Virtual Mode

by Piers Anthony

  DUSK came, and then darkness. Prima came, carrying not only his pack with its food, but a bottle of water. She said something to the dragon, and the barred gate swung open. She stepped inside, and the gate closed. How it worked Darius couldn't fathom, except that it was under the control of the dragon. If magic didn't work here, there must be some other type of force. The dragons must have used it to establish dominance in their Mode, just as humans had used magic to achieve power in his own Mode.

  "Now you must eat and drink," she told him, making broad gestures of food-to-mouth so that the dragon could see that she was doing her job. "And after that, if I am to remain here with you, I must make obvious attempts to seduce you, so that the dragon will know that we are potentially breedable. I realize that this will be distasteful to you because I am too old and unattractive, but our lives are at stake, so I ask you to behave in a manner the dragon will find reasonable."

  "Ung," he said, taking bread from her. He certainly was hungry!

  "As I interpret it, all you need to do to escape this Mode is to step into the next, which is just beyond this cage. If I am in direct contact with you at that time, I should be able to accompany you. This is because it is my home Mode too;

  were it not, I would be unable to join you regardless of our contact. We shall have to maintain contact continuously thereafter, because I fear I will slip away when we lose it, and be lost in infinity."

  "Ung," he said around his mouthful. He saw how this could get complicated, but if the alternative was to be trapped here, it was necessary.

  "I believe that once I emerge at the anchor site, I will be secure," she continued. "So I will ask you to conduct me there. I realize that this will delay whatever mission you are on, but perhaps I can provide you with information that will facilitate your mission, and in this manner make up for it. I think, for example, I can enable you to avoid similar capture in the future."

  He looked to her right, indicating his interest. It had become obvious that he had entered the Virtual Mode woefully unprepared.

  "Now, how do you propose to use your weapon?" she inquired. "I confess to being baffled how those two toothpicks can hurt anything."

  "They make fire," he murmured. "I will bum the straw, and burn through the wooden bars. It will also distract the dragons."

  "Fire!" she repeated, surprised. "But a pyro spell won't work here."

  "This is not magic." He spoke into his bread, so that the dragon could not see him or hear him. He hoped. "All I'm concerned about is how long it will take to bum through the bars. If the fire is too big, I'll be burned too; if too small, the dragons will put it out too soon."

  "Correct. Here is a better way: start the fire and feign sleep. I will scream to be released. When the gate opens, you must launch yourself out, and sweep me with you across the boundary."

  Darius was impressed. That did seem to be a better way to do it. Risky, of course, but probably less so than his imperfect notion. "Then let's do it," he murmured. "Say when."

  "Finish eating. Eliminate. Settle down to sleep. I will join you, but you will not yet be responsive. I will tell you when to make the fire."

  He glanced significantly to her right. Then he proceeded to stuff himself, for if their escape was effective, it might be some time before they had another chance to eat. She ate some with him, evidently trying to spark his interest in her.

  His experience with Colene assisted him with the next stage. He did have to defecate. Prima turned her back, and he did it on the pot. The dragon seemed to be snoozing, but he knew better than to trust that.

  He formed a bed of straw and lay down on it. Prima brought some more straw and joined him. Now he smelled her body odor over that of the environment. She must not have washed in years! But probably that was not her fault; the captors seemed to have little concern for the hygiene of their captives.

  She made as if to take off his clothing, and he demurred with a curt gesture even the dragon could not mistake. Then she removed her worn shirt, showing her haltered bosom. It was a good one, considering her age. She took his hand and brought it to her halter, and he drew his hand back, but with less force than before. Thus the dragon could see that she was making some progress.

  However, he was evidently tired, and dropped into his feigned sleep without being seduced. Prima dug in his pack and brought out his blanket-pac, unfolding it and spreading it over him. He had feared that its magic would be inoperative here, so that its thinness would offer no protection against the cooling night, but it remained effective. Then she rested quietly beside him, seeming a bit frustrated but patient.

  He had almost fallen asleep for real when she murmured, "Now."

  He had the two matches in his hand. He brought one slowly out, his arm motion screened by his body and hers, and struck it against the hard wood under the straw. First it sputtered, then it caught. He moved it under more straw, setting fire to it. He nudged the straw away from him so that he would not be burned. He was in luck; there was a slight breeze, and it not only fanned the nascent flame; it moved it away from him.

  Prima waited until the fire was well established. Then she screamed. It was a truly piercing sound; it was all he could do to maintain his pretense of sleep. Would the dragon believe that the scream hadn't jolted him awake?

  Prima ran for the other end, shouting in what seemed to be the dragon language and pointing back at the fire. The dragon's head snapped up, the big eyes blinked, and the gate swung open to let her out.

  Darius scrambled up and caught the strap of his pack as he launched himself after her. The gate began to swing closed, but Prima wasn't clear of it, and it couldn't complete the motion. Then he came through, sweeping his free arm around her waist, and rammed onto the side of the cage.

