Offspring

by Steven Harper

  A high scream pierced the air overhead. Ben looked up, squinting against the sun. A winged speck described a circle in the clear blue sky. Ben became aware he was wearing nothing but a loincloth. Dream etiquette—the host dressed the visitor in whatever clothing was appropriate for the climate in the host’s turf, and the Real People wore little or nothing in the Outback.

  The speck folded its wings and dove straight for Ben. He raised an arm. The little brown falcon pulled up just in time and landed gently on Ben’s bare forearm. Feathers brushed his skin and talons pricked without piercing. A real-world falcon would have laid him open to the bone, but this was the Dream.

  “I thought you were kidding about the loincloth,” Ben said. “You’ve never put me one before.”

  “Some people,” the falcon leered, “shouldn’t be allowed to wear clothes.”

  “And if I get sunburned here, it’ll carry over into my solid body. You remember the term ‘psychosomatic carryover,’ don’t you?”

  “I could whip up some sunscreen.”

  “Kendi.”

  “Oh, all right,” Kendi said, fluffing his feathers in a pretend pout. “Here.” Khaki trousers and a matching shirt grew down Ben’s body, and a pith helmet appeared on his head. Heavy boots encased his feet. The falcon, meanwhile, fluttered to the ground. The moment its talons touched earth, its form shimmered and shifted like muddy water and a kangaroo stood in its place. The animal had a pouch.

  “Better?” the kangaroo asked.

  “Much.” Ben took a deep breath of spicy desert air and looked around at Kendi’s Outback. The rocks and boulders cast razor-edged shadows. A group of small-leaved trees made a grove around a wide, muddy billabong that looked ideal for hiding crocodiles, though nothing stirred the water. No other animals were in evidence, and the air was devoid of birdsong. The place possessed a stark, primal beauty. “So what are we doing here, anyway?”

  Kangaroo Kendi flopped down on the ground in an extravagant sprawl of fur and tail. “Relaxing. Getting the hell away from it all.”

  Ben sat down next to the kangaroo. “Any luck with...”

  “No,” Kendi said. “I’m still stuck in animal form. I’ll keep trying, but for now it’s kangas, koalas, and camels.”

  Ben nodded and stroked the kangaroo’s soft, dusty fur. Before the Despair, Kendi had been one of the more powerful Silent in the Dream. The chief manifestation of his power had been an uncanny knack at tracking other people and the ability to create animals in the Dream. No Silent could create sentient creatures—creating and controlling such complicated reactions was too much for even the subconscious mind—but a few could handle lower life forms. Kendi had gone one step further. His animals had been shards of his own mind, separated from his main consciousness and possessing a certain amount of autonomy. Oddly, all his animals had been—were—female, though Ben had continued to think of Dream Kendi as “he.” The Despair had robbed Kendi of much of his power within the Dream, leaving him able to appear there only as Outback creatures and killing his ability to create independent animals. His tracking skills had also been dulled, but there were also far fewer people to track.

  The sun continued to pour down, and suddenly Ben felt itchy and confined in his explorer’s outfit. “Let’s go swimming,” he said.

  Kendi cocked an ear. “Swimming?”

  “You know how, don’t you?”

  “Depends on my shape.”

  “So let’s go to the beach,” Ben said.

  Kangaroo Kendi thought a moment. “You’re on.”

  Ben felt the landscape around him shift and loosen as Kendi’s mind relaxed its hold. Ben reached out and touched the Dream.

  The Outback vanished, leaving the flat plain and a puddle of muddy billabong water. Then the puddle expanded, gushing toward the horizon with the sound of a thousand rivers until it met a distant azure sky. White sand faded into existence beneath Ben’s boots. Palm trees grew toward a gentle sun, putting out leaves and coconuts like green fingers and brown knuckles. The ocean roiled and bubbled in its newness until Ben stretched a hand over it. It calmed at once, deepening to a perfect, clear blue. Ben’s explorer outfit melted away, replaced by bathing trunks, sandals, and a yellow gauze shirt.

  “Nice,” Kendi said with admiration. “Though the palm trees look a little barmy.”

  “I’ve only seen holos,” Ben apologized. “It’s not something I—”

  The kangaroo bolted upright, ears pricked, nostrils flared. “What the hell?”

  “What?” Ben twisted around, trying to see in all directions at once. “What’s wrong?”

