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aliencity05 Virtually Yours by Nina Munteanu

I’m heading off to Calgary to that wonderful SF & F convention. I’ll be gone for a week and may not get to my blog (you know, between giving panels and workshops, I’ll be doing important things like sitting in the bar with Captain Jean-Luc Picard–he owes me some chocolates– or Boba Fett…). So, in the meantime, I’ve left you a short story that is in keeping with the theme of AI, that I have started (and will resume when I return). It’s a love story that blurs the realms of virtual and real. This variant of “Beauty and the Beast” strays into the area of disturbing intrusiveness…one plausible scenario of a brain implant. “Virtually Yours” was first published in Hadrosaur Tales and later reprinted in Neo-Opsis Science Fiction Magazine and then translated into Polish and published in the Polish SF magazine, Nowa Fantastika.

Virtually Yours
Vincent yanked the V-set off his head and found himself back in his apartment, lying alone and spent on his king-size bed. The cozy cabin with the fireplace had vanished. Katherine was gone.
He stared at the V-set. His vehicle to paradise. To Katherine.
Her scent of lilac lingered in his mind as he summoned her beautiful face, smiling just for him. No, he reminded himself. Not for me. For Jake, my carrier. It was Jake she smiled at. Jake she had just made love to. Jake, who smelled her desire, felt the tender stroke of her slender legs. Vincent was just along for the ride.
His eyes swept down his deformed and gnarled body. Angry boils and scars encrusted his livid hairless skin. He remembered colliding two days ago with her in a Samson Corporation hallway and her hand had unintentionally brushed his thigh. She’d jerked back, blushing with the shame of not knowing how to avoid staring at him in revulsion. Then she’d rushed off before he had a chance to speak. Probably to wash her hand. I’m just another anonymous Corporation Overseer, he thought. A nameless ugly gnome. She doesn’t know that I’m Vincent, her Overseer, with whom she shares beautiful thoughts of life and poetryalienlandscape02 Virtually Yours by Nina Munteanu over the V-screen.
Two weeks ago she’d boldly begun to offer a few friendly comments at the end of her progress memo. He’d responded with his own and found himself looking forward to her messages more than anything else during the workday. When he opened them, he clicked straight to her post-script, leaving her formal report for later. He recalled the message she’d sent him last week that had started everything:
“Do you like poetry, Overseer? It is one of my passions. I’ve read a lot of Milton lately. Granted his writing is over 400 years old; yet he evokes in my soul a yearning for Eden. Do you think Eden can exist on Earth? Perhaps it is our destiny to long for it.”
Up to then she’d used her worker code-name as salutation: “Cheers, V-screen USER 134872”. This time she’d signed, “Virtually yours, Katherine.”
It was as he reread her signature over and over, that he’d come up with his ingenious scheme to track her down among the hundred roaming workers in the Samson Corporation research lab by assigning a carrier to work with her. It had started out innocently enough. He’d only wanted to know what she looked like. It was Sen Tech’s fault.
His SenTech holo program and the V-set’s link to a sensor embedded in Jake’s forehead gave Vincent the next best thing to having Katherine. Thanks to Jake, who didn’t even know he was providing Vincent this service, SenTech permitted Vincent to see, hear, feel and taste Katherine using Jake’s senses. Jake had no idea of Vincent’s access to the implant or that Overseers typically used them to spy on their carriers. Jake only knew that the implant provided him with enhanced cognitive abilities. Being connected directly to the central computer database was a great advantage to him in his work as Vincent’s data manager.
Hoping to make the meeting pleasant for her, as well as for himself, he’d selected Jake as his carrier based on what he’d ascertained of Katherine’s physical tastes in men. But once he saw her blush with desire at Jake’s perfect physique, smelled her hunger and felt Jake’s heart throb, hebrain1 Virtually Yours by Nina Munteanu knew that he’d wanted more all along. This would be a good ride, he’d thought, and immediately prepared his AIs for full surveillance. Jake moved fast. Following their initial inflamed encounter at Samson Corp, Jake enticed her to his secluded cabin, where he seduced her. Vincent was unprepared for the sweetness of it and how it inflamed his own forgotten desires. Through Jake, Vincent felt like a consumate lover, drawing her out patiently, using gentle, tender strokes at first then matching her escalating rhythm. She was shy though not coy and wonderfully responsive. When the lovemaking had ended, Vincent felt strange, as though he’d betrayed himself. Moved by the experience, he’d wrenched off his V-set and wrote her an E-note as her anonymous Overseer. He’d heavily quoted Milton.
“She’d never look at me the way she looks at Jake,” Vincent said, glancing down at his mishapen body. Mildred, his model 20 AI droid, glided to the bed and touched his shoulder. It said in a tinny voice, “She does not know you are her Overseer, Vincent? Perhaps you should tell her, she might like you—”