  The dragon had been caught by surprise, and had made the mistake they had hoped for, but now its hunter reflexes came into play. It leaped forward, intercepting the two of them and shoving them back and down with its nose. But Darius clambered over its nose, lifting Prima with him, and they tumbled to the other side of the dragon. The dragon turned to snap at them, its jaws opening—and they rolled into the next Mode. It looked the same as the other, but there was no fire and no dragon. Only the light of the moon and stars. It was as if the fire and dragon had ceased to exist. Actually they had never existed, in this Mode.

  "Don't let go of me!" Prima gasped.

  He had been about to. Instead he tightened his grip around her waist. "Are you sure we have to maintain contact if we're not actually crossing Modes?"

  "No, but it's a strong likelihood. I've been trapped for twenty years; I don't want to be trapped for the next twenty."

  "But I have pulled you into my Virtual Mode," he argued. "You should stay on it now."

  "We must talk," she said. "Until then, do not let go of me. Let's get away from here; there are surely other dragons, because this is an adjacent Mode, almost identical to the one we left."

  Sure enough, he saw the outline of a dragon approaching. It looked just like the one they had escaped, but it was beyond several cages. They needed to get away from this entire set of Modes.

  Arms around one another's waist, like lovers, they walked into the next Mode. The dragon vanished. They continued to walk, until the cages shrank and finally disappeared. The landscape looked the same, in the dim moonlight, but there was now no sign of artificial structures.

  "We had better tie ourselves together," he said as they paused. "Otherwise we could lose contact by accident, if we are surprised." He set down the pack, wondering how to put it on without letting go of her.

  "There's no cord in your pack, and I have none," she said.

  "Maybe I can tear off a sleeve of my shirt, and use that," he suggested. Why hadn't he thought to carry a good length of cord? Its advantage was obvious.

  "You may need that to protect your arm from the sun." She considered a moment. "I have something. Put your arms around my waist."

  He did so. She turned within his grasp, so
that she faced away from him. Then she leaned forward, reached behind her, up inside her shirt, and untied her halter. The front of it, loosened, dropped down against his hands. She reached inside the front and hauled it out, leaving him with her breasts on his hands. He was too startled to react. This woman was of his Mode?

  They linked arms, his left to her right, hands clasping forearms, the halter bound around the wrists in the middle. It wasn't ideal, and if they fell they could wrench their arms, but they were unlikely to let go by accident.

  "As I recall, it requires more than a day to walk to your anchor, and this is night," she said. "It will be better to find a secure place to sleep."

  "That may be a problem. I have lost my sword, and have only one match left. A high place may be subject to predator birds, and a low place to predator reptiles. I saw each kind during my journey out."

  "Yes. We had better make weapons. I would also like to bathe."

  That was a relief! Her odor had been bad in the cage; now it was overwhelming. The folk of his Mode were normally scrupulous about cleanliness; he was glad to learn that she remained true to form.

  "I passed a mountain lake not far back."

  "Were there trees nearby?"

  "Yes. Not any variety I know."

  "Let's go there first. Then perhaps we can hide in a tree, after we talk."

  She seemed to have a better notion how to proceed than he did, so he agreed. He realized that this was good experience; what he was learning now should help him rescue Colene.

  They moved on to the lake, proceeding carefully and quietly in the darkness. When they reached it they stripped, but remained linked. More correctly, they remained linked and tried to strip. Their shirts could not pass their linked arms. So they walked into the chill water and washed in tandem, he standing in front with his left arm reaching back, she with her right arm reaching forward. She held his shirt and other clothing while he washed. Then he held the bundle of their clothing while she stepped forward and washed. He felt distinctly awkward putting his hands on her shirt, halter, skirt, and diaper, but it was necessary. This reminded him that Colene had not used diapers; she had had almost sheer panties that barely sufficed for concealment. But she normally wore trousers, so that her undergarment could never be seen by accident. The purpose of diapers, of course, was to cushion the secret region from gaze and touch, making it unfeasibie to see the shape of it. Now he was seeing everything, in a manner normally reserved only for one about to undertake sexual contact. But this was a very special situation.

  Unable to do much else, he stared mostly into darkness while she washed. After she got the caked grime loose, she rinsed her hair, and though it remained tangled, it assumed better color. It was not proper of him, but linked as he was to her, it was difficult for him not to glimpse her body in the moonlight. He saw that she was lean rather than plump, but her posterior was well rounded and her breasts were of adequate mass. Kublai had said she was not a pretty woman—no, he had said she was not remarkable in appearance or personality, which wasn't quite the same—and that was true. But she had evidently had the stamina to survive twenty years of captivity and retain her ability to speak her native language, and to act promptly to escape when the opportunity presented itself. That spoke well for her personality, and in the appropriate apparel her body would be attractive enough. Perhaps he had been comparing her to a young beauty, such as Colene, which was unfair.

  In moments they were both shivering. They came out and shook themselves. Their clothing was dry, but they wanted to keep it that way. "We must hug for warmth until we dry," she said.

  He was constrained to agree. They embraced face to face, their linked arms somewhat awkwardly to the side. He was too cold to be sexually stimulated; he was just glad for her warmth.

  When they were dry enough, they put their dirty clothes back on. They scrounged for some sticks, but not for a fire; these were makeshift weapons. Then they sought a suitable tree with branches both big enough and high enough to enable them to settle comfortably above the ground. That should protect them from nocturnal ground animals, and the foliage might shield them from great birds.

