The Transmigration of Souls (39 page)

His smile had just the faint hint of a shadow behind it. “Then...” a gesture at the empty blue sky, “I’ve got all eternity in which to search for her.” He said, “You and the others are welcome to come with us.”

Board the boats, go rowing on down the Infinite River. Image of old Professor Ling, young Professor Ling now, going among the Pilgrims. Asking them damnfool questions about Burton and Odysseus and the Fabulous Riverboat...

Rahman said, “Have you talked to Sergeant Kincaid?”

A slow nod, a distant frown. “Smoking Mirror thinks she should go to High America, of course. That’s where they’ve all been going, for the past hundred years or so. All the Americans go there.”

“All of them?”

He shrugged. “All of the Baptists died. Died and came here. Made the Pilgrimage. Sailed on down the River...”

Rahman said, “Smoking Mirror told her the Americans have followed the River to its end. They say there is no Heaven.”

Alireza, sullen now: “Smoking Mirror is a Godless Heathen, a blood-sacrificing Mayan Prince. He and his ilk made the Venus-Tlaloc Wars that destroyed their culture, a culture that could have withstood the European onslaught...”

And yet, Rahman thought, he led you here. Set your feet on the pathway to Heaven.

Alireza said, “What if the Americans are lying?”

She said, “What if? Then I’m no worse off than you—I have all eternity in which to keep on searching.”

o0o

Kincaid stood by the banks of the River Iss, stood by while familiar faces boarded one of the big, flat-bottomed rowboats, naked people boarding boats held steady by loinclothed attendants, facing a little brown woman and a little blond man.

“You’re
sure
this is what you want? Both of you.”

Tarantellula, Kincaid couldn’t get used to calling her
Penny
, smiled softly, “I never believed in Heaven before. No one in America believes in Heaven. No even the people who lie and say they do...”

Kincaid far away, cast back into the depths of her memory, of that time, her childhood, not long after the turn of the millennium. TV preachers still there, still telling us the Moment was upon us, the Rapture sure to come, but... some, already, talking about the Second Disappointment. God will come, you’ll see. Just not now.

By the time we went back to the Moon, fifteen years later, it was a hard, cold, rational America that thought, just maybe, it could find a different sort of Heaven on the other side of the sky.

The little brown woman said, “After all this. After going through... what we went through... The dead live again here.” A glance at Zeq, a wistful look. “It’d be nice if Corky was out here somewhere. Muldoon... if everyone I ever knew, who went and died a real death, could be...”

Another kind of wistful look. Back on Earth, in America, real deaths are few and far between. You’re friends aren’t coming here, little brown Penny. Unless, of course, the Jug has come and taken the Earth away.

“You could come with us to High America.”

Brucie said, “It sounds like... a pale imitation. Leftovers of home. We don’t need America anymore. Not since we’ve found each other. This...” a gesture round, at the World Without End. Then he shrugged and smiled. “Maybe Heaven
is
waiting.”

“And if it isn’t?”

“Maybe it doesn’t matter.” Reaching out now, gently taking Penny’s hand. The two of them smiling absurdly.

Like, Kincaid thought, two young virgins who’ve just discovered sex. She said, “You could come with us and see. If it’s not to your liking, you can come back to the river and...”

Penny said, “Better we go now. With friends.”

Friends. Beyond them, not far from the boat, Zeq and Alireza stood with Rahman and Inbar, Inbar holding tight to Aarae the no-longer pixiegirl. A pretty little thing. Prettier than the fat pig deserves. Zeq and Alireza talking to them earnestly. Seductively. Rahman won’t go. See her shaking her head decisively. She already told me she has no interest in this Heaven of theirs.

Ling Erhshan standing by the riverbank, looking out at it, wistful. Wanting to go down there river? Maybe not. Something said about how, in truth, the River Iss had been a lie. Shaking hands now with Rhino Jensen and little red tingy-ting antwife. Little bits of fiction, together again, ready for the river. Which, of course, might explain Bruce and his shiny new Penny as well. Ready for the river.

Jensen gone then. Passiphaë Laing? Sitting by herself, naked, on a stone not so far away. Not looking at Jensen and antwife or much of anything else. Sullen. Angry. Betrayed.

