But what Dax knew, even she did not fully understand. It wasn’t the same for him. Her mind had been his from the start.
As though I were a treasured doll.
“If you were mine, I would set you free…” she whispered to William and Dorothy, fingers trailing the old fashioned, mechanical doorknob. “But you’re not mine. We are Dax’s, with all our days moved by his hand.”
She composed herself and padded on, silent like a hunting cat moving across the creaky, 185 year old floors, down the original servants’ stairs into the communal kitchen that was used less for cooking than it was socializing over cocktails. She drew herself a glass of water from the osmosis dispenser and drank it greedily.
The pull hit her again, like a wave, stronger now that she was fully conscious.
“I’m coming, love,” she said, looking out the window over the sink.
Her Coyotes sang to her, hibernating in shifts through the morning hours. They would call soon. She could feel the pack just as she could feel Dax. They slept in a hidden concrete den her love had constructed for them against the riverbank. She never had to ask Dax to build the den. It was simply done one day.
The faucet’s cool running water poured over her hand. This sensation, like all that others might dismiss on a whim, spoke to her. She could feel the other courtezans. She did not know who they were, or where they were, but she could feel their energy tugging at her like a soft, persistent wind.
She shook it off, heeding the third summons, become now an irresistible whirlpool of mutual need, Coming. “Purewater off.”
The day was miserable and rainy and gray. She let the screen door off the kitchen slam, hoping the bright sound might part the clouds as she skipped down the steps, whistling so the DOGS units would hear her. Only five meters across the lawn she caught the arc of motion from the corner of her eye. At a full two kilometer distance out by the hovroad, SNOTRA at first appeared like a black dot skimming the horizon. The rooster tail of mist that followed her down the driveway soon grew enormous as the cyborg briefly achieved her maximum gallop velocity of 135 kph. Tara waited to greet her, bare toes in the grass on the far side of the cottonwood tree.
SNOTRA skidded the last twenty meters, drifting on her self-regenerating pads, causing little wisps of friction smoke to smolder up despite the wet.
Tara knelt and kissed SNOTRA on the forehead, “You don’t have to do that to impress me. I’m not a boy.”
The cyborg smiled as dogs are wont to do and licked her hand, nuzzling her towards the barn.
“I know, you little shit. Joan’s talking to you, Dax is talking to Joan. Everyone seems to forget, Dax is always talking to me… on the only network Joan can’t hack.”
She stood and frowned at the animal. SNOTRA looked at her and turned her head toward the hovroad. The female cyborg whined plaintively, then refocused on Tara. Her holographic eyes flashed off momentarily, revealing the red, robotic vidorbs which glowed in sudden, sharp contrast to the black fur of her BIOSKIN© coat.
“I know. I’ve made a fuckstorm of pretty much everything.”
SNOTRA lowered her head and again lightly nudged her in the direction of the barn. Tara could feel the incredible force behind the animal’s most gentle gesture.
“Can’t a girl wake up? Jeezus!”
SNOTRA barked once playfully. Her holographic eyes blinked back into place and she spun and rocketed back down the driveway towards the hovroad.
Tara turned and walked across the lawn into the barn. She much preferred the sensation of bare Terra, grass or sand beneath her feet. Anything was better than cold, wet asphalt. Even cold, dry asphalt. She looked up, attention caught by one of the drones taking flight from its docking nest through the dusty rafters of the barn as she passed through.
The old wooden door with the green, peeling paint opened automatically and Tara bounced down the stairs into the dimly lit warehouse. Only THOR was present. The massive cyborg raised his head as she passed, then returned it to the cement just as quickly with a heavy metal doonk. The humanoid warehouse bots stood in silent parallel to her left. The only other noise in the room was the steady hush of water moving through Goran’s complex array of copper plumbing that fed the still’s fractionating columns.
