He stopped by the central table and looked back. "Mason?"
"Yes, sir?"
"They got a lousy union here." Then the sergeant laughed, loud and hearty. He repeated himself several times as he went to the other end of the room and through the door. The soldier who had brought the novice gladiators back was still lounging against the wall. He looked at Blake as if he were a delicious dinner.
Blake shivered and moved into his barren cell. Sitting on the padded bench that served as a bed, he put his face into his hands. Where is Rio? Where is Voss? What about Vogel and Granville? Did I come a hundred years to die miserably, as entertainment?
After a while Blake's fellow gladiators came back from the shower. He saw two women walk into the cell across the passage and finish drying their hair. Their robes clung here and there to their damp skin. One of them noticed Blake watching, and turned away angrily. A couple of men went into a cell on the top tier, still toweling their wet heads. A woman entered the cell next to them. She was in her early thirties and seemed very vulnerable, not at all like a hardened criminal who was sentenced to death. Blake heard others moving about. Someone started to sing a popular song, then let it die away. He heard a man cursing the powers that had put him there.
They haven't stamped it all out, Blake mused, not even in here. But maybe they have nothing to lose once they are here. What more could this odd, unfeeling society do – give you to a hungrier lion? Then Blake thought of the two people hanging in the discipline room, and he shuddered.
The light was blocked for a moment and Blake looked up. The long-haired young man who had opened the bath door stood there toweling his thick hair.
"Hello," he said pleasantly. "I'm Gall Bennett."
"Blake Mason."
They shook hands.
"You're the time traveler," Bennett said.
"I don't think of it that way. That always reminds me of crystal devices with lots of piping and dials and things. I just went to sleep and woke up here."
"Rip Van Mason, huh?"
"Something like that. Look, can you tell me what is going to happen?"
Bennett nodded. "Yeah, just a minute." He started to leave, then stopped. "No, come on. Might as well meet the others."
Mason followed him as he went out of the cell and crossed to another on the opposite side. Two men and two women were inside. They were all dressed in shapeless gray uniforms. Bennett introduced Blake as the time traveler, which caused some raised eyebrows. The men he introduced as Rob and Narmada, and the women as Neva and Marta.
Blake spoke without hesitation. "Look, I don't know what your crimes are around here, but my crime was time-traveling and longevity research. What were yours? I mean, if it's all right to ask?"
"Oh, we have no taboos against talking about that," Narmada said. "I got here because I am a Hindu. Not that being a Hindu is a crime – not really – but they aren't about to overlook anything if you step out of line, either. They found me with a copy of the Kama Sutra during an ordinary student dorm search."
Rob spoke next. He was a strong, sturdy, plain-faced man. "I'm here on nothing so fancy as Nar's. I was down in the Nation of Sinners Redeemed, down in old Georgia. I just didn't go to church enough to suit the Elders, so they brought me before the Lord President and sentenced me to a year in the swamps – which I did, and I have the scars to prove it. Afterward I went back, found those two Eiders and bashed them with a shovel and headed west. I got triggered down in San Luis Obispo and–"
"Saint Florian of the Park. Remember? They changed it." Neva said.
"Oh, yeah. I keep forgetting. Why don't they leave things alone? Anyway, they pokied me for being a vag, and one thing led to another and here I am."
"He slammed a deputy deacon through a window." Neva grinned.
Rob smiled shyly. "That I did, that I did."
Blake looked at Neva, who shrugged and said, "I had this patriarch down in Modesto. That's Guardian country." She looked closely at Blake and then added, "Guardians of the Throne of God?" Blake nodded recognition, and she continued. "He wanted me to do a little sinning with him. He had some pretty fancy ideas, too, for a country parson. But I wasn't interested, so I spurned him, as they say. I guess I didn't know what an ego that minister had. He turned me in as a heretic and sent me to summer camp." She gestured around her with a lopsided smile.
