by Mick Farren
'Renatta's dead.'
Billy and Reave looked at each other uncomfortably.
'We know.'
'And Blaisdell.'
'It was a mess out there at the end.'
'And Stent, and Jet Ace.'
'Get off it, boy. We ain't out of the woods yet.'
The Minstrel Boy's face was set in a fixed stare. His voice had the dead quality of someone going into shock. 'I can't get worked up about Stent and Jet Ace. They were too fucking weird and alien, all that metal.'
Reave was moving toward him. 'Not now, pal. Don't thousand-yard us. It's not the time for it.'
The Minstrel Boy looked Reave straight in the eye. 'Just the three of us left. You, me, and him. How is it that we always make it through? Because we're the flicking DNA Cowboys? Is that why they're dead and we're not?'
He swung around and hurled the AK angrily away from him. It hit the floor with a crash and skidded across the smooth, polished stone.
'Why the fuck didn't they get me, too?'
He was bitter and close to hysterical, but he seemed to have come out of the shock.
Showcross Gee was suddenly there, although no one had seen him step out of the darkness.
'When you gentlemen are through with your emotions, perhaps you would follow me?'
It was hardly a surprise that humanity ended in the way that it did. It had been trying for long enough. It was also probably a very good thing that they finally succeeded. If they'd ever managed to reconstruct their reality, the trouble that might have caused could have been of truly cosmic proportions. I am well aware that there are those among the New Generation who argue that we originals, who made the step into this afterlife, must have brought at least a vestige of humanity with us. This is a fundamental error. The final discorporation purged all humanity from us. After our departure there was nothing but the Cataclysm.
— Pressdra Vishnaiia
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Showcross Gee extended an arm, inviting the DNA Cowboys to enter the strange shiftspace room.
'Right now we are powering up for the final transference.'
All signs of construction had gone from the place. The disk on the floor was fully complete and was suffused with a strange radiant energy, like a shaped block of marble in which colored veins pulsed with iridescent light. The underside of the floating pyramid rock was mirroring the glow. The other twenty-six metaphysicians were standing in a circle around the large disk. Their eyes were closed, and they seemed to be locked in deep concentration.
'It will be a half hour before we achieve full power and are able to make the crossing.'
Showcross Gee had still not adequately explained exactly what the crossing was. The Minstrel Boy had folded into himself, but Billy leaned close to Reave.
'What do you figure this rig is? Some sort of matter sender?'
Reave shrugged. 'I'm damned if I know. Apart from maybe Stuff Central, I never heard of anything that could beam matter through the nothings.'
'Maybe they cracked the secret.'
'Maybe. All things are possible.'
Showcross Gee caught the end of their conversation. 'Please be patient, gentlemen. I have to concentrate for the power-up right now, but all your questions will be answered when the time comes. Perhaps, for the moment, you should simply observe how Baptiste is treating his newly found city and be thankful that you are not still out there.'
A pseudosurface on one of the triangular walls of the chamber showed multiple images from the snoopers that continued to move around the city.
The Minstrel Boy eyed Showcross Gee coldly. 'Some of our number are still out there.'
'That was unfortunate but unavoidable.'
'You could have let us into the pyramid a whole lot sooner.'
Showcross Gee was equally cold. 'I can't discuss this right now.'
The Minstrel Boy's lip curled. 'Yeah, right.'
Baptiste was treating Palanaque little better than any other settlement he had conquered. The bodies of the beloved Master, Zeum, and most of the court, including Dass-el-Hame, were already dangling, faces blue and tongues protruding, from ropes beneath the archway of the main gate. Their frantic last-ditch bargaining had not saved their lives, after all. The DNA Cowboys observed them with the grimly sick satisfaction of men whose worst fears had been confirmed. Zeum had gone to his death calmly, keeping his military bearing to the very end. Parshew-a-Thar, on the other hand, had kicked and screamed until the very moment he was dropped into empty air.
