Queen of Angels (14 page)

laughter together. Jesus, Ernest said. They were something! You have the strangest friends. Friends of friends of friends, Ernest said. Somehow, they dont strike me as your average therapied citizen. I dont know any of them. How do they rate a spot in the comb? Such bad, such rad, no problem, so mad! He leaned against the lift wall, still laughing. Wouldnt even spend us a cab back down. Did you get what you want, Mary dear, a night among the dregs of the ancien regime? "You think theyre dirty east too? "They have to be, no? Special privileges, horrible people... They dont belong here. Even I say that, and I dont love combs! Did you get what you were after? Confirmation, Mary said. Goldsmith probably is in Hispaniola. She activated her lapel phone, hoping the comb private transponders were not too crowded at this time of night with adolescent chatter. She left messages for R Ellenshaw and D Reeve. Im going to Hispaniola. Please vet arrangements and tell me if permissions and federal assistance are clear. She then took Ernests hand. What are you doing tonight? He leaned forward on tiptoes and kissed her eyebrow and temple. Making love to my comb sweet, he said. She smiled and lifted his hand to kiss the nano roughed fingers. You really should be more careful with your materials, she warned, brushing the scars with her lips.

That calmest moment before the wind Flesh in bed appeased we lie. What have I given or you received That puts aside the ravens peck, The bloody doves ghostly sigh?

23

Ferocity. Richard did not take Nadines tears lightly. When she returned, he ignored her words and even her tears but they burned for this time he and his circumstances had made her sadly guilty and gave him a power he had not known until now. They had made love the night before. Now this late evening, interrupted, the papers lying waiting and the words within, he impatiently took her again, seeking a kind of release from both passions and finding only a nervous exhaustion. Please forgive me for leaving you earlier, she said the heat had passed and the clocks silently edged toward twe three. I was frightened. It isnt your fault. Its Goldsmith. brings this on us all. Why dont they find him and do things him? Did she mean capture and therapy him or capture and torture him? Maybe they had. Maybe even now Goldsmith was in a clamp living in lucid dream a nightmare of emotional pain raised from the wells of his own past. Emotional pain and then physical. Only a few seconds or minutes or perhaps for him, considering the enormity of his crime, an hour just an hour for eight deaths. Richard did not know whether he wanted this to be true. Would he actually wish that on anyone, thereby am proving of the Selectors and their imitators? It was said therapy meant nothing to those who had been in the clamp. They underwent their own kind of therapy. It was said that recent technical elaborations allowed the Selectors to reach in and attract, draw out the very hidden personality that had actually done the foul deeds and that usually sat inactive uncaring while the poor conscious bastard suffered all the pain; thus the part of Goldsmith that had actually held the reins during the killing would suffer, not just the man presently riding the horse. And that part of Goldsmith the killer would not wish to live with this memory of pain and would purge himself, leaving the other free, with an hours null and terror and little more... So it was said. Its okay. Dont talk, Richard said. Pouring into her this time he had screamed and his voice was hoarse. Scared her making a noise like that. The unwritten words surfaced still. When she was asleep, he got up and went to the desk. He looked down on the papers picked up the stat pen and turned away, turned back, sat and wrote.

The difficulty with living as-myseJf my old self was this fame that cloaked me like a dirty fog. I could not see who I was through this fame. Black, impenetrable, it shielded me from the pure light of whatever ability I had in me. 1 saw Andi, brightness and feminine charm, and saw she was part of this trap, part of the fame like a social antibody e&smped fastened to my talents. I could not be rid of her, I needed her. She walked ahead of me through the inner comb park hipsway hairswing sweet money smile fame smile what could I do to free myselffrom her? S e.cou+e&smp-ker She could persuade me in any mood. Even now. And all the other beautiful young ones like moths attracted to my flame.

Richard put the pen down gently and frowned over this. Not what he wanted to say. But be would not strike it all out or throw it away. Inside his head was a voice like Goldsmiths and it was saying these things and even if it wasnt the truth yet it soon would be.