  Kendi remained motionless, a furry brown statue. “I thought I heard...something.”

  Ben listened. “ll he could hear was his own breathing and the gentle lap of small waves on white sand. The usual murmur of Dream whispers formed a sussurant background. “I don’t hear a thing.”

  Kendi listened a moment longer, then gave an oddly human shrug. “Guess I’m jumpier than I thought. Ha! I didn’t even mean the pun.”

  “Let’s go in,” Ben said. “The water’s fine—I know.” He started to pull of his shirt, then caught himself. With a flick of his mind, it disappeared, along with his sandals. The soft, golden sun shone pleasantly warm on his bare shoulders, a marked contrast to Kendi’s harsh Outback. With a happy yell, Ben dove into the cool waters and swam several meters out before surfacing. He shook his head and flung water in all directions, treading furiously to keep himself afloat.

  The beach was empty, the kangaroo gone. Ben shaded his eyes and kept kicking. What the hell? Where was—

  Something bumped his legs from beneath. A stab of panic—

  Shark!

  —flashed through him before he could remind himself that there would be no sharks in the Dream unless Ben put them there. He was looking down, trying to see what it was, when a dolphin poked its head above the surface and blew water into Ben’s face. Ben spluttered and wiped his eyes.

  “You bastard!” he said. “And since when can you do dolphins?”

  “Since now,” Kendi chirped. “There are dolphins in the oceans around Australia. My subconscious is letting me count them as workable animal shapes, I guess. Or maybe I’m getting stronger in the Dream. This is fun!” He slipped backward into the water, then abruptly burst upward, arcing over Ben’s head and splashing down behind him. Ben laughed, and more of his tension eased.

  “I don’t think dolphins are supposed to giggle,” he said when Kendi surfaced.

  Kendi presented his dorsal fin. “Grab hold!”

  Ben obeyed. The dolphin’s skin was smooth and cool. The moment he got a good grip, Kendi took off. Ben was flying through the water. The ocean washed over his body, sliding under and around him like a liquid lover.

  Kendi dove. Ben barely had time to snatch a breath before they were underwater. Sound vanished, and blue depths sank into darkness beneath them. Ben held Kendi’s fin with strong hands, the same ones that had pulled Kendi back from deadly green depths barely an hour ago. Ben tried to push the memory away and only partly succeeded. He concentrated on the feel of Kendi’s muscles pumping smoothly up and down as his muscular tail propelled them forward. It was exhilarating—speed without sound. Normally speed meant rushing air and some kind of roaring motor, but down here it was all silent. Even the whispers were quiet.

  ~...~

  Kendi stopped. Ben let go of him and hung in the water, paddling gently to keep from sinking. This time he had heard it. Down here, in the absolute silence, the sound had been clear. Faint, but clear. Ben couldn’t describe it, even to himself. It was the little pause before a speaker cleared his throat, a tiny intake of breath. He had never heard anything like it before. Kendi floated in the water beside him, and it was clear he had heard the same thing.

  Ben’s lungs called for air, but he didn’t want to surface in case he missed the sound again. It occurred to him that he could create a mask and breathing collar for himself, but that would create bubbles and destroy t
he perfect silence.

  You’re not really underwater, you know, he told himself. You don’t really need to breathe. This is the Dream, and you’re the son of the most powerful human the Dream has ever known.

  Ben’s lungs were shouting now, and Kendi poked him with his snout, urging him to surface. Ben held up a hand. The fine red-gold hairs on his arm waved like kelp in the smooth water. Ben closed his eyes, concentrated.

  The water is as good as air, he thought. I can breathe the water. I can breathe the water now.

  He inhaled. Air burst from his lungs, and water rushed in. His chest felt abruptly heavy and he tried to cough, but the water prevented him. Panic hit. Ben’s eyes popped open and he struggled. Kendi dove underneath him in a flash and pushed him toward the surface. Ben choked and fought to regain his concentration.

  I can breathe, he told himself firmly. I can breathe now!

  He gasped, and the heaviness in his chest vanished. Water filled his lungs, sweet as air. Ben pushed away from Kendi and dove downward, swimming away from the surface. Kendi rushed after him, obviously afraid Ben had panicked and was heading the wrong way, as drowning victims sometimes do. Ben held up a hand again with a grin and pointedly inhaled. The dolphin’s eyes widened, and a clicking chirpy noise filled the water. Kendi’s words in a dolphin’s voice.

