From Whence They Came

by Thomas Zman

  “Yes! Yes. A thousand times, yes!” She hugged and kissed me even more frantically. And cried! Oh did she cry!

  Since Frank and Constance had waited ‘god knew’ how long for my return before they wed, seeing as I was to be the Best Man, we right there and then decided to make it a double wedding. A double wedding it would be!

  The Wedding

  The month, the day, the hour had dawn near – or so it would be if we were living on the surface; but since there were no recognized moments of time here, I might as well write: Our Nuptials awaited. The orderly disorder customarily preceding weddings went smoothly. Frank and myself, endued in the finest of ceremonious vestments, white tuxedos with black trimmings, now stood nervously in the apartment, anticipating our chauffer’s arrival. The video monitor displayed numerous honeymoon resorts for the choosing as Kris, our best man, briefed us on the ‘wedding details’. Frank (ironically) appeared better prepared than I: the future state of matrimony had most probably been psychologically adapted to by himself; he having had more time to develop and modify his chivalrous attitude towards it -- I admit to being somewhat envious of his debonair. Had I fully considered the commitment to April? Admittedly, after I had seen what had become of my family back on the surface, I was a bit out of sorts. April was all that a young bride should be . . . my concern was that my headlong proposal to her was out of true love and the yearning for affinity, not the result of displaced vengeance.

  We had a while longer to wait, informed the video monitor, and so I took the opportunity to further groom myself. I studied my face in the mirror – somewhat closer than usual– and it was apparent that I aged not a year since arriving, though time had indeed been passing. Frank and I had earlier made a trip to the barbershop for some fine grooming – though I can’t recollect the last time I actually saw any hair being trimmed from my head – let alone my face. Were all the actions there simply primping?

  I though back on my life, realizing that a good part of it had now been spent here, here where I had come to know, love, and now prepared to marry one Miss April Camille. Surely it was the biggest event of her life. The grandiose preparations ranging from the guest list, all the way to where the reception was to be held. Frank and I had the dubious honor of choosing where to go on our honeymoons, though we hadn’t yet decided -- thus our intense scrutiny of the video monitor, the selections seemed endless. It was the merging of two lifestyles into one; the complete and total surrender of our selves unto one another; the nervousness and joy shared in waiting. Ah yes, marriage. The pageantry of it all!

  Our chauffeur arrived and we soon found ourselves aloft over the Tenement Towers. We rode in no ordinary auto hopper, but one of larger scale and ornate luxury. The driver, of course, was a NIM; though actually wearing a suit and cap for the occasion. I asked -– as a favor – if I could fly the hopper to the church; but over the uncounted years of my residence here in the city, the law prevailed: humans are forbidden to fly hoppers.

  As we flew across the sparkling city we passed over buildings that, since our arriving here, had been newly constructed. It was upon these additions that Frank and I looked with contemplative eyes, attempting to dissipate our nervousness by reminiscing of ‘first encounters’ with the great metropolis. At one point in our conversation, while passing above one of the many gentle rivers that flowed throughout, I began to feel illusive, removed, as if I were entering another reality – one of incoherent voices and hazy figures dressed in blue garb. This sensation was only fleeting, however, and I was aptly able to conceal it.

  “God Bless you both and your wives to be!” congratulated a voice from a passing hopper, bringing my mind back into focus once again. We descended from the sky and made our approach over the Celestial Gardens. Ahead lay the crimson field, now looking much like a great heart; for our chauffeur had brought us over the park from a direction we’d never before been. He gracefully guided the hopper towards the courtyard and landed before the Seven Temples. Several other hoppers were set down there, unloading guests who quickly entered the first Temple – the church of our wedding.

  We remained seated in the hopper, and would remain there until it was time for us to enter. Guests noticed our presence as they passed, and stirred light conversation while congratulating us on our latest endeavor. Birds were calling their sing-song way from about the Gardens as scampering critters tended to their business; even a small fawn roamed placidly amidst the thick, even expanse of the haven. The celebrated moment moved me to prayer . . .