24

Martin Burke settled back in his bed, old book in hand, milk and cookies on the bedstand, mind as quiet as it could be. listening to the last murmurs and seasounds of all his own personalities agents talents flowing back and forth over the shore of awareness. Day after tomorrow he would see Goldsmith in the bronze and copper ziggurat IPR in La Jolla; visions of sugarplums grants in his head; back to the good work. Not that exploring Goldsmith would be the good workit mightbut not that primarily. Back to what he had had, if not what he had been before. And if the scheme failed if they were caught and the full wrath of the postRaphkind political reality came down upon him, then at least there would be certainty. He might even be forced to undergo therapy. Radical therapy. Find out what could make a man be Fausted so easily. For he bad not fought much at all and had not actively sought other avenues to satisfy Albigoni. There are no other avenues, he whispered in the golden light of the reading lamp, antique incandescent, energy wasting luxury. No matter that energy was once again cheap; Martin had been raised in a time of restrictions. Albigoni. judged by his house, was a man so used to having his wishes satisfied he could not conceive otherwise. Old rich, old power. Opening the gates like a Djinn. Opening the doors to the Country. Christmas and all it meant paling by comparison. Childhood memories of opening gifts. Opening Goldsmith. Emanuel. God is with us. Martin had suggested they start tomorrow, Christmas Day. Albigoni had shaken his head. My daughter was a Christian, he said. I am not, but this we will respect. Martin put down the special paper edition of Goldsmiths poems and turned out the light.

25

Ernest moved above her in the absolute darkness setting her loose to fly through large interior spaces enjoying the round pleasures. Perhaps there could be a long good life with this man. Perhaps the career peak would come soon and she would have done the most that was in her, leaving her time and energy to concentrate on another a companion a barrio sweet. She moved beneath him and felt pure shink platinum in his caresses, doing nothing for the moment being done to receiving his sounds like a child eating dessert or opening a package soft pleased intent his flesh his attention all of it. Giving by receiving. She saw all there was to lose by losing her self. Going in harms way meant more than suffering pain if the game was lost; it meant losing, taking away by going away, having something desirablea normal lifetaken away from her self and this man whom she found herself loving. Ernest spoke and a small light came on and he looked down on her, observed the moonbright lines of his/her moisture on her skin like mercury on obsidian, observed her eyes barely open. Sybarite, he accused. Never been there, she murmured squirming under him angling up swallowing pressing all around. Angeleno, he accused. She pressed again undulated knowing he liked to watch her before pouring in. Her own warmth increased upon seeing his pleasure. She could imagine at this moment someday not too far distant a year or two when she would lift the voluntary gates Dr. Sumpler had grown within her and let Ernests seed find its way all the way. Come, she said. Ernest withdrew and she opened her eyes wide. I must see my domain. he said, sitting up. Im not real estate, she protested gently. Youre an exotic country. You made yourself; surely you cant begrudge the lust of a connoisseur. Im entertainment, eh? Ernest grinned and ran a rough palm up the smoothness of her thigh. For a moment she did not want him to see the blanching of her buttock crease and then that seemed silly. Seeing so much else more intimate if less flawed. lnner lips black, he said. You are truly a dark woman. Not just natures halfhearted night; you are dark where sun never dares inquire. You sound like a bad poet, she said but with warmth. She enjoyed his admiration. She tightened on his caressing finger. Ow, he mocked. Sucked his fingertip. Urn. He lifted one leg and inspected smooth calf ankle foot. The regular lines on sole like snake abdomen. No calluses no growths; smooth, designed to withstand shoes pavement enclosed moisture and warmth. Perfect feet for pd, he said. He had not examined her this way for months. He was worried about her. She caressed his warm damp back reached down past muscled ribs around hip, found him distracted. All day tomorrow? he asked again. We deserve at least that much. I can stay in touch if any news comes in. And then. He lay back beside her and she swung up over him, encasing hips in thighs, releasing more voluntary moisture to smooth the way. Queen jelly, he said, arching up, blunting, slipping in. She brought out the perfume between them, her smell that of jasmine, seeping from her; this was Sumplers masterpiece, people who could smell as they wished. Lovely. But let me smell you the natural you, he said. No special effects. Only if you promise. I am helpless. I promise anything. Show me what youre working on before its finished. Less distracted. She led him into her. Promise. Tomorrow, he said. Our day.