“No, Mildred,” he snapped. He imagined compassion in Mildred’s round green eyes and let his voice soften, “She might like communicating with me as her anonymous Overseer, but I’m afraid this is the only way she’ll ever look at me that way.” He placed the V-set on the nightstand. “She could never love me.” Vincent let out a long breath and stroked the V-set. “But I’m content with what I have.” A wry smile crossed his lips as he wrestled with a pleasure edged in guilt. His creative use of SenTech’s surveillance capabilities definitely stretched its intended use. “Does that make me some sort of pimp?” He eyed the folds in the sheets then stroked the sheet. Resting his gaze on the leopard-skin of his hand, he murmered, “So be it. At least I’m a harmless one.”
“The library inquires as to whether you wish to save this SenTech scenario as Katherine 1 for later use?” Mildred rasped.
“Yes, yes,” he said impatiently. He brought the sheet to his face, wanting to savor her scent, knowing he would smell nothing, and clenched the fabric into a ball. With a cursory glance down at his gnarled body, he jerked to his feet. “Save it.”
~~~~
“He’s so damn ugly. Like some monster from a bad movie,” Fanny whispered to Katherine as they looked for free workstations two weeks later. Fanny stared through the transparent panel to a hunched figure in the office perched above them. He was one of twenty Overseers in the Research Department of Samson Corporation, but Katherine knew which one Fanny meant. There was only one ugly Overseer.
She stole a glance up to where he paced like a feral cat, eyes flashing at them. She felt her face heat. Embarrassed for him, she quickly looked away. Of course he hadn’t heard Fanny. But surely he knew what they all said about him. Could read it in their churlish glances and smirks. The glabrous skin of his face and head looked like melted wax. Its smooth surface was blemished with islands of angry bubbles and crevasses that resembled burning lava. She couldn’t help thinking of the rumor that he’d actually caused the fire, which had nearly taken his life and killed several people. They’d been experimenting with a new product at the lab. The explosion took his three colleagues, including his fiancée.
“You wonder why he doesn’t get some major surgery done,” Fanny continued as they claimed two unoccupied workstations. “In this day and age, when nano-reconstruction’s so attainable, it’s as if he wants to look that way, to scare us all.”
Punishing himself, Katherine thought, and felt her eyes sting. If Fanny could only look beyond his ugly shell into those eyes of gentle sadness and vulnerability. She remembered when they’d bumped into one another three weeks ago in the hallway and her hand had accidentally touched his thigh. He smelled of smoke and metal. Their eyes met and she blushed like a teenager. He had the eyes of a poet. She’d turned away without a word and fled. He’d probably thought her rude.
“Fanny, he’s probably a G-type,” Katherine said, glaring into space. She yanked at her chair and let herself drop into it. “G-types can’t handle the side effects of nano-construction.” Her fingers slid furiously along the alpha console, activating her virtual support and accessing the network with her code. Instantly, her station housed itself with a set of files, a virtual bookshelf filled with books, and a vase with flowers.
“Okay,” Fanny said, settling into the chair next to her. She activated her virtual support: stacks of files with documents and papers and a poster of a naked man. “You don’t have to get snippy about it. You’d think you liked him or something.” She gazed into the distance. “I’m glad we don’t know who our Overseers are — or they us. I’d die if he turned out to be mine. Imagine if he was your Overseer, Katherine! How awful! What irony: beauty and the beast. It’s like he knows it too, knows how absurd that would be — never looks at you.”
Katherine felt her face crimson. Or was it that he detested physical beauty? Found her reprehensible.
“Fanny leaned into her and cocked her head. “He might as well be an AI20, alone up there in his ivory tower, anonymously giving orders to some of us peons. Ugly as sin and cold as metal.”
Katherine recoiled. “Fanny!” She focused on her computer screen, surprised at the yearning that stirred inside her. He wasn’t a machine. More like a wounded animal. No one knew the name much less the identity of his or her Overseer. But when she’d defied protocol two weeks ago and signed with her name, Katherine, he’d followed suit with his: Vincent. She knew Vincent was the beast. Felt it in her heart. Vincent’s “voice” and the beast’s eyes spoke the same truth. But where the ignoble beast howled baleful regrets to the moon, this beast quoted poetry to her.
No, not to her, she corrected herself. She was just another rude employee who bumped into him once. He didn’t know she was V-screen USER 134872 — now Katherine — who sent him progress memos, and lately shared her personal thoughts with him. She clicked on her saved messages and found the one she was looking for, Vincent’s response three weeks ago to her silly remark about poetry and Milton.
