The Disestablishment of Paradise

by Phillip Mann

  But there was something else. When I looked into myself, I realized that I was not actually afraid of anything. It was not because Mack was there. It was because I was so proud of what we had done for the Dendron, and I was so pleased with myself, because I knew that I had, for the first time in my life, fallen in love. Fear just did not exist. I felt warm all over. Nothing in all my reading had ever prepared me for what I was feeling. It was so wonderful. And it was so interesting, I mean what it was doing to me – mentally and physically. I couldn’t say anything about it to Mack: I just had to sit there. I didn’t dare touch him. I think I was a bit afraid of what I might do.

  After about an hour the rain eased and then it stopped completely. Some time later I saw the first stars above the hills. Then more stars came out as the clouds moved away. And the natural green glow came from the plants. The world became tranquil for me.

  Not so Mack. He was not tranquil. He felt the need to work out a plan. I was more content with the now of things, and that was a big change in me. But he still needed to organize in order to feel secure. And he wanted to protect me too, I knew that.

  And we had had a plan, a very beautiful plan, before the Tattersall weed destroyed our means of escape. Our plan centred on our caring for the Dendron – the two of them – for a short time until we knew they were secure, and then caring for ourselves. I say it was beautiful, because our plan gave us space and time and a purpose while we got to know one another properly and began to make all those adjustments you have to make when you fall in love.

  Afterwards? I suppose we would have decided to quit Paradise and face the world. We knew we couldn’t stay. Paradise was becoming too unpredictable and there was no place for us there, not really. We were not a new Adam and Eve. If anything, we were more like the old Adam and Eve and on our way out. I felt my work was done. My life had clicked round and a new circle was beginning. I think I was hoping for new challenges – and I knew that loving someone was the biggest challenge I might ever have to face. And Mack? Well, he had made his feelings pretty clear, and so both our futures were suddenly wide open and full of completely new and exciting possibilities. You have been married, haven’t you Olivia?

  Olivia Three times.

  Hera Then you know what I mean.

  Olivia Divorced three times too. But don’t let that stop you. Go on with the story.

  Hera Well, we thought the possibilities were exciting. And then this Tattersall weed had come blundering in like a drunk at a party and had destroyed our plans just as certainly as it had broken the SAS. We were no longer in charge of what we did. We could not escape. The SAS was kaput. We were again trapped by circumstance. That is what I think Mack found hardest.

  I watched his reactions. He became very practical – well, he always was practical – but very much the man in charge, sorting things out, trying to find order in chaos. This is what he proposed. First, charge up the radio to make sure it was working. Then get a message up to the platform and arrange a rescue. I was not sure about that. I still felt that any action by Abhuradin and her forces might trigger some kind of avalanche, but not because the planet was vengeful, you understand. Paradise doesn’t work like that. But because it had evolved in response to what we had done there and was now poised to reject the alien. Cut the string and the weight falls. Pollute the streams and the fish die. Damage a planet and it returns the compliment with interest. It is the way. Totally comprehensible, simple and absolute. And it does not need malice or anger.

  I felt that we were more or less safe, barring accidents. But the arrival of a rescue party, armed with laser cannon, their minds hardened by the will to save ‘those of their species’, or some such. Well, that thought might be all it would take to trigger the anti-response. Paradise, remember, was a psychically reactive place. We were safe as long as we did not provoke change.

  Olivia What do you mean, ‘We were safe as long as we did not provoke change’?

  Hera I was thinking of the Reapers, the Michelangelos. To me, at that time, those were the most dangerous of all the creatures on Paradise – well they still are, really, because, you see, they are totally unguessable. They seemed both kind and terrifying. With them, I felt none of the warm vital energy I experienced with the Dendron. I only had to think of a Dendron and I became happy, because of their wild carefree energy. And yes, that energy was sexual, simply because most of our good energy is sexual in some way. Well, isn’t it?

  Olivia No comment.