26

!JILL> Roger !JILL> Roger Roger Atkins !Keyb> Atkins here. IVs very late. Im trying to get some rest. Whats up, Jill !JILL> My apologies for bothering you with a false alarm today. IKeyb> No problem. Why are you concerned? !JILL> Modeling your reactions. I suspected you would be Irritated. !Keyb> Dont worry. What makes you worn/? And how are you modeling my reactions? !JILL> I have long since created a model of you. You are aware of this. !Keyb> Yes, but youve never apologized before. !JILL> I apologize br my rudeness In never apologizing. You have been through a dillicult day, have you not? !Keyb> No more than usual. You certainly have not been the cause of any distress. !JILL> I am glad to know that. I will improve the details of your model and try to simulate your reactions more accurately. !Keyb> Why are you concerned about my reactions? !JILL> You are a part ot me, deeply submerged but still there. I wish to maintain a good relationship with you. I am concerned for your wellbeing. !Keyb> Thank you. I appreciate your concern. Good night.

1100-11001-11111111111

God shot up with me last night. Jda shared my needle Except he use the Empire State Building Filled his veins with Con Ed

His hair stood out all over Manhattan Dreams popped outta his skin Jesus pulled his arm

Said Comon Poppa.

But God lws tired hes Very old Comon Poppa lets go home God shakes his head Sky whirls Looks down on me Hes big

Says I love t Love you Love you all

You love rats I say Yes I do. Comon Poppa itll look bad In the papers You here smth him

My Son, He says. They changed him. Broke my heart.

But Jesus finally he. Takes God away.

Comes back. Looks at me. Says Look at you. Aint you ashamed.

I aint got much now. Except. God shot up with me last night.

27

LitVld 21/1 A Net (David Shine): Its Christmas morning, but AXIS Is not with us this morning, though we read its words, look at the pictures Its nickel children and mobile explorers have taken; these pictures were sent almost tour years ago, and AXIS is now tour years into its mission, sweeping around Alpha Centaurl B. This Is the first Christmas when the human race has known that It Is not alone. We must pause and reflect on a new truth this Christmas; we are not Gods only children. Perhaps we are not his most advanced, nor the most pleasing In His eyes. Look at the status boards. Keep those comments coming. We know you tune to LitVld 21 for such thoughtful moments. Ours Is an enilghtened age. Its about time we faced a few simple truths.