She’d reread it several times and every time her heart flipped when he used her name:
“I admire your passion for poetry, Katherine. Does it not strip prose to the very essence of what drives our soul? If you believe in destiny, then each of us is already a story waiting to be written; mine would be a tragedy. Alas, my burning desire for knowledge destroyed the thing I most loved. I do not expect to find Eden in my lifetime here on this Earth, or elsewhere, for that matter.
“You have made me curious to read Milton. His poetry remains relevant to this day. Perhaps you are right about our longing for Eden: ‘These lull’d by Nightingale embracing slept, and on their naked limbs the flow’ry roof show’r’d roses, which the morn repair’d’.”
Following her lead, he’d signed “Virtually yours, Vincent”.
Three weeks later they were still sharing personal philosophies and always found an opportunity to quote Milton.
“Now, that’s more like it!” Fanny’s strident voice cut into her silent rapture. Katherine jumped in her seat, swept the screen clear and looked up, face burning in anticipation of finding Fanny looking over her shoulder. But Fanny was gazing at a man striding toward them. Katherine sighed and felt a surge of pleasure. Jake. She’d met him just over two weeks ago, when Vincent had assigned them a joint task.
“Now there’s a specimen.” Fanny said. “What a perfect body and face. Bet he’s a great lay.”
Katherine blushed. She appraised Jake’s showman’s eyes, firm jaw that easily supported the loose smile he always wore, and a seamless brow partially hidden beneath thick curls of chestnut hair. Yes, he was a knock out. And exciting.
“You’re a lucky girl.” Fanny sighed.
“Yeah,” Katherine said, sensing her own hesitation. “Lucky.” Although they’d been physically intimate many times already, she still didn’t know Jake. His charm and humor masked a reserve of quiet depth — or nothing? Could he sustain a loving relationship with her or was Jake just lustfully infatuated with her?
“He’s a carrier, isn’t he?”
Katherine nodded. “Carries a piece of the V-net inside him.”
“That’s why he’s so swift and enlightened.”
Katherine nodded. She didn’t consider Jake exactly enlightened. Swift, perhaps. He’d managed to get her in a prone position the first day they met and every day after that.
“You’re so lucky, Katherine. You’ve got it all.”
Katherine swallowed. She’d been considering breaking off. Jake seemed more interested in using his mouth for kissing than for talking. After two weeks of wonderful sex, she began to long for the serenity that came with sharing an ordinary life with another person. She and Jake didn’t seem to have much in common. They’d never conversed like she and Vincent had on the V-screen. Jake was a bored realist. And he took no interest in poetry. She resolved to break off, before he dumped her for another lustful jaunt.
“Hi, girls.” Jake tussled Fanny’s mop then glided to Katherine like a panther. Gathering her long hair back with both hands, he bent to kiss her on the neck. Her decision blurred at his seductive touch. Jake seized her hands and coaxed her up from her seat. “Come.” He grinned like a boy hiding a lizard in his pocket. “I have something to tell you.” He led her away from the workstations toward the lounge.
“What is it, Jake?” Her eyes darted around her and she looked annoyed at him. “People are watching.”
“I can’t tell you here. Tonight. Meet me at Samson Square, Level 2 at 23:00. That’s when my evening shift ends. Promise?”
“Okay.” She looked down, wondering how she was going to break the news to him.
~~~~
“I love you,” he said, pulling her toward him. “Marry me.”
Her throat swelled. Was that his news? She had come to tell him she didn’t love him, she was in love with another man. A poet.
“I need to tell you something, Jake.”
“Later, later,” he whispered in her hair, pulling her into an alcove of an abandoned shop. “First my conversation.” He caressed her ear with his lips and played them over her neck and face. It sent a shiver through her. She closed her eyes and thought of Vincent: ‘with thee conversing I forget all time’. She let him maneuver her to a dark corner. He kissed her eyelids, her cheeks, her hair. Perhaps she’d been too harsh. He wanted to marry her, after all, to share an ordinary life together.
She helped him shrug out of his clothes and smelled his longing. Let him undress her, pull her down on top of him, taste the hollow of her shoulder, her breasts, her nipples. She imagined Vincent’s trembling hands, his tender glance. His fingers exploring, diving into her dark longing for him. She shuddered, surrendering to her passion. ‘Flesh of flesh, bone of my bone thy art’. Later, she thought. Then thought no longer.
~~~~
Something nudged Vincent awake. “Katherine is with her lover,” said Mildred, peering down at him.
Vincent roused himself, wiped the sleep from his eyes and croaked, “Library, connect with SenTech sensor, subject carrier Jake. On screen.” Katherine’s face appeared on the huge screen on the far wall. She looked straight at him with longing. Her lips parted as she drew closer. Vincent flung off the covers and sat up, naked, ignoring his misshapen leopard-body. He snatched the V-set from the nightstand and pulled it over his head, letting the translucent screen cover his face. “Library, activate SenTech virtual program. Save this scenario as Katherine 17. Remember to voice-over ‘Jake’ with ‘Vincent’.”
