Venus of Dreams

by Pamela Sargent

  “Maybe.”

  “Maybe we can talk, then. See you around.” Edwin walked toward the ramp and hurried up to his own room.

  The student’s friendliness had eased him a little. Iris had spoken of him to others; maybe she still missed him after all. He went to the window and looked outside. Iris was sitting near a bush with a dark-haired young man. The man suddenly jumped to his feet and pulled Iris to hers. She stroked his bare arm; as he leaned forward, his dark beard brushed the top of her head. He was saying something to her; she shook her head. Chen backed away from the window and went to the dispenser, not noticing what he had selected until the panel slid open and offered him a plate of beans and rice and a small bottle of wine.

  Iris came inside as he was seating himself; she was alone. She fetched her own meal and sat down across from him.

  “Who was the man?”

  Her eyes widened. She looked down quickly.

  “The one you were talking to outside.”

  “Oh. That was Esteban.”

  “Were you afraid to have him meet me?”

  She raised her head. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “He had to go someplace.”

  He picked at the spicy, unfamiliar food; his appetite was gone. “Tell me about Benzi,” she said.

  “He’s growing. Well, you know that — you’ve seen his image. He’s stubborn. Give him a toy, and he’s not about to let go of it until he’s ready.” Iris’s face softened as he spoke of the boy; her eyes grew more gentle. Chen went on speaking, telling of how quickly Benzi seemed to grasp the meaning of a word and of how often he would take a small object apart, as if curious about how it worked, and how loudly he cried.

  Iris stifled a yawn as he finished, then smiled apologetically. “I’m tired,” she said. “I never seem to sleep enough now.”

  He cleared away their trays, then walked back to her room at her side. They undressed in silence. When they climbed into her bed, he drew her head toward his, missing the long hair he remembered as he stroked her neck. Her hands clutched at him nervously; her hip bone dug into his side. She was unfamiliar; the body he touched was thinner, her smell muskier.

  He was too impatient to wait. He rocked against her, moaning as he entered, crying out as he sought release, and finished too soon. As he let go, she fell back on the bed. By the time his hands reached for her again, she was breathing deeply, her mouth open, her body slack, asleep.

  Chen awoke once during the night. A dim light glowed near the screen; Iris was awake, a band around her head. Still wearing the band, she crept back to bed. Chen pretended he was still asleep, and soon drifted off once more.

  When he woke up again, she was dressing. Her breasts glistened with droplets of water. She swatted at herself with a towel, then draped the towel over the clothes rod.

  “Iris. You should have stayed awake longer. More than a year, and I didn’t satisfy you.”

  “It’s all right. It wasn’t your fault.” She smiled at him the way she once had. He got up and let himself into the cubicle next to the room. By the time he had finished showering in the small stall, Iris was dressed and in front of her screen, staring at lines of symbols.

  “How long are you going to stay?” she asked as she looked up.

  “I don’t know. I don’t want to be in the way. I can probably find my way around during the day.”

  “I’d show you around myself, but I wouldn’t have time.”

  “I could come to your discussions with you.”

  “That wouldn’t be wise. You’d probably distract everybody, and they’d want to ask you what it was like for you on the Project, and then we wouldn’t get to what we’re supposed to be doing.”

  “I wouldn’t say anything.”

  “Oh, Chen. I don’t have time for this.”

  He sat down on the bed, draping the sheet over his bare body, suddenly embarrassed at his nakedness. Her eyes had a distant look again, as if he were a stranger who had never shared her bed before. “Iris, do you want to end our bond?”

  She gripped the back of her chair with her hands. “What made you say that?”

  “I thought you might be thinking of it. You don’t really need me now. You have what you wanted without me. We’re growing apart. We’ll change even more by the time you leave this place.”

  “Look, we’ve been separated. It’s natural to feel that way. But I never thought of breaking our bond.”

  “Iris, you don’t feel the same way. I can sense it. You didn’t even introduce me to your friends. I shame you. You’ll be someone with schooling, and I’ll be a worker. You may want to be free from me then.”

