by Dave Gordon
They stepped off the landing and walked under the New Bedlam sign. A voice from the shadows called out “Stop. Who are you and what do you want?”
Her mother yelled back “I'm whoever you want me to be and I want the same thing as you, a hot meal and a cold beer.”
“Tanner,” a young man said in surprise and happiness. He ran out of the shadows carrying a rifle. “Hey, how are you? Silly Siln, too. Wow, look at you,” the man said to Siln who was still wearing the ridiculous blue dress with the puffy sleeves and annoying petty coat. “Going to a party?” he said as if he meant it.
“No,” Siln said disgustedly, “Mom made me wear this.”
“Well you look like a regular little rich girl.” The man turned to her mother. “You weren't up long, get chased out?”
Her mother started walking down the darkened street. “No. We made a good score so I gave it up. Anything new?”
“The Disrupters showed up armed to the teeth. They would have wiped us out if they had attacked. All they wanted was to recruit people. I think Harrols went with them. There was another war on level eighteen, it only lasted a couple of days. There were some pretty big explosions. Shook the walls. Nobody tried to get in. Where you headed?”
“I'm going back to Abbair's compound. Stop by sometime,” her mother said. She tossed off the remark casually, but Siln knew her mother liked the man. Siln did too, he was nice. The young man waved goodbye as he returned to his guard station. “When we get to the compound, don't tell anybody about the bars the lady gave us, okay?”
That was another rule: Don't say you have money, and don't show anybody your money. “Okay,” Siln said, although she knew the rules pretty well. They walked down the darkened street through the deserted bazaar. This wasn't market day. They could only have market once a week to save fuel and air. Small groups of people stood in doorways or huddled around small fires. It was perpetually forty-eight degrees in New Bedlam. Warmth was a precious commodity. There was plenty of wood to burn, but oxygen was limited. Enforcers patrolled the streets putting out fires when they found them. The buildings rose from the boulevard to the top of the tunnel three stories up. All the streets were lined with buildings that rose from the street to the ceiling. The effect was very confining, claustrophobic. The majority of people who got taken by the Forces were outside because they couldn't take the dark, cold confinement. You had to shove it out of your head even though it keep trying to push its way back in. Just being outside was scary after a while. Siln felt like she was going to fall off the planet up into the sky. She had to stare at her feet when she was topside.
A knot of men on the street corner eyed them as they passed. “Yowee, baby,” said one of them. “A hot plate with a little hors d'oeuvre. You want to play hide and seek, little girl?” He grabbed his crotch with both hands and hopped towards them lewdly.
Her mother reached into her coat. She held up a small gun. She held it pointed into the air and said, “Bite me, asshole.”
The man adopted an expression of disappointment. “Aw. It was going to be a fun game. Too bad.” The group of men laughed loudly as her mother led her on.
They turned off the wide street onto a narrower side street. Here they passed residences. Some occupied, some in ruins. Siln began to tire but she knew they were close. A warm yellow glow spread across the ceiling of the cavern as they approached the gate. Her mother quickened their pace until they stood in front of a wide double door.
“What's your name and business?” a voice called.
“Tanner and Siln. We seek shelter,” her mother replied.
There was a pause that lasted an uncomfortable amount of time. “Sorry, had to look it up by hand, computer's down. Come on in.” A bright-eyed middle aged woman wearing a loose blouse swung the right door open. She said, “Hi Tanner, hi Siln. Sorry for the formality, the Disrupters were here a while back. Well, not here, at the front. Everybody gets the whole treatment now.”
“Hi Tarri. Scared me,” her mom said, “I thought I hadn't paid my bill or something.” The two women walked into the warm glow of the compound laughing and chatting as they went.
Siln felt safe, at home. A young boy ran by. Siln shouted “Mori, hi.” The boy hesitated long enough to wave and then ran off. Siln wished they could just stay here. She wished they didn't have to go up where bad things happened. Up where everybody hated them.