The room disappeared, replaced by a dark corridor. He lay on the cold surface of the grimy floor. Her warm body slid over him and he smelled the sweet spice of her desire. Perhaps he could find Eden on Earth after all! He felt himself firm and whispered, “‘Part of my soul I seek thee, Katherine, and claim my other half’.”
She drew back and peered at him with wide eyes. Then she tilted her head, gave him a searching look, and leaned forward. He felt her breath on him. “Vincent?”
His heart soared. “‘How can I live without thee, how forgo thy sweet converse and love so dearly join’d, to live again in these wild woods forlorn’?”
She stared at him in astonishment, then broke into a wonderful smile and kissed him. She whispered into his hair, “‘With that thy gentle hand seiz’d mine, Vincent, I yielded, and from that time see how beauty is excell’d by manly grace and wisdom, which alone is truly fair’.”
Frantic for her, he clasped her and thrust into her moist haven. She gasped. “Oh, Vincent! Vincent!”
His spirit soared like a falcon to her tender loving. When it was over she leaned her cheek against his and murmured, “I love you, Vincent.” He closed his eyes. If this were only true, he thought. It felt so real. When he opened his eyes she was staring at him with intense wonder. “You’re crying. . .”
Vincent wrenched off the V-set and blinked the tears from his eyes. The room returned. He was back on his bed. The screen was dark and she was gone. Vincent glanced down at himself, covered in his own semen. He let his eyes flutter shut and clung to her sweet words of love, ignoring what he knew — that her uttering his name was the computer’s doing — and imagined the sweet perfume of her love mingled in his own.
Then he bowed his head and stared at his shriveled hands. They looked like withered twigs, infested with parasites. His body a hideous monstrosity. It was obvious that she loved Jake. How could he ever think she loved him.
He swallowed down his emotion and stumbled to his feet. Clearing his throat, he said, “Please clean up the bed, Mildred. I’ll be in the shower.”
“Do you wish to save this scenario?” he heard its tinny voice behind him.
“Yes, yes,” he growled. This was the only way he could have her. “Tell the library to flag this one with four stars.”
Vincent caught his own reflection in the hall mirror and stopped. The stretched skin of his face glistened like plastic that had been meddled with, its integrity destroyed. He pulled at the single tuft of hair on his mottled head and, feeling the pain, stared into his own narrowed eyes in challenge.
The crying, the poetry, were surely his feelings and thoughts, not Jake’s? Yet Jake had expressed them to Katherine. Up to now Vincent had been convinced that SenTech provided strictly a one-way conduit from carrier to Overseer. SenTech was designed to help Vincent sense everything that occurred to his carrier, but only as an active spectator. What just happened with Katherine implied that Jake had acted on a subliminal message from Vincent. That he, Vincent, had initiated action. He blinked at the realization and saw his eyes widen with excitement, then guilt and dread.
What have I started?
~~~~
Katherine lay upon Jake, her cheek pressed against his furry chest. She gently stroked his hair. “You were so sweet to quote Milton,” she said. “I had no idea you’d taken an interest.”
Jake brushed his eyes with his hand and looked baffled. “I’m not sure why — how. It just came out of my mouth. I’ve never read Milton. You’re the one who reads that stuff.”
Her lips curled in sudden amusement. She liked seeing him vulnerable. “Perhaps a poetic muse has invaded your mind,” she teased and ran her fingers through his curls. He’d shown that beneath his reserve there lay a depth she’d never suspected.
He thought for a moment. “Perhaps I should start reading it.”
She buried her nose in his hair, inhaling his musky smell. “And, the crying—”
He drew back, embarrassed, and shot her a dark look. “Why did you call me Vincent? Who’s Vincent?”
“Did I?” Katherine swallowed. When they’d made love, she’d lost herself in his eyes, imagined for a brief moment that he really was Vincent. Spirit and flesh mingled into one whole. She bowed her head. “He’s only a character in a virtual game I was playing,” she said casually. Vincent could never be really hers. Uncomfortable with her outer beauty, he’d irrevocably isolated his physical self from her. Didn’t want her. She’d been sharing “love-notes” with a phantom. But Jake was physically here with her. She could touch him. Could feel his warm breath upon her face.
And he loved her. She knew that now: no one had ever wept for her before. He’d even quoted poetry to her. She decided against breaking off. Maybe there was a little of Vincent even in Jake.
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  • services sprite Virtually Yours by Nina Munteanu
  • services sprite Virtually Yours by Nina Munteanu
  • services sprite Virtually Yours by Nina Munteanu
  • services sprite Virtually Yours by Nina Munteanu
  • services sprite Virtually Yours by Nina Munteanu