  Her fingers curled around the chair’s back. “You wanted me to come here. You told me it was the right thing to do. Maybe it’s you who wants to end our bond.”

  He shook his head. “Never.”

  “Then why did you bring this up now?” Her voice was shrill. “I have work to do. I can’t talk about this.”

  He had meant to say he loved her. His words had flowed from his lips almost against his will.

  “Chen, I made a promise to you,” she went on. “I’ll do my best to keep it. We still share the same dream, don’t we? Don’t we? It may be harder for you to return to the Project without me. I’ll be needed there when I’m trained. They don’t have as many people in my field there as they’d like, because they need so many of them here for weather control. They’ll be bound to keep you at my side. I can’t break the pledge now.”

  Was this her way of saying that she still cared? He pressed his lips together, thinking that he had been a fool to speak.

  “Anyway, be practical,” Iris said in a lower voice. “If we break our bond, the time to do that is when we’re on the Islands, not here. Once we’re safely there, it won’t matter.”

  “I see.” Chen seemed to be outside of himself, unable to control his words. “You’re just waiting to break it. At least be honest with me.”

  The muscles in her neck tightened as she leaned forward. “What do you want from me? I took you as a bondmate, against my mother’s wishes, when she could have expelled me from her house. I gave you a son, I cared for you as much as I could. But it isn’t enough for you. No matter what I give, you want more.”

  “You took me as a bondmate because you needed me then. Now, you don’t. You can get to the Islands without me. You can have others, like that man Esteban.”

  “So that’s what it is.” She hissed the words. “How wrong you are. He shows me some attention, nothing more. He has to counsel many of us, so he has to treat us all the same way, and he can hardly sleep with all of us.” Her eyes narrowed. “Not that I haven’t tried. I’ve asked him to my bed, but he refuses. There. You wanted honesty from me.”

  “And there was no one else?”

  “No one who mattered,” she snapped. In spite of her words, she looked wounded. “You knew what my customs were before. I don’t ask you what you do away from me. Our contract doesn’t forbid other partners while we’re separated.”

  She didn’t understand. It wasn’t jealousy he felt, but the fear that he was losing her. Why couldn’t she see that?

  “You shouldn’t have come here,” she went on. “What if you let it slip to someone else that we’re bondmates, that you aren’t just the father of my child? Esteban knows, and the Administrators must know, but they keep it in confidence. It wouldn’t even matter if many of the students knew, because a lot of their people practice that custom, but there are students here from the Plains, and gossip spreads. I don’t want to shame my commune.”

  He sighed. “You should know by now that I wouldn’t give you away.”

  “Now, you come here and take me away from my work. I can’t sit here talking to you. I have a discussion in a few minutes, and it’s too late to get to it in person, so I’ll have to use my screen. Maybe that seems like a small lapse to you, but here, they place importance on personal contact, since we have to be abl
e to work together later.”

  “You’re right,” he said angrily. “I shouldn’t have come. There are hostels in Caracas. I can find a bed at one until I leave. I can go back to Lincoln for a few days, see Benzi. He should feel that at least one of his parents doesn’t see him as useless.”

  She turned back to her screen impatiently. Chen dressed quickly, then remembered the carving he had been planning to give her. He was about to pull it from the pocket where it had remained when Iris turned around again.

  “I can’t have you leave like this,” she murmured. “Maybe you’ll understand if I explain something to you. Chen, I’m struggling here. It was easy to think I was clever back in Lincoln. It’s a little different when you’re with others who were chosen. This place isn’t just teaching us what we can do, but what’s beyond us as well. At best, I’ll get by and even get sent to the Project, not because I’m terribly wise or talented, but because they happen to need more people in my field there. At worst, I could fail, and then everything I’ve done will be useless.”

  “You’re too hard on yourself.”