They walked through a wide courtyard into a great hall carved from native stone on three sides. A throne sat at the end of the hall on a ten foot dais. The throne was empty. It usually was. It was primarily for show when outsiders came to dicker. People milled about. Many sat at tables, some eating. The mood was relaxed. They walked up to a long table at the foot of the throne that stretched nearly the entire width the hall. A group of people looked up as they approached.
“Tanner, welcome back. Good hunting?” an older man asked. He was dressed conservatively, inconspicuously. If anyone new entered the room, they would not have been able to pick the Master out of the crowd. Standing out in a crowd was not advisable.
Her mom answered, “Good enough. Have room for us for a few weeks?”
“Always,” the man shouted. “Go see the purser. Come back and tell me about your trip.” He loved tales from the topside. He hadn't been topside for thirty years and had no intention of ever returning, but he loved hearing stories about it.
“Alright,” her mom said with a wave. She bent down to talk to Siln. “Ok honey, you stick around here. I'll be back in a while. Watch out for your dress, don't get it dirty.”
“I will, mommy,” Siln replied. She looked around for a familiar face. She spotted old Sam sitting at a table. Sam was fun, always laughing and telling stories about the old days. His big belly hung over his trousers making him somewhat unique. There were not many who could afford enough food to gain weight. “Hi Sam,” she yelled as she waved from across the hall.
“Hello Siln, the topside traveler. Fearless in the face of Forces,” he growled. “Yet, pretty as a flower in a party dress.” He flipped the petty coat up exaggerating the embarrassingly ostentatious look of her outfit.
“Stop,” Siln cried. “Mommy made me wear it. We sold raffle tickets to rich people.”
“Oh she did, did she?” Sam intoned seriously. “Well, your mommy is a very resourceful woman. I'll bet that dress paid off big,” he said with an eye cocked toward the little girl.
Siln looked at her feet. “I'm not supposed to talk about money,” she said, scuffling her shoe.
“Never mind, enough said. Come sit down. I'll tell you a story about a little girl who had to learn to make it on her own. A girl about your age.”
Siln walked up to the portly, aging man. He swept her up into the crook of his arm. She liked it, it was snuggly and safe.
“This is a story about a little girl with no mommy or daddy. She had a mommy and a daddy when she was a baby, but something bad happened. The poor little girl was left all alone in the big, scary world with no one to look out for her. But she was brave, and smart. All day long she would hide. All night long she would creep, creep, creep like a mouse. Oh, she found all kinds of magical places that no grownup had ever seen. She became very wise for such a young girl. Then one night a big cat attacked her. It scratched her very badly. That scared the little girl because she didn't have anyone to take care of her. She decided she would get that cat. She laid out a perfect little cat trap and in a couple of nights, bam! She had that cat.”
Siln jumped at the loud noise the man made when the little girl caught the cat, but she settled right back down into his snug and cozy arm.
“Well, what are you going to do with a big cat? You can't let it go or it will hunt you every night. She was sorry that she had to do it, but she killed that cat. She thought it seemed like a shame to waste it. She thought about eating it but you can't eat a cat, I don't care how you cook it. That's why there are so many, they're no good to eat. But that nice furry coat it had, that was nice. She skinned the cat
using a broken bottle. All she had after that was a soggy lump of fur that wasn't very nice.”
It made Siln queasy to think about a cat skin. That didn't sound like a very nice thing at all.