  “How the hell are you doing that?” he demanded.

  Ben shrugged, uncertain whether or not he could talk underwater, and decided not to push his luck. Instead he spun and swam away with a silent laugh. It was glorious! The water supported him, moved with him, let him slide in any direction he wanted. Kendi easily caught up with him, swimming around him, under him, caressing him with his sleek, muscled body. Suddenly even the simple swim trunks felt tight and confining. Ben’s mind flickered, and they vanished. The sensual feel of the warm water and Kendi’s smooth skin on his intensified. He wrapped his arms and legs around Kendi and let him propel both of them forward. It was like sliding through warm silk. Ben tasted salt, felt liquid course over him faster and faster as Kendi’s tail thrashed the water. He was aware they were rising, rushing, flying toward the surface. His breath came faster, his lungs pumped furiously. They broke the surface, man and dolphin, and arced into the sky together, impossibly high, impossibly free. Ben hung in mid-air with Kendi for a tiny moment that lasted an entire day. Then they were falling back toward the ocean. They hit with a great splash that sent up a gout of white water. Bubbles tingled against Ben’s bare skin. Automatically he swam upward and surfaced with a shout. Kendi appeared a moment later.

  “That was the greatest!” Ben whooped, shaking his head to fling the hair from his eyes.

  Kendi’s dolphin grin stretched wider. “Let’s do it again.”

  “Give me a minute to recover first. That was a hell of a ride.” He lay back, tried to float, failed, and went back to treading water. Kendi nuzzled up next to him to help.

  “You heard that sound,” he said after a while.

  “I did. What was it? You control the Dream better than I do.”

  “Not true. Teaching yourself to breathe a foreign atmosphere was a neat trick—difficult for most Silent and impossible for the rest. I can’t do it. “ll my animal shapes breathe air.”

  “Do you think it’s because I’m Irfan’s son?”

  “Could be,” Kendi said. “In any case, I don’t know what the sound was—or where it came from.”

  ~May I approach?~

  Ben jumped. He hadn’t been expecting to anyone to knock. The voice, however, was familiar.

  “Martina!” Kendi called. “Come on in—I mean, if it’s okay with Ben.”

  “Sure,” Ben said.

  The Dream rippled, and Martina Weaver appeared a few meters away. She wore a one-piece blue bathing suit. For a split-second, she appeared to be standing on the surface of the ocean. Then she vanished with a squeak and a splash. She surfaced, sputtering and blowing salt water.

  “Sorry!” Ben called. “I forgot there’s no place to stand.”

  She splashed him in response, then lay back and stared up at the perfect blue sky. “This is a fine stress reliever. Glad I stopped by.”

  “What are you up to?” Kendi asked. “Anything going on?”

  “I’m hard at work. Now that you’re on sabbatical, the Children decided to end my training—as if I hadn’t already been doing courier duty for half my life—and they put me on duty. I’ve been making contacts and running messages to the Prism Conglomerate all morning. Their banks are a real mess now that they can only communicate locally. Anyway, I sensed the both of you and decided to pay a visit before my drugs wear off. I wasn’t expecting an ocean dip.”

  “Don’t call your brother a dip,” Ben said with mock severity. A gout of water from Kendi caught him in the face.

  “How deep is it?” Martina asked, and dove without waiting for an answer. She surfaced a few seconds later. “I’m impressed. Clearest water I’ve seen this side of a swimming pool. Let’s you see everything.” She sniffed. “Including the fact that Kendi isn’t the only one doing a skin swim.”

  Ben reflexively jerked his arms down to cover himself, sank, surfaced, and sprayed water. He would be wearing a bathing suit. He would be wearing a bathing suit now. And he was. It was yellow. Ben’s face went hot. Martina covered a smile with her hand as she tread water. Kendi gave a chirping dolphin laugh.

  “Didn’t mean to embarrass you,” Martina said, then winked. “Actually, I should probably congratulate you. Or maybe I should congratulate Kendi.”

  “Thank you,” Kendi smirked. “You’re as bad as I am, sis.”

  “Runs in the family. Does he always blush like that?”

  “It’s that fair skin. Shows everything.”

  “Ah. Like the water did.”