I won’t be posting for a while; I’m tied up in holidays (actually, I’m “tied up” by the human, Jennifer Rahn—the fantasy writer I interroga-er-interviewed last week and who has abducted me. No need to rescue me; when she runs out of ice cream, I’ll just escape). But if you want to visit her site to see what ills she performed, go here (I warned you, though! Not for the faint of heart).

In the meantime, I’ve left you a short story of mine. Arc of Time was first published in The Armchair Aesthete (Pickle Gas Press) in 2002. It has since appeared in the Romanian avant-garde speculative ezine, Imagikon. Then it was picked up by Ultra! and more lately SFera Online. Now it’s here, an ancient Earth tale retold by an alien…

The Arc of Time

I-net correspondence from: F. Y. Benoit, Ph.D.,Paris, France
to: Dr. F. Wolke, Bonn, Germany
September 6, 2096

Dearest Friedrich,
I missed you at the World Sustainable Environment Congress in London last week. Where were you? I thought you were going to come? You should have heard Dante Sarpé. He captivated the congress right from the start with an introductory quote from the 20th Century social ecologist, Aldo Leopold: “Ecosystems are not only more complex than we think, they are more complex than we can think.” Describing the grave environmental calamity facing us as a symptom, Dante challenged our present paradigms and values to achieve peace and harmony. He submitted that our insatiable thirst for knowledge reflected unease with ourselves and a lack of partnership with our world.

He moved me with his parting words, Friedrich: “The branch of the tree cannot bear fruit of itself. Without compassion to fill it, knowledge is an empty house, casting its shadow on our courage to embrace the paradoxes in our lives: to feel love in the face of adversity; grace when confronted with betrayal.”
The conference was very well attended. Over 3,000 scientists and socio-economists came from all over the world. I wished you’d come, Friedrich. I drank my coffee alone, longing for your stimulating company.
Love,
Françoise Yvette
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A breeze braced the boy as he scrambled up timesalvadordali Arc of Time by Nina Munteanuthe mountain. When he reached the old woman’s hut at the summit, he shielded his eyes against the sun and saw her, stepping with fluid movements in some meditative exercise. He crept closer and watched from a distance as Da’at performed her graceful dance, limbs coiling and slithering to an inner rhythm.
After completing a full turn, she pulled her rags about her and faced the boy with a nod.

He stepped forward. “What were you doing, Mama?” he asked. Da’at was not his mother, but she had looked after him since before he could remember. She always called him her blue-eyed chosen one.
“They will call it Tai Chi Chuan,” she said in a deep voice, easing herself to the ground and crossing her legs. “It is an exercise of the will, mind, and body toward the Way of Nature. Something you must learn, boy.”

“It was beautiful.” The boy squatted beside her and looked into her green eyes. Her motions had reminded him of the elegance of the cormorant and the spring of the furry Purgatorius.
“The purpose of the movements is to transfer the Chi, or the intrinsic energy, to the Shen, or spirit, by using inner rather than outer force.” She trained her gaze to the bright sun and her eyes sparkled like emeralds. “It brings me closer to my eternal love who dwells now only on the shafts of light and the whisper of the wind.”
The boy tilted his head and squinted, trying to grasp the meaning of her strange words. She often spoke cryptically, expecting him to understand.
Da’at turned to the boy. “If you practice Tai Chi long enough and execute it properly, you will become reconnected with the unity of everything, including the fourth dimension.”

“What is the fourth dimension?”

Da’at smiled wearily. “Time, my chosen one.”

The worn lines of her masculine face resembled weathered rock. She had always looked old yet she never seemed to age. “Is that why you can see into the future?” the boy asked, rocking on the balls of his feet.
She folded her arms on her knees and her thick brows knit together. “Future? What is that?”
Before he could respond, she added, “You have much to learn about time and space, boy. Do you think we inhabit one place and one time? Our universe is not only more complex than you think; it is more complex than you can think.” A dove flew overhead. Da’at gazed up at the bird and raised her hands in supplication. “My Shekhinah, I sense your presence here. How will my chosen one acquire wisdom when you elude us like the shifting wind?”

Reminded of why he’d come, the boy moved onto his knees and leaned forward. He focused on the dark hairs on Da’at’s chin and, taking a deep breath, he said, “While I was napping in the forest, I had a strange dream. About a faraway place unlike any I’ve seen. Full of huts taller than the Gingko trees and so many people like me, crowded inside them like ants.”