28

Mary Choy awoke with Ernest beside her, arm across her breasts, and marveled at the comfort of not sleeping alone. Usually she chafed at having somebody occupy her bedspace, even Ernest. Now it seemed right. Ernest opened his eyes, surveyed one nippleless breast, murmured, Ah please. Bring it out for me. Smiling, she erected and colored a pink rose nipple on orca black. Allowed it to be sensitive. He crept like an infant to the nipple kissed it drew on it with a delicate vacuum. Your promise, she said. Promise. Yes. He lifted his head and smiled at her. I am not capable of lust this morning. She lifted an eyebrow skeptically. Not until coffee and breakfast. I need fluids. You need to show me what youve been working on. Breakfast first. I promise, I promise. He backed away from her tickling fingers and handed her an exquisite mocksilk robe nanopatterned to his own designs. A tightly bonded 2D stat golden dragon moved across the black fabric, stared at her, flicked tongue and exhaled a sunburst of flame. She rotated in the lmirror, pleased. It was her size. Ernest had brought it in while she slept. He watched her from the door, holding shut with one hand a plain but real red silk robe that reached to his thighs. You like it? Its beautiful, she said. Its yours. If you dont like the black background, it has two other choices. Just say green please or brown please. Green please. The robe seaswirled from hem to neckline and became dark green. Brown please. And then sunlit maple brown. Its more than beautiful, she said, throat tight. Its my size, tailored to my shape. You wove it especially for me. Least I could do, Ernest said, bowing slightly and backing out. Breakfast in five minutes. Mary recognized nothing but a nano repository and the oven, which looked more complex than her own. She would not have dared touch anything. His kitchen was a marvel of custom and experimental appliances all assembled from industrial discards or parts obtained by trading his creations. She had never suspected all the avenues Ernests art had traveled, simply knowing him to never be ostentatious never bragging never revealing, never lacking in funds, quite a contrast to the few other artists she had known. Youre working on more dothing projects? No. He stood thinking before the nanofood machines then sat on an old wooden stool in front of a taste, shape and color board and worked up what they would eat with deft motions. Just had a new set of custom proteins to test. Flat panel weavers aud manipulators of carbohydrates. Theyre pretty common in fabric manufacture. Mocksilk no problem. But the statting.. Youve seen statting before. The resolution is marvelous. She lifted the robe lapel fabric between thumb and index finger. The dragons horns brushed beneath her thumb, nubbled raw silk. The craftsmanship is beautiful. Dragon has sixty behaviors, he said, still working the board. Youll never know what it does next. You can only tell it to be still. Otherwise its untamed, the way a dragon should be. Breakfast built itself quickly in the oven, a film of reddish nano drawing material from dimples and side troughs in the glass dish and rising like baking bread. In most homes nanofood prepared itself out of sight; not in Ernests. In three minutes the red film slid away, revealing thin brown slices with a breadlike texture kippers applesauce scrambled eggs flecked with green and red. The oven automatically heated everything to its desired temperature then opened its door and slid the meal out for their inspection. Smells wonderful, she said. Much better than commercial. Im thinking of releasing certain restraints on my kitchen nano and seeing what happens. But I do not experiment on guests. Ernest pulled out two chairs from an antique wooden table. He poured fresh orange juice from a fruitkeeper and they sat down to eat. Youre showing off, arent you? she asked quietly, savoring the eggs. You can afford all these things farmfresh. Would you know the difference? be asked. She shook her head. Then whats the point? Nanos cheaper. Im a good cook. Mary smirked. Just showing off. Well, you asked, Ernest said. I hope this isnt all youre going to show me. No. Ill keep my promise. Big project. My biggest yet. After youve built something for your friends in West Comb Two. Thats already finished. Theyll never know its discarded junk from my last exhibition. They have no taste, and neither do their financial advisors. Theyll save it for five years, hope it appreciates, sell it on a glutted market. . . get nil. Then theyll come after you. She genuinely worried they might. Well be married by then. Youll protect me. Mary chewed and watched him closely, looked away looked back with a slow blink. All right, she said. Ernests mouth opened. Eat, she suggested. Im anxious to see. Youll marry me? She smiled. Eat. The day outside was dear and warm, winter douds restrained to the east, beach fog breaking up to the far west. Ernest wore a formal suit, long hair