"Innocent, every one of you," Marta said. "All framed." She looked at Blake and said, "That the right term? 'Framed'? I never knew what it meant, until I was. I became pregnant. Don't ask me how. I guess I'm in the outer edges of the bell curve on statistical possibilities. I was taking the shot every year, even if they are illegal. But they said, because I already had the legal limit of children, that I was a criminal." She looked suddenly very sad as her knees came up and she hugged them soulfully.
"Desperate criminals, every one of you," Blake said, trying for humor. "I've fallen among thieves!" He nodded at them all as Neva stroked Marta's hair. "Where are the pickpockets and axe murderers?" he asked. "Where are the wife beaters, the stickup bards,the computer thieves?"
"They don't all get sent to the Circus," Narmada said. "There are regular jails, work parties in the ark foundations, psychosurgery – all that. But the really desperate criminals are sent here."
"We're the ones who are really threatening society," Bennett explained. "Thieves they can cope with. They just cut off one hand the first time, the other on the second conviction, and give him the torch on the third."
"If thy hand offend thee," Blake said softly. The others gave him a quick, surprised look.
"The murderers get sent here most of the time, especially the violent ones. But computer thieves are seldom caught, and if they do they are usually subdeacons or lieutenant bishops or something. And the wife beaters are given to some Women Corps patrol for a while."
There was a silence, then Blake asked Bennett, "Why are you here?"
"Well, it's not because I'm homosexual. That used to be a pretty radical charge, but not anymore. They even encourage it in some parishes. No, I was having an affair with this Angel of Punishment and–" He saw Blake's expression, and smiled. "That's the law-enforcement branch of Children of God, Incorporated. Anyway, he and I had a fight over the silliest thing and I took his laser to all his clothes and uniforms. I accidently sliced his mother's holo, the only one he had. They put me in prison; then I was sold to a dealer and he sold me here."
"Sold?" Blake was startled.
"Oh, yes. You didn't have that in the Circus back in your time? We've had it as long as I can remember. Condemned prisoners can be bought for the term of their sentences. Not political prisoners, but many."
Suddenly Blake had hope. Voss! Voss could buy us out! Maybe he wouldn't buy me, but surely he'd buy Rio!
"Tell me more about this buying process," he urged Bennett.
"It happens all the time. I read somewhere that the origins of the custom come from the American Civil War – the first one – when men drafted into the military could buy their way out or pay other men to serve for them. Then some prison officials, or even county or parish officials, used to rent out prisoners as laborers. Then around the beginning of the twenty-first century there were labor contracts that were much like slavery, really."
"Yes, I remember that," Blake said, thinking of Sundance and Theta Voss.
"The reason I know about this is that I have – or had – certain friends who I thought might buy me out of here." Bennett looked sad for a moment, then continued with his explanation: "It became quasi-legal about thirty years ago, then a regular policy throughout all the parishes. However, certain categories are unavailable for buy-out."
"How long do you have to be in before you can be bought out?"
"Anytime after sentencing. Lots of rich ones never see the inside of a jail, much less the luxurious confines of a Circus training center," Bennett said wearily. "I thought I had friends, but..."
Blake wondered if Voss knew about this. At least Rio and Doreen
could be saved. "Is there any way to get word to the outside?" he asked.
"Oh, of course," Neva said. "Words but not bodies." She laughed. "Who do you want to contact?"
Blake realized that he did not know where Voss was. If he is still free, he might be anyplace. Why do I assume he will stay out of jail? Blake asked himself. Just because he is billionaire Jean-Michel Voss? In this world he is no better off than anyone else, at least out of touch with his money. You can't take it with you, Voss!
"Tell us about yourself," Neva asked.
Briefly, Blake related their adventures, but left out the killing of the Mormon guards, saying only that they escaped.
Neva shook her head sadly. "If only Venus had found you first. The points they could make with you." The others nodded agreement.
"Venus? We have colonies on Venus?"
"No, not that Venus. Venus, the goddess of Love. Aphrodite." Neva whispered the words, and all of them looked around nervously.
