by John F. Carr
"Kahalyton, I don't know enough to be sure that I share your views. I know you're sincere, but I have to learn firsthand what this world is like before I can commit to changing it. I'm vaguely aware of your ideas; I know very little about your plans or goals."
Kahalyton's eyes burned like brilliant displays. "Once we have destroyed the color barriers, all people will be equal, naked before each other as on the day they left the House of Rebirth. We intend to create a new society based on equality and universal good will. We will abandon the Game in favor of pursuits that will benefit the new colorless community.…"
Kahalyton's speech quickly degraded to rhetoric that I couldn't dispute or verify from my own shallow well of experience. I found myself tuning out, thinking of Lyonella while Kahalyton wound up his talk of glowing ideals and great changes.
After assuring me that he would see me again, he departed. I liked him better than the others I'd met so far, but I felt as if he viewed me more as a possible convert to the Counter Colors than a person or possible friend. I didn’t know enough to have an opinion about this culture, but I preferred his impassioned fanaticism to the cold pragmatism of Errox. I wondered if I would have to choose between the two of them at the next transit.
They weren't my only choices. I could go to any gray dwell that would accept me and try to find my future in the Game. On the other hand, I wanted more from this existence than the dull existence that I had experienced so far with the grays.
Just before the second meal, Errox came to see me, acting friendly enough to make me suspicious.
He took a crystalline flask of greenish liquid out of a bag made from a tunic, offered it to me, and said, "Rathe, share a drink of jarva with me."
I took a sip. It went down smoothly, tasting like the purple food cubes, while warming my throat and stomach.
"Drink up," Errox said, as he took a deep drink. "I got jars and jars of jarva."
I downed another mouthful. Maybe it was the jarva that made Errox so friendly.
"Has anyone told you about the Simulike Palace?"
"No," I replied. "What is it?" The jarva had made me feel free to ask Errox questions. I took another drink.
"The Simulike Palace is where all things are possible. When you have the Simulike experience, your dreams, desires, and needs of the moment are fulfilled totally."
"Like in a dream?"
"It’s as different from a dream as jarva is from water. It's as real as the taste in your mouth or the feel of a willing lover in your arms. You can exercise surprising powers. You can dominate or submit, create or even destroy. You can choose any man or woman for a lover and explore sex like never before."
My loins stirred with sexual excitement. The encounter with Lyonella bubbled to the surface of my mind. Errox and I both took another drink. Then I asked, "You've done this before? How did it make you feel?"
Errox's eyes glowed with a demonic gleam as he answered, "Like a god. There are no color bars in the world of Simulike."
"I might like to try that."
"Drink up, Rathe, and I'll take you to the nearest Simulike Palace."
We left Mirall's dwell and walked to the front slidestrip where we traveled to the main slideway. Hoping that the jarva hadn't befuddled me, I attempted to memorize Errox’s route by counting pyramids and remembering directional changes after we left the original complex.
Errox maintained a friendly attitude but said little. We stepped onto a slower slidestrip and saw a large squat building which I suspected was the Simulike Palace. I was eager for the Simulike experience. Maybe this experience might jog my memory…?
As we approached the entrance, Errox said, "Don't tell the attendant that this is your first time. The procedure is simple. The attendant will lead you to a cubicle. There you lie down on the couch, fit the golden band around your head, and then put your arm in the right hand channel so that your wristlock fits in one of the grooves. The attendant will hypospray your left arm. From there on out, just relax and enjoy."
"How long will the Simulike experience last?"
"Longer than a meal, shorter than a sleep shift. It varies."
"How do I get back to Mirall's?" I asked.
"Whoever finishes first can wait outside for the other. Come on."
I eagerly followed Errox in. The attendant, who wore a white wristlock, took Errox to an empty cubicle and then led me to an adjacent one. I laid down, put on the golden headband and dropped my right arm into the channel so that my wristlock was in a groove. I felt the hypospray on my left arm. My awareness slowly drifted away.…
* * *
When consciousness returned, I was leaning against a large cask in a narrow, dark tunnel. I heard voices from beyond a bend in the passageway. I understood the words although they sounded foreign to my ears. I cleared my throat.
The sound attracted a young woman in a flowing red dress who emerged from a side passage and said, "There you are. Come on. It's almost time for the ceremony to begin."
She took my hand and led me toward the voices. We entered a large chamber lit by smoky torches and pale yellow candles. Each torch illuminated a metal plate. Some of the plates had names engraved on them and others were blank.
The young woman and I took adjacent places along with ten others, all of us wearing red. We stood before a regal pair—a woman of incredible, ageless beauty and a handsome man with flowing white hair. The man said, "All the candidates are here."
The woman announced, "You are here before the priest and priestess of the tribe and in the presence of the other tribal members for the supreme initiation. Today the twelve of you will become torch bearers, keepers of the flame, sharing the enlightenment of the tribe of Eshkadella. The names you choose will be engraved upon our plaques illuminated by the torches that symbolize your new positions as fully initiated members of the tribe."
She turned to the priest beside her and said, "You may administer the sacraments."
The tall man dispensed small pieces of a dark brown root to the twelve of us and said, "Chew thoroughly before swallowing."