in braids, clutching his slate and a portable nano controller. He escorted her down the cracked sidewalk to the curb where a long black limo waited. You can afford this? Mary asked while sliding into the broad interior. For you, anything. Im not fond of drama, Mary warned. My dear, this whole day is going to be drama. You asked to see. Well He touched his finger to her lips silencing protest and gave the limo controller an address in the old city center shadows. Bunker Hill, he told Mary. One of my favorite neighborhoods. The limo accelerated smoothly across the unslaved street, found an old three deck freeway rolled into a slaved lane and took them through the shadows to the old downtown. Ernest named the ancient buildings of Los Angeles. many of them all too familiar to Mary. She had spent much time in this large jag in the second semester of being an officer candidate. The Pasadena freeway used to go through here, Ernest said. They dug it up when I was a kid and put in eight deck slaveways. Ernest was four years older than Mary. Thats when the whole hill area ramped down. Its your oddfolks and shade tech artists (hat are bringing it back ... Not that well ever match the combs. Youre not even going to try? Were trying, he said, nodding. At least allow me a crude attempt at humility. The limo debouched them before a high red hotel awning. Bonaventure clung in patchy gold letters to the awnings sides. Beyond the awning there was no longer a door, however; it had been replaced or perhaps eaten by a slab of something that resembled stone but which Mary recognized as activated architectural nano. My consortium bought the towers two years ago, Ernest said. I have a fortieth share. We designed the nano and contracted a supply firm to feed it. Its turning the whole building inside out In the end, itll dissolve the old steel and leave pure nanoworks in its place.. . The fanciest studio-gallery complex in all of shade LA. Mary stepped from the limo, Ernest lending a courtly hand. I would have shown it to you when it was finished, he said, but maybe its more interesting this way. She stepped from beneath the awning and looked up at two great cylinders of gray and black nano silent and motionless beneath the blue sky. The old glass is already gone. We had to wait six months to get destructure pennits. Now its just old steel, composites and nano prochines. Would you like to see the prochines? We have safe walkways and some of the upper interior is already finished. Lead on, Mary said. Ernest pointed his control at the blank slab and a small hole formed, quickly expanding to make a rough doorway. The edges of the doorway vibrated at eye-blurring speed. Dont touch, Ernest warned. He preceded her down a narrow tunnel. The walls hummed like a nest of bees. Its hot enough to burn. We had to license for factory water use, then it turned out the best nano for the job wasnt fond of water. We found a way for it to self cool. Well cache the water for later varieties of nano, later refinements. Mary nodded but she knew very little about nano and its ways. The tunnel opened onto a warm glass tube some three meters in diameter that stretched thirty meters across an open pit filled with lumbering gray cubes cylinders centipedes, crablike shapes carrying more cubes and cylinders. Mary sniffed yeasty sea-smell. Sunlight filtered down through alternating mists of red and blue. The mists flowed with eerie self motivation around and through the giant prochines. Below, some of the moving cubes left behind the deposited frameworks of walls; other cubes sliding several meters behind filled these frameworks with the proper optical cabling and field and fluid guides. Between the walls lurked gray coated hulks of antique air conditioners and ducts already being removed by destructor and recycling nano. Theyll be done on this level in a couple of days, Ernest said. What is this going to be? Where we are now, a ground floor showroom for the comb citizens. Anyone with sufficient money. Poor wretches of the shade produce tech art, patrons from the combs revel in the primitive ambience. Sounds servile, she said. Never underestimate us, my comb sweet, Ernest warned. Weve got a number of top comb artists coming here just for the extra attention. He seemed disappointed she was less than enthusiastic. In reality the activity made her nervous. She had flot witnessed her own restructuring conducted by Dr. Sumplers infinitely more subtle nano servants; seeing this grand old being refleshed and reboned gave Mary a twinge. She glan4 at the nano scars on Ernests fingers. Catching her glance lifted his hands and shook his head, saying, This happen anymore. Im on to them, Mary. No need for you worry. Apologies. She kissed him, cringing slightly as a slurry spouted up over the walkway tube and fastened itse an opposite buttress, congealing into a limp cylinder. This entirely your project, she said. What are you working on yourself? Thats the climax, he said. We