The Simmering Seas

by Frank Kennedy

  “I was so close this time,” Exeter insisted upon each exit. “I’m sure he was ready to speak.”

  “Who?” Amayas asked.

  “God.”

  “Oh. Still on that bent, are you? I give you one pre-history lesson, and you latch onto a mythical creature.”

  “The name seemed as good as any.”

  Amayas taught Exeter how millions of humans believed in an all-powerful deity until the Chancellory rose to power three thousand years ago, eliminating worship of the Divine.

  “Do you know how many centuries it took to eliminate that name from the vernacular?”

  “But God seems appropriate, Amayas. You’ve tapped into the heart of the universe. Where else would this God have lived?”

  “In the minds of the easily deceived. Now, hold out your hands.”

  They launched into the usual post-flight check. Exeter did not know what Amayas was looking for, but with each flight, he examined three body parts closely: Eyes, hands, and heart.

  “When I run my palms over yours,” Amayas said, “do you sense either a magnetic pull or a vibration?”

  They repeated the drill three times.

  “Nothing,” Exeter said.

  “Good.”

  Amayas held a medical reader over the boy’s heart.

  “How does it look?” Exeter asked.

  “Normal rhythm except your particular genetic variance, but it’s to be predicted.”

  “I assume I inherited the variance from my birth parents?”

  Amayas winked. “In a manner of speaking.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Amayas ignored him and flashed brilliant lights into Exeter’s eyes.

  “Subtle dilation. Consistent with your previous flights.”

  “Is that a good sign?”

  “Good? No. Perfect.”

  “Great. So, are you going to tell me what it all means?”

  Amayas flexed a brow and walked away. He laid down his equipment at his workstation and stopped at the edge of his elevated platform, looking out upon the subterranean expanse.

  “It’s time for you to leave. Take your rifter and return topside. I’m sure Katherine has something important you can do.”

  Exeter tensed. Every time he asked the key question, Amayas pushed him away. Ninety standard days of coming down here, experiencing the beauty and terror of the universe, and still …

  Silence.

  “Why won’t you answer me? I’m entitled to know.”

  “What you are entitled to, and what best suits your health, are entirely apart from each other. I will say this, Exeter: You’ve passed. Better than I thought possible. You’ve done so well, in fact, you won’t be allowed down here again. There’s no more to gain.”

  A haunting wave of desperation coursed through his blood.

  “What? I can’t … why?”

  “The experiment is complete. I don’t need you now.”

  “But … Amayas, I have to be here. You can’t send me away. I’m so close. Every time I go in, I’m so close.”

  “You’re like the person who’s had the most wonderful dream, but it was incomplete. And he’s certain if he goes back to sleep, the dream will finish. But it never does. The subconscious doesn’t work that way, nor does the universe.”

  Desperation turned to rage faster than his thoughts could keep up. He pivoted to the cylinder. Every waking moment topside, he dreamed of his next flight. Exeter tingled with tremors and developed a rampaging hunger. He wasn’t going anywhere.

  “No. You don’t get to ban me. I’m important to you, and I’ve been loyal from the beginning. I’m making breakthroughs in there.” He stomped his feet, causing the platform to vibrate. “This is the only good thing that’s ever happened to me. You will not take it away!”

  Amayas did not budge, but he did sigh. The latter aggravated Exeter to no end. He despised when Amayas behaved as if people were wasting his time. Mother encouraged patience, but she never saw this side of the man.

  “I’ll cause trouble for you,” Exeter said, regretting the words almost at once. “I’ll speak to your clients. I’ll tell them you’re not what you seem. When they learn about your transplant, they’ll ask why. You’d better have a great answer, Amayas.”

  The man with the permanent bruise above his right jaw reached into his jacket and removed a small laser pistol. He didn’t aim.

  “You do understand I could shoot you in the head now and feed you to the furnace. Yes?”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He pointed to the cylinder. “Please. I need it.”

  “And you’ll have it, Exeter, but better. If you’d allow me to elaborate without histrionics, you’d know this phase of the experiment is complete. You’ll see the universe of your imagination and more, but not here. All I ask is patience.”

  “For what?”

  “New clients will be arriving tomorrow. Do you wish to join the greeting party?”

  He couldn’t believe it. The first time!

  “Really? You trust me?”

  “I shouldn’t. Not after this theater. But you’ve seen how the others interact. Limit your script to facility basics. Escort them to their rooms. Do it well, and you’ll be rewarded.”

  “With what?”

  “A test. Let’s call it the next phase. Agreed?”

  Exeter knew he’d get no better deal today. He hopped onto his rifter and looked back at Amayas, who held the pistol at his side.

  “I’ll be a great guide. No, a perfect guide!”

  “Yes, you will. We’re at a critical juncture. The first wave is bringing in special delegates. Their loyalty is crucial to the alliance.”

  “I won’t let you down, Amayas. I’ll do whatever you need.”

  When Exeter returned to Command & Control and told his adoptive mother about the promotion, she reacted with skepticism.

  “This seems sudden,” Katherine said.

  “Why? It’s been months. You told me to be patient, and I was.”

