Reconception: The Fall

by Deborah Greenspan

  "Um en," the crowd responded with one voice. "Um en."

  Into the glare of the fire came a man and a woman, both naked. They were of magnificent proportions and seemed to be without the blemishes so common to the people here. The man imperiously held up his hand and the woman knelt before him.

  The crowd groaned. The man pulled her head up to look at his face and then pushed her down until she lay prostrate in the dirt.

  "What is it?" Garret asked Paren. "What are they doing?" Paren was enraptured, however, and didn't seem to hear him.

  In the fire's glow the man lay down atop the woman and spread her legs apart with his knee. Mounting her from behind, he began to thrust deeply, his hips moving rhythmically. The woman writhed in the dirt beneath him, and Garret didn't know if she felt pleasure or pain. He could feel his own loins responding despite himself.

  Every member of the crowd was riveted by the display, their breathing ragged and quick. The man stretched the woman's arms out and away from her body, and plunged more deeply into her. The rhythm increased. The crowd took up their chant again, this time punctuating it with claps that were timed to the man's thrusts.

  Suddenly, the woman cried out, then twisted beneath the man, turning her body to face him. The man withdrew and watched as she turned. The crowd held its breath as she assumed this new position and then held out her arms to him.

  The fire cast an orange glow on their bodies, and Garret was close enough to see each droplet of perspiration. Each muscle on the woman's body was defined in sweat, and she was beautiful, or had become so in the midst of this pageant. As her body arched beneath the man, she seemed to be etched in fire.

  The man moved in her arms; face to face and hip to hip they now began to rock together. The pace quickened, accented by the chanting of the crowd, until the two bodies joined and seemed, for one glorious moment, to melt together in the heat of the conflagration into something else, something more.

  The chanting stopped. The crowd waited. Apparently, Garret thought, it's not over. After a moment, the man withdrew and sat up. The woman remained on the ground. The man stood, his chest out, his arms outstretched. Obviously, he was pleased with himself. He began to sing a wordless tune that seemed to encompass the fire and the deed just completed.

  The crowd was hushed as he strutted around the fire and the woman lying in the dirt. She sat up and smiled at him. He looked at her for a moment, then slowly pushed her back down. Smiling at him invitingly, she waited, but he didn't join her on the ground. Instead, he looked at the crowd. The woman waited.

  Suddenly, the man reached out and grabbed the nearest male: Paren. Thrusting him forward, he gestured for him to take the woman. Paren began to quickly remove his clothing. He was already erect and obviously more than happy to contribute to the ceremony. Getting down on his knees he crawled forward and in between the legs of the woman.

  The priest began to speak. As Garret's ears became accustomed to the slurring of the words, translation became easier, and he no longer had any difficulty understanding what was said.

  "And so the Great God took the Goddess and made her his own. And in his supremacy and power, he gave her to others, even unto the world of men."

  The woman, a representation of the Goddess, Garret realized, accepted the clumsy attentions of Paren. She gave better than she got, welcoming him as if he were her own true love. But that wasn't enough for the God. He reached into the crowd once again and chose another man, this one even older and less attractive (if that were possible) than the pilgrim.

  Once again the crowd breathed its ecstasy as the Goddess accepted him into her embrace. The newcomer was nothing if not eager. His ministrations were quickly over.

  "Thus was she given and thus was she taken. The Great Goddess loved the God. Though he brought her low, even unto degradation, still she opened her arms and gave of her bounty to all men."

  Suddenly, the God yanked the Goddess to her feet and pulling back his powerful arm, he hit her across the face. She reeled and fell. The crowd screamed. Though they knew what would happen next, they welcomed it and gave themselves over to it.

  A bowl of some kind of liquid was passed to Garret and he sniffed at it before passing it along. Obviously it was some kind of ceremonial drug. He had no intention of experimenting with its effects.

  The Goddess had fallen no more than two feet from Garret. She looked up at him and held his eyes with hers. He was about to reach out and help her to her feet, but she got up herself. A trickle of blood leaked from her lip, which began to swell. A tear coursed down her golden cheek. She turned to the crowd and looked at them.

