all.

  I stopped fighting, and walked out from the perimeter and into the jungle. The plants immediately stopped fighting me and actually seemed to fall back, opening up a path before me. I walked on through the jungle, the plants bobbing and nodding their heads to me, as though they’d been waiting for this. Even the wind seemed to have dropped. It was like walking through a garden on a calm summer’s day. Part of me was thinking: This is how they do it. This is how they get to you. But I didn’t care. I just kept walking. I could hear the others calling out to me, on the open channel, but I had nothing to say to them.

  Paul? Why are you doing this?

  “Because it’s the right thing to do. Because I’m tired. Because . . . killing is wrong.”

  I don’t understand, Paul. You know I could override your control. Walk you back to the perimeter.

  “Are you going to?”

  No. I was put here to help and comfort you. I know I’m not really Alice, but I’m sure she would want you to do the right thing.

  I walked until I couldn’t see the perimeter anymore, and then I just stopped and looked around me. Hideously colored, horribly shaped plants, for as far as the sensor could see. Under a sky of blood, with air that would poison me, and gravity that would crush me. Abaddon. Just another name for Hell. Where I belonged.

  “Alice,” I said. “You know what I want. You know what I need you to do for me.”

  I can’t, said the warm, familiar voice that was all that was left of my dead wife. I can’t let you just die. Please, don’t ask me to do this, Paul.

  “I can’t go on like this,” I said. “I want out. Just . . . open up the suit. I want this to be over. Open the suit, and let me out into this brave new world that has such ugly wonders in it. I don’t want to live like this.”

  I can’t do that, Paul. I can’t. I love you.

  “If you love me, let me go.”

  Like I should have let you go, I thought. I was still sane enough to see the bitter irony in that.

  Paul? What is that? Who is that? Who are those people?

  I looked around. Not far away, this time, not far away at all, the ghosts came walking through the jungle. Just vague human shapes at first, moving easily and unharmed among the plants, as though they were at home there. Not walking in a human way. They stopped, and one of them raised an overlong arm and beckoned to me. I plunged forward, and the plants really did fall back, encouraging me on. The ghostly figures retreated before me, one of them still beckoning, and I followed them deeper into the jungle, away from the terraforming equipment, away from Base Three, and all that was left of my old human life.

  What are you doing, Paul? Where do you think you’re going?

  “I’m chasing a dream,” I said. “Of a life when I still had hope, and options, and choices that meant something.”

  I could stop you.

  “But you won’t. Because you still love me.”

  She didn’t stop me.

  I followed the vague figures that were somehow always ahead of me, no matter how much I increased my pace. I stopped once, to look back. The trail had closed behind me. There was only the jungle. The plants watched, still and silent, to see what I would do. I turned my back on my old life and hurried on.

  And finally, the ghosts stopped. One of them came back to meet me. It stepped out of the concealing jungle to stand right before me, and I took my time, looking it over. Not human. Humanoid, but not human. Taller than me, smoothly slender, different in every detail. Its basic shape was stretched out and distorted, the arms and legs had too many joints, and the face . . . had nothing I could recognize as features, let alone sense organs. Only yesterday I would have described it as hideous, alien, inhuman. But I was trying to see the world with better eyes. And anyway, compared to the broken half thing inside my hard suit, I was in no position to throw stones. I nodded to the shape before me, and to my surprise it nodded back, in a very human way.

  “You’re not a ghost,” I said. Just to be saying something.

  “No,” it said. Complex mouthparts at the base of its head moved, producing something very like a human voice. “Not ghosts. But we are dead men. Technically speaking. We are the surviving crew of Base Two. Made over, made new, made to walk freely in this best of all possible worlds. We came here in armored suits, just like you, but we have found a better way. If you want answers, if you want a way out of that suit and your old life, come with me. Come with us to the Cave of Crea
tion, and be born anew.”

  I didn’t even have to think about it. “Does this Cave of yours have a can opener?”

  “Something like that, yes.”