As it turned out, Baptiste was not actually razing the city. His men were going from block to block looting and raping, killing any citizens who got in their way or protested. There were also many citizens put to the sword simply on a whim or for the amusement of individual raiders. The Old Metal Monster was leading his usual band of torturers. There was, however, a certain restraint in the destruction and slaughter. The buildings were not being torched, and the slave class — the stepfords and the epsilons — were being noticeably preserved. Also, no one as yet was being eaten.
'It really does look as though Baptiste's getting himself a city.'
'He's welcome to it.'
'Can you imagine what it's going to be like after he's been running the place for a couple of weeks?'
By some unpleasant synchronicity, the moment Billy spoke Baptiste's name, his image appeared on the pseudosurface. A snooper seemed to be homing in on him. He was standing on the roof of one of the taller buildings in a characteristic pose, legs spread, shoulders hunched, and hands clasped behind his back, watching his men going about their business. Every now and then he would stare thoughtfully at the pyramid. The snooper was getting closer and closer, until it had the warlord in a tight profile close-up so that every dirt-encrusted line in his face was shown in detailed relief.
'If that thing doesn't back off, he's going to see it.'
And see it he did. He moved like a striking snake, trapping the small cylindrical snooper in one glovd hand. His eyes were hidden behind the black goggles, but he was clearly looking into the sensor jewel.
'I suppose this is one of your toys, Showcross Gee. How long do you think you're going to be able to remain shut up in that pile of stones?'
Reave turned. Showcross Gee had left the circle of metaphysicians and was staring at the image of Vlad Baptiste.
'He knows your name?'
Showcross Gee nodded. 'Of course he knows my name. He knows the names of everyone here.'
Baptiste had raised the snooper close to his face. His huge image filled the wall. There was something both bizarre and unnerving about the way that, while the silent circle of metaphysicians focused their most intense concentration, the hugely magnified features of their greatest enemy loomed over them.
'Unless you choose to remain in there until you starve to death, you will eventually have to come out. I will be waiting, Showcross Gee. You can count on that. You will have to face me.'
Reave felt a chill. The only consolation was that Baptiste had no idea what was really going on inside the pyramid. If he had, he would probably have set the unfortunate Palanaquii to tearing it down stone by stone. Not that Reave could take much comfort from that thought. He had no guarantee that the weird device was going to really get them out of there. They were still taking the metaphysicians absolutely on trust simply because there was no alternative.
The image of Baptiste abruptly vanished. He must have crushed the snooper in his fist. Showcross Gee turned away from the pseudosurface and addressed the DNA Cowboys.
'Observe the disk.'
The disk had started to revolve slowly. It also appeared to be sinking into the floor of the chamber, except that "sinking" was not the right word. It was certainly moving downward, but the floor of the chamber was curving to accommodate it. The previously solid stone was forming a shallow but rapidly deepening conical bowl. Matter was actually being bent.
'When your name is called, you will step out onto the disk.'
Reave st
epped in front of Showcross Gee. 'I think it's time you told us where we re going.'
Showcross Gee's expression was transcendentally smooth. 'It's a little hard to define our destination in words.'
The DNA Cowboys looked at each other. Even the Minstrel Boy was raised from his mortal apathy. Finely honed instincts told them that they were about to hear some very bad news.
'What do you mean by "hard to define"?'
'As yet we have no geography, but you can rest assured that it is a step beyond.'
'A step beyond what?'
Reave was looking decidedly unhappy. 'What exactly are we talking about here?'
'Nonreversible discorporation to a malleable afterlife.'
Billy's eyes narrowed. 'Isn't nonreversible discorporation just a fancy name for death?'
'Technically it is akin to death, but the availability of a controllable afterlife makes it a completely different change of state. You will be stepping into a completely new dimension.'
'Do we know what might be waiting for us in this new dimension?'
'No.'
The Minstrel Boy was feeling sick. 'You're telling us that we're all boldly going to a brand-new heaven.'
'Please. Don't insult me.'