  Hera But the Michelangelo-Reaper . . . I never knew what to call it. It was like being told a joke that you don’t get, or having a dream that you feel is important but that just doesn’t make sense, and besides . . . look at the power they had. Read Sasha.8 Look what they did to me. There was no doubt in my mind at that time but that they ate humans in some way. Now, of course, after what happened to Mack, I see things differently, but at that time . . . I was a bit concerned too because I could see that they didn’t frighten Mack in the same way they frightened me, and I didn’t understand that.

  Anyway, I let Mack go on with his planning and prepared a simple meal. We were neither of us really hungry but I had saved the wine. That was important. It is amazing how a little luxury like a bottle of wine does you good when you are in a tricky situation.

  So, then, when we had eaten, I made sure he was comfortable, and I said, ‘Mack, I have two things I want to explain.’

  He settled back and said something like ‘Fire away, Doc.’

  I was feeling guilty, you see, because I had not yet told him about the broadcast and I wanted there to be no secrets between us. ‘The first is that when you were freeing the Dendron, it was not just Dickinson and Tania who were viewing, it was being broadcast to anyone.’

  He looked at me. ‘What do you mean, “anyone”?’

  ‘Anyone!’ I said. ‘It was live on the Time and Space Network. A fractal transmission that could be picked up by anyone. At the Space Council, or out on Churchill, or down on Earth, or the Angelique torus, Gerard’s Barn even.’

  He nodded, and I didn’t know what he was thinking. And then he said, ‘Well, I hope they enjoyed it. I should have guessed. He’s got a bloody cheek that Dickinson. But no harm’s done, is there?’

  ‘No. No harm’s done.’

  And then he said to me, ‘I’m glad you didn’t tell me before. I think it would have stopped me working. Thanks for keeping quiet. Now what was the other thing?’

  And I had been expecting an outburst! People are very surprising sometimes.

  ‘The other thing,’ I said, ‘concerns us.’ His face fell and I saw I had used the wrong words, loaded words, and now he feared the worst. Quickly I said, ‘Don’t worry. It’s nothing bad. I just want to put an idea to you.’ And then I told him my fears of what might happen if people came to rescue us, and I added, ‘But that’s not my only reason, Mack. I’d like to spend some time with you alone. Just the two of us. And I don’t want to stay here in this valley. Now the Tattersall weeds have arrived they can take over. They’ll know what to do better than us. They couldn’t have done what we did to help the Dendron. That was our task, our big circle, and now it’s done, and a new circle is beginning. And it’s you and me, Mack, and I don’t know where it’s going. So I suggest we walk out of here. I suggest we make our own way over the planet. I’ll teach you to read and you can tell me your stories. It can be done, Mack. And yes, we’ll stay in contact with the platform, and if things get too hostile or if we get into real trouble, we’ll call them up and take our chance. Perhaps something small and humble could come and find us. But it might not be necessary, Mack. We both have something of us lodged in this planet. We know the situation, and if we try, we can “bugger off back to Birmingham” on our own. What do you say, Mack?’

  Olivia And what did he say?

  Hera I can’t remember. I think he was a bit puzzled. You see, he was expecting to be rejected. And then when he finally got the idea he said something like, ‘You mean you want to trek wi
th me over Paradise?’ And I said, ‘Yes. That’s what I’m talking about.’ And he looked pleased and then doubtful and then happy and then he said, ‘It’ll be hard, you know.’ And I think it was at that point that I hit him.

  Olivia And then?

  Hera And then we made love. Out there on the grass. It was very different. Abandoned but quite premeditated too, full of talking and sudden kisses. Passionate but not blindly so, and very, very exciting. I was very surprised at myself, and I think Mack was too . . . I say, Olivia, you’re not going to put this in the book, are you?

  Olivia Of course not.

  28

  The Courtesy of MINADEC

  They were up before dawn.

  They watched the sunlight creep down the side of the valley, making the ground steam. High above, the clouds scudded across the sky, sending shadows across the valley.

  The tent was down. The solar charger was propped at an angle where it would catch the maximum daylight, and the fixed-band radio was a ached. Hera returned briefly to the SAS. She was in search of music. Flamenco, no less! For Hera intended this journey to be memorable. She also rescued Pietr Z’s edition of Tales of Paradise and Professor Shapiro’s notebook. These were the only documents to accompany Hera when she left Paradise.