“The little girl started working with it. She scraped off all the yucky parts but the skin was still not very nice. She soaked it in water and scraped it again. It was better then, so she looked for something to dry it with. She tried dirt, but that was very bad. She tried drying it in the sun, but then it got all stiff. She tried everything she could find, but nothing worked. Then, late one night, she went creep, creep, creep and came to a place where topsiders made wood things. What do you think she found? There were piles of sawdust. She stuffed her pockets full of sawdust and took it back to her camp. To this day nobody knows what she did with that sawdust, it's her secret, but somehow she made that cat skin as soft and fluffy as it was when that mean old cat had worn it. But, it wasn't very big and she couldn't cover up with it. She needed more skins. That little girl started hunting cats and making their skins into the nicest furs you can imagine! One night an old woman happened upon her camp. When the old women saw the furs, she let out a whoop of wonder. She said, Honey, are these yours? The little girl was afraid but brave. She told the old woman the whole story. The old woman laughed. She said Child, we are going to be rich. The woman began fashioning the furs into coats, shawls, wraps, gloves, all sorts of things. Soon people came up from the Dives looking for the wonderful furs. The little girl and the old woman became famous, in a way. The old woman became known as the Furrier, and do you know what they called the little girl?” The man lifted Siln up to look at her. “Tanner! They called her tanner because she tanned the hides.”
“Mommy,” Siln shouted.
“That's right. That was how your mommy became Tanner. Everyone knows her, everyone loves her, and they all want one of her coats. That's the reason she doesn't make them anymore,” he said with a wink. “They got too popular. People took Furrier away to make coats for just them, but Tanner escaped. She escaped down into the Dives. She has been across more of the Dives than anyone else I know. She has seen the lowest level ... Black Water. She has lived among the wild tribes of level one. She flows through these walls like water. Oh, you are a lucky little girl. A lot luckier than she was at your age. You should take that party dress, pack it up nice, and kiss your momma for giving you such a valuable tool. She's given you a lot of things, not the least of which, is knowing how to survive. You are a lucky little girl.”
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* * *
Chapter 8
Credentials
She stood naked atop the mount as her mate slept. Her union with the human was inevitably destined for sorrow. She would mourn his death centuries after he had turned to dust. She would not consider that now. She would only allow herself to experience the happiness that his adoration and attention brought.
Elf love is deep. Deeper than time. The bond between elf lovers is one of seamless union. The intimacy is complete. It is not exuberant like human love ... human emotion is wild, desperate. Time runs down upon their brief lives so mercilessly that they lunge for happiness with abandon. She longed for that passion. Her desire was not elfish. The shameful fact could not be denied. Self-deception is not possible for elves.
Her elf mate from two thousand years ago sat by a quiet stream several leagues in the distance. She could see him and he could see her. Their parting had been a sorrow that time would not forget. Their love was profound. There are no secrets in the complete sharing of souls that elves experience. But, her shameful lust could not be contained, a fact he was deeply aware of. She left him for a life of brief happiness followed by inevitable sorrow. A human's life is like the strike of a match. A spark followed by an intense flame that soon dies.
She and her human mate sometimes encountered her kind. He could not sense the sorrow and pity that she elicited from other elves. No other elf had her pitiful affliction. The greetings were brief and trite. Her mate thought it normal. It was far from normal. She was all but shunned. She would remain an outcast long after every human had passed into history.
She descended the hill and stood above the man that loved her so. His love was hot, passionate. She wished that she could experience those emotions, another desire that marked her. He slept in a blissful state of oblivion. Elfish sleep affords no such comfort. Sleep for her was a drop of water falling into the ocean. A loss of identity amidst a sea of existence. A place where her attachment to the ephemeral world of humans stood out in stark tones.
Her presence awakens her mate. Startled, he jerks around to look at her. The moment amuses her. The transition from sleep to wakefulness is not easily made for humans. He stares at her, eyes wide, too shocked to speak.
“I am cold,” she says with obvious intent.
“Here,” he says throwing back the cover, “get under the blanket with me.”
His body is warm, even if only for this small moment in time. She can feel his excitement at holding her close. There is no hope for her. This is her vice.
* * * *
Van awoke standing in the crew section facing the entertainment panel. “Where are we?” he asked assuming Siln was near.
“A million miles to the left of where we were last time you asked,” came the muffled answer from under the pile of blankets on the bunk behind him.
He asked, “How long have I been standing here?”
“A day. I tried to get you to eat but you were gone. It's midnight, go to sleep,” Siln said.