  She shook her head. “Oh, I had very grand dreams for myself once. I thought I might even do something original with my work. Well, I can see the patterns, but I can’t make the leap beyond them to something new. That gift isn’t inside me, and nothing will put it there. Angharad was right when she told me that my learning would bring me unhappiness. I might have been happier if I’d stayed in Lincoln. I could have always told myself that —”

  “Would you really change it?” he asked.

  “No, I guess not. Not even now.” She blinked and wiped at her eyes. “Well, now you know what an imposter I really am. I sometimes think they made a mistake in choosing me.”

  “No they didn’t.” He stood near her and stroked her hair. “You knew it would be hard. They wouldn’t give you the allotment if they thought you couldn’t succeed. I’ll go now. Don’t worry. You’d better get back to your discussion.”

  She turned back to the screen. He was about to place the carving next to her, then decided to keep it. He had misunderstood her when he carved it. He had formed the face of a woman serene in her knowledge and disdainful of those who could not share it; to give her such a carving now would wound her.

  He kissed her on the neck lightly before leaving. He would send her a message before he left Caracas, when he could think about his words before speaking them. He would tell her that he could wait, that his love was strong enough for that.

  The floater rested in its cradle. Chen hurried down the ramp, nodding absently at the few shopkeepers claiming shipments, and made his way toward Lincoln. He would at last have some good news for Eric. Arla Goddell had paid handsomely for his carving of Iris, had asked for one of herself, and had spoken of friends who would pay for carvings. Almost without thinking, Chen had given her Eric’s name and location, saying that she could make arrangements through the young shopkeeper.

  The more Chen had thought of that impulsive gesture during his journey, the better an idea it had seemed. Eric could handle the commissions, send Chen images of those to be carved, make the shipments, keep the records. His business might revive when the rest of Lincoln heard that such folk were dealing with Eric. Chen hadn’t stopped to think of how he himself would find time for the extra work; he would worry about that later.

  He strode into the town square and hurried toward the tavern, expecting that Eric would be there and yet hoping that he wasn’t present. He stopped in front of the tavern door and wiped his brow with one hand.

  The door opened. He stepped into the darkened, cool room that was a refuge from the humid spring heat. “Where’s Eric Constances?” he asked.

  A man standing at the bar turned around. “The shopkeeper? Probably at the town hall. The Counselor’s here — I saw Eric heading there earlier.”

  Chen had forgotten. He went outside and crossed the square. As he began to climb the steps, he heard a scream.

  Suddenly, townsfolk were streaming out of the hall toward him. He stepped aside quickly to let them pass. “Go get Letty!” a woman cried. Someone was wailing. Chen looked up; Laiza was teetering at the top of the steps, as if about to fall.

  He dropped his duffel and bounded up the steps to her. She pushed him away, and then fell against him; she was shaking as he gripped her shoulders. Letty Charlottes, followed by two women, was already running across the square carrying her bag; she scurried up the steps and entered the hall.

  “What is it?” Chen managed to ask.

  “It’s Eric!” the young woman wailed. “It’s Eric!” He shook her, but she said no more. He let go and Laiza stumbled away.

  His throat was dry. He entered the hall, afraid of what he would see.

  A few people were standing outside the Counselor’s room. Letty emerged, the Counselor, David Annas, at her side. “I’m sorry to tell you this,” she said to the small crowd. “He’s dead. I don’t know how it could have happened. David here says that it was sudden — one minute, Eric was speaking, and the next, he just fell to the floor. Poor Eric probably didn’t even feel anything. David went to his side right away, but he saw that he was gone even before I was sent for. I won’t know more until —”

  David Annas was already leading the others away; he shook his head and murmured to them in soothing tones. Chen stared at the Counselor’s broad back; his hands became fists.

