She had given instructions to her secretary not to take calls or visitors; there was little left to say to anyone. Nemesis had come to town, and she was looking for her.
Nemesis was coming for the Tower, too.
Ayin reasoned there were powers at work that would kill the Tower. In a way, the Tower had brought it upon itself: too much complacency, too much fat... She thought of herself. She thought she was a good model of her employer—a fat bureaucrat that had flunked the most important mission of her position.
The phone rang persistently. Ayin chose the bitter medicine and picked it up. "Ayin Najjar speaking."
"Ms. Najjar, this is the office of Mr. Al Renzo, CEO of Industrial Refrigeration," said a meticulously trimmed face in the video. "Please hold."
Instantly the image changed to that of a tanned, clean-shaved face: "Ms. Najjar, what a privilege."
"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Renzo."
"Ms. Najjar, what should I make of the news?"
"At this time, I cannot confirm or deny, sir."
"Ms. Najjar, I'm sure you’ve heard this before, but I need stronger reassurance. My management is in revolt—hell, my board is in revolt. If Hopkins is right, the Charter has been blown to smithereens—why pretend otherwise? Let me ask: Is it true?"
"Again, at this time, sir, I cannot confirm or deny. I'm sorry, sir." She hung up. The Devil, she thought, was ConSEnt, and ConSEnt was pouring the concrete for the new swimming shoes the Tower would be wearing soon.
CHAPTER 40
"...and that's all we know about catjuice," Nero said. The sun was up, but the morning was still cool. The buildings of Pilgrim's Hope were visible in the distance through sparse vegetation.
Rebecca, sitting on the grass, was pensive. "Just like I'd been told. You have twenty-four pairs of chromosomes, and that's what'll happen to me, too, if I try—besides, of course, being able to make money in bars by fooling patrons with disappearing tricks. That is even better than a pension."
Nero raised his eyebrows, and looked at Rebecca. "You'd be the second person to try it—and the first woman. I did it by accident, I didn't have a clue. You must be deliberate in your decision."
"Are you asking me to explain why I'm taking this chance?"
"Yes," Nero said, looking first at her, then at Lucretia, who sat farther away.
"Well, Superman," Rebecca answered in a huff, "I thought we were all adults here. Yes, I understand the risks involved. They vary from death, or permanent disablement, to literal disembodiment in case of success. There are unknown long term consequences, and short-term monumental ego trips," she paused, brushing her hair back with her hand, "as you exemplify. Besides, I won't be human any more. As to my motives, I have no desire to abandon mankind as a species; however, I look at it this way: I'm on the older side of my prime, with no accomplishments to brag about. My best prospects are to find a husband, settle down and have a family, and wait for the foams to eat us alive. Except, of course, if catjuice is for real, in which case, if I'm not the guinea pig, I'll have to sit in line for my turn and hope that it comes before the foams arrive. You know, Mr. Superman," Rebecca added, staring at Nero, "an old curse from an ancient people goes, May you survive all your children. I don’t want that to happen." She lowered her eyes. "Are you going to take even that away from me?"
Nero clenched his teeth, hid his face in his hands. "You're a wise woman, Rebecca," he said. "I misunderstood." He slowly looked up. "When do you want to start?"
"Now, if we can," she said.
Lucretia came to sit down next to them. "Rebecca, there are a few critical hours after you take catjuice for the first time—unusual things may happen to you, almost certainly will. We want to be next to you at all times for a couple of days. Can you arrange that?"
"I've done that already."
Lucretia scowled. "What...?"
"Well," Rebecca said, "I figured from what I'd heard that there'd be some rock'n'roll, so I arranged for my bakery shift to be covered if I didn't show up." She winked. "Opportunity sometimes doesn’t knock twice."
"Let's go to the infirmary, then," Lucretia said. "I've got a bed ready for you—in a private room."
"I'm beginning to like this already," Rebecca said.
*
Lucretia connected a heart monitor and poked Rebecca's vein with an IV. "That's for medications that you may need; I'll be right back," she said, and walked away.