  The God wanted more. He searched the crowd and his eyes lighted on Garret. Garret felt him pinion him with his gaze and tried desperately to retreat back into the mass of people, but they would have none of it. Pushing him forward, they waited breathless as he stood there, the fire hissing behind him, the God waiting for him to act, the Goddess watching.

  "Great God and Goddess," the priest continued, "we ask forgiveness for our sins. As you struggle against each other for sovereignty, we ask that you protect us, yeah, even from the lightning bolts of your war."

  "Um en."

  Garret would not do what the other men had done. He would not, and he could not. Any sexual response to the pageant had died out when the God began to show his perversity. Now he only felt pity for the Goddess and wished that he could save her from further abuse.

  The God gestured for Garret to remove his clothing, and he shook his head. He watched as the God moved his powerful body behind the Goddess and held her for him. Still Garret didn't move. The crowd pushed him forward, pulling his clothes off and pressing him against her. Garret could not stop them, but neither would he contribute to this symbolic rape.

  The God pushed her down on her knees and thrust her head toward Garret's groin. He tried to retreat, but the way was blocked by the solid press of bodies behind him.

  No longer were they chanting. Now they were crying for blood. "Take him!" they were yelling. "Take him!"

  "Great God and Goddess," the priest intoned, "we are small and puny and we cannot take sides in your fight. We beg to be left in peace, and to be allowed to live. This man is willing to sacrifice himself, to stand up before God and redeem Goddess. Do you accept him?"

  The Goddess nodded, and the God released her. They stood arm in arm as Garret was held by the men behind him. A rope was produced and his hands were tied. Paren came close and laughed in his face.

  Foothills: 2128

  Following Garret's trail was not difficult, and without the pack animals they made much better time than he could. Still, they were days behind him, and Evie feared that the whole trip had been, as Eagle put it, misguided. At the rate they were going, they might catch up to Garret on his return trip.

  That was better than not catching up to him at all, Evie thought. At least, he won't be alone all the way back. She knew he was in trouble; she could feel it in her bones. Eagle said it was just worry, but Evie knew it was more than that. Anxiety felt different than this mind-shattering loss. He was in trouble or he was dead, and she didn't know how to get to him any faster.

  Teller and Eagle had been wonderful. They'd pushed themselves and the camels far beyond their limits, trying to shorten the distance as quickly as possible, but they knew and Evie knew that there was no getting past physics. The shortest distance between two points was a line.

  The moonlight on the road bathed the world in silver, and Evie was admiring the cool beauty of it despite herself when Eagle held up his hand and called a halt. "He left the road here."

  "Left the road? Why would he do that?" Evie asked.

  "I don't know, but the tracks disappear here."

  "It looks like he was here just two or three days ago," Teller mused.

  Eagle agreed that the tracks were relatively fresh, and suggested they rest awhile before following them into the brush. Evie did not want to rest. She had to find Garret, and it had to be soon. At
her insistence, the camels stepped off the road.

  They were slowed down by the uneven ground. Evie's bottom had gone numb hours earlier, so she no longer thought about it. Her being was focused on finding Garret, and nothing else made an impression. Not even the apparition that suddenly appeared in front of them, holding up its shaggy hands and demanding they stop.

  As Evie reined in the beast, several others stood up and joined their comrade. One by one, they stepped forward and slowly formed a complete circle around the rescue party. There were twelve of them. They seemed to be human, except for the excess of hair on their hands and faces. It grew so thick, it looked a bit like fur. Eagle edged his camel closer to Evie and spoke urgently, "When I signal, ride hard toward the south. They can't stop us."

  Evie wasn't so sure they couldn't. There were a lot of them; they moved closer. As several of the men reached for the camels' reins, Eagle shouted, "Now!" and hit his camel on the rump with the flat of his hand. Teller was right behind him as the animals pushed past the strangers and fled.