Siln begin to snore. Van envied her peaceful sleep. He tried to recall a time when he had slept quietly. He feared he might never be able to sleep like that again. He went to the mess. The roomy food processing area was situated across from the weapons console, just behind the control station cabin. The arrangement seemed odd. Van thought perhaps the builders wanted to keep the crew separated from the passengers. The ship was certainly roomy for the two of them, but no where near as big as Van was used to. He remembered the cavernous main bay of his old ship. The ship he never named. The ship he dismembered so completely that the entrails clogged the passageways. That ship was huge. The whole premise of his mission seemed ridiculous. The idea that he could travel for years and years, find something valuable, extract it, and carry it back to Earth was beyond hopeful thinking. Somebody had to have had an angle somewhere. Somebody was making money somehow.
He poked the food processing station panel until something hot came out. It smelled somewhat beefy. It had the consistency of crumbly meatloaf. He picked at the steaming lump suspiciously. He took a nibble. It seemed marginally edible. Everything was so strange. The fork didn't look like a normal fork; it was flat for one thing. The plate the food was served on was flat. He tried to navigate the command structure to produce a cup of coffee but the best he could do was something that was brown but not coffee flavored. It tasted a bit like roasted nuts.
He sat eating his sad meal without any joy. Nothing was right. He hadn't brushed his hair since he had been rescued. They didn't use hair brushes; they used some kind of wand that they waved over their heads. They didn't have tooth brushes. They didn't carry wallets. He was homesick. Homesick for the planet that he thought was so mundane when he had left it. But, there would be no homecoming. That world was gone. It isn't even called Earth anymore, he thought, now it's Alpha One. All the people he knew, all his family, everyone he worked with, all dead for hundreds of years.
His childhood had been a Canadian's dream. He lived in a moderately-sized town in the middle of an expansive wilderness. He and his father went on long excursions to uninhabited places. Pure water, pure air. Days of peace and beauty. His boyhood home was unremarkable in every way. Plain and simple as their neighbor's house next door, and the house beyond that. His school was full of happy, healthy children. The parks were completely safe. Children played outside until after dark with no fear. Bucolic peace was not to his liking, however. His fate belonged to the stars. He
longed to join the ranks of the heroic Pioneer Corps.
The Pioneer Corps were proud men and women who were strong and brave. They faced the unknown fearlessly, eager for the challenge. He decided at an early age that his future led to space. His parents tried to dissuade him. His mother lived in fear that he would succeed. Pioneer Corp was not without danger. In fact, their safety record was dismal. “The future of the human race is in outer space!” That was their motto. Saving the human race was worth the risk. It hadn't turned out quite as he had expected.
He was a relic that belonged in a museum diorama. The setting would be a white office. Neon lights would paint the tile floors in harsh tones. Desks piled with folders full of loose papers would crowd the aisles. He would be working at a keyboard while a coworker leaned over his shoulder to point out something on a computer screen. In the background a group of people dressed in suits would be sitting at a conference table. All common-place things that no longer existed. Van drifted off dreaming of an Earth that no longer existed.
* * * *
The bustling street teemed with people coming and going in a hurry. Dorn Bremmer, private detective, stood in the shadows of a skyscraper doorway. He was watching for the lady in white.
A man wearing a tattered suit threw down a large cigar butt on the street. The stench was unbearable. Dorn stepped out of the doorway and crushed the smoldering wad of reeking leaf. The light touched his shoulder. He looked up to see if he had been spotted. The lady in white stood frozen before him. Her eyes went wide when she saw him. She turned on her heel and made a bee-line for the subway entrance.
Damn, he thought. No good chasing her, she got a good look. He would just have to sneak up on her some other way. He cursed the goon that had dropped the cigar. He hunched over against the night, the collar of his coat pulled up to hide his face, as he walked slowly down the street. A brightly-lit bus roared by, the diesel fumes lingering all the way down the block. There were no people hanging out in doorways, not in this part of town. That was what had tipped off the lady in white. No, this part of town was for smartly-dressed shoppers and well heeled business people. Not like it was in his part of town.