  Frank and I stepped from the hopper, Kris followed. We entered through doors on opposite sides of the church then walked to a rear vestibule to await our time. We had an unhindered view of all our guests: Phoebian and human alike nearly filled the church’s interior, as did hundreds of candles and their ambrosial essence.

  When the moment arrived Frank and I took our places before the alter, before Father Bartholomew. From the grand organ, high in the arches of the lofty church, sounded the harmonious ‘nuptial melody’, calling forth our long awaited brides. Tall doors of gothic teak opened at the rear of the church and all heads turned. April and Constance – escorted by Mr. Fabian – began their pageant walk to wedlock. They wore long flowing gowns and held fragrant flowering bouquets; their veiled faces smiling as they beheld beloved friends who had come with incessant blessings to see them joined in holy matrimony. Trailing white lace and flower petals, tears of joy and unrestrained sobs from well wishing friends, our brides, ever so slowly, neared. And upon their reaching the alter Mr. Fabian gently kissed each on the cheek and graciously handed them off to us. He then took up his place with the rest of the gathered as we took up our brides. And then we were all comforted as the Father spoke:

  “Friends, loved ones of the Sanctification. We unite here on this auspicious occasion to behold the joining of two very special couples . . . “

  And when all the formalities had been expressed I lifted April’s veil and kissed her, the most wonderful kiss of all our lives. We had been wed! The organ played and together we walked down the aisle, arm in arm, smiling, nodding, and waving to friends who all gave us their blessing. I felt proud, happy – overjoyed. April wept jubilantly . . .

  The Cordial Convivial was a spectacular manor located on Alabaster Avenue in the social district of Neuphobes. Its lavish interior featured a deep-lighted dance floor surrounded by tables of intimate capacity, with the levitating dais arranged in a bow foremost of all. The entire manor showcased a palatial elegance as it was cheerfully festooned with decorum of fine chandeliers, tapastral wall hangings, and polished marble flooring. There was all the pseudo-food and drink anyone could ever conceive of and entertainment provided by a swank band, playing tirelessly every style of music to preeminently enliven the celebration.

  All the guests had arrived and were in the spirit of things when our wedding party returned from a picture-taking session at Floral Falls, a discreet little cove over near the induction cataracts; wherefrom the ocean’s inlets flowed into the city’s rivers and tributaries. Our photographer was NIM (naturally) who managed to catch all the proper angles and backgrounds shots, posing us most professionally. Polished copies of the entire wedding album/video would be readily handed out -- via flash disc -- as parting gifts to all our friends at the end of the reception.

  However, it was now the start of the reception, and everyone was seated. There played a reflective background melody as Kris took his place at the center of the dance floor. He invited everyone to stand as he seized a glass of champagne – pseudo of course – and brought our attention to the small golden orb that had drifted into the midst of the celebration. The orb hovered over near Kris, then expanded into a hologram of our cosmic curator, Burl:

  “To Steven and April, Frank and Constance. My most sincere apologies for not being able to attend your big day, but I am once again amid ship on journey through the cosmos. However, I have prepared for you all a toast. Shall we?” He lifted his glass. “May the great cosmos bestow
upon you all the bright heartedness, love, and infinite good fortune its Creator has to offer. God bless both these couples on their wedding day!”

  The image receded into the orb and the metallic messenger returned with expedience back from whence it came. I stood there, enraptured with April, my friends, and everything of God’s creation. The orb had brought not only a message of good tidings but also a breath of wonderment from the heavens.

  The music started up with our wedding song (a love ballad) and April and I graced the dance floor with our presence. We flowed across the lighted scape for the first time as husband and wife -- Frank and Constance, too -- charming onlookers with moves we had surreptitiously been perfecting. Slowly others from the sidelines began to join us in our celebratory dance and everything just flowed with flawless elegance.

  Throughout the reception, with April proudly poised upon my arm, we made our rounds, lightly chatting with friends, telling of our marriage plans. At times I spoke intimately of our intermingling lives, of how I had advanced my theological perspective; April having few qualms of her own with which to deal. From the libations we imbibed upon I caught myself on several occasions probing minds, searching for dark recesses that needed enlightenment. This inquiring goodwill often led me astray; curiosity intruding upon the sacred soul. However, I’d quickly correct myself, having learned to control these unwelcomed intrusions.