Da’at nodded to herself. “The dove has spoken to you.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I-net correspondence from: F. Wolke, Ph.D., IMA, Bonn, Germany
to: Dr. F. Y. Benoit, Paris, France
September 15, 2096

Dear Françoise Yvette,

I regret not seeing you at the WSE Congress. I have a favor to beg of you, mein Schatz. You must conduct some discreet research for me on Sarpé. His seminar at the WSE Congress proves my suspicions of some self-serving motive to his messianic leadership of our foundation. I know what you will say: that he’s considered a genius and a visionary by his peers and members of the traditional scientific community. He’s a hypocrite! No one’s that altruistic! That Teufel snake is up to something. He’s using the foundation for some personal mission that he isn’t sharing with the rest of us. Why indulge the simpletons of the world with the philosophy of our new prototype society? God forbid he intends to include them! I don’t trust him, Françoise. There’s something strange about that effeminate man. I know too little about him and his history. See what you can find and forward it to me with haste.

Alles Liebe,
Friedrich

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I dreamt of a huge hut that rose into the sky and glinted in the sun,” said the boy. “Inside, it was crowded with people like me and you — none of those hairy ones who cannot speak. There were smooth tables and chairs made of strange material. And strange colored objects. I was there. I was one of the people! What does it mean, Mama?”
“You have dreamt about your destiny and your past.”

Time02 Arc of Time by Nina Munteanu

“My destiny?” The boy looked down and picked at the purple Calluna bush beside him. “But I want to stay here with you, in the forest and on this mountain. Safe from—”
“And renounce your destiny?” Her voice slit the wind. “You have a gift for seeing, boy. You must develop it. That is how others like you will learn.” Da’at pressed his shoulder with a firm hand. “Come, my angel, soon it will be time to become a man. I cannot complete your training by myself. That is why you must heed the dreams sent to you. Look for their messages in the wind that stirs the trees and in the shafts of light that filter through the forest.”

The boy leaned forward, “The dreams, then, are real?
“They will be,” she said, smiling wistfully. “What else do you remember?”

He squinted his eyes and gazed over the blue mist of the Ginkgo forest, focusing on his dream. “An old man with a sad face who was kind to me. I called him Father.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I-net correspondence from: F. Y. Benoit, Ph.D., Paris, France
to: Dr. F. Wolke, Bonn, Germany
October 2, 2096
Dearest Friedrich,
As requested, here is the information I was able to obtain on the subject of our mutual interest. I now find Dante even more fascinating than before and am convinced of his genius and visionary abilities. So, rather than focusing on negatives, I suggest we consider how my gift in empathy and yours in telekinesis can be used to further Dante’s International Research Foundation in Parapsychology. Having said this, I agree with you that much about him remains a mystery. Here are the facts I managed to find:
He has no birth record and no medical records. He first “appears” in 2049, when he registered at l’Université de Lyons. Dante Sarpé was a brilliant student. He received an honors degree with distinction and pursued his masters in ecology there, then he obtained his Ph.D. in physics and genetics at the University of California Berkeley. He became a post-doctoral fellow at the University of London and continued studies in ecology, psychology and animal physiology. Then the Institute of Vision offered Sarpé a position as researcher and associate professor in energy mastery and vision psychology. That’s where he met his significant other, Apollonia Buto. She taught paleo-ecology there at the time and together they wrote several papers on the medicinal properties of the prehistoric passion flower, Passiflora. In 2074 they co-founded the IRFP and the rest I think you know.
I tried to find out more about his earlier years but came up with nothing, as if he had suddenly appeared from nowhere. I also found a curious bit of nothing, Friedrich. In my attempts to discover more about him, I scanned his picture into my database. It was then that I made the odd discovery of his “doubles”. Two of them, a woman and a man. Their resemblance is striking! The woman, Datinella Snok, lived in the late 20th Century in the United States and the man, Dato Slangéka, in 19th century Russia.
Out of female curiosity, I suppose, I checked up on Apollonia Buto. Would you believe that she, too, appears from nowhere? Here is the most curious bit — she also has identical counterparts: a man, Anthony Orm, who lived in the late 20th Century in England and a woman, Antonia Kigyo, in 19th century Hungary. This piqued my curiosity as a geneticist. Do you know the odds of this sort of thing? They are astronomical and worth investigation. I include all six images at the end of this file.

When do you come for a visit? I long for your company. Do you remember the International Vision Conference last year? The IVC this November is held in Oslo. I’m presenting a paper on the genetics of dreams. Meet me!
Love,
Françoise
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~

Da’at sighed. “That old man in your dream created a ship that crossed time and space. The one you flew in when you were too young to remember.”
The boy followed Da’at’s gaze to the volcanic mountains that rose like fisted warriors in the distance.
“The foolish old man thought that he could instill pure light in mortals and begin again,” she said. “His eternal mate warned him against it. Mortals are not meant to travel as we do.”