  The ocean vanished, leaving the stark, gray plain in its place. Martina fell and landed on her backside with a squawk. Kendi thumped to the ground as well. Ben, who had been ready for the change, landed neatly on his feet. Before anyone could react further, the ocean exploded back into existence. “gain, Ben was ready and tread water. Martina and Kendi surfaced at the same time, looking indignant.

  “Oops,” Ben said. He had wanted to say Sorry, but no one could lie in the Dream. “Do you think all that embarrassment made me lose my concentration?”

  “Ha!” Martina scoffed. “I’m going to have a bruise on my arse when I wake up, I can feel it already.”

  “Better offer pax,” Kendi said, “before he calls up an undersea volcano.”

  Martina looked down with mock horror. “Pax,” she said.

  “Pax,” Ben said.

  “I have to go, anyway,” she said. “My drugs are wearing off.”

  “Before you leave,” Kendi said, “did you hear anything...strange today?”

  “Strange how?” Martina said. “Strange like a rumor at a party or strange like a witch doctor at a cricket match?”

  “A strange noise,” Kendi clarified.

  “Nothing like that,” Martina said. “Why? What did you hear?”

  Kendi hesitated. “I’m not sure. The Dream is so different now.”

  “That it is. Hey, didn’t you offer supper yesterday? I wasn’t free then, but I am tonight. I think Keith is, too.”

  “Damn,” Kendi said with regret. “This time I can’t. Grandma Salman is speaking at a rally and I’m supposed to go. It’ll be scarf and run for supper. Tomorrow?”

  “Oops,” Martina said. “Drugs are off. Call!” She vanished. Water swirled in the spot she had occupied.

  “We should probably go, too,” Kendi said. “I’m sure Wanda and Lewa will need to talk to us before the rally. Do you want to come?”

  “I probably should,” Ben said. “She’s my grandmother, after all. She’ll be a great-grandmother pretty soon.”

  “She already is,” Kendi reminded him. “Don’t forget about Zayim’s kid. Did you know about that?”

  “That was the first I’d heard of it.” He paused, tried to speak, fail
ed, and tried again. “I wish...Do you think...?”

  Kendi slid closer to Ben, who threw an arm around him. “Yes. Your mom knows about our kids, no question.”

  “She’ll never see them, though,” Ben said. “And they’ll never know who she is. Was.”

  “Then we’ll have to tell them,” Kendi said. “We’ll tell them so many stories about the great Mother Adept Araceil Rymar that by the time they’re teenagers, they’ll roll their eyes at the mention of her name and say, ‘Aw, Dad—not Grandma Ara again.’”

  Ben forced himself to laugh. “It’s a plan.” He pushed away from Kendi. “You go on out. I want to wander around a little more.”

  “Okay. See you in the real world. Dad.”

  “Da.”

  Dolphin Kendi closed his eyes and vanished. Ben spun gently in the whirlpool he left behind, then let the ocean disappear. The empty gray plain stretched away in all directions, and the stale air hung motionless around him. Ben was bone dry and clad in his usual loose trousers and tunic. It was like being indoors.

  A wave of grief washed over Ben and his throat tightened. The feeling was getting a little easier to deal with, and he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. Did it mean he was starting to forget her? Ben tried to recall his mother’s face, and for a panicky moment his mind stayed blank. Then he remembered dark hair, round face, firm voice. Suddenly he wanted—needed—to see her again, needed it so badly it made his hands shake. He reached out with his mind and touched the Dream. A sketchy, three-dimensional outline took shape before him. Another part of his mind shouted a warning, shrieked at him to back away from this. Everyone knew it was a bad idea to call up the shapes of dead loved ones in the Dream. Ben heard it and ignored it.

  The outline was too tall. Ben shortened it, made it round. He topped it with dark hair. It looked like a bad wig. A face took shape. Rounded cheeks, dark skin, a firm mouth. The chin wasn’t coming out right. It was too pointed. And the ears were too big. What had the inner part looked like? Ben tried to remember, but the image wouldn’t come. God—he couldn’t even call up a good memory of his own mother. The shrieking part said this was why you didn’t call up images, that they only made you feel worse. He wasn’t much of an artist, either, and the replica looked blurry. The skin had a single tone, making it appear flat and lifeless. He worked for several minutes, adding a little blush to the cheeks and trying to put highlights into the hair. At last he stepped back. The figure looked like a bad manikin of his mother, dull and lifeless and fake.