  I went with them, walking through a calm and peaceful garden, with humanoid things that only remembered being human. They bobbed and bounced around me, as though their bones were made of rubber, as though the heavy gravity was no concern of theirs. And I trudged along inside my steel can, and dreamed of freedom. The jungle suddenly fell back on all sides, to reveal a larger than usual clearing, with a great earth mound at its center. You only had to look at it to know it was no natural thing. The dark earth had been raised up by conscious intent, given shape and form and meaning. There was a large dark hole in its side. My guides led me forward across the clearing, right up to the earth mound, and then the one who’d spoken to me strode easily up a set of steps cut into the earth mound, heading for the opening. The others stood and looked at me. I didn’t hesitate, but I had to go slowly, carefully, so the earth steps wouldn’t collapse under my weight.

  By the time I reached the dark opening, my guide had already gone through. I stepped into the darkness after him, and a great light sprang up, blinding me for a moment. When I could see again, I was standing on an earth ledge, looking down into a great cavern that seemed to fall away forever, packed full of strange alien technology. I had no idea at all what I was looking at. Shapes so strange, so utterly other, that my merely human mind couldn’t make sense of any of it. Even with my armor’s sophisticated sensors. My thoughts whirled at forces and functions without obvious meaning, or perhaps too much meaning. Parts and sections that seemed to twist and turn through more than three physical dimensions at once. Wonders and marvels, intimidating and terrifying. Heaven and Hell, all at once.

  My guide stood beside me, waiting patiently for me to come to terms with what it had brought me to see.

  “We were not the first to find this world,” it said finally. “Another species came here, long ago, determined to change this world and remake it in their image. And this is the machine they built, to do that. Except . . . they learned to love this world. And they decided: Why change the planet when you can change the people? So that’s what they did. They reprogrammed the machine to remake them, and when it was done, they went out into the world and lived in it. The machine still works. It can change you and make you a part of this world, like us. It’s a good world, when it’s not fighting for its own survival. Join me. Become like us. Hell can be Heaven, if you look at it with the right eyes.”

  “Do you think it’s telling the truth?” I said to Alice on my private comm channel. “I want to believe . . . but I could be wrong.”

  I don’t know. I can’t tell. Is this really what you want, Paul?

  “You know it is, Alice.”

  Then do it. Because . . . I’m not real. I’m not really Alice. Just a memory, a ghost, imprinted on silicon. I’m the past, and this is the future. I know about the crash, Paul. I know you crashed us deliberately. I’m a computer. I have access to records. Why did you try to kill us both, Paul?

  “Because . . . you changed, and I didn’t. You didn’t love me anymore. You were going to leave me.”

  And now you’ve changed . . . and you want to leave me.

  “Yes. You have to be better than me, Alice. You have to let me go.”

  Of course I will, Paul. She laughed softly, briefly. Memories shouldn’t linger. Time for both of us . . . to move on.

  She opened up the front of the hard suit, and I fell out onto the hard-packed earth of the ledge. A small, crippled, dying thing. I cried out, once, as I felt the AI shut itself down, forever, and then all my umbilical tubes and cables jerked out of my back, no longer connecting me to the armor. The great alien machine blazed bright as the sun . . . and when I could see again, I was something else.

  Outside the earth mound, everything was different. I moved easily, freely, marveling at the world I found myself in. The plants were beautiful, the jungle was magnificent, the sky was astounding and the sunshine was just right. But more than that, the whole world was alive; the jungle and everything in it was singing a song, a great and joyous song that never ended, and I was part of that song now.

  I could remember being human, but that seemed such a small and limited thing now. I was whole and free, at last. I knelt down and studied a small flower at my feet. I put out a hand to touch it, and the flower reached up and caressed my hand.

  If there’s a model for this one, it’s probably the work of Roger Zelazny, one of my all-time heroes. The editor for this one wanted stories about soldiers wearing futuristic battle suits. I started thinking about what kind of man would allow himself to be sealed into such a thing. Only someone with nothing left to lose, and penance still to do.

  Jesus and Satan Go Jogging in the Desert

  So, I came up out of Hell, and I am here to tell you that after the Pit and the sulfur and the screams of the damned, the desert made a really nice change. Like a breath of fresh air. Don’t ask me which desert; the Holy Land was lousy with unwanted and uncared-for beachless property in those days. Just sand and rocks for as far as the eye could see, with a few lizards thrown in here and there to break up the monotony. I allowed myself a little time out, to enjoy the peace and quiet, and then I went looking for Jesus.

