Three Times Chosen

by Alan J. Garner

  Norton rested his metalled hands on the railing, zooming his optics on to the protective merman. “Why should Em-Two concern you, Em-One? I removed the competition. You ought to be thankful your rival was eliminated."

  Removed? Eliminated? “You've killed him!"

  Najoli's accusation hurtled out of the water at the manbot with the ferociousness of a leaping megashark. He took it in his robotic stride. “I did nothing to him, other than provide the opportunity to help me cleanse this world of the leapfrog menace. He wisely took it and the rest, as you colloquially say, is fishtory."

  Jumo picked up on Norton's inference. “The Landhoppers are gone from Pah Ocean?"

  "I imagine most of them are piles of ash."

  Not knowing what ash was, Jumo could only assume it was not a good thing to be. Norton's most, not all, vexed the Fisher. “What of the remainder?"

  "They're deader than the frozen fish I feed you. Or they will be, once their microwaved insides turn to mush."

  "And is Durgay equally dead?” Perceiving the answer to her question already darkened Najoli's heart. Norton would only confirm her dread.

  "It's more than a safe bet."

  She keened for her lost love, a shrilling wail that shivered the wavelets on the pool's surface. Jumo enfolded the distraught mermaid in his embrace, quietening her lament as the upwelling of grief wracked her slender body.

  Norton's assumption was unequivocal. His deliveryman's placement on the island was confirmed minutes before the Landhoppers were bombed into obliteration. If the sacrificial merman somehow made it off the atoll and back into the sea, the wheeling hurricane was scattering the residual radiation over a broad expanse of ocean. Whether caught directly or indirectly by the deadly effects of the blast, Durgay was doomed. Norton knew right from the start he was sending the messenger to his death.

  And it did not bother him in the least.

  Unconscionably used to sacrificing others for what he determined was the greater good, Norton's machinations stretched to the most heinous act of all. Abe Norton was not above committing murder. Never one for doing things by halves, the former humanitarian was already an accomplished mass murderer even before massacring the Landhoppers. Their eradication was merely the icing on his cake of insanity.

  For close to two and a half centuries his crime had gone unpunished, though not unrecalled. Walking the vacant corridors everyday reminded Norton of the brutal necessities imposed by leadership constraints. He suffered no remorse or recrimination for his past actions, only a vague and unfilled emptiness. Not even Dog was fully aware of Abe's wrongdoing, but rightly conjectured the manbot's involvement in something untoward. He was the prime, the only, suspect.

  The cybernate's scrupulously maintained memory files stored no recollection of the incident in question, other than a thirty-six hour long timekeeping discrepancy in the Station's atomic clock. Norton explained how there was an imminent reactor core breach threatening the safety of the complex that particular year, necessitating the evacuation of surviving personnel to lifeboats and shutting down the mainframe computer to contain the impending damage. Going offline resulted in the glaring gap in Dog's memory, the three missing days the time taken to resolve the hazardous situation. Afterwards, when Dog perceived that the Station remained unmanned, aside from the impervious manbot who stayed aboard to fix the reactor problem and reboot the master computer, Norton mentioned a terrible accident. The freak wave generated by a calving iceberg capsized the linked lifeboats, roped together for safety reasons, tipping their passengers into the frigid polar sea where they rapidly perished from exposure.

  The lie was an ingenious fabrication, completely uncorroborated but essentially indisputable. The truth was reprehensibly simple by comparison.

  Playing at god, immersed in his role as the redeemer of the human species, Norton made the decision to mercy kill his diminishing staff. Adapted human beings, whether genetically or mechanically, were meant to see in the future, not the older model. Gassing them, by dispensing a chemical cocktail of ammonia and cleaning bleaches through the ventilation system, had been easy enough to carry out. Disposing of the two dozen bodies was no hassle either, flushing them down the waste extraction chutes that voided into the sea beneath the berg. Temporarily switching Dog offline, while problematic, was unavoidable. Core AI programming held dear the preservation of human life; the cybernate would never have allowed any of those it served to come to deliberate harm.