  Evie almost made it. Her camel shot forward and cleared the attackers, but a particularly aggressive individual lunged into her path and reached for the reins. She twisted the animal's neck, trying to pull it onto another trajectory, but it was too late. The man's hands closed on the reins and yanked sharply backward. The camel's neck came up and sideways, and it fell. Evie fell with it.

  Before she even hit the ground she was dragged from the camel's back and surrounded by an angry, gesticulating mob. A tall man, his ragged clothes in disarray, shoved her backward. Two men caught her and pushed her forward. Laughing the whole time, they threw her around the circle like a rag doll until she was dizzy.

  After a while, the game seemed to pall, and one by one the players left the group until only the tall one remained. He stared at her and slowly drew a long knife from the sheath at his side. Lifting it up, he grabbed a handful of her pale blonde hair and neatly sliced it off.

  Evie recoiled, but there was nowhere to go. As she watched his hands pull away from her, the knife in one and her hair in the other, she gasped in relief. Her throat was still intact.

  The tall man signaled, and two others wrenched her arms behind her and tied her hands. Then the tall man mounted the camel and led the group off into the wilderness. A rope had been tied to the saddle, placed around Evie's neck, and was being used to pull her along. She followed without protest as they dragged her over what seemed like miles of empty prairie.

  After a while, walking became automatic. At first, they'd tripped her so they could laugh as she struggled to keep from being dragged in the dirt. With her hands tied, it was almost impossible to get up once she was down. Fortunately, the camel was a lazy beast, and did not like pulling her. When she fell down, it stopped walking, and after the first two instances, the leader ordered the others to let her walk in peace.

  It seemed like hours had passed. She had already been tired from following Garret's trail most of the night, and when they'd taken her it had been near morning. Now, it was full day, and her body thrummed with exhaustion.

  Up ahead was a village. She could barely make it out in the glare of the sun, but it seemed to be constructed mainly of odds and ends. Billboards were used for siding, tires were tied together and made into ladders, jagged panes of broken glass became windows.

  Her captors untied the rope that joined her to the camel and pulled her toward an isolated shack in the center of the "town." Opening a door, they pushed her inside, then closed it again. She was alone.

  Outside she could hear them laughing, telling the story of her abduction, no doubt. She didn't know what they wanted with her, and she didn't want to find out. These people might be human, but they were so degenerate, as far as Evie could see, as to be beyond redemption. They might kill her; they might even do worse.

  Pulling herself erect, she began to explore the shadows of her prison. There wasn't much to see. It was dark, the only light coming in through cracks in the boards. The floor was packed earth, and there were no windows. Hopelessly, she huddled in a heap on the floor. Despite her resolve, tears leaked from the corners of her eyes.

  A small rough-edged rock sprouted from the floor. If she could rub the rope against it she might be able to free herself. Twisting herself onto her back so that her arms were under her, she began to rub the rope against the rock.

  Inside the hut it grew hotter as the sun climbed in the sky, and despite her efforts and the ocean of sweat pouring off her, Evie knew she hadn't made much progress. Her wrists were scratched and bleeding, but the rope had not loosened at all. Screaming in frustration, she pulled and yanked at it to no avail. It's hopeless, she thought, and stopped struggling.

  Northeast USA: 2128

  Once off the mountain, the going was surprisingly easy. The wind had scoured the remains of the road with grit, gradually taking off its upper layers, but the dryness and lack of rain had helped prevent further erosion. At the rate they were going, barring accident or an impassable roadbed, they'd be in Annapolis by tomorrow.

  Morgan was feeling very cheerful, and decided that fifty miles from the Habitat was far enough. It was time to let Jersey Lipton in on his plans. Lipton would be no problem; he was sure of it. Besides, he had the gun. Either way, the physicist would do what was required.

  Looking at the man sleeping on the seat next to him, Morgan's lips curled in a sneer. It always amazed him how a man could be so brilliant in one way and so incredibly stupid in others. Here was a man who was deservedly famous for his work in quantum mechanics and temporal physics, yet who had no clue when it came to social relationships. It would please Morgan no end to enlighten him.