Billy was not buying it; he had had plenty of experience with discorporation. 'How can we know that there's any afterlife at all?'
'Our earliest researches demonstrated its existence.'
The Minstrel Boy had a dangerous look in his eye. 'We're going to heaven on your say-so?'
Billy still wanted to know more. 'Do we retain our memories and personalities?'
'It's unlikely. We will emerge considerably advanced. There may be some vestigial impulses, but they will most probably fade very quickly.'
The Minstrel Boy slowly and finally shook his head. 'Forget it. I'm not setting foot on that thing.'
Showcross Gee looked at him in amazement. 'Are you insane? You'll be a god.'
The Minstrel Boy's eyes were bleak. 'I'm a man, damn it. I'm the Minstrel Boy. It's as simple as that. I was always what I am, and I intend to die that way. I don't want to be a god. Gods are dangerous.' He was aware that he sounded like a petulant child, wrapping himself in the last tatters of his dignity, but he did not care. He had meant what he had said. The last tatters of his dignity were all that he had left.
At that moment, a disembodied voice started calling of names. 'Marhess Gan. . Tyler Gee. . Nalson Treece. . Lustor Mahi. .'
In turn, each of the metaphysicians stepped down onto the disk. In fact, their feet did not touch the disk itself. Some invisible horizontal field held them in midair, on the level where the original floor had been. Each one immediately began to change. Their flesh turned transparent, and it was possible to see their bones and circulatory systems. Then flesh became crystalline and, finally, two-dimensional. After that point, each metaphysician simply vanished.
'Persode. . Matmash Ri. . Aphentaup. .P. Vishnaria. .Renk Do. .'
When they were gone, their clothes drifted down through the field as though subject to the normal rules of gravity. When the white suits touched the disk itself, they vaporized. No trace remained.
'Bein ut Loew. . Mathmashamu. . Rehgath Gee. . Aba Melmoth. .
The circle of metaphysicians was hiilf-gone. Reave faced the Minstrel Boy. 'Are you really going to stay here?'
'Absolutely. What about you two? Going to seek your fortune as gods?'
'Ethbuck. . Gronin Gee. . Pretalat Sna. . n'Brandei. .Touser Lafter. .Sal Oti. . Ptran Gee. .Orte Gee. .'
Reave took a deep breath. 'I'm staying, too. I'm not going to get on that carousel.'
It was down to Billy. There were just six metaphysicians left. Their white suits glowed in the muted light from the disk. Certainly a part of him wanted to chance the experience.
'Fest Arnn., Luthor Modesto., TorRomm. . Mahii Mag Gee. . Etif-Erle. .'
Only Showcross Gee was left. As his name was called, he glanced back sadly at the DNA Cowboys and then stepped off into discorporation. Billy suddenly moved. Three paces took him to the edge of the bowl created by the disk.
'Billy Oblivion.'
And then he froze. He could not step out.
'There is no second call.'
After that the voice was silent. Billy walked slowly back to the others.
'So what did we prove by ducking the roll call of destiny?'
'That we're stubbornly human.'
'No shit.'
The disk was rising again. The floor was regaining its original shape and level. The glow started to fade. The floating pyramid block sank slowly to the floor. All energy and color seemed to have gone from the chamber. It was lit by a single white light.
Billy sighed. 'And that's that.'
Reave settled himself with his back against the wall. 'You know what this means?'
The Minstrel Boy nodded. 'It's the blaze of glory.'
'The entire Bolivian National Guard.'
Billy also sat down. 'I ain't ready to die yet.'
'It's got to happen sometime.'
'We were offered a way out.'
Billy squatted down beside the other two. 'Yeah, but we blew it, each in his own way.'
'So when do we make this final bow?'
'I guess when we're all ready for. .' Reave's voice trailed off, and he made a helpless gesture. 'Hell, I don't know.'
For a long time the three men sat in silence, lost in their own thoughts. Finally Billy could not stand it any longer. He stood up and announced that he was off in search of wine. After about twenty minutes he came back with two large jugs.