  We would socialize a bit, then return to meet Frank and Constance at our dais for a course of exquisite cuisine. Each table in the manor set with holographic delicacies; no domes needed be lowered over the tables, as for some other unforeseen forces activated these feasts for the senses. There were so many guests to see that we couldn’t possibly enjoy the palatable pleasures, as did the others, nor the dance music that continuously called everyone to the floor. We were too busy ‘making the rounds’. We spoke with many of April’s friends: she would search the party for a familiar face, then tighten her grip on my hand, saying ‘Oh, you just have to meet . . .’ And off we went, across the party in a flurry of ‘excuse me’s, ‘I’ll talk with you later’, ‘I really must’ s . . . towards the old friend she hadn’t spoken with since her long ago arrival in the city. I greeted them in my most gentile manner, allowing April to do all the talking, and simply agreeing wholeheartedly with the event’s excitement. Between such socializing’s we’d secure brief comfort in one another’s arms on the dance floor or a breather back at our table for refreshment.

  Throughout the reception there were inquiries as to my writing – no doubt spoken about via April, for I never openly divulged my interests. It was then that I realized I had had much more time lately to pursue my memoires; the Good Lord having no doubt provided me the opportunity. I had spent much of that gifted time studying profusely in the Archives, seeking out wisdom from the scholarly sect, and/or reading Scripture in private repentive prayer.

  At one point during the event, April and Constance off furthering their social whirl, I found myself alone (enraptured by a song that stirred distant memories) when I was approached by an old acquaintance.

  “Glad to see you finally tied the knot.”

  “Gid! Thank you for coming.” I anticipated an in depth conversation with the man who seemed far less haggard than the first time I had met him. (I never did catch the name of the craggy mate who, long ago introduced us)

  “Lady Sarah sends her blessings. And so do I since I’m here.” Gid laughed. “Not often that I come to one of these affairs. Where’s your bride?”

  “Milling about somewhere with Constance,” I commented, remembering back to that time we had spoken on the sub-decks of the Gregarious Galleon; though since then our paths have scarcely crossed.

  “How is Lady Sarah?” I asked. “The last time I went to see her she had to send me away.”

  “Her time nears,” Gid sobered. “She is well aware of that. Been a lot of people visiting her lately, now that events have turned on the surface. In fact she’s now too weak to see anyone. But she just had to send her blessings to you and your bride.”

  Gid and I talked a while; I having confided in him of my shortcomings I struggled to subdue. I thought of apologizing to Gid for any inconsideration’s I may have had towards him in the past -- but didn’t. He was concerned for my soul and hoped the good in me would prevail.

  From the midst of the celebration Daryl approached and I promptly introduced the two. After some light discourse Gid excused himself off to other socializing’s, and soon April returned to my side, Constance with her. Both were sipping cocktails.

  “I’ve been meaning to apologize for Mary’s not being here,” said Daryl. “She has been feeling a little queasy as of late. The stork plans on paying us a visit.”

  A look of surprise was upon all our faces.

  “Wow, that’s wonderful news!” Constance cried.

  “Oh, that sure is,” April added. “I’m hearing there is a lot of that going on now.”

  “Yes, the future generations cometh!” I attempted levity; the cocktails having an effect.

  “I have to add,” said Daryl, “that we couldn’t be more excited. I remember back when having children was the last thing we wanted. The Sanctification has changed all that. Now we couldn’t be more excited.”

  “By the way,” Daryl changed the subject. “Have you decided on a honeymoon destination?”

  “Rhapvaria,” I said. “An extravagant moonlet in the constellation Apus. Quaint little paradise. It’s even got a 5-star rating.”

  I laughed.

  “I don’t know what Frank has chosen for us,” said Constance. “I think I’d better go see about that.”

  She flashed a smile and sauntered sophisticatedly across the party, being entertained along the way by wistful compliments from well-mannered guests.