The tribal members standing around the perimeter of the chamber watched as we ingested the sacred plant, some sort of root. The taste was new to me, a pleasant bitterness.
After we were done chewing, the priest led us along a candle-lit path to an underground spring that bubbled up and flowed through a time worn channel across the cave floor and into the shadows. During the short walk I felt an incredible rush, as if something were dancing in my veins, floating joyously in my lungs, and fine-tuning all my nerve ends. Dizziness and gut rumblings were the side effects that we all shared.
"Kneel down by the channel and let it all come up," the priest ordered.
Within a short time, all of us threw up the contents of our stomach into the channel. As the spring water washed away all that we disgorged, the priest said, "The purification has begun."
When the vomiting ceased, the priestess said, "Rinse your mouths in the spring and be ready for the Dance of the Skeletons. Let the music begin."
Musicians, wearing green robes and conical orange hats, emerged from the ranks of tribal members. Their hollowed gourds, wide-bodied stringed instruments, bone xylophones, and hollow-log drums created a fascinating melody with a compelling beat. Tribal members thrust wired-together skeletons into our arms. The entire tribe chanted "Dance! Dance! Dance!"
Along with the other initiates, we whirled in frenzied circles, adding the rattling of a dozen skeletons to the spectacle and rhythm of the ceremony. The chanting tribal members herded us toward a small area that had twelve tunnels leading away from it. All the tunnels were narrow, dark, and foreboding. The music faded and the priest said, "Each candidate will enter a tunnel for the Communion of Flesh and Bone. When the candidates return, they will lay the Old Ones to rest in their crypts. Then each of the newly initiated will engrave a chosen name on a plaque."
Still lightheaded from the ceremonial root and the whirling dance, I entered a passageway. The
floor was smooth as if worn down by human traffic over eons. When the light from the chamber no longer penetrated the passageway, I saw a solitary candle burning in an alcove. I approached the alcove and heard a female voice behind me say, "Hang the skeleton on the hook beneath the candle."
I relieved myself of the burden of the bones and turned toward the voice. Her face, indistinct in the candlelight, wavered in my drug-altered vision. First she appeared to be the woman in the red dress who led me into the big chamber for initiation. Then she became the beautiful priestess. Then she became every woman and I was in her arms, lost in lust and love. Clothes dropped like fall leaves, unneeded and unheeded. Rapidly, but without hurry, we began the communion of the flesh. I felt that everything I needed was mine and was sure that my chosen name would come to me when I needed to speak it.
Our mutual ardor multiplied until the world of our sensuality was all that existed. I took that world, compressed it into my scrotum. Then I allowed it to erupt and I felt like I had recreated the world from the union of flesh—
Suddenly, cold, hard hands ripped me from my bliss, grabbed me under the armpits and pulled me to my feet. I was dragged out of the Simulike cubicle by two men dressed in blue body suits and wearing white wristlocks with black stars. I saw Errox in the next cubicle; he was lost in the Simulike experience.
"What... What is going on?"
"Errox, 14893-2456331, we are the Variation Investigation Service. You are being taken into custody for social deviance and illegal entry."
I tried to reply, but a numbing fog was sprayed into my face. My will to resist drifted away….
SIX
When I regained consciousness, one of the burly VIS officers was locking a transparent collar around my neck. He saw that I was awake and asked, "You know what this is, Errox, don’t you?"
"No."
"It’s a custodial collar. You can’t remove it unless you have one of these." He showed me a small box with buttons on it.
"With this disrupter," he said, "I can reduce the flow of signals to your brain. Any failure to cooperate in accompanying us to the nearest VIS center and I'll push this button and you will lose control of your mind and body. Would you like a demonstration?"
"No." I believed him. The old feeling of helplessness had returned in full force. I didn’t need any demonstration of his power to know I was in bad trouble. By giving me his wristlock, Errox had transferred his identity, past sins and transgressions onto me.
With VIS officers on both sides of me, I was marched to the nearest slidestrip and was soon put into a VIS center detention cell, still wearing a collar. I hadn’t bothered memorizing the route. There was a good chance I might never leave since I had no way of proving I wasn’t Errox or anyone at all. Just a blanc, with no past, and now—no future.
The cell was small with walls as gray as my wristlock. I sat on one of the two built-in benches with my head in my hands. Nobody had informed me of any charges or what I was waiting for. I knew that I'd be questioned and, no matter what the questions were, my answers wouldn't be satisfactory.
If I told them I wasn't Errox, then I was guilty of wearing a wristlock that didn't belong to me. That would reveal that I was a blanc. Then I'd be sent to a holding center for nu-blancs where I suspected I would lose all my new memories. My memories weren’t great, but they were all I had of my identity as Rathe—an identity I was determined to keep.
A small man, in a prim white tunic, entered my cell. He sat across from me on the other bench holding a disrupter for the collar locked around my neck.
"I am Arvon, the intake interrogator. Do you confirm your identity as Errox, 14893-2456331?"
"I have no answers for any of your questions."
"Do you deny that identity?"
"I neither confirm nor deny."