"Don't be so careless with those words," Rob muttered.
"Why? What's wrong?" Blake asked.
"Gali," Neva said, and the slim young man stepped to the cell door and lounged there casually. After a moment he nodded. "Venus, the Venus," she continued. "They're ... a sort of underground movement."
"Revolutionaries?"
"No, not exactly. Well, yes, perhaps. They are opposed to all the sexual repression. They want sexual freedom and are willing to fight for it."
Sexual freedom fighters. Blake could not explain why he felt like smiling. It seemed so silly, coming from his time. The world has come full circle, he thought. But we never outlawed those who sought a return to religion or who wanted to reduce the blatant sexuality. We laughed at them. Now they are getting the last laugh.
"How did the world get into this mess?" he asked the group.
"It's a legacy from your time," Narmada said. "When the pendulum swings as far as it can one way, it has only one way to go: back."
"It seems to me that the pendulum has gone as far as it could the other way now," Blake said. He looked at the faces around him. "Can it be made to reverse again, toward freedom?"
They all looked doubtful. "Perhaps," Narmada said slowly. "You would have a better perspective on that than we do."
"Venus could really use him," Neva said, almost to herself. "A man from the free past, thrown into prison, sentenced to a terrible death just because he walked through time."
"I slept through it."
"No matter. Sleeping implies no action at all. 'Leapt through time.' That would be even better."
"Well, how do I get in touch with this Venus?" Everyone suddenly found something else interesting to look at. Blake was frustrated.
From the door Bennett said, "That's right, Mason, we don't know that you aren't a Sword or one of the Glorius Cherubs."
"He could even be one of the Friends of the God of Abraham," Rob said. "Or an Archon of the Almighty God."
"Or an Angel of Punishment." Marta shivered.
"Yeah, or from the Lightning Bolts of the Terrifying God of Heaven, or a Temple Virgin of Mary Magdalene," Narmada said nastily. "We have no way of knowing." He looked at Blake. "One thing, though: if they kill you out in the arena, we'll know you were straight."
"Thanks a lot!" Blake said. "Posthumous vindication." He looked around at the other prisoners. "So you think I'm a spy." He shrugged. "All right. I understand. But look, I was arrested with two women from my time, Rio and Doreen. Rio is beautiful – well, both of them are beautiful – and she has long dark hair and a kind of golden skin and ... a very good figure. Doreen has a big chest and, well, she looks like a Doreen. Is there any way I can find out where they are?"
There was a short silence, then Neva spoke. "If they are beautiful, I mean beautiful, they are probably in Troop Nine. That's the special group that gets solo executions."
Blake's heart sank again. "Oh, God ... Why?"
Rob inhaled deeply and then said, "Because the churches are against physical beauty."
"Why? They never were before. They built fancy, glorious churches and altars and temples..."
"You're thinking of the old churches: the Roman Catholic and the Episcopalian, those of the Hebrew faith and the Eastern religions. But even back in your time I'm certain there were some that didn't fancy themselves up."
"Yes, but neither did they execute people for being beautiful!"
"You don't understand," Neva said. "They – and you – were sentenced because of your special crimes. They will give your friends special solo executions because of their beauty, that's all. Torn apart by a robot, or–"
"There's some talk of bringing back those big robots they used to use," Bennett interrupted, distaste and fear on his face.
Blake looked at Neva in shock. "They do that sort of thing here? My God, I thought they were Christians – people of God, religious people!"
"Exactly," Narmada said. "More blood has been spilled in the name of Christ than in the name of anything else – Christian against pagan; Christian against Christian; Christian against witches, unbelievers, Jews, heretics, anyone who opposed them. Your Christianity has devoured whole peoples, and gods as well! Whenever the Christians moved into a region, if the local pagan gods could be absorbed, they were – Saint Patrick, for one. They became saints or angels or other aspects of God. But when they could not be absorbed, they were outlawed, declared evil, made part of Lucifer, banished, exorcised. Their idols were smashed, precious art and history destroyed. The Aztec Coda was burned and–" Narmada stopped abruptly, breathing heavily.