  During the night the area around the twin trees had changed. Many more Tattersall weeds were now gathered close, some with their flowers pressed flat up against what had once been the Dendron’s front legs. They heard the Venus tears ring, and the flags, while not yet flying, looked definitely more lively.

  Over a breakfast of soup, rehydrated cherries, left-over rice and muesli they discussed their route. There was not much choice. Either back to the desert or up and over the Gilgamesh Heights and down to the Sea of Ben Ben. They chose the latter.

  Thereafter their plan was of necessity less precise. The idea was to keep to the coast until they came to the foot of the Staniforth Mountains. They would then follow a well established trail – Hera knew it well – up to a pass in the range and so make their way down to Redman Lake and thence to the boathouse where Pietr Z’s boat would be waiting.

  By the time the sun arrived in the clearing, the two packs were standing ready.

  The small radio having partially recharged, Mack chanced a call. They heard the call sign and then a sleepy voice said, ‘Receiving. Who’s calling?’

  ‘Annette. Is that you?’

  ‘Yeah, Descartes here. Who the— Hey, Mack, is that you? Where the Calcutta you calling from, man? We’ve got a team lined up to come and—’

  ‘Yeah, yeah. Now listen.’

  ‘Trouble is there’s some fuck-up with the system. We thought you and the little lady were . . . Is she still OK?’

  ‘Yeah. Hera’s fine. The SAS was wrecked but we got out of the way.’

  ‘Shee-it, that was some mother of a spider, or what the marysuck was that thing, Mack?’

  ‘A Tattersall weed. Not very dangerous. Now listen, Annette.’

  ‘Good to hear your voice, man! We all thought it’d walked right over you. So, like I said, we’ve organized a team to come down there. Some real raw-knuckles drafted in to help with the barges. I mean finger-down-the-throat ass-kickers who don’t take prisoners. Nastee men! I love ’em all, or I’m trying to. We thought we’d just be picking up bits but now we know you’re in corpore sano. Well . . .’

  ‘You’ve been seeing too much of Dickinson.’

  ‘Oh, Mack. Dickinson! Shit, Mack, you’d have been so proud. He got that smarmy little fat-mouth from the Space Council, Tim Wishyawould or something, for an interview on prime time. And Dickinson, he started out all smooth and sicko-fuckin-phantic like and then he just let loose. He verbalized that bastard so fucking hard his lights went out on zero and you’ll be buying him diapers till Christmas. Seems this Timothy shite was responsible for giving your little lady the hard back-shaft, and so Dickinson decided to lobo him off at the knees. Demolition time. Then that big dyke Titania got in on the act and stamped on what was left. All on prime time. All on the record.’

  ‘Descartes. Will you just hush a minute and listen.’

  ‘Yeah, boss, what?’

  ‘Don’t send anyone down here. It’s too dangerous.’

  ‘Hang on, boss. Polka’s woken up; she wants a word.’

  ‘Hi, Mack. Polka here. We’d given you up. We’d given you up for—’

  ‘Polka. For fuck’s sake. Will one of you two women listen?’

  ‘I’m listening, Mack.’

  ‘Descartes says you’re trying to send a team down to rescue us. Don’t!’

  ‘Don’t?’

  ‘Don’t!’

  ‘So why’s that, Mack? I mean we saw something like a bloody big spider come after you and—’

  ‘It wasn’t a spider. It wasn’t after us. We’re safe. But if you send a bunch of specials down here, it might just tip the scales against us. This place is dangerous. It’s psychic.’

  ‘Psychic. Like voodoo.’

  ‘Yeah, something like that. Or a hand grenade with a loose pin.’

  ‘Wow.’

  ‘So. We’re gonna walk out.’

  ‘Uh uh? Walk out?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘OK, boss. You’re the boss. I’ll tell them.’

  ‘We’ve got the radio. We’ll keep in contact. And if we need you to come, I’ll tell you. Hey. This battery’s getting flat. I’ll need to recharge.’