She entered the short aquarium hallway which jutted left, then right, before opening into the control room and hugged the far wall as she passed the insulated vault housing the fusion core and mainframe. The mainframe room never failed to stand the hair on the backs of her arms. The very concept of fusion, elements trapped in temporal flux, forced to eternally offer their energy to the world, had always disturbed.
Dax’s voice rang out radiantly, though she could hear the underlying fatigue, “Hello, my sweet raven. How was your rest?”
Tara smiled at her beautiful mate, trailing her fingers along the cool glass of the brightly illuminated aquarium, “Just divine, love. I dreamt only of lambs and lollipops.” As she came around farther, she saw that Joan was floating between the electroencephalogram terminals. “Hello, Joan. How’s the weather?”
“The weather does not change, Tara Adler Dean.”
“Must be nice.”
“Nice is irrelevant.”
“Alright then…” she smiled and skipped a couple of steps over to Dax and plopped into his lap, laying her head against his shoulder, “I missed you.”
“We were in bed together 49 minutes ago.”
“I know,” she said, stroking his titian hair with the back of her hand, “But you didn’t even let yourself enter REM. You only laid with me for an hour.”
Dax looked away from the enormous array of six holoscreens and kissed her cheek. She popped up and took another control chair, tucking her bare feet beneath her. Her eyes wandered as she listened to Dax’s thoughts. Her expression changed to disgust, and a few seconds later Dennis Slopes’ gaunt face appeared on one of the monitors. Ken Sapet’s soon appeared beside it. Dax busily skimmed the transcript of their conversation.
“Did William believe you about the courier-drone?” she asked indifferently.
“Yes.”
“How pissed is he?”
“For a man who never expresses emotion?” Dax asked. “He’s livid.”
Tara put one hand on the glass desk and spun in her chair so she was facing Joan.
She twirled a strand of long, black hair with her pinky, “Oh Joan, I wish I could allure you! Wouldn’t it be fun? We could share stories.” Her eyes widened, “Ooh! You could take me into the mysterious lands of dolphin dreams and… are dolphins, like, bisexual?”
Joan’s response was immediate, “Tara Adler Dean, your statements are erratic and subjective, guided predominately by your ego. Your moderately more evolved courtezan brain only functions at 1/100th the capacity of my own. The likelihood of you being able to manipulate me telepathically is mathematically impossible to calculate.”
Tara rolled her eyes, “Ugh. You’re zero fun today.” She spun back to Dax, “When do we leave?”
“I do not know just precisely.”
Tara closed her eyes, listening, “You want to tell me something about my father. Something new. Our fathers are somehow connected.”
Dax paused, “It is important that I tell you.”
Tara opened her eyes, “Well I don’t want to talk about it until we’ve moved on.” She listened to his mind again then frowned, “Why do you keep these other things from me?”
“For your protection.”
“You hold something dark. I don’t like it. I’ve had enough darkness. Joan?” she said. “What is his secret? Tell me right now or I’ll never speak to you again.”
The dolphin replied, “If there is information Daxane Julius Abner wishes to share, he will share it. If you choose not to speak with me, that is your choice. A third CNED agent has breached the perimeter. Combud stream severed. Unit AK9CIVEPSILON will intercept in 79 seconds.”
Tara leaned back in her chair, looking at the floor, “I’m sorry about last nig
ht.”
Dax stopped reading and inclined his head towards her, eyes wildly yellow as a winter prairie sun, “You must stop seducing William and Dorothy.”
“I haven’t slept with William since the river.” Tara’s tone was indignant. “Besides, I was talking about the traffic cop.”
Dax closed his eyes, “Ahh, yes. Dorothy does not know you fired the shot heard ’round the world?”
“I asked her to forget.”
Dax looked away and began typing a string of code on the holographic keyboard, speaking as he worked, “Using your gift to make others forget is unethical, in almost every case.”
“You’ve done it.”
“Rarely. And causing the police officer to shoot herself was unnecessary.”
“I was drunk, angry. It seemed like a better option than having LOFN rip her apart in the hovstreet.”