  He jabbed the older man with his elbow. "Lipton," he prodded, "Hey Jersey, wake up. I thought now might be a good time to let you in on the purpose of this little jaunt. You do want to know, don’t you?" Morgan loved to draw events like this out. He loved the flood of power that filled him as he held another man's fate in his hands, and he liked to make the feeling last. It was better than sex ... far better than sex, which all things considered, had actually been something of a letdown.

  Jersey opened his eyes and Morgan waited for the pupils to narrow as awareness returned. "Did you ever think, old man, how our lives have been wasted trying to make up for the mistakes of our ancestors? Did you ever stop to wonder what would happen if we didn't have to keep trying to restore the earth, and could just go on to make our own lives livable? Well, that's what we're doing out here."

  "What? Making our own lives livable?"

  "Exactly. By ending the earth project, we get to put all those incredible minds in the Habitats to work in a more positive direction. Instead of wasting them trying to undo the mistakes of the old world, we put them to use creating a new one."

  Jersey shrugged. "I just care about doing my work; it doesn't really have anything to do with the earth project."

  "I know," Morgan smiled, "that's one of the reasons I chose you for this mission. I knew you'd understand."

  Jersey looked more puzzled than ever. "So what are you planning?"

  "We're going to end the earth project once and for all."

  Jersey snorted, reminding Morgan of his wife's response so long ago. "Oh, I know, it's like a religion to some of those people. That's why we have to take drastic measures to make sure that the project can never be restarted."

  Jersey, who had been slouched in his seat, sat up straighter and managed to look both bewildered and troubled at the same time. "Can you think of anything that would end the earth project so completely, Jersey?"

  "Yes, but only a madman ... "

  "Or a genius ... "

  “...would even consider it," Jersey finished.

  "Exactly."

  CHAPTER 11

  Foothills: 2128

  Garret lifted his head from the baked red dirt on which he lay, and studied the interior of his cell. He had been held in here since last night when he'd refused to cooperate with the God by using the Go
ddess. Though he had no idea what they were specifically planning for him, he knew it meant making him a sacrifice.

  He laughed, a thin, weak sound that stretched his dry, cracked lips and hurt his throat. When was the last time he'd had a drink of water? Maybe they intended that he die of thirst.

  It was afternoon, and the cell was a sweatbox, the heat like a vice squeezing the life out of him. Thoughts of Evie, of the sweet softness of Evie, tripped through his mind and got all mixed up with other memories: the smell of the first pink blossoms of spring Outside, their laboratory, his hand lifting her hair off her neck, the musky smell of Cashmere .... What would happen to Southeast now? He supposed that everyone would die, all because he'd been curious.

  Footsteps outside alerted him and he sat up as the little door near the floor was opened, and a jug pushed through it. Grabbing it, he pulled the stopper out and lifted it to his lips.

  It was some kind of soup, lukewarm but wet, oh so deliciously wet. Ideas of dying of thirst receded to be replaced with new possibilities. Obviously, they meant to sacrifice him in some important ceremony. He'd dared to stand up to the God and would have to be punished. At the same time, he'd dared to stand up for the Goddess and should, by all rights, be rewarded. Except that it was clearly the God who had the power.

  Anxiety about the shortness of his future was not relieved by his worry about Evie. By now, she knew that he was out here alone, unless something had happened to Red Deer and Cries at the Moon. Garret had known Evie all their lives. He knew that if she knew he was out here, then she was on her way. He didn't want her to die, but he wished she were with him now.

  He had to escape! He had been slowly peeling away the wood on the back wall of the box with his fingernails, reducing the thick planks to thinner ones. Right now, besides innumerable splinters in his fingers, he had an area almost a foot square that couldn’t be more than a quarter inch thick. He planned to wait until near dawn before throwing his shoulder into it and breaking through. He peeled back another thin sliver and groaned as it slid under his fingernail.