Virtual Mode

by Piers Anthony

  Colene got the spare house key, stepped quickly out the back door, and locked herself out. That way her mother would assume that she had locked them in for the night, and would not check her room. Colene would use the key to let herself in again later.

  It was chill outside, and she shivered as she made her way across the dark back yard to the shed. Her heart was pounding, but not because of the temperature. She was embarking on another suicidally foolish risk.

  She knocked on the door, then opened it. She couldn't see anything inside, but knew he was there.

  Indeed he was, hunched under the blankets. They really weren't enough, considering his weakened state. He needed more warmth.

  "I should have brought another blanket," she murmured. "But I would have had to take it from my own bed, and that would be chancy. I'll see what I can do."

  She sat down beside him, and pulled at the blankets, rearranging them. Then she lay down, full length beside him, and drew the blankets over them both. "It's warmer this way," she explained.

  He rolled over to face her, and she stiffened with fear. "Please don't rape me," she whispered. "I really don't like it." Yet she had come out here in her provocative nightgown. He couldn't see it, of course, but he could feel it. She had gotten under the blankets with him, in the dark. No jury would convict him.

  "Rape?" he asked, not knowing the word.

  Now she had to define it! How could she do that? If she managed to get the concept across, without the use of her pad and pencil, it would have to be by touch, and he might think she was asking for it. But she had used the word, and she had to explain it.

  She pondered, her heart beating so wildly she almost thought her mother in the house could hear it, let alone Darius. Then she found his right hand under the blanket. She brought it across his body and up to touch her head. "Yes," she said. Then she took it down to touch her right breast through the nightgown, as she lay on her back. "Maybe." Finally she put it against her thigh. "No."

  He considered that, while she lay breathing rapidly, her body stiff. Then he reached across her, not to embrace her, but to find her left arm. He brought it across her body and up to his head. Her fingers touched his mouth. "Yes," he said. Then he took it down to his clothed crotch. "No."

  He understood! "That's right," she said, squeezing his fingers with hers. "I'm here to warm you, and that's about it."

  "Thank you." He brought her hand to his lips again, and kissed it.

  Colene experienced a wild thrill. She knew she should just lie where she was, having made her point. But it was her nature to risk disaster. Suicide was merely the most extreme extension of a syndrome that permeated her existence. Whatever she did, she had to push the limit, courting trouble. This was folly, but it was her way. Had she been a man, she would have been a daredevil cyclist, hurdling lines of cars soaked in gasoline, daring the flames to get her. But she was only a teenage girl, so had to settle for lesser dares.

  She rolled over toward him, scooted up a bit, found his head, and lifted hers to kiss him on the mouth. Then she lay against him, her body touching his full length. Of course he was clothed, but she wasn't; all she had was the flimsy nightgown. With her wickedly bare torso within it, her breasts nudging him with each breath she took.

  He put his right arm around her and drew her close. His hand did not wander. She put her left arm around him. They were embraced.

  She had intended only to remain for half an hour or so, but this was such dangerous delight that she couldn't bring herself to break it off. Slowly her heart eased its horrendous pace, and she relaxed.

  She woke, and realized that she had been asleep for some time, nestled against Darius. He was warm and she was warm. As far as she knew, he had not touched her even in the "maybe" region. She was almost disappointed. She fell back into sleep.

  She became aware of the creeping light. "Ohmigod!" she squeaked. "Morning!"

  She scrambled out from under the blanket, startling Darius awake. "My parents!" she said. "I have to get back to my room, so they don't know where I was!"

  He nodded, seeming to understand. She found her slippers, slipped out the door, and almost flew, wraithlike, across the yard to the door.

  The door was locked. "The key!" she breathed in anguish. She turned about and flew back to the shed.

  A hand reached out. It held her key.

  "Thanks!" She snatched it and ran back. The door seemed to make a thunderous noise as it unlocked and opened. She went in, then turned to lock it again. She put the key away.

  Then she forced herself to walk slowly through the house to her room. No one was up. She was unobserved.

  She entered her room, went to the bed, and threw herself into it. She had made it!

  Now she remembered how Darius had given her the key. He knew what it was for and where it was. He could have kept it from her. He could have raped her. He could had taken the contact of his hand on her breast last night as a pretext to go wild. It wasn't the kind of breast found in macho male magazines, but it didn't exactly require padding for a formal gown either. She had given him every opportunity.

  He was either a decent man or he just wasn't interested. She cursed herself for her total, absolute, unmitigated folly—and knew she would try to find out exactly which it was. Decency or disinterest. If it killed her. And it just might. Which was perhaps the point.

  CHAPTER 2

  DARIUS

  DARIUS woke as the maiden jumped out of bed in the wan light of dawn. For a moment he was disoriented, but it quickly came back: she was Colene, and she had come back to spend a chaste night with him, warming him with her company. He appreciated that very much.

  She hurried out. She did not speak his language, unsurprisingly, but had taught him some of hers. She had made it plain that she shared her domicile with her parents, who would not understand Darius' presence here. That too was understandable. Certainly he did not want her to be distressed before he could get to know her well enough.

