“See?”
said
Morgan, turning to Grey. “That’s what it’s really worth.”
“Yes, yes, I get it too,” he said. “Let’s go back to work. There’s a great deal more in that stack that you have to know.”
Later that afternoon, over tea:
“You know,” Morgan said to Grey, “there has always been a part of me that wants to do something … different. Something … worthwhile. A small, stupid version of the Mother Teresa thing, if you like. Not the Christian part. The other part.”
Grey looked skeptical. “As if what you did with Blue wasn’t worthwhile? What version? Of what part?”
“I saw a movie of her life when I was about nine, and I only really remember one bit of it. She had just finished assuring a safe home for a bunch of multiply handicapped orphans. She had just calmed one of them from a terrified agitation with her rough, loving touch. And then she was sitting beside his bed and she glanced down and saw that the bedframe was dirty, so she picked up a cloth and began to wash it. I always remembered the simplicity of that moment. It made her a big hero of mine from then on. That’s what I want to do. Go somewhere where there is that mindless need and begin washing things.”
“Oh, you wanted to make yourself a saint? Oops, you became a secular hero.”
“No, I said it wasn’t a religious desire. I wanted to be invisible. Non-existent.”
“In the mystical sense? I don’t believe you. That is the opposite of who you are becoming. You are the probably most ‘existent’ person I know.”
“Oh, exactly. I’ve completely failed to detach. That’s what will make it so interesting to try. And after all, now that Blue’s gone and I’m living on a pension—”
“Albeit a tiny government pittance,” he teased.
“—which my brother has heavily augmented with ill-gotten capitalist gains. Anyway, now I am free. I can do anything now, you see.”
“I don’t see. You are about to become one of the most
visible
people in the world. You will be more famous than John Lennon.”
She laughed, but he shook his head and went on, “You will be completely immersed in an existence that will be defined and constrained by others for a very long time, perhaps your whole life.”
She scowled at him. He continued relentlessly, “Seventy-one book offers. One hundred and thirty-three vid and virch offers for exclusives.”
“What are you talking about? We logged more than that.”
“That’s just for
me.
People are hungry for meaning. Hungry for—ecstasy if you will. Enlightenment. They will not be interested in helping you with the goal of spiritual non-existence or any other kind.”
“Oh, bloody hell. That’s so annoying.”
“But it’s true.”
“No, I mean it’s annoying that you’re so—right. I can see my next few months looming—each day more insane than the other. Thank heavens the world has a short attention span. And all of this so unnecessary. Watch and listen to the tapes. Figure it out. It’s all so self-evident.”
“To us maybe. We were here. The world will disagree with you. You will discover that a public figure can do a lot of capricious things, but be invisible isn’t one of them.”
Morgan looked at him sternly. “You know better than that. There will come a time, much sooner than anyone is likely to admit, when my actual presence will not be necessary to the machine.”
“Yes, I suspect you may be right.”
“And when that time comes, I have decided what I am going to do,” said Morgan. “After all this is over.”
“Is it ever going to be over? Unless you get amnesia.” He squeezed lemon into his tea.
“You know what I mean. When the first frenzy dies down. As soon as I can, I am going to go around and meet the others.”
“The others?”
“Stop that. You sound like a parrot. The others who were with the other aliens. Blue was one of many. They haven’t found all of them, I bet, but I read about the rest after they were all taken back, and maybe—now—I’ll be able to communicate.” She took a long draught out of the mug she was nursing, and savoured it. “Unless Blue really was the only one who became so—well, you know.”
“Yes, that’s a possibility. For you to do, I mean. We know something about the others. Perhaps Andris and I can arrange for you to know also, and you can go on from there.”
“That would be lovely, thank you.”
“You have no idea how lovely—and how rare.”
“Oh, I’m sure I do. Give me credit for paying attention all this time.”
“Oh, I’m sure I do. You may as well know now. You are the only one who successfully formed a connection with one of the aliens. Four of them died, it turns out. Others were very ill before they were taken back. What you know will be needed.”
“But I can’t make it my whole life. There isn’t enough there for that. I will have to move on.”
“Would you like some company?”
She looked at the compact, slender, elegant grey man with his small hands. He was looking into the basket made of those hands intertwined, and his eyes were not visible to her.
“You?”
“Why not?”
“Part of your job?”
“I could pretend so.”
“Is this a proposition?”
“We could say so. And wouldn’t be far wrong.” His small, charming, three-cornered smile was directed at his teacup.
“Yes,” she said. “I would like company. But you’re joking, right?”
“No.”
“It’s a little clichéd, don’t you think,” asked Morgan, “you and me ending up together?”
“And we may not, though I can’t imagine why not,” said Grey. “But who else but the people in this house have any idea what has gone on here?”
“Your job … ?”
“I won’t have one by then. Arranging your debriefing and seeing you through these next stormy months will be my last assignment. I’m retiring while I’m ahead. Andris will support me from above, he would support anything I chose to do now, but his years on the job are numbered too. The old guard is being forced out from below. The new era, guys like Kowalski—Blue Suit, you call him, which is