  “ . . . Remarkable likeness,” commented Kris while his new bride talked nonchalantly with a neighbor she hadn’t seen since her relocation from Earth-Base Seven.

  “Yes,” Frank enforced Kris’ comment; April and myself joining them. The five of us moving to the music before the swank band. “Everything right down to their bare feet.”

  “Who’d ever think we’d have such greats singing at our wedding,” I gave April a little squeeze; my thoughts flashing back to Jean. “They even take requests.” I said delightedly; shaking the apparition from my conscience.

  “The holographics are superb,” Kris was saying. “If you let yourself become absorbed, you’d swear they were really here.”

  “You’re always listening to them back at the apartment,” said Frank.

  “Sure do. They’re the biggest names in music. To me that is.”

  Everyone laughed.

  The guests moved to and slowly went from before the band, filling themselves with the upbeat spirit of their music. The brass winds were fancifully stirring to the soul as were they stimulating to the feet, which was evidenced by the amount of people on the dance floor. During this time Kris and I spoke, wavering cocktails superseding many broken ideas and half-formed sentences. I stood in awe of this man for he had taken over where Dan had left off. It was apparent he had sharpened his speech and polished his social skills; his wife, Joy the perfect compliment.

  I politely bided my time with everyone at the reception. Wanting to continue to conduct myself in a stately manner I decided to not further drink of the pseudo libation suspended in my glass – I had had quite enough and needed its effects to wane if I were to make it through the rest of the celebration. (Perhaps some pseudo-espressos would have fared well at this time) But rather I held my glass in a comforting gesture, as did many others at this point.

  I laughed, took notice of all the proper social innuendos, and spoke considerately of everyone and everything pertaining to April and myself. Throughout the party I came upon all that I knew in the city, even the Phoebians; though they reserved themselves for it was a human affair. I, with April faithfully by my side, was an intermingling socialite with festive, high sprits for the commemora
tion of our wedding. Everything appeared to be a gallant success!

  As all finally wound down, there was at last the ceremonious cutting of the wedding cake. Sort of an oxymorphical ‘accomplished impossibility’; the four of us cutting the holographically produced ‘first’ pseudo-slice. As the big knife first hit the cake, raves of delight were heard as everyone at every their tables sensed its strawberry sweetness and rich creamy icing. A cake devoured without anyone ever eating a single piece.

  The four of us made our final round of thanks through the now dwindling crowd: some of whom sat intimately and enjoyed the calm that settled as the party faded; others dancing a last dance to romantically reminiscent songs. And so when all the formalities had been fulfilled, there remained our closest friends wanting to see us off. There was a saucer waiting at the Solar Port, and just as soon as we all danced our last dance, we were off in reverent procession of auto-hoppers – empty cans noisily trailing -- to catch it.

  April and I fulfilled our dreams on Rhapvaria. Frank and Constance on a romantic isle that I knew not its name. And it was upon these resort worlds that we came unto and knew our wives. And from the consecration did we, too, contribute to the numbers of Neuphobes. No longer would there remain a barren womb in the city; the new generations would henceforth come.

  Passages

  Time has slipped by at a rate hard to conceive of even in my keeping of a journal. April and I now find ourselves settled comfortably into our new lives. We have become the proud parents of a male child, Joshua. Neuphobes itself is full of playing children, adding a much delighted touch of youthful innocence to the city. Our child plays with Sol and Asia, the children of the Tober’s. Since we all live in the same tenement – a spacious multi-roomed duplex with scenic balcony – we’ve naturally extended our friendship into the lineage that follows. Our apartments are much more spacious than was the one Frank and I shared. This accommodation, together with the Celestial Gardens and various learning centers around the city, allows plenty of ‘growing space’ for our developing children. Our lives now revolve around the youngsters – as does everyone else’s in the city who has the pleasure of being a parent – and they are happy, always bringing us news of new findings or adventure; and though the first generation of offspring can be no more than seven years of age, there are many in the years behind them so that the sum total of their numbers reaches well into the thousands.