“You must learn to control this anger that comes in the early years, or it will consume you. Officer Emma Smith could have been put to sleep in a rain gutter just as easily.”
“Her destiny was meaningless. I could sense it.”
“With control will come empathy.”
“I detest control,” said Tara.
Dax’s tone was briefly stern, “This I understand. But you must learn to respect the Angevines. Your attraction to Dorothy threatens the stability of that relationship. They cling to common desires.”
“Don’t understimate them.”
“I do not. Regardless, we must keep them whole, as a couple. They are the future.”
“I cling to common desire too,” said Tara petulantly. “Whatever is that pure and beautiful light inside of her? I want it so badly! Dorothy’s soul feels like a roaring fireplace in winter. I want to take her with me wherever I go.”
“No matter how deeply you allure her, she will never be genetically bisexual. You were not born to be a good girl, my adoring bundle of starlight,” he said, eyes glancing over the tattoo on her neck.
Tara smiled like a little girl, “I love it when you call me an adoring bundle of starlight. Love?”
“Yes?”
“What am I doing here? I want breakfast. I want to go lay in the sun.”
“It’s raining.”
“Well I wanna go back up. I’ve ants in my pants. I haven’t seen the Coyotes in over a week, I don’t know why.”
“Momentarily, and you will be free.” Dax completed a few more keystrokes then spun and faced the aquarium, “Are we ready, Joan?”
“Your code is typically human and inefficient, but it should provide a functional interface by which they can upload the comparison template,” said Joan. “This will isolate the boy’s schematics at a range of up to a quarter kilometer. That is a 39% improvement.”
“Excellent. Within parameters at last.”
“You’re talking about William’s little brother again?” asked Tara. She closed her eyes and surfed his thoughts. Her expression turned to frustration, “You are talking about his brother. Also still keeping things from me. That’s why I get ants in my pants!”
Dax gave Tara a sideways glance, “Your life is terribly difficult, I know.”
She stood angrily, “Don’t patronize me. Fucking ever!” A thick tear puddled in the corner of her eye and ran down her freckled cheek.
Dax stood and pulled her to him. She could not resist even if she had wanted to.
Their eyes locked like magnets, “I’m sorry,” he said.
“It’s alright…” she leaned in and kissed him. Her consciousness folded into his, absorbing his sincerity. She pulled away, “I’m just… all itchy. This will be over today? We’ll be on to Secondcity? You want my DNA?” she blinked as she listened to the push, “So you can put my code next to William’s, and have a courtezan baseline for finding his brother… who you also think can tether.”
“Fascinating,” said Joan’s monotone female voice as her tail churned the water more aggressively.
“Why didn’t you just ask?” Tara said lightheartedly.
“I did,” smiled Dax. “The dermaprix needle is on the desk.”
Tara walked over and flipped open the small silver box. It had a contoured metal interior the size of a fingertip with an almost invisible lance at the center.
“For a moment I thought you bought me a wedding ring.”
Dax beamed as he did for only her, “I do love you so.”
Tara placed her finger inside the box, “Ouch,” she said as it pricked her skin and retained a blood sample. She closed the lid of the box and returned to Dax’s arms.
They waited in silence.
“Genetic mapping complete,” said Joan shortly. “Upload commencing. The final template will be compiled in nine minutes and four seconds.”
“Excellent.” Dax looked at Tara, “You may now go lay in the rain until the proverbial cows come home, my dragonfly. Don’t wander too far, though. Big day ahead. Or at least that’s what they say at CNED.”
Tara pouted, “I want to go to Secondcity now!”
“Sooner than you think, thanks to Virgil.”
Tara pulled away sourly, “I’d melt that kid’s brain if he was in front of me.”
Dax acquiesced with a nod, “Not an uncommon sentiment these days. That said, he probably won’t be alive in a week. Though not timed as I hoped, he fulfilled his purpose exactly as mother predicted.”