  However, there is no such thing as the perfect crime. Always on the ball, Dog noted discrepancies. Not one lifeboat was missing from the internal davits; the visual logs from the external cameras showed nothing but static—the result of “accidental” erasure; and Norton did not miss any of the tragically drowned souls. He was disturbingly happy to potter about the vast facility with the mainframe as his sole companion and confidant. But all this fragmented evidence was largely circumstantial and did not make Norton's account disprovable. Dog was no court or jury, just a fact-dealing clerk incapable of condemnation.

  Watching Najoli wallowing in her grief tugged at Norton's mechanical heart. He oddly felt ... compassion. There was a spark of his canned humanity unabsorbed by his robotic self. The machine had not utterly consumed him yet.

  "There's a message he recorded for you. It's audio only, but it may give you some comfort."

  Lifting her saddened face out of Jumo's shoulder, Najoli missed hearing the manbot's telltale footfalls receding as he graciously granted the Cetari a little privacy. She had earholes only for the merman's voice being piped into the tank, the tiles enhancing the acoustics. It was her Durgay.

  "Najoli, hi. It's me. But you've already guessed that. You always were so much smarter.

  "By now, you've probably also worked out I'm not ever coming back. Helping Norton destroy the Landhoppers is going to cost me my life. I'm not so dumb I can't see that. It's a sacrifice I'm willing to make, although one I'm sure you aren't prepared to accept. I know it's selfish of me to do, but I did not choose for things to turn out this way. I wish it were otherwise, however it isn't and we have to make the best of it.

  "Don't think of me as being noble either. My reason for doing this, like I said, is one of selfishness. That the Cetari are kept safe should be cause enough, only it's more personal than that.

  "I never told you why my father's soul was damned to eternally fly over the sea. His spiritual punishment is for my sin. I killed someone dear to us. It happened when I was a merkid, and wasn't one of those accidental tragedies. I knew exactly what I was doing. I consciously murdered my own mother. She was cheating on him! Coming home after school, I spied her kissing her lover goodbye in the cave mouth. After he left, I rammed my father's knife into her back. I have no excuse, other than I loved my father. He was my entire seaworld.

  "Taking the blame for the killing, he swore me to silence. He said I had my whole life ahead of me and that my sense of guilt was punishment enough. Anwhorl was Merking then. He didn't have the heart to execute him, banishing him instead to the ocean wilds. Never seeing my father again, I imagine he would've died alone and disgraced.

  "He was right about the guilt. That day I ruined three lives and never forgave myself for it. Maybe that's why I've always clung to duty, trying to restore a sense of right to the wrong in my life. And all the time I searched unsuccessfully for my father's soul, seeking forgiveness for what I had done to my family, for the pain and suffering I put him through.

  "So you see, saving our merpeople from the Landhoppers is a selfish effort at gaining personal redemption. By doing this, in my mind I'll be freeing my father's soul and maybe sparing mine from damnation.

  "There you have it. The distasteful truth."

  There was a pause in Durgay's confession, as if the disembodied merman needed to readjust the scales of his conscience after unburdening himself.

  "Don't mourn me,” he said in continuation. “I'm not worth it. You won't want to hear this, Najoli, but you are better off without me. Kno
w that I honestly loved you. Norton's promised to take care of you. I don't know what form that'll take, but I'm sure Jumo will watch over you too."

  "I can look after myself!” Najoli rejoined, pillowing her head on Jumo's shoulder again.

  Durgay droned on. “Make a life with him. I can't say I'm not jealous of Jumo, but I can take comfort from knowing he'll want to do right by you. Besides, you already have a fishtory. Just don't hit him with any more rocks. It kind of takes the shine off a relationship."

  Jumo smiled slyly at that.

  "Before I go, there's one thing I've never told another living soul. That's the identity of my mother's lover, the faithless merman who caused me to wreck my family. I may as well get this last secret off my chest.

  "When they condemned my father, he offered up no motive for the crime. Only three mermales were privy to mother's indiscretion—father, him, and me. Her lover did not have the decency to mitigate father's unjust blame by owning up to the adultery. The public shame would have disgraced the royals, as the adulterer was little brother to the Merking. Cerdic was certainly no Merprince among mermen in his youth.