'What the hell, let's drink this down and go out and face Baptiste.'
The other two looked at him in silence, knowing that it was probably the best suggestion.
Billy set the wine down. 'Can you think of any way around this?'
Reave shook his head and uncapped the first jug. 'No way at all, but what the hell? We knew this was coming from the first moment we all met up again.'
The Minstrel Boy raised an eyebrow. 'You really believe that?'
'Don't you?'
The Minstrel Boy nodded. 'Yeah, I believe it. It ain't just us, either. You can smell it. The whole fucking world is running out of road.'
Billy took the jug from Reave. His face was wistful. 'There's still a lot of world out there. Still a lot that I'd like to see. '
'Yeah, but it's fading fast. The realities are going one by one. Krystaleit's gone, and it won't be too long before Baptiste destroys this place. I figure the other places probably aren't faring much better. We haven't seen anything but violence and destruction since we got back together.'
Reave agreed. 'Minstrel Boy's right. We've seen the best of it.'
Billy took a long pull on the jug and looked from Reave to the Minstrel Boy. 'This is really it, isn't it?'
They both nodded.
'Sure looks like it.'
Billy shook his head. 'Damn.'
A lopsided grin spread over the Minstrel Boy's face. 'At least we get the chance to go out with a bang.'
'What's the point of going out with a bang if there ain't nobody left around to tell the story.'
The Minstrel Boy took the jug. 'You hit a deep philosophical point there, Billy Oblivion.'
Reave uncapped a second jug. 'Seems to me that all we can do is sit around and drink our fill. When we're drunk and ready, we'll go out and see to Baptiste. At least we can take a few of the bastards with us.'
The initial effect of the wine was to make them maudlin. The memories started coming out, all the brave tales of the old days before so much trouble had come across the world, tales of gun-fights and women and seven-day drunks and nights of wretched excess. There was a period of enthusiasm and affection when the three men vied with each other to convince themselves what fine, reckless, and dashing old boys they had been. The alcohol moved on, however, and let the sadness in. They could not contain the knowledge that memories were all they had left. Boasting gave way to gloomy introsp
ection, and they lapsed into silence.
They drank steadily, each man alone with his own thoughts, with little or no sense of time. In the end it was the Minstrel Boy who took a pull from the nearest jug and found that there was only a mouthful left. He swallowed it, sediment and all, and hurled the jug away. It shattered against the far wall.
The Minstrel Boy stood up with an angry finality, 'That's it. I've had enough. Let's get to it.'
Billy and Reave finished the other jug in a couple of gulps and also got to their feet.
'Yeah, there ain't no point in putting it off.'
As they walked toward the portal to the outside, Reave drew one of his pistols and handed it to the Minstrel Boy.'You don't want to go out without a gun in your hand.'
The Minstrel Boy briefly squeezed his arm. 'Thanks.'
There was a short delay while they searched for the mechanism that would roll back the stone blocks. As far as the Minstrel Boy could estimate, it had to be dark outside. He entertained a brief, fragile hope. Maybe the darkness would give them an edge. Maybe they could slip away. Then Billy found the controls to the doors, and there were no more reprieves and no more excuses.
Reave's face stretched into a forced grin.' Any bright ideas'?'
Billy and the Minstrel Boy shook their heads. Reave nodded to Billy.
'Okay, here we go.'
Billy threw the switch. The blocks started to pivot. Sunlight streamed in, almost blinding them. It was broad daylight outside. Either they had lost all track of time, or the metaphysicians' disk had changed the rate of its passing inside the pyramid.
'Ready?'
The Minstrel Boy sighed. 'Fuck it, let's go.'
They ran out firing wildly. Baptiste seemed to have half his force deployed on the steps below them. They had never looked into so many leveled weapons. For a stretched instant of unreality no one fired at them. Then every one of Baptiste's guns opened up. The blaze of glory came all at once, a single fireflash that could not be sustained or prolonged. White pain, white light, white heat.