She gave him too many riddles; he decided to start with the old man. “What happened to the old man, Da’at? And those who flew with him, like me?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I-net correspondence from: F. Y. Benoit, Ph.D., Paris, France
to: Dr. F. Wolke, Bonn, Germany
January 7, 2097
Dearest Friedrich,
I enjoyed your company at the IVC in Oslo and savor our delicious speculations about Sarpé and Buto during our extended coffee breaks.

I have incredible news! Anxious for some answers, I took your suggestion, Friedrich, and sought Dr. Buto while I was in London to teach my workshop on Evolutionary Genetics at the Institute of Vision. She was there to speak with Prime Minister Smythe about the cadmium deficiency syndrome that is reaching pandemic proportions throughout the world. I managed to surreptitiously obtain a tissue sample by rubbing against her with a micro-sampler. I gave it to Gordon for analysis and he soon called me to his lab, eager to know where the sample was from.
Friedrich, she’s not human! Her unique DNA more closely resembles a reptile. Genetically, she is also neither female or male, but both! I immediately thought of her doubles and my imagination reeled at the possibilities. With some alarm I feel these events playing out for me like a déja vu. I fear Dante is like her. But what exactly is that? Friedrich, what does this mean? What have we uncovered? I fear we have bitten off more than we can chew.

Love,
Françoise.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Da’at’s lips curled into a bitter half-smile. “Only you and another survived.”

“Who?”

“I was the old man.”

The boy stared at Da’at. “You!”
“I once had an eternal mate, one like me. Bound through soul, spirit and flesh, we sailed the waves of time and space. We came here long ago to help the chosen ones. But, because you only look forward, we were soon forgotten, except in myth and legend, and the chosen ones grew irreverent. When she was destroyed, I became trapped in this space, able only to move in time. Shortly after arriving here with you I became as I am now.”

The boy wrinkled his nose. Why did she always speak in riddles? “But you’re not a man!”
“Neither am I a woman,” she said and blurred for a moment. He blinked and she became solid again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I-net correspondence from: F. Y. Benoit, Ph.D., Paris, France
to: Dr. F. Wolke, Bonn, Germany
March 9, 2097
Dearest Friedrich,
I have incredible news. We were right, Friedrich. After much hesitation I finally processed the tissue sample I secretly got from Dante. Here is why: I was so clumsy about it I was sure he knew what I’d done, Friedrich. Can you imagine my humiliation? In the collision, he scratched me and I stumbled to the ground and almost dropped the micro-sampler. But after studying my face — I blushed with shame — it was he who apologized. He said, as he helped me to my feet, “I’m so sorry. I did not mean to make you fall.” Then he smiled in a fatherly way and went his way. Anyway, I found that his DNA complemented Apollonia’s.

I imagine these hermaphrodites are shape-shifters who live for very long periods of time (those doubles comprise at least 300 years!), switching sexes with one another in some kind of biological renewal every century or so. Since there is no photographic technology prior to the 18th Century, we can only speculate on the true age of these creatures. What do you make of it, Friedrich? You have been so silent since we last saw one another.
Why don’t you respond to my messages? You don’t return my calls. Are you annoyed with me for hesitating on processing Dante’s tissue sample? Perhaps now that I have, you will answer. Or are you just too busy making arrangements with those chosen for the journey in Dante’s ship? I’m still disappointed that I did not make the “cut” (I’d hoped you would have vouched for my talents as an empath, yourself being one of Dante’s favored ones). Anyway, I will patiently await your return. I hope you find a safe haven for us to begin again.

By the way, did you hear about Apollonia’s freakish accident? A tube-car slipped off its track and collided into her. She was killed instantly. They suspect the car was tampered with but can not determine how. Weren’t you and Dante in London that day to discuss logistics for your travel plans? You must have just missed her. I’m sure Dante is devastated by the news.

Love,
Françoise

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Da’at gazed into the distance with sad eyes. Smoke the color of carbon coiled up from a distant volcano. “I made a grave mistake. I replaced the substance of my eternal mate with a mockery. Mistook artificial for genuine light. Then a rage overcame me for it. It is for this reason that you are here in this new world, come from the clouds. Why you grew up with only wild animals and a foolish old crone to keep you company.”

She folded her arm around the boy and drew his head near hers. The boy leant against her rough body and felt her shake with silent sobs.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I-net correspondence from: F. Y. Benoit, Ph.D., Paris, France
to: Dr. F. Wolke, Bonn, Germany
February 10, 2098

Dear Friedrich,
Your cold silence has sealed my conviction of your deceit and self-serving motives. You’ve used my friendship. And once you got what you wanted, you discarded me.