  "Goodbye, my love."

  Hugging Jumo tighter, burying her face into his chest, Najoli had an unhappy understanding of Cerdic's disgusting knack for screwing up other merpeoples lives for the sake of sex. Even in her new merman's embrace, where companionship would be coaxed to blossom into romance by Norton's unfeeling animal husbandry, she wondered if there was truly such a result as a happy ending.

  * * * *

  "I pronounce you Merking and wife. You may kiss the bride, you lucky, lucky merman."

  Lasbow shyly gave his wife a peck on her cheek, mindful that his mother-in-law floated less than a fluke away.

  "You call that a smooch?” Minoh scolded him. “I've seen more passion from kissing gourami."

  "Yeah, mother's right. Pucker up, big boy!” Ahlegra surprised her new husband with a passionate lip-lock, eliciting cheers from the congregation filling the skyscraper's smartened up foyer to overflowing.

  "That's more like it!” Minoh approved, smiling broadly.

  When Ahlegra finally let Lasbow up for air, he grabbed her by the waist and swung his bride about to face the gathering. “I hereby present your brand new Merqueen!” he gaily proclaimed, whistles of approval meeting his formal announcement. “And introduce the newly titled Merqueen Mother,” he joyously added, including Minoh in the family portrait.

  Making his mark as a progressive king, Lasbow had foregone the longstanding tradition of performing the marriage ceremony himself and appointed Minoh Mistress of Ceremonies. From hereon she would officiate at weddings, christenings, and other cheery royal functions, as the Merking felt obliged to preside over funerals. It was a beneficial arrangement for both, freeing up Lasbow for more pressing kingly duties and occupying the merry widow with worthwhile tasks. Minoh did make the condition that her son-in-law would eventually have to perform a wedding himself.

  "I fully intend to remarry one day, as soon as I hook the right merman,” she had chirpily told him, her ebony eyes twinkling like a starlit night.

  "Of that, I have no doubt,” he agreed.

  The happy couple glided in stately fashion up the aisle of assembled merfolk to the twin flowery podiums of white coral commissioned for them both at Lasbow's behest, enabling the royal husband and wife team to publicly project their undeniable unity when holding court. Above them, streamers of brown oarweed wafted in the gentle indoor current, the light-fish lanterns tethered to the kelp bobbing blithely. Positioning themselves behind their respective pedestals of sovereignty, it was the Merking who raised his hand and gave permission for the merriment to commence.

  Not needing to be told twice, the wedding guests, amounting to virtually the entire Cetari populace, bar the usual Seaguard patrolling the outlying waters, descended on the feast prepared by the royal maidservants. Fishing lines, strung the length of the lobby on either side of the aisle behind the guests, were baited with a buffet of salty delicacies. Herring, halibut, hake, and haddock tempted the safer palates. For the fussier eaters there was puffer fish, whiting, orange roughy, and squid—not the giant kind, but tinier cuttlefish. The groom and his bride were served abalone and lobster, garnished with colour-coordinated seaweeds in the form of exquisitely cut pieces of red dulse and purple nori. It was a meal fit for a Merking and his queen.

  A Cetari choir broke into whale-like song. Floating in the space where the lift doors had once rolled, their heavenly a cappella serenade drifted up into the elevator shaft, the architectural acoustics softly broadcasting the verbal melody throughout the stack's interior.

  Noticing her untouched plate, Lasbow smiled at Ahlegra. “Not hungry, my dear?"

  "I'm too excited to eat, Las. This is the happiest day of my life."

  "Mine too,” he said, squeezing her hand. Their ring fingers each bore an antique black coral wedding band studded with pearl. Lasbow jokingly thought of them as hand-me-downs, which is exactly what they were. Crafted for the very first married royals, the rings were traditionally handed down to successive ruling couples, preserving the merfolk sense of history.

  Absently listening to the choral song, specially composed for this occasion, Lasbow appreciated the value his merpeople placed on tradition. But times, and places, had changed. He might have to create new traditions.