  “Ever since you began spending time down below, you’ve ignored your other responsibilities. Beyond meals, I rarely see you in the right frame of mind.”

  “Responsibilities? You mean cleaning up after the clients? Why should I bother with sanitation? We have staff.”

  “Why? Because I asked you to. Months ago, you complained about not having anything to do. Ship traffic has increased threefold, and our resources are thin. You’ve not kept up with your studies, particularly with spacial algorithmics. You know how vital that science is to the project. By all accounts, you are shirking your duties, yet he appoints you to greeting detail.”

  “He believes I’m ready. You don’t.”

  “I never said that, but I’ll make you a deal, Exeter. The delegates from Mauritania and Bolivar will be arriving soon for the evening dine and a farewell pitch from the Inventor himself. While this is going on, prepare their bags, deliver them to the docking ramp, then return to Hall B and change the sheets. Afterward, two hours of algorithmics. Verify completion of the next module.”

  “If I finish everything?”

  “I’ll fit you for a proper uniform then we’ll review the script.”

  “Thank you, Mother.”

  Exeter thought often about calling her Katherine, but on occasion she proved agreeable enough that he held off. Though they bore no biological connection, he felt a lingering obligation based on how she saved him long before they came to the Oorton System.

  He did as she commanded and took care of the scrub work while the last delegates completed their indoctrination. Per regulations, he stayed out of sight as the visitors were escorted to the galley. Each wave of clients seemed different and yet remarkably similar.

  Skin color, dialects, and dress distinguished the ethnics by their various colony worlds. On day one, they arrived curious – some dubious – and full of questions. By the third and final day, all seemed as one. Their eyes? Glazed over with the spirit of revelation. Their personalities?
Quiet, submissive, devoid of questions.

  “They have all the answers they’ll ever require,” Katherine told him one night before bed, when he asked about the stark changes in their clients. “They’ve seen proof of their future, and they love it.”

  “And what is the future?”

  “That, Exeter, is between them and the Inventor.”

  “Don’t you sit in when Amayas pitches to them?”

  “Amayas allows no one else to complete sales. I focus on logistics.”

  “And the demonstration lab? Still off-limits, even to you?”

  She didn’t answer, but the lines in her face hinted disappointment.

  The demonstration lab, where clients spent the majority of their three-day stint, was barred to everyone else but Amayas and the so-called “first wave” who visited Artemis Station earliest and most often. Exeter assumed those people were the primary liaisons with the colonies. They were the eldest visitors, wearing the most elegant if impractical garb. They never failed to drag Amayas away from his subterranean projects. And always, they convened inside the demonstration lab. Exeter’s curiosity might have been insatiable if not for the wonders of the cylinder.

  The next standard day, dressed in the bright, sequined uniform of the Inventor’s Greeting Team, Exeter watched from a holowindow as a cargo ship entered the system via the local Nexus point. The early-warning drones, positioned within five thousand kilometers of the Nexus, scanned the ship, relayed its transponder code, and verified the manifest. Any ship caught deviating from pre-arranged protocols would be denied access and the defense shield activated. The fragments of one rogue intruder orbited the planetoid months after it targeted Artemis for a scrap operation.

  Six hours later, a shuttle arrived bearing the flag of the Unified Provinces of Boer. Like its mothership, the shuttle was generations old, salvaged in the wake of the Chancellory’s retreat from the colonies. Its shell made it seem less than space-worthy, but that was the general idea. Amayas preferred his clients use system ships which drew little attention to themselves.

  Exeter formed a three-abreast greeting party at the docking port. His mother took lead today to ensure her adoptive son followed the script. Between them, Simone D’Chinou, who joined the team a year ago from the planet Everdeen, waited in a tight-fitting bodysuit that accentuated her best sexual contours. Simone used her special qualities to make clients from the Dark Quadrant planets feel more than at home. From early on, Amayas insisted those four worlds were key to his long-range goals.

  Today’s arrivals numbered twelve. Five black-skinned clients from Boer, all young males who walked with the grace of the high-born. Three tan women from Moroccan Prime, their stance indicating the aggression of trained fighters. A mix from Hokkaido, with one older man – his elevated chin bore the hallmarks of the upper crust – and three teens, light of foot but anxious. Each carried a small bag of essentials – no more was allowed on base.

  “Welcome to Artemis,” Simone said, taking a bow. “Here, the future will reveal itself as paradise. What we will present is neither theory nor allegory. Here, you will see the mechanism by which life can be experienced beyond the static limitations of the old model. We make a sacred guarantee: When you depart in three days, you will be committed to a new path for your peoples. While you are here, some may need comfort as you adjust to the unimagined. Please do not hesitate to call upon me at any time. You may refer to me as Missus.”

  “Mrs. What?” A Hokki teen asked.

  “Missus. This is my pseudo, as each of you will be called by your pseudo. The Inventor prefers it this way, for everyone’s protection.”

  Simone performed a simple role, and she did it well with men or women, boys or girls. They kept her busy during their visits; Exeter felt shy asking for details.

  “And where is he?” The eldest Boer asked, indignance in his tone. “The Inventor. He should be present to welcome his potential clients.”