Rebecca stretched her legs, and wiggled her toes, feigning delight. "This is heaven, so far, but I'm terrified," she said, her voice breaking, "that I might wake up in hell after all." Her hands gripped the light bed cover, her knuckles white.
"Want out?" Nero said with intent. "It's not too late."
Rebecca shook her head. "No, no, no."
"This is courage, you know," Nero said.
"Thank you," she said. "I appreciate appreciation, y’know."
Lucretia returned with a capsule: "This," she said, "is catjuice. Based on what happened to Nero, I estimated what a dose for you could be—but it's catjuice, not Cheshire tail. Now," she sighed, "is a good time to pull back if you have second thoughts—you'd have all my understanding and then some."
Just then, Primus entered, his silver hair ruffled as if he'd been running. "Ms. Doe," he said, with a slight bow, "I see I'm just in time to pay my respects."
"Hi, Mr. Lelouche," Rebecca said, attempting a smile. "Thanks for your kidney—I'll try to make it worthwhile." She was still gripping the bed cover, but her voice was surer.
Primus approached the bed and leaned over to pat Rebecca's shoulder. "My child, mine is but a kidney. Good luck."
"Thanks," she said, reaching to take Lucretia's capsule, which she swallowed with a sip of water. "Now, I'm committed." She relaxed on the bed: "No more hard decisions for a while."
Primus said, "Your valor, ma'am, makes all our efforts worthwhile. I must go now, but I'll follow your progress."
Rebecca's cheeks blushed. "You're a kind person, Primus."
He bowed to Rebecca, nodded to Nero and Lucretia, turned on his heels and disappeared through the door.
Rebecca closed her eyes, breathing a bit too fast. "Am I hyperventilating?" she said.
"No. Your pulse is fast," said Lucretia, "which is easy to explain; all the rest is normal. How do you feel?"
"OK."
Nero was watching from a chair in the corner. "Nothing should happen for a while, but who knows? In any case," he said, pulling his chair closer to the bed, "I've got a cure for boredom here." He produced a pocket-size game of checkers with tiny magnetic pieces. "Who wants to play?"
"I've a few patients to attend, this seems like a good time to do it—I'm a few seconds away, if you need me," Lucretia said.
"I'll play," Rebecca said to Nero, taking the checkers set from him with trembling hands, beginning to arrange the pieces. "I'm pretty good," she added with a mischievous nuance.
"I'll give you a run for your money," Nero said.
They faced each other on black-and-white squares without a clear winner for a while, then Rebecca collapsed without warning.
"Lucretia!" Nero said, ringing the bedpost bell.
Lucretia appeared in the company of a pregnant Kebe.
Nero, startled, looked at Kebe. "What... What are you doing here—in your condition?"
"Helping Rebecca survive," she answered.
Lucretia examined Rebecca quickly. "Shit," she said.
"What's up?" Nero said.
"Breath fast and shallow, pulse 230, temperature 43 Celsius, blood pressure off the chart. Her pupils show no reaction—she will die if she stays like this. I've got to medicate her."
"This is like what happened to Nero in the powerhouse on Doka, even if..." She looked at Nero, "I don't think you remember. Only.
.."
"Only?" Nero and Lucretia said together.
"You were transparent at the time."
"What else should I do?" Lucretia said.
Rebecca's body wavered.
"Improvise," Kebe said.
Nero, too, collapsed on the floor, as if he'd fainted.
"What now?" Kebe said.
Nero began wavering.
Lucretia used a syringe to inject medication into the IV drip spiked in Rebecca's now slightly translucent arm. She knelt next to Nero; Kebe tended to Rebecca. Suddenly, Lucretia and Kebe looked at each other, asking silently, Are you feeling what I'm feeling?
"I'm... I'm terrified, Kebe! This is... supernatural."
Kebe nodded hysterically, "There..."
Lucretia rolled her eyes back, screamed, bent backward as if her spine had snapped, and fell, her mouth foaming.
"No!" Kebe said, trying to bend to help. Doing so reminded her of her pregnancy. She felt her belly with her hands and got out of the room, closing the door behind, resting against it. She stayed there for an immeasurable eternity; then somebody knocked—from the inside. Kebe moved, allowing enough room for the door to crack open.