  He felt something cold against his ankle. It was her key. She would need that to enter her locked house. He picked it up and moved to the door.

  In a moment she appeared, shivering in her pretty nightdress, her breath fogging in the chill morning air. He saw her small high breasts heaving enticingly. He extended the key. She took it and ran back the way she had come. He shut the door.

  Colene. She was young, but by the same token fresh and pretty. She had courage too, and intelligence. She seemed eminently suitable. But would she want to do it? It was too soon to tell.

  He had time to find out. Unless there was trouble before he did. If there was trouble, he would have to—

  Then he remembered that aspect. He couldn't! He had lost the signal key!

  What was he to do? Without that key he couldn't return. He would be locked in this reality, and he had already discovered that he was not equipped to survive here.

  Well, did it really make a difference?

  It was pointless, but the knowledge of his likely demise here caused him to set a higher value on his life than hitherto. With renewed interest, he reviewed the events of the last few days.

  THE post of Cyng of Hlahtar was an enviable one, but it had its desperate drawback. A castle was provided, fully staffed and supplied. The Cyng's magic was virtually limitless. As long as he performed.

  It was impossible to endure alone for long; every Cyng soon was depleted. The only practical way to survive was to marry a strong, abundantly happy woman, and draw on her resources until she was depleted, and then cast her aside in favor of a new one. Because the post was prominent and the perquisites excellent, many women were willing to endure this, and it was feasible to maintain a chain of marriages indefinitely. But Darius, new to the post, had rebelled after divorcing his second wife. She was not a bad person, and they got along well, but she was depleted. He did not want to marry a series of women for their life forces, daring to love none. He wanted to marry one for love, and to remain with her for the full tenure.


  The wiser heads had nodded. It was often thus with newlings; they just had to learn from experience. Once a Cyng came to proper terms with the inevitable, he generally settled down and performed adequately.

  Darius went to the Cyng of Pwer. "What are my options?" he inquired.

  "If you will not heed the wisdom of experience, you must learn in your own fashion," the old man said. "You may marry for love, but you can not keep her long. She will die if you do not let her go in time. I think you will find it better to marry for other than love."

  "The Modes," Darius said. "What are my options there?"

  "The Modes are dangerous," the man reminded him. "Of every ten folk who risk them, three do not return. Of those who do return, half do not achieve their desire. This leaves about one in three who is successful. I do not recommend this course."

  "You would have me suck the joy from endless innocent women instead?"

  The Pwer shook his head. "No one forces them. They do it to escape poverty, nonentity, or pointlessness. It is a good bargain for them. They do not die, and they recover slowly after you turn them loose. It is a feasible system."

  "Not as I see it!" Darius retorted. "I see love and marriage as ennobling."

  "You are young."

  "Tell me more about the Modes. What can I expect?"

  "You can expect the unexpected. Do you understand the theory of it?"

  "I understand only that when I appealed to the Cyng of Mngemnt, to provide me some better way, he sent me to you for the Modes. I never heard of them before."

  "Then I will tell you in capsule what we know of them. As you surely do know, I handle the broadcasting of the magic power that enables all other magic to operate. That power must have a source. The first Cyng of Pwer found the source in the Modes. We have a number of what he termed Chips which enable us to relate to the realms beyond our own, and one of these has limitless raw power. He constructed mechanisms to harness this power and convert it to a form we can use. It is my special ability to channel it, and to keep the mechanisms operative. The Chips still relate to what seems to be an infinite number of other Modes. But we explore these others at our considerable risk. We conjecture that they are alternate realities, and that each Chip attunes to the spot where it would be in that other Mode. In many Modes that spot it empty, without even earth, water, or air, and whoever goes there immediately dies. In other Modes there is something there, but not what we like. We have brought back the bodies of those we have sent through, and they have been burned or dehydrated or mauled, as by some monster. But in some Modes there are worlds like ours, only different. By that I mean they may have a comfortable environment, and people, but those people have drastically different customs from ours. In fact, it seems that even the fundamental laws of magic differ in them, so that much of what is truth here is falsity there."

  He looked hard at Darius. "We have located a region of fairly safe Modes. But even there, the risk is as I described. Also, there seems to be imprecision in the tuning of the Chip; no person seems to go to the same other Mode that any other person has been to. Thus we can not get to know any one of them well, and it is always a serious gamble. I suggest to you that it is unwise in the extreme for you to take this gamble, because not only do you risk your own life, you risk the welfare of our society, which truly needs your ability as Cyng of Hlahtar."

  "Another can assume the post," Darius said.

  "But not one as talented as you. That is why it came to you, after the retirement of the prior Cyng of Hlahtar. You can be the best, and if we lose you, we will have only the next best, and that will hurt us all to some degree."

  He spoke truth. Darius felt guilt. But it was not enough to sway him from his purpose. "What I may gain must be worth the risk," he said.

  "Exactly what do you hope to gain?" Pwer asked sharply.