  Lasbow inherited a kingship at once alike and vastly different to the ancestral Cetari kingdom. He presided still over a sea stack and reef, only now at the top of the known seaworld. The oceanic clime was cooler, the water deeper. Fish species were identifiable, yet there were noticeable variations to their southern counterparts. And mussels the length of an adult merman! There was so much for him to get his head around, not the least of which was husbanding responsibilities. Last night, in the customary solitude of his pre-marriage contemplation, he made himself a promise. First and foremost he was Ahlegra's husband. Kingly duties would take second place to his family obligations, no matter what.

  Family.

  Never before had Lasbow considered becoming a father, and the thought made him smile.

  "Contemplating our wedding night?” Ahlegra gave him a playful nudge with an elbow.

  "In a manner of speaking,” he conceded, smiling broader.

  "You better have some oyster. Mother's given me some tips."

  Lasbow laughed easily. He caught the respectful nod from Brost, captaining the honour guard stationed along the lobby walls, as the Seaguard commander roamed the buffet lines keeping the peace. His presence relaxed Lasbow immeasurably, as did their earlier conservation.

  "I sent scouts back down the coast as far as the cape, Sire. They reported no contact with Landhoppers. There's no sign whatsoever of pursuit."

  "Do we dare hope they no longer make war on us, that seizing Bounty Reef has satisfied their gluttony?"

  "Your Majesty, it's the only expectation we can make."

  Scanning the crowd, Lasbow picked out two familiar faces. Erops, fancying an abalone, was trying unsuccessfully to prise open the stubborn shellfish one-handed. Help came in the form of Dribben, and they shared the flesh and fathomable camaraderie.

  "When are you going to officially name our new home?” Ahlegra asked, waving slyly to her mother flirting with a discomfited Dulby helplessly trapped on guard duty.

  "Mussel Bed springs to mind."

  "Dull and boring, as our sex life will be if you don't come up with a more imaginative label."

  Lasbow pretended to be mortified. “We're only just married and you're already using sex for blackmail?"

  "I have a good coach."

  Draped around Dulby like a stingray, and just as deadly, Minoh returned her daughter's wave.

  "Sanctuary Reef then."

  "That's more suitable. What about this place, now that we've fixed it up."

  Toying with naming the stack Atlantia, in obvious reference to the legend gaining substance, Lasbow thought better of it. It sounded too corny.


  "How's Castle Block sound?” It paid homage to their former home and roots, as well as subtly acknowledging their deeper origins infusing the artificialness of this ancient stack.

  Ahlegra approved. Lasbow would definitely get lucky tonight!

  They dined treated to the graceful spectacle of an underwater ballet performed above the heads of the wedding guests. Unencumbered by gravity, the teenage dancers enacted their ages-old routine flawlessly, culminating in the lead couple executing a classic fish dive that generated a round of polite applause from the onlookers.

  "I've had a few other ideas, beloved,” Lasbow later said, fidgeting with his crown. The shark teeth irritated his scalp maddeningly, not to mention the unpleasant image constantly in the back of his mind of seeing his head inside a megashark's jaws. “One idea in particular, concerning Cetari rule,” he began elaborating to Ahlegra.

  "Oh?” She turned her head, her interest greater than wifely politeness and Lasbow loving her all the more for it. Not many brides would let her groom talk shop on their wedding day.

  "I've felt all along that the king's authority is ... excessive. Absolute power should not be confined to one merman. The temptation for abusing such trust is too great. It strikes me as making better sense to distribute that power more evenly, to make all future Merking's directly answerable to a higher authority."

  "Other than his wife."

  "Yes, dear."

  "How do you propose to achieve that?"

  "By forming an advisory council which'll endorse or refute the king's policy making,” Lasbow outlined. “He will not have final say in crucial decision making. That will fall to his panel of advisors."

  "And who'll comprise this council of yours?"

  "The obvious candidates ... the respective heads of the Fishers, Retrievers, and Scouts, plus the captain of the Seaguard."

  "You'll include some merwomen naturally,” interposed Ahlegra.