"Nero... It's you," she said, opening it wide.
Nero was back in the flesh, looking like the victim of a bad hangover: "What happened?" he said.
"You tell me! What happened?"
He turned around, and just then he realized that Lucretia was sprawled on the floor. He screamed, shaking her limp body without real hope.
"Nero," Kebe said, "Nero, she's dead."
Nero sat on the floor, stunned.
Kebe saw that Rebecca had also reappeared in the flesh, and examined her. To Kebe, under the circumstances, she appeared lost in a coma like Nero on Doka. Catjuice was working, after all.
"Nero, wake up!" Kebe tried to shake him. Nero was drooling, sitting on the floor. "Tell me what happened, why did you disappear?" At that instant, Rebecca moaned.
"Get out of here, Kebe, it's not over yet," Nero said.
*
Rebecca, sitting up in bed, was eating with good appetite but little satisfaction. "What a tragedy," she said to Primus.
"Nobody could have anticipated this," Primus answered.
"I should have," Kebe said. "Cheshires came to Nero on Doka as if a miracle had happened."
Primus interrupted: "Under the circumstances, Mrs. Dorato, that was a miracle. As a man of faith I can accept that.”
"Thank you, Primus, but I should have known better, there had to be a connection—Nero, Cheshires, Rebecca, Ghosts—the pattern is there. Now we know; there will be guests. The next time they won't kill anyone."
"Lucretia's death is a tremendous loss," Primus said, "but there's no way anyone could have imagined this. It's impossible to establish a pattern from one experiment only; not even you," he looked at Kebe, "can do that."
"That's right, Kebe," Nero said.
"We must look at these events from the bright side," Primus said. "Catjuice is working. We've found an easy enough way to grow it. Lucretia will be one of the last people the foams will kill."
Kebe nodded. "Now we can prepare, we really can do something about the foams, the Ghosts are not certain death any more."
Rebecca looked at her. "I wouldn't say so, yet."
Kebe scowled. "I beg your pardon?"
"That might be right, Kebe," Nero said.
Primus asked. "Would you please elaborate?"
"Initiation," Nero explained, "draws Ghosts—or Cheshires, or other initiated people, like it happened to me. What I did was involuntary, a knee-jerk reaction. I was sucked into Rebecca's change, and I became a part of that change. I suppose I carry part of some Cheshires with me, as Rebecca carries part of me and of some Ghosts. Like a catalyst, maybe... Does it matter why? In the end, Rebecca is now the authority on Ghosts."
"Not really," Rebecca said, "not yet. But according to Nero, I'm the one with the best odds to become that, if I survive flight school. Nero told me what he did, with the Ghosts, in the desert. How nothing made sense to him. I wonder..."
"Whether doing the same will make more sense to you," Primus added, nodding. "That's possible. These creatures are strange, very strange. Unless you become as strange, they may still not make sense at all."
Rebecca closed her eyes, and her body began to waver instantly. She returned to solidity: "How's that for being strange? It wasn't nearly as difficult as Nero told me it would be—if he really is a piece of me, that's how I must have learned to do it: through his effort, not through mine. Maybe I'll be able to connect with the Ghosts."
"Maybe you will," said Primus, pensive.
"And maybe I'll be out of a job too soon," said Nero.
"I think not, coach," said Kebe. "There are thousands of people who need a piece of you."
CHAPTER 41
"There's hope—only weeks away!" Rebecca yelled at the top of her lungs for all in the crowd at the town meeting to hear. Loud voices filled the auditorium packed with people. The Tower's clerk running the gathering paid no attention to what was happening. He was too busy feeling safe behind an armed detail.
"Why are we under martial law, then?" a man shouted.
"Hey, look here!" Rebecca yelled; she disappeared and reappeared at the other corner of the stage. People looked; the pandemonium subsided. She did it again and in seconds she had the full attention of the audience—including clerk and guards.
"I know we're all reasonable people!" The Tower wouldn't provide a working PA system, so Rebecca had to rely on her lungs.