  ‘You do that. How’s your lady? We thought she was pretty good, the way she hosed you down when you were covered with those lice things. Tell her she can come and join the team whenever she wants. We need a bit more feminine pluck.’

  ‘Hera’s fine. Thank you, Polka.’

  ‘OK, Mack. I’ll give them the word. No rescue until you call. I’m starting to lose you, boss.’

  ‘And tell them . . . tell them . . . tell them it is appreciated. OK?’

  ‘They know that, boss, but I’ll tell them all the same. OK. Enjoy the cherries.’

  The radio went dead. Mack looked at Hera and nodded and grinned. ‘Well, I got through. Just.’

  ‘I gathered. How did she know we’d been eating cherries?’

  ‘Well . . . she didn’t. She meant something else.’

  ‘And what does it mean to “lobo someone off at the knees”?’

  ‘That? Well it seems like Dickinson found an opportunity to have a go at your mate Isherwood. My guess is he lured him into an interview about Paradise, softened him up with a couple of patsy questions and then put the boot in. He can do that, can Dickinson. Very quick-witted when he wants to be, and educated too. He said to me once, “If you want to attack someone, and you want to make it stick – do it in public.” So that’s what he did. From what Descartes said, that was a big public link-up. I don’t think Mr Isherwood will cause you any more problems.’

  ‘And why do you call Annette, Descartes?’

  ‘It’s her name. Would you believe she is the direct descendant of some French philosopher?’

  ‘OK,’ said Hera. ‘Then why is the other called Polka?’

  ‘Because her name’s Dorothy, of course.’ Mack was getting impatient. ‘Come on, Hera. Time we were on the road.’

  They set out heading up the stream, taking them directly past the giant Tattersall weed that had wrecked the SAS. Mack paused in front of it, staring up at the tree, and Hera thought he was going to speak to it. Instead he walked to the nearest of the big blue flowers and tore one of the petals off. He folded it carefully and neatly and stuffed it in his shirt. He saw Hera looking at him. ‘I like the smell,’ he said. ‘Let’s go.’

  There were of course no paths, but they were able to make their way easily up the riverbank, where the plants were well spaced out. It was a steady climb, and they made good time. Soon they were high enough to be able to look back and see the clearing and the twin trunks. It all looked very peaceful. Then the river led them round a hill and the scene was lost.

  This turning marked the real beginnin
g of their final journey.

  Sometimes they talked, but more often they walked in silence, lost in their own thoughts.

  By the time they stopped for lunch they were high in the Gilgamesh Heights and the stream which they had followed was now small and tumbled over rocks noisily. It was Mack who called the halt and eased his pack off his shoulders. He was still a bit sore from where the flukes had a ached themselves when he killed the old Dendron, and the rubbing of his pack was making matters worse. ‘Here’s hoping,’ he said and tore two large strips from the Tattersall petal. These he tucked under his shirt and over his shoulders. ‘Thought I’d put that ugly bugger to some use.’ He patted the leaves through his shirt, and nodded. ‘Might just do some good. Do you want some?’

  Hera put a couple of small strips inside her boots where she thought she could feel the start of blisters.

  Lunch was simple, and although Hera made several attempts to start a conversation, Mack was lost in his thoughts, but it wasn’t a moody brooding silence. Finally he said, ‘One thing I don’t understand. There was one Dendron. Now there are two, or there will be when they grow up. But what happens then? Say one of them gets to maturity first, goes walkabout, decides it wants to split, comes back, finds the other, gets it to do the honours. And then there are three: one old one and two kids. Now the old one goes walkabout and wants to split, but there are only the little ones. So what does it do? It wanders about, aching like the one we’ve just split, broadcasting its pain to all and sundry. But we’re not here to give it a hand. We’re long gone. Maybe we’re off planet, maybe we’re dead, because we don’t know how long it takes for a Dendron to grow from being a little tree, like the ones we left down there, to the full monster. I mean that is some growing. So what does it do? It dies, that’s what. You come back to the same problem. Two is not sufficient for the Dendron to prosper. I reckon you need a minimum of four active ones for them to start to prosper without outside intervention. What do you reckon?’