Beyond her, Lord Genda Hiroshige, looking so small and weak without his uniform, holding hands with strapping, strong, robot Amaterasu. Robot. Disbelief, the impossibility of what had happened. Amaterasu trying to open herself up, trying and failing, stunned Genda listening at her chest.

A smirk of amusement, remembering the robot girl’s own astonished discomfort. Something is wrong with me... a malfunction... then all of them laughing as the once-upon-a-time robot had to squat and urinate in the dust. The odd look in Genda’s eyes, seeing that. I made it so she could, but...

This is real. What will it do to them, having her be... a woman, not a machine, bound in his service? Is she different inside? Not physically, though she must be changed there too, no woman born ever quite like Amaterasu, so deliberately made for men. But... what are a robot’s
thoughts
like? Is she still herself? Genda and Amaterasu with their arms around each other. Waiting. Waiting to go on.

And Knight-Errant Amanda Grey. And her Squire Edgar. The two of them cool to each other, recent events not forgotten. Still... So we continue, willy-nilly, toward a destination unknown. Kincaid sighed and said, “In eternity, I’ll probably see you again.”

Brucie laughed softly, reached out to shake her hand, and said, “It’s a deal, Sergeant-Major.”

o0o

Minutes passing swiftly now, like the water flowing sluggishly past them in the nearby River. Odd how it gives us a sense of passing time, thought the unchanging sky above us, empty of sun, steadfastly refuses to give up any clues. Ling Erhshan’s scientist mind awoke, very briefly, and asked, So. Where is the
light
coming from then?

He reached out and took Brucie’s hand, gripping small, warm fingers in his own small, warm hand. “I’ll miss you, you know? You were the only one who... understood.” Understood about all the old things.

Brucie smiled. “Everyone here understands, Professor. They’ve awakened, every one of them, into an impossible landscape of dreams.”

“But maybe not familiar dreams.” It was the familiarity that mattered. The familiarity of shared dreams.

Brucie shrugged. “Maybe not. But... we go on. We do what we have to do. For Penny and me...” a shy glance at his small brown lover, as new to herself as she was to him, “For us it’s going down your River Iss. Maybe Heaven’s not there. Maybe nothing is, but...”

“What if it’s Issus?”

A shrug and a smile commingled. “What if? That’s the whole point, isn’t it?”

“But...” No more buts.

They leaned toward each other, in seeming spontaneity, and embraced. His skin’s so smooth and warm on mine. Soft, like a woman’s skin. Skin with a human being inside, warmth communicating that humanness inside. I’m glad I got to know them as monsters before they turned back into men. A mist inside his eyes, the pretense of unshed tears: “Goodbye, Engineer Davidson.”

A smile. “Goodbye, Professor Ling. Perhaps...” Perhaps nothing. A slight bow, an ironic grin, then Brucie Big-Dick turned away, took Penny’s hand, and the went aboard the riverboat together.

Not even, thought Ling Erhshan, looking back.

o0o

Walking beside her, across empty brown-green plains under and empty pale blue sky, Smoking Mirror was a tiny, cinnamon-skinned man in white loincloth and turban. Coming, Kincaid thought, just about up to the level of my nipples. Not looking at them, though. Not interested? Culture.

Little red man sent to them, or they sent to him, by Zeq and Alireza. Little red man looking them over, hemming and hawing. Lead you to High America? For what?

What in Heaven?

Smoking Mirror smiling, eyes full of... well. Derision. Ah, pretty lady. This is not Heaven, as you and your sleek little friends will soon find out. And, yes, before you ask, we
do
have money here in... a hint of teeheehee in his oddly accented voice... here in Heaven.

So how do you propose to pay me?

How do people usually pay you?

In gold, dear lady. Silver, sometimes, if they are poor but deserving and I like the way they smile.

Well. We haven’t any gold.

Sometimes, when I’m in just the right mood, when the commission’s not so arduous, I fuck all the pretty girls.

She could see him eying her crotch then. Sizing it up. Felt a faint tremor of anger begin to sizzle. And yet... Listen to me. I’m becoming... old fashioned. Becoming the woman I was when I was still a girl. Back when it still made me mad to think of a man using me like some kind of obedient fuck-doll.

Brief image of Amaterasu forming. Not the Amaterasu of now, or even then. The original Amaterasu, lying on her workbench, back... home.

She’d made no reply to his suggestion. Just stared at him.