"How did you do that?" someone shouted.
"Great opening, sir—I'll come to that in a minute. First, I want to make sure we agree on our circumstances." Rebecca opened her arms as if to encompass the whole crowd. "Life's dangerous on Virgil; the foams are scary." She nodded; others in the crowd nodded with her. "And the Tower won't let anyone go back—given that we may have a place to go back to. As for me, I don't have that place."
A few agreed. Rebecca said, "We're in a damned if you do, damned if you don't predicament, and the stakes are high: our lives! If we stay here, the foams get us. If we try to flee, the Tower," she pointed at the armed guards, "gets us."
Howls and angry shouts erupted; the guards fidgeted with their guns, but the detail leader signaled frantically to his men to stay put.
"Hey!" Rebecca yelled, "hey! I'm not done!"
"What's your plan, lady magician?" One cried.
"There's a remedy for the foams," Rebecca said. At that, the clerk jumped up, pulled his communicator and started talking, while the crowd roared loud enough to rattle the building. "It's a vaccine, not a cure. It will be ready soon. There's enough for everybody, and it’s free." The clerk put down his communicator and spoke with the detail leader.
"How do we get it?" a woman holding a baby shouted.
"As soon as it's ready we'll give it to everyone, but you'll need help—each of you!" Rebecca said.
A guard fired a machine gun into the air, while the rest of the armed detail jumped onto the stage to seize Rebecca. She closed her eyes and was gone. Two guards, carried by their momentum, stumbled in the vacuum Rebecca had left behind, ran into each other and knocked each other out.
*
"Catjuice, you say they call it," Tissa said.
"Yes, sir," Eugene said.
"I suppose you realize what threat that poses to the standing of ConSEnt."
"It's teleportation without ConSEnt, sir. That's the end."
"Oh, no, no," Tissa said, waving a hand. "The Tower, my dear Eugene, is collapsing, and we're taking over—on behalf of ConSEnt, that is. All is proceeding well. Guilds and Corporations respond to the call of reason when offered proper terms. Once that is completed, whether
or not we remain a monopoly doesn't matter. Don't confuse means and ends," Tissa said. "We'll own the army, the police, and the privilege to exact taxes. Think grand, Eugene—we won't need a large army, when it can be everywhere at once! No more regulations for us: Our army will use frameposts, and it will be the only army, the only police."
Eugene scowled. "We need to keep the monopoly on deep-space transportation."
"Yes indeed, and catjuice doesn't seem to threaten that—yet. Or does it? What matters, Eugene, is that we'll be an empire, with Donald Maast as emperor. I'll be a viceroy; you'll work for me, and it will go very well for you. This will be the largest empire history has known. You'll personally wield more power than Alexander the Great ever dreamed of." Tissa’s lips tilted into a smile. "Still," he said, "the population at large is often unreasonable; or rather, some individuals are—the hoi polloi at large is spineless." He stood up, pacing. "Some individuals," he said, "have fancies. They get used to ideas like being agents unto themselves, and believe," he waved a hand, "that some God provided them with inalienable entitlements. That, Eugene, is the leaven of the Pharisees."
Eugene nodded.
"Our rule," Tissa said, "will be benign, but it will be a rule nonetheless. And a rule needs enforcement."
Eugene's eyes lit up. "And enforcement..."
"Yes, enforcement, sometimes," Tissa continued, "needs physical confinement of the disturbance." Tissa paused, engorged in his passion, lips quivering. "Enter catjuice," he added, after a thick eternity, shaking his head. He looked at Eugene. "I'll tell you what we'll do, what you'll make happen for me."
CHAPTER 42
‘It's impossible to use this link to transfer any matter, regardless of how little you have in mind.’ Max Hopkins read the note, crumpled it in his hand, pressed it harder in his fist until his hand hurt; he raised his arm and threw the note away. A small jewel case that he held contained a white capsule, which he observed at length. He pursed his lips, opened his mouth—and stopped when the capsule was one inch from his teeth. Shaking his head, he put the capsule back in the case and walked to the heavy-equipment maintenance hangar.
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