  Katherine stepped in. “The Inventor does not wish to be a distraction during your transition. You will have hours with him to explore all your questions. Our immediate concern will be your healthy adjustment to Y-14’s gravity. You may not feel it yet, but it will pull upon you as your stay extends. Our gravity is 1.6 Boer standard gee; 1.66 Moroccan Prime standard; and 1.7 Hokkaido standard.

  “When you step inside, each of you will drink a solution that will help you with equilibrium. The second phase – a pill to counteract the muscular impact – will be taken one hour later in the comfort of your quarters. Then you will sleep for three hours. At that time, Minor will lead you on a guided tour of the facility and into the galley.” She pointed to Exeter. “You will be famished. The program will begin shortly thereafter, and the Inventor will meet you all.”

  “And what is your pseudo?” The Boer asked Katherine.

  “Call me Madam. I’ll make sure your schedule holds to the script.”

  The clients followed to a transition room where they drank part one of their medical regimen. Exeter observed in silence, his hands cupped at his waist. Simone whispered in each client’s ear – words Exeter never learned – but they seemed to respond favorably, with the boys producing the most visceral reaction. He once asked Mother what Simone did for the clients.

  “She reminds them of their humanity,” Katherine said. “She is not for you, Exeter.”

  Indeed, Simone never offered Exeter anything more than a passing smile in a corridor. He rarely saw her outside of visitations.

  Exeter took the clients the rest of the way, using a holoreader to pair pseudos with their rooms. Though the full names were available in the Artemis central database, Amayas required data be accessible only to himself, Katherine, and a few others with security clearance. Until the alliance went public, identities must be guarded.

  “Inside your room,” Exeter told the clients, “you will find a comm station beside your bed. Instructions for every aspect of your visit are noted. We ask you to read and memorize. In one hour, you will consume the white pill next to your comm. The pill has certain effects that might destabilize your system for a short while. We recommend you lie back on the bed and select a music option. We have provided options from each of your worlds. I will be stationed out here until your naps have begun. Please call on me. Again, my name is Minor.”

  Exeter took pride in not only memorizing his script but executing it in the same smooth, mesmerizing delivery of his mother and Simone. It was theater, of course, but he loved it. The looks on their faces were thrilling – across the gamut from skeptical and arrogant to timid, hopeful, and naïve. No one forced him to break script with a question he couldn’t answer – specifically, what will happen to us during the program? Exeter had no idea. One day, he’d earn his spot inside the demonstration lab to see the metamorphosis.

  The last client was a young man from Hokkaido with the pseudo Lucius. Exeter pressed the lockpad, and the door slipped open. Lucius hesitated. He looked back down the long corridor in the general direction of the docking port.

  “What happens if I change my mind?”

  “What do you mean, Lucius?”

  “If I want to go back, Minor. Now. Will anyone stop me?”

  “I believe the shuttle has already returned to orbit.”

  “I shouldn’t be here. It wasn’t my choice.”

  “But you are, Lucius. Be glad. The things you’ll experience …”

  “It should have been my brother. They always preferred him. They say this isn’t a punishment, but I know better.”

  “You’re tired, Lucius. The trip was long. Six days. Yes? Take the pill. Sleep. You’ll see it all in a new light when you meet the Inventor.”

  Lucius bowed his head. “They say I’m to be their man for the future. I’m all wrong for the part.”

  The Hokki entered his room without another word, the door sliding shut behind him. Later, Katherine complimented Exeter, admitting she was watching him on internal vidcams.

  “You handled the Hokki with aplomb
. A deft touch of calm, patience, and encouragement. He’ll come around. I’m proud of you, Exeter.”

  He worked the next four visitations in the same role, never once breaking stride or script. The responsibility – and the resulting praise – fed Exeter’s sense of accomplishment and, for a time, diminished his need to return to the cylinder. It did not, however, eliminate his hunger. Three days after his fifth visitation ended, Exeter received a message that he was wanted at the old brontinium smelting barrels on the perimeter of the complex, just inside the cascade barrier.

  He was stunned to find Amayas waiting for him.

  “I’m here to fulfill a promise,” the Inventor said. “I told you the next phase of the experiment would involve a test, assuming you succeeded in your new role. You have.”

  “Thank you, Amayas. I was wondering when … does this mean if I pass the test, I can return to the cylinder?”

  “Better. The demonstration lab.”

  He gasped. “Please. Tell me what’s inside. I …”

  “Pass the test, and you’ll discover the truth.”

  “Fine. I’m ready. Anything.”

  Amayas frowned. “Don’t be so keen, Exeter. This will not be pleasant. I am going to ask you to do a favor for me. When you hear the details, you will likely consider it reprehensible on both moral and practical grounds. You may find it sickening. But while this might be a difficult task, it is necessary. I will not burden you with the why of it, and you should not ask. But the further our project advances, the imperative will shift to the necessary ahead of the discretionary. Do you follow?”

  “I think so. Sometimes, we can’t compromise. There’s nothing else to be done.”

  “Good attitude. Before I give you details, I will ask two questions, and you must answer truthfully, Exeter. If you’re less than sincere, I’ll know.”