  "A woman who will not be depleted by close association with me. A woman I can love and not lose. A woman I can marry and never divorce."

  "There is no such woman."

  "Not in this reality," Darius agreed. "But elsewhere, where other fundamental rules obtain, there may be women of another nature, who can not be depleted. If I can find one of them, and bring her back here—" He broke off, alarmed. "Can I bring her back?"

  "Oh, yes. If you are in contact with her when you signal for the return, she will come with you. Your problem will be finding her—and if you do, convincing her to come with you. There are several problems in that connection."

  "This has been done before?"

  "Yes. Not by a Cyng of Hlahtar, but by others. They have brought back people or things. Some women have brought back babies or odd animals. But if you want to marry and love her, you must explain to her what this entails; you must not abduct her, for then she will hate you and be no true wife to you."

  "Well, of course I wouldn't abduct her!" Darius exclaimed. "If I were inclined to treat women in that manner, I would be better off simply marrying a chain of wives here and casting them aside!"

  "Precisely."

  "If that is the only problem, then certainly I will—"

  "No. There is worse. We have ascertained through sometimes bitter experience that not all people or things can be taken. It seems that any person who plays a significant role in his or her or its Mode—"

  "Its?"

  "Some Mode-folk are sexless, and some are mechanical."

  Darius shuddered. "Go on."

  "No person of significance can be taken. Apparently there is a certain stability; a Mode will not let go of what it needs to make it what it is. This has a peculiar effect."

  "Go on," Darius said, experiencing a chill.

  "In general, only those folk who are destined to have minimal impact on their realities can be taken. It may be that their Modes know that these folk are soon to be lost anyway, and do not try to hold them."

  "Do you mean they are about to be accidentally killed?"

  "Not necessarily. They may have some terminal malady. You could bring such a one here, but she would soon die anyway. Or possibly she merely is of little account, so will live but will have no significant impact. You might find that she has similarly little effect here."

  Darius was still struggling with another aspect of this. "You said their Modes know, and hold those they want. The Modes are conscious? The Modes are like people?"

  "We don't think so. It seems more like a stone that does not readily give up any of its substance. But if part of it has been cracked, a chip may be flaked off with less effort. So you will have to find a loose flake."

  Darius pondered this. A diseased woman? It would be better to take one who was about to be killed. But what kind would that be? A criminal? He did not want to marry that kind either. The prospects were dimming.

  "I anticipate your next question," Pwer said.

  That was good, because Darius didn't know what to ask next. "Yes."

  "How do you locate such a woman?" the man said. "The answer is that we can help you there. There are settings on the Chips. Not many, but enough. We can put you through to a reality that is livable, with human beings much like us, and where one is suitable. We can make that one female. We can not guarantee that she is not already married, but of course if she dies that will not matter. We can not guarantee her age or health or personality. But we can put you close to her. Not completely close, for our command of this alien device is imperfect, but in her Mode and in her vicinity. Then you can inspect her, and bring her back here with you if that seems appropriate. Which brings up your final question." "Yes," Darius agreed, as before. "How do you return? And the answer is that you will have a signal device, an aspect of the Chip. When you activate that, I will receive the signal, and will revert you and whatever you hold to this reality. If you do not signal within a month, I will assume you are not going to. Because you are dead or unable to signal. Without this signal we can not bring you back, because the Chip is unable to fix on you."

  So now Darius had all the information, and was not rea
ssured. He understood perfectly how three of ten could fail to return, and three or four others would not attain their desire. But at least some did succeed. That left him hope.

  "Suppose I go, and return without a woman?" he said. "Could I then go again, and perhaps that time find one?"

  Pwer stared at him. "Go again? Few have been interested in that! Each time a person goes, he has about one chance in three of not returning. If you went twice, you would double your chance of that."

  "But I would also double my chance of finding what I need," Darius pointed out.

  "Perhaps. But you could not return to the same other Mode. There are too many of them, and our way is imprecise. Some few have tried to go again to the same one, but none we know of has succeeded."

  None we know of. Because some did not return. "Could that mean that they liked it there, and stayed voluntarily?"

  Pwer shrugged. "It could. But it does seem doubtful. It seems more likely that they found a wholly new situation, and could not survive it. Those who did return the second time reported that their experience was just as difficult as the first time."

  "I want to do it," Darius said. "If I lose once, I may try again. If I lose twice, I may decide to do it the conventional way, and marry the chain of women."

  Pwer sighed. "We are a free society. Your position and your need entitle you to take this foolish risk if you choose. Return tomorrow, and I will have the Chip prepared."

  "My thanks to you," Darius said gratefully.

  DARIUS got up, for he needed to urinate. The maiden had brought a pot and indicated that he should use it for such purpose. Her method of communication in this respect had been quaint: she had made a vulgar poop noise. He was not easy about this matter, but realized that it was best to oblige her desires. Surely she had reason to keep him out of sight; his limited experience here had suggested the merit of her case. So he remained confined, and did what was necessary. He used the pot and covered it.