  He wasn’t hard to find. Anyone else would have been sheltering in the shade, away from the fierce heat of the sun. Only the Son of God would be ambling along, caught between the heat and a hard place, just because God told him to. I followed him for a while, careful to maintain a respectful distance, wondering how best to break the ice, so to speak. He really didn’t look good. Forty days and forty nights fasting in the desert had darkened his skin, made a mess of his hair, blackened his lips, and stripped all the fat off him. Still, he strode along easily enough, back straight and head held high. He stopped suddenly.

  “Well, Satan? Are you going to follow me all day, or should we get on with it?”

  He looked back at me, grinning as he saw he’d caught me off guard. Don’t ask me how he knew I was there. I nodded quickly and hurried to catch him up. His face was all skin and bone, but the smile on his cracked lips was real enough, and his eyes were full of a quiet mischief. Don’t let anyone tell you the Son of God didn’t have a sense of humor. We stood for a while and looked each other over. It had been a long time. . . .

  “So,” Jesus said finally. “Satan, look at you! All dressed in white and shining like a star!”

  “Well,” I said, “I always was the most beautiful. I like what you’ve done with the loincloth. Really stresses the humility.”

  “How is that you’re out of Hell?” said Jesus. Not accusing, you’ll note, just genuinely interested.

  “I’m allowed out, now and again,” I said. “When He’s got a point He wants to make. But He always keeps me on a tight leash. Sometimes I think He only lets me out so Hell will seem that much worse, when I have to go back.”

  “No,” said Jesus. “That’s not how He works. Our Father is many things, but He’s not petty.”

  I shrugged. “You know Him better than I do, these days. Anyway, I’ve been called up here to tempt you. To test your strength of will for what’s to come.”

  Jesus gave me a hard look. “Forty days and forty nights, boiling by day and freezing by night, and only bloody lizards for company, and that’s not enough of a test of willpower?”

  I shrugged again. “Don’t look at me. I don’t make the rules. Our Father moves in mysterious ways.”

  Jesus sniffed loudly. “Aren’t you supposed to be out and about, tempting mankind into sin?”

  “Don’t you believe it,” I said. “They don’t need me. Most men sin like they breathe. Some of them actually get up early, just so they can fit in more sins before the end of the day. I don’t have to tempt men into falling; I have to beat them off with a stick at the Gates of Hel
l, just to get them to form an orderly line.”

  “Boasting again,” said Jesus. “You are a proud and arrogant creature, and the Truth is not in you. But you do tell a good tale.”

  “All right, maybe I do indulge in a little tempting now and again,” I said. “Mostly for the ones too dumb to know a good opportunity when they see one. But . . . Just look at the world He gave them! A paradise, a beautiful land under a magnificent sky, food and water ready to hand; all right, not here, but I think He threw in the deserts just so they’d appreciate the rest of it.”

  “Even the desert is beautiful,” said Jesus. And even after forty days and nights of suffering he could still say that and mean it. You could tell. “It’s calm here,” he said. “Serene, peaceful, untroubled. Everything in its place. There is beauty here, for those with the eyes to see it.”

  “You’re just glad to get away from all the noise,” I said knowingly. “All the voices, all the crowds and their demands, all the pressure . . . Go on; admit it!”

  “All right, I admit it,” he said easily. “I’m only human . . . some of the time. I came to this world to spread my teachings, not amuse the crowds with miracles. But you have to get their attention first. . . .”

  “I have to ask,” I said. “Why do you bother? All they ever do is whine and squabble and fight over things they could just as easily share. They don’t need me . . . pathetic bunch of losers. I do love to see them fall, because every failed life and lost soul is just another proof that I was right about them, all along.”

  Jesus looked at me sadly. “All this time and you still don’t get it. All right, let’s get on with the temptations. What are you going to offer me first? Riches? Power? A nice new loincloth? I have all I need, and all I want.”

  “I’m here to show you all the things you could have, and all the things you could be,” I said as earnestly as I knew how. “The things you’re throwing away because your vision’s so narrow.”

  He was already shaking his head. “You’re talking about earthly things. Why are you doing this, Satan? You must know you won’t succeed.”