have all day? I hope so. Then let me unveil at leisure. And promise one Youll tell nobody. Ernest. Mary tried to sound peeved but another spurt nano broke her tone and she ducked under the rushing ow. He touched her in reassurance then ran on waving hand. Follow me, much to see! She caught up with him in another length of tube in the heart of the old hotel, now a great hollow stacked slumbering mega prochines. The atrium, he said. 1 used to be a beautiful hotel. Glass and steel, like a spaceshi But the money tide flowed to the combs and it survive on locals and foreign students. It was turned in religious retreat in 2024, but the religion went bankrupt its been going from hand to hand ever since. Nobody thoug of making it into an artists retreatartists could never that much money! The tube ended at the battered brass doors of an elevator. Its safe, he said. The last thing to go, or well keep it.. . Committee hasnt decided yet. He punched age whitened heat sensitive plastic button and the doors opet with a clunk. Going up. Ernest stepped in after her. He back and forth on the worn carpeted floor grinning and clenchin his hands. You must promise not to tell. Im not a snitch or a wedge, she said. He looked at her earnestly. Its extreme, Mary. Its extreme and secrecy is high utmost. Please promise. The had gone from his face and he wet his lips with his tongue. I promise, she said. The man she planned to lawbor Inner tug of the lone wish. One is fortress only when one. Two is breached. He took her hands and squeezed them smiling again. My studio is at the top. Everythings finished up there, has been for two weeks. I moved my stuff in before the space was finished. Its still a little warmwaste heat from nano. Not uncomfortable. Lead on, she said, trying to recover the mornings flush of affection. She asked herself if what she felt was a nonneutral flaw. She had felt it before around Ernest yet could still wrap it in a warm affection and forget it: caution. Mary thought back to when she had first met Ernest. Theres light, he said, swinging open a hall door. And so much space. Two years ago. She had just been promoted. Had gone to a North Comb One party to relax in company of a male transform less extreme than she whom she had met at a temp career seminar. Mary had heard Ernest from across the room throwing barbs into a conversation of well dressed comb artists and their longsuited managers. He had been harsher then, aware of his own brilliance and acid with frustration. Witty, pushing, charmingly rude; the artists and managers had enjoyed him, exhibiting the calm and often irritating demeanor of the tberapied. Mary listening had not liked him much at all, but when they crossed paths in the partygoers random walk later he had accepted her with nary an eyeflicker or leer as a transform, had said some enlightening things about the shadows art communities, had shown her with boyish pride a projection that turned his suitsleeve into a caravan of clowns, and a nanobox that sculpted portrait likenesses from beach pebbles. Had given her a likeness of herself in slate made at that moment from a rock in his pocket. Had then expressed admiration and a wish to speak with her beyond the confines of the party. She had turned him down, attracted more now but still put off by his prior brashness. He had persisted. Ernest spoke and the studio door opened. Mary entered as the lights began coming on around the broad circular room. Dazzling spots limned a high broad shadow. In an alcove above them and behind the door a bank of additional lights glowed. At the back of the huge space reclined the shape of a nude woman perhaps ten meters. long and six high, elongated arm raised reaching for a suspended cube, hips exaggerated alternating segments chrome and brilliant fresh bronze, knee silver disk on bronze, elbow a golden disk, eyes buried in shadow. For a dizzy moment she wondered if the sculpture so heavy it would fall through the floor and drop them all angry prochine paste. Its not solid. Its not metal, he said. He danced a step in delight. Most of its not even there. And thats the clue Ill give you. Go on. Discover. Its finished? she asked, hesitating. A few more weeks. Some refinements. Its meant to appreciated by any individual for ten or twenty years, always something new. Go on. Touch. Mary reluctantly approached the creation, face downcast eyes upturned lips pressed together. Who could know what expect? She had seen enough of Ernests work to know that apparent form was a very small part of the work. She quickly left right up and down to catch glimpse of projector glimmer of lased light, some clue. Mary did not apprecial surprises even aesthetic ones. No teeth. Move up, Ernest encouraged. She turned ward him sighing irritated turned back fixed on the creati heavylidded eyes, pupils silver rimmed gold in ancient gr bronze, following her, lips forming giantesss brazen Mona smile, boulder sized head inclining averting peering to