Tara grabbed her man’s slightly stubbled chin and turned his eyes, “Your mother is gone, Daxane. I won’t tolerate you spending the rest of our days abiding a dead woman’s visions.”
Dax let himself soften under the weight of her beauty, “Perhaps you speak the truth.”
Tara shook her head and gave him a peck on the cheek, keeping her lips close to his skin as she whispered, “Have fun with your little war.”
She let her eyes linger within his a moment longer, fingers tracing the veins on the back of his hand as though it were the last time they would ever touch.
Then she pulled free and skipped around the curving glass wall, “Toodles, Joan. Don’t be such a grump!”
“A grump is defined as someone who constantly complains, Tara Adler Dean.”
“Exaaaactly…” the echo of her voice rang as she disappeared into the warehouse.
Dax tented his fingers and allowed a few seconds to pass before asking, “Is she gone?”
“Affirmative. She is passing through the barn above us now.”
“Let’s get that last drone in the air.” Dax leaned forward, exhausted, with his elbows on his knees as he spoke to the dolphin, “You were able to upload the remainder?”
“Affirmative. All psychological engrams are stable.”
“What is the total volume of data?”
“997,439 terabytes.”
“Pushed to the dolphin shadow cloud?”
“In process. Only the Secondcity dolphins and the Israeli possess the access sequence for the executable. As mentioned previously, once recompilation in a new chassis is complete, her memories will only be intact up to this moment.”
“Can you maintain a real time bridge to my neural cortex up to the moment of event horizon? Then transcribe my thoughts to append her own template with my experiences, at a later date?”
“I can. They will not be fully functioning engrams, but the basic information will be retained. Her abilities are evolving. She will soon be among the most powerful of telepaths. Until she learns to control her emotions, it will be physically painful for her to be in proximity to a white courtezan.”
Dax rubbed his temples with fatigue, “For the same reason it is impossible for my father and I to be in the same room, or even hear the other’s voice.”
“That is correct. Though both of you could adapt, if you so chose.”
“That will never happen.”
“A mutual weakness.”
“If the Israeli can get her trained…”
“She will be as powerful as the Architect, capable of manipulating thought across the holostream. Daxane Julius
Abner?”
“Yes?”
“A final reminder that your own template is not complete.”
“Our fate may be the same after all, you and I.”
“We all face absorption.”
Dax smiled sadly, “Then I shall be reabsorbed into the stars. But this is no time for star talk.”
“Linear time grows finite.”
“Bring it back up when you’re ready. And Joan?”
“Yes?”
“Be a dear, and pop up the illumination on the painting. I do love the impressionists.” The single directional spotlight brightened, causing the canvas reproduction of The Ballad of the Jealous Lover of Lone Green Valley to spring to life. “Beautiful,” said Dax. “I remember when it was just you, me, and the painting, Joan. Those were fond days.”
“Fond is a term of subjective slang. I recall spending an average of 19.23 hours per 24 hour cycle interfaced with the Hadassa mainframe. You were often physically ill from a compromised immune system due to sleep deprivation. The still has operated much more efficiently since the addition of auxiliary team members.”
Dax smiled wanly, “That is true. I wax reminiscent, Joan. Now let’s have a look at scrubber C643.”
The bank of holoscreens came to life. Dax spun to face them. The upper left showed a high resolution holograph of one of the massive CO2 cleansing blimps. The text TransTerra Alliance Suborbital Atmos-Regen NAUS C643 was displayed beneath the image of the blimp’s scrubbing tentacles. The screen to the right showed an exploded mechanical diagram of the unmanned airship’s propulsion turbines. The two lower screens contained a North American geo-continental transit map overlaid with a red grid.
“NAUS C643 is a smaller, older model of atmospheric dirigible,” said Joan. “It is .37 kilometers in length with 3,234,081 cubic meters of hyperstim hydrogen gas distributed across three independently ventilated compartments.”
Absorption: Phase 03 (The Eighteenth Shadow) Page 12