There was a silence, then Blake sighed. "It's not my Christianity..."
"Your Rio, your Doreen," Narmada said, "will meet degrading, horrible deaths, much worse than anything Neva or Marta or the other women here have to face. At least our women face death with trident or sword, and will have a fighting chance, even if the odds are against them. If you face one fighter, you may vanquish him; but, of course, after you've faced a hundred, two hundred, the odds eventually work against you. If you look as if you are going to be able to defeat all corners – which is very rare – they change the rules on you, put you up against twice as many, against a totally new robot you know nothing about, against something you can't handle. Your women will not even have that chance. They'll undergo a few preliminaries, like being put in a drama or a spectacular, but then they will be staked out for the robot ants or–"
"Nar, stop it!" Neva said. She was hugging Marta and they were swaying. "Nar, we know all that, and if you want to tell Mason your grisly details, please do it some other time."
"I'm sorry, Neva, I forgot. I get so angry, though!"
Blake felt sick. Neva stood and pulled Marta to her feet, then they left the cell. Narmada moved to the bunk and sat down. Rob picked at the raveled edge of his sleeve.
"They had the Circus back in my time," Blake said. "It was bloody, all right; but there was some kind of professionalism to it. They just didn't dump in meat – human meat. Everyone watched it, everyone knew it was the ultimate entertainment, real-life drama, life and death."
"The Romans knew it, too," Bennett said. "Bread and circuses. Keep the citizens happy, keep them occupied. When there's no work, at least give them some entertainment. It was the same in your time and it's the same now, only worse."
"People haven't always had Circuses, have they?" Rob asked Blake.
"No, not really. People used to go to hangings, bringing along their children and lunch. Then there was the Mardi Gras, a kind of religious orgy."
"We still have that," Narmada said.
"Then we had a lot of professional and semiprofessional contests. Football, baseball, soccer, boxing, roller derbies."
"What about robot fighters?" Rob asked. "Did they have them back then?"
"No. Not way, way back. They had automobile races." He looked at their faces and tried to explain.
"Automobiles were vehicles, like aircars. Only they went on the ground. Some of them were very fast and peo
ple would race them."
"I remember reading about those things," Rob said. "They caused the air to be unusable, isn't that so?"
"They were one cause, yes. But they started having contests to see who could smash up the other's car first. Dozens of people would try at once. They had airplane races, too. They were like aircars. Then along in my time they started having the first robot fighters and robot cars. They used to put fake things on the robots to get knocked off and squirt fluid, just to make the contest look rougher than it was. Then they started matching up men and women against robots. At first, the humans usually won, because they were more agile and could think faster; but the robots improved and–"
"Yeah, that's how it is now," Rob said. "Except now, the robots are like tanks, with flame guns and rockets; and they really fight. There are robot swarms, too – little bastards with teeth that come at you in bunches." Rob shivered and looked at the opposite wall.
"But why? Why?" Blake asked angrily. "Are they getting revenge for the Christian martyrs thrown to the lions? Don't they realize they are making the same mistake?"
No one had an answer, and after a few silent moments Bennett said, "I want to get to sleep. It's a long day tomorrow."
Rob and Narmada stood up and left. Blake was slower, and Bennett stopped him.
"I'll get word out. Maybe we can find out where your friends are."
Blake nodded his thanks and walked away.
What am I doing here...? he asked himself.
Chapter 18
The wallscreen showed two fighters in the Arena. One was a retiarius: a slim girl who wore no armor – just a leather-like uniform and sandals – and carried a trident and net. The net was edge-weighted for better control ... and she circled the bigger opponent warily, keeping her trident up and the net moving.
To THE LAND OF THE ELECTRIC ANGEL: Hugo and Nebula Award Finalist Author (The Frontiers Saga) Page 18