  Letty caught Chen’s eye and motioned to him; he moved toward her. “I know he was your friend,” the physician said. “It seems to have been a stroke, according to my med-scan. I don’t understand it. He was so young. I scanned him not more than two months ago. I warned him to stop drinking and gave him some medication, but I don’t suppose he took it. I told him I’d insist on an implant if he didn’t, something that would make him ill if he touched a drop, but —” She sat down in one of the chairs, cradling her bag on her lap. “Not that it matters now. I don’t know how I could have missed the signs. Somehow, I failed him.”

  “You couldn’t have known,” Chen said dully.

  “I should have. It was my duty to know, to see the signs.”

  He knew he would find no weapon in the Counselor’s room; David had no doubt disposed of it immediately before calling for help. Chen had come back to Lincoln too late; he had not realized the depth of Eric’s rage and despair. He could imagine what David had told him, how sympathetic the Counselor had looked when he had said that it was time for Eric to give up his shop. Perhaps Eric had been prepared for that news.

  He had failed his friend, failed the women caring for Benzi. Everything he had done had only brought Eric to his death. He wondered wildly what Eric had carried into the room with him — perhaps a small gun or knife, something easily concealed that would not be missed.

  “I’ll have to look at my records again,” Letty was saying. “There has to be something I missed.” Her eyes met his. “Poor Constance. You should go to her house right away. She’ll need her friends now.”

  He stumbled from the hall. He was about to cross the square when he remembered his bag. He reached down for it and slung it over his shoulder. A few people had gathered in front of Fatima’s shop; one of them called out to him as he passed. He ignored the caller and went on down the nearest road until he was in front of Angharad’s house. He stared at the door, not knowing how he could bring himself to enter. A few neighbors had drifted into the road; he could not meet their eyes.

  At last he went inside. The door to the common room opened as he entered. Constance was sitting in a chair near the screen, her face pale and still. LaDonna was standing next to her, holding a glass of whiskey. Constance shook her head and pushed the glass away. Angharad paced the room, wringing her hands.

  Constance suddenly noticed Chen. A scream escaped her; she tore at her blond hair. LaDonna dropped the glass; it rolled on the rug, spilling its amber contents. Chen stiffened, imagining that Constance saw his guilt and was blaming him for her son’s death. She can’t know, he told himsel
f as he backed toward the doorway.

  LaDonna held Constance by her wrists as the blond woman continued to scream. Her hoarse cry lashed at Chen’s ears as he watched helplessly.

  Chen crept into the darkened town hall and stopped in front of the Counselor’s room. He pressed his hand against the door; surprisingly, it opened. David Annas, Chen realized, probably did not know that Chen had been the one who had installed the deadly protective device; there was no need for him to know that, and no reason for David to change the lock.

  Chen went inside. David would be at Angharad’s house for a while longer. The door slid shut behind him as the ceiling lit up. The heavy curtains over the window were drawn; no one would see the light. He stood there for a moment, almost expecting the beam to take his own life, then went to the desk and sat down.

  I’m a murderer, he thought. My hands killed him. He stared at his roughened palms. His finger punched a console button as he spoke the codes he still remembered.

  He waited. At last Nancy Fassi’s face appeared on the screen; her lids were heavy, swollen with sleep. He had known that she would accept the call.

  “I know,” she said without preliminaries. “I’m sorry. I was going to contact you tomorrow. I have news for you, Chen.”

  “I don’t want your news. I have something to tell you.”

  “You’d better hear what I have to say first. We think it’s time you went back to the Islands. You’ve done enough for us. We’ll make arrangements as quickly as possible.”

  He gritted his teeth. He would not even have the chance to tell the Linker that he would do no more of her evil work. She had already anticipated his words and had taken away his chance to stand up to her.

  “Really, it’s best that you don’t stay in the Plains now,” she continued. “There are others who can continue the work. It’s my hope, and this seems supported by the facts so far, that this was an isolated incident, and won’t be repeated. Your bondmate and son can join you when Iris has finished her course of study — I know she’ll be encouraged in her own work when she hears you’ll be going to the Islands. There’s a group of workers leaving for Venus soon.” She gazed at him expectantly, as if waiting for him to show his gratitude.