"We have identified you as Errox. You are suspected of illegal entry into the Color Wheel. You are suspected of being a riplocker and of associating with a subversive group. We are certain you are deviating from the social norms. You will have to be reconditioned. How deep that reconditioning goes depends on several factors; however, the single factor you control is your degree of cooperation. With verified cooperation you may be able to retain the socially acceptable portions of your character and personality. Do you understand that?"
"Yes."
"Then you will cooperate?"
"I refuse to answer any questions."
Arvon pressed the collar controller. My awareness dimmed out. I fell onto the floor. When I picked myself up, Arvon was gone. I had a headache and a skinned elbow. I lay down on the bench, wondering if I'd made the right choice.
The next time my cell door opened, a short brown-skinned woman with black hair and dark, piercing eyes entered. She wore the white wristlock with black stars that identified her as VIS, but no uniform. Her tunic was brown like mine. She held a collar disrupter in her hand.
"I'm Clandine, your custodian," she announced.
I didn't say anything.
She sat down on the opposite bench and waved the collar disrupter in the air. "Do you know the effects this can have?"
"Yes."
"Then you have no doubt who is in control here?"
"No doubts."
For a moment there was a faraway look on her face as if she were deciding something important before speaking. Then she said, "My priorities are different from Arvon's. He sees you as a potentially dangerous deviate from the norms. I see you as a potential agent of change. If a society can't adapt to positive change, it stagnates. In our society upward mobility is possible only by playing the Game and winning. But many people with talents and skills refuse to play the Game and remain grays.”
"You are one of those people. You are skilled at survival and talented in dealing with others. You have influence and a reputation among many of the grays. I can get the charges against you dismissed if you act as my eyes and ears among the grays."
"I'm not a spy."
"I'm not asking you to betray associates. I need to know more about the resistance to rainbow rule. I know you're aware that a resistance group exists."
I knew I wasn't going to tell her anything about Kahalyton. He had been friendly toward me and I wasn't going to cause trouble for him and his Counter Colors. The look on my face must have revealed that I had some knowledge of the opposition.
Clandine quickly asked, "What do you know about the Freedom Crusaders?"
"Nothing," I answered, so surprised that the question wasn't about the Counter Colors that I replied without thinking about my intention not to answer questions. I suspected that Clandine was a more skilled interrogator than Arvon, perhaps skilled enough to get information I didn't want to give out.
Errox had saved my life, gotten me a wristlock, and taken me to a new dwell. Even though the wristlock had gotten me arrested by the VIS, I didn't know if that had been his intention. I wasn't sure what Errox had intended for me, but I knew he liked to have power over people. I had felt powerless ever since awakening in the Rainbow Room. Now, Clandine held the upper hand. She had the power to get my charges dismissed or punish me for Errox's sins—or my own.
"Errox do you know anything about a gray group that is recruiting volunteers from the permanent grays and using them to rebel against the system in dangerous ways?" she asked, her voice insistent.
"No. This is the first I've heard of them." I was getting information from Clandine's questions, but I couldn't fit what I knew into a cohesive whole. Kahalyton had spouted a lot of rhetoric about a utopian society that he envisioned, but he had told me nothing about how it was to be brought into being. I wondered if the Freedom Crusaders were a militant wing of the Counter Colors or a completely different group.
"I’ve heard that you have connections throughout the gray world. I was certain that you would know something about the strength of the Freedom Crusaders and how they condition their volunteers. You know they use terrorism as part of their means to challenge the social order?"
"I'm opposed to terrorism and if I had any information about terrorists I'd tell you."
"Look Errox, the Freedom Crusaders send members on suicide missions. I want to know how they recruit them and how they convince them to die in attacks upon the institutions and ways of our society."
"I don't know anything about them."
"You sound very sincere, Errox, and you project innocence well. I'm wondering if that is just part of your persuasive manner. You are much different from what I expected."
"What did you expect?" I asked.
"A smooth-talking confidence operator with greedy goals, superficial good looks, short term charm, and long term plans."
"I don't see myself that way."
"I haven't seen strong indications of those characteristics, either. You may be a better actor than anyone has ever suspected."
There was a rapping at the door. Clandine looked through the thick plastic window and then opened the door.
Arvon came in. He still looked neat and orderly but his manner was agitated. Arvon said to Clandine, "There must have been spotters outside the Simulike Palace. I just heard from a semi-reliable source that the Freedom Crusaders are going to attack this center to free the prisoners. I think that's because Errox is here."
"Are there any other prisoners here that you're sure are Freedom Crusaders?" Clandine asked.
"Five suspects. Errox makes six."
"We can't be certain they're after Errox. They could be interested in freeing one or more prisoners who are valuable to them—prisoners with an importance we haven't discovered yet."
"That could be," Arvon said. "I'll authorize a deep probe background check on the ones we aren't familiar with. If any of them are willing to cooperate, we can use the vericator to check their truthfulness. I've requested backup troops to deal with a possible Freedom Crusader attack even though I have limited confidence in the message from my informant.
"The threat of a Freedom Crusader attack may be just a ploy to get you to take Errox out of here. Then they would have a better chance of rescuing him or killing him if they think he knows too much. Either way you might get killed, Clandine."