Trifle with me if you like. Since my discovery of Apollonia’s and Dante’s interesting other-worldly heritage, I investigated you as well. I discovered that during Dante’s time of grieving over his mate’s untimely death, you’d gathered many supporters among the journeying IRFP who share your elitist vision, including a young woman whom you’ve made pregnant.
I submit that you killed Dante’s Apollonia with your telekinetic powers — probably to unbalance him and subvert his power. I further submit that you intend to seize his leadership in the IRFP by exposing his alien origin once you arrive at the new world he spoke of.
You don’t intend to return for the rest of us like Dante promised, do you, Friedrich? You plan to remain there to lead your own elite cadre while we rot here in the pestilence of humankind’s deathrows. Leave us here, then, to face apocalypse. I stand ready, and an inexplicable peace fills me. Heaven help you find peace where you flee. For all your superior gifts, you are still, like me, only human et enfin je te pardon.
Salut, mon ami,
Françoise Yvette Benoit

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Da’at placed her large hand on the boy’s head and unfurled her slender body. She stood up and stretched her sinewy body toward the sky. “You have worked hard, tending this beautiful garden, gathering my knowledge. It’s time I revealed myself to you.” Her head drooped and her shape hunkered into a ball.
Da’at’s hoary form vibrated, then blurred. The boy scrambled to his feet. Parched skin transformed into overlapping scales. The boy stared with pounding heart as the old woman’s hunched form uncoiled and rose into a monstrous shape. He shrank back and drew in his breath. The giant serpent reared its head high above him and hissed.
“Don’t be afraid, child,” said the serpent. “I am still your dear Mama.”
The boy studied the creature and his fear slipped away. The creature sounded like Da’at and the boy recognized the kind old woman’s eyes peering directly into his.

“This is my true form,” said the snake-creature, bowing its head. “Can you still love something as hideous as this?”

“But you are still my Da’at who’s been so kind to me, so good.”

“Yes, I am good,” the serpent said. “But without my guiding light I have become dangerous. When I discovered that my favored disciple betrayed me, I destroyed him in anger and all those who followed him.” The snake-creature coiled and uncoiled its form. “Only you survived, my chosen one, plucked like an angel from the darkest cloud. Wolke’s gifted son. Then, with blood-stained hands I fashioned from your genetic material and another’s a woman so that you may complete your journey. Alas, I shall eternally long for that which completes me.”
The creature wept. The boy swallowed down his own sadness and sensed the creature’s pain and loneliness. Like the old man in his dream, Da’at had always looked sad. “Don’t be sad, Mama.” Instinctively, the boy reached out and touched the scaly form. He longed to quell her sorrow. “You’ve taken care of me all these years and taught me so much. I’ll stay with you.”

The snake’s head bowed close to his. “Your destiny lies elsewhere, boy. Deep in the forest lives a girl of your kind with whom you will create a new race. For she is also bone from your bones, flesh from your flesh. Her “mother” was a compassionate and beautiful, though somewhat overly curious, woman who should have joined us on the arc. Alas, my traitor told me she did not wish to make the journey and I believed him. But, by happenstance I had earlier obtained her genetic material from a sample of her skin I got when she, out of scientific curiosity, purposely collided into me with a micro-sampler. So, I mingled her essence with yours. It is no surprise that the girl is intelligent, beautiful and full of light.” Da’at leaned back in silence to look him over. “Now, boy, it’s time for you to live a man’s life and take a man’s name.”
The boy blinked, unsure of himself and a little afraid. “What’s the girl’s name?”

“Like you she has no name yet. Her “mother’s” name was Françoise Yvette Benoit. I imagine the girl may fashion hers from that.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This story is dedicated to Lari Davidson. When I showed it to him in 2006, Lari liked my story and was going to publish it in the Premiere issue of Ultra! a magazine put out by Aardwolf Publishing on behalf of the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation. Sadly, Lari had all the proofs of the stories ready and the illustrations done; the issue was just about ready to go. Then he suddenly and tragically passed away. The magazine never went to print. I hope you enjoyed the story and perhaps you may find it in you to honor Lari’s efforts and give a donation to this worthwhile cause.

One last note, before I go for a while…

champagne+award Arc of Time by Nina Munteanu
I just found out that Zephyr1 has bestowed on me the Champagne Award, one of three awards created by Lynn at “It’s a Woman’s World”. And I am so honored. Zephyr1 has herself just deservedly received the Chocolate Award. Check her post to find out about it and the other awards. Lynn says the Champagne Award is “for those who are a class act, all the way around. Someone who has inspired us, touched us, helped us, and cared for us, with no ulterior motives.” What can I say to that? Thanks so much, Zephyr1, for your incredible gesture.

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