  It was awkward climbing with their arms linked, and awkward getting comfortably settled. Finally they sat facing each other, with their backs braced against the large forking branches of the tree, his feet wedged against the knots to the side of the opposite branch, her legs lifted and spread so that her knees embraced his waist while she sat partly on his thighs. His inadequate blanket covered their shoulders.

  "I could wish that I were younger," she murmured, "for this position would surely drive you mad."

  He remembered how Colene's nai'vete about the spread of her clothed legs had nearly done so. "You are not old enough to avoid that risk. Fortunately it is too dark to see."

  "I thank you for that courtesy. However, you have seen my body. Please answer with candor: do I retain sexual appeal?"

  "Yes, but—"

  "I mean, allowing for my age, of course."

  "That was not the nature of my qualification. I am a man of honor."

  "I thank you again, Darius. You are very much a man of my culture."

  He tried to tilt his head back, so as to rest it against the branch behind him, but that was awkward. "Please do not misunderstand. I think I must put my head forward, on your shoulder, to sleep."

  "Understood. We shall embrace as necessary to be comfortable." She put her head on his left shoulder, and he put his on her left shoulder. They linked their free arms to complete the solidity of the position. Thus braced, it would be possible to sleep safely, and their closeness helped shield them from the cold. It was far from ideal, in several respects, but feasible.

  "We shall sleep soon, but now we must talk," Prima said, as if they had not been doing so all along. "You have been most patient and accommodating. Please, if you will, tell me of your mission here. You surely have most pressing reason to risk the Modes."

  "I made a spot trip to a far Mode, searching for a woman I could both love and marry," he said. "I am the current Cyng of Hlahtar. I think you know the problem."

  "Indeed I do! I think you know mine too."

  "Yes. Kublai wanted most sincerely to learn of your fate. He agreed to take my place if I would search for you as I went."

  She was silent for a moment. Then she asked: "What is Kublai's present feeling for me?"

  "I think it is not love. He had had to marry many times, and discard all his wives, until he retired. Now he has married for love, at last. But he loved you once, and remains sorry it could not be worked out. I think he holds his emotion in abeyance, expecting either to learn nothing of you, or of your death. Now of course, while he takes my place, he has had to divorce his love-wife and make her his love-mistress. She is not pleased with that."

  "I know the feeling."

  "Yes, of course." Not only had she not been able to marry for love, she had not been able to assume the post for which she was plainly qualified.

  "If I return, would he marry me?"

  "But the Cyngs of Hlahtar don't marry for love!"

  She merely lifted her head and looked at him in the darkness.

  Embarrassed, hegave her the answer. "Yes, I believe he would. Your power would make no other wife necessary. But I understood that this was not a role you sought."

  "It was not. But I had time to think, in twenty years, and I realized that such a marriage was a better use for me than what I had with the dragons."

  "What did they make you do?"

  "Very little. They were saving me for the chance arrival of another of my kind. Then I was either to discover his secret of Model travel, or to breed with him."

  "But there is no secret!" he protested. "The Chip must be set from the anchor point."

  "So I tried to tell them. They were not sure they could believe me. So I helped feed the captives, until their Modes expired and they could be freed."

  "Freed?"

  "There is no sport in hunting a caged
creature. But one that has fled the cages and gone out into the wilds can be a pleasant challenge. I was smart enough never to do that, so I survived."

  "I am glad you did. I think I would not have escaped without your help."

  "I did it for myself as much as for you. But now we must ascertain where we stand."

  "I thought we had done that."

  "No. What do you suppose the chances of your encountering me were?"

  "Obviously good enough!"

  She shook her head. Her hair moved against his own. "That is not the case. There are an infinite number of Modes. How did we meet in one?"

  "I was crossing Modes, until I was trapped in the same way you were. Thus there was no chance involved."

  "Not so. Infinity is broader than that. There are not only an infinite number of types of Modes, there are an infinite number of each type. An infinite number of Cyngs setting out in search of love. An infinite number of dragons trapping travelers. How is it that you encountered me, when there are an infinite number of variations of you and an infinite number of variations of me?"

  That had not occurred to him. "Perhaps it was a fortunate chance."

  "I think not."

  "What are you saying?"

  "I am saying that we did not meet."

  He lifted his head, startled. "This is humor?"

  "No. I shall explain. We are from different Modes."

  "But we speak the same language! We have the same conventions! And I know of you, and you know of Kublai! Our Modes match!"

  "No. Our Modes are very similar, but they surely do not match. That is why I must remain bound to you until I reach your anchor. Were I identical, I would not need such contact; once you drew me onto your Virtual Mode, I would remain on it, being of the substance of your universe. Were I too far removed, I would not be able to cross with you at all. But I am in between: close enough to cross with your help."

  "But perhaps you are identical," he said.

  "No. When I came close to you, and touched you, I did not step onto your Virtual Mode, though I could feel its ambience. I was one of the infinite number of near misses. So you see, there is no great coincidence in our meeting. There are infinitely more mismatches than perfect matches."