He’d sighed. Well. High America’s eight thousand kilometers from here. Eight thousand kilometers of rivers and wilderness, wolves and horse barbarians. A man could be killed and reified five or six times on a trek like that. Hardly worth the unlimited fucking of a handful of fleshy Old World women.

Reified
. That usual unbidden pleasure at knowing an obscure word popping up. Killed and... converted materially into a thing. Materialized.

She’d said, People get killed in Heaven?

I told you, dear girl. We’re not in Heaven.

Then he’d reached out and put his hand on her shoulder.

She’d smiled and put her hand on the side of his neck, put the ball of her thumb over the chokepoint of his carotid artery. If people can be killed in Heaven... Smile broadening, looking into his beady black eyes. You may ask the others, one by one, if they’d like to fuck you. Trifle with me though and I’ll... explore this business of reification with you.

Still smiling. He’d said, You
will
find out, he said, one way or the other. Then: Ah, me. I have no commissions just now, and was planning to go down to Colonnia Iraenensis, out by Cabbage Crag, a few hundred kilometers west of here. You and your friends may walk with me, if you wish. Free of charge.

Looking down at him then, she’d smiled. I’ll bet, you little bastard. It’d taken him about fifteen minutes to start asking the women his simple-minded question. Genda offering to kill him when he’d asked Amaterasu. Edgar laughing, Amanda Grey scowling when her turn came. Astonishing me by giving him the finger, which he seemed to understand. Rahman looking like she just wanted to slug him. Aarae trying to hide behind Inbar... no fairy powers now, little girl? Too bad. We’re going to need them.

And then, of course, they’d had to wait idly by for an hour, some angry, others bemused, while he had his noisy little fuck with Passiphaë Laing. Surprised? Maybe not. She’d seemed to enjoy it as much as the little red man, had taken another hour or so to grow sullen again.

Walking beside her now, Smoking Mirror said, “Are you certain you’re not interested? Your lazy friends will need a rest break soon.”

She looked down at him. “Don’t you ever give up?”

He smiled. “When I give up, as you say, then it’s time to think about going on down the River.”

“You really think Heaven lies there?”

“No. Maybe I believed in Heaven once upon a time. I came here at a time when the place was just starting to fill up with Christians, you see. Heard a lot about it. But people have been going down the river a lot longer than that.”

“How long have you been here?”

An odd look on his face, saying, You still don’t understand, do you? He asked, “
When
is it
now
?”

She started to tell him it was the mid-Twenty-Second Century. Thought about Genda and Amaterasu, thought about Laing and Jensen and... She said, “Well. Hard to say.”

“It is, isn’t it?” A charming little smile. “You’re an American, right? I lived in what you call Central America, in your Eighth Century AD. I was a great warrior in the time when 18-Rabbit ruled Copán, so great even your pastless folk remember my name.” A long look into her face. “Not you, though. That much I see,”

Maybe thinking I’d fall on my back for a mighty hero. “You think you’ve been here fifteen hundred years?”

A rather Western shrug. “My people were much concerned about time. Many of them are here, living in their cities, forest cities by the Eastern Sea. I’d have to go back there to find out how long it has been. Maybe fifteen centuries. Maybe a thousand.”

“How do you know which way is north, without any sun to guide you?”

“There are some Chinese people living thousands of kilometers north of here, up around the Inland Oceans. Call themselves
Mingjenmin
. They figured it out a while back. Then, when the Americans started showing up, started... building things, the direction was confirmed. I don’t know how.” And you could tell, from the flatness of his voice, that it didn’t matter.

“Have you ever been to the Inland Oceans?”

“A number of times. And the Eastern Sea as well. I was tempted, once, to get aboard a ship there, at the seaport of Novyrom, which lies far to the northeast, far beyond where my people make their new homes. Tempted to go and see what lies beyond the sea.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I like it here. Familiar people. Familiar places. Familiar things. Maybe someday. When I’m bored and tempted to go on down the River...”

“And to the west?” Pointing in their direction of travel. You could see there were silver mountains there. Mountains that might be... impossibly tall.

Smoking Mirror said, “Plains and rivers. Old Greek cities. The German-speaking cities of the Hansë. Lots of barbarians. Apache and Comanche. Scythians and Huns and Mongols. High America, up on what used to be the Plateau of the Amazulu. The Red Desert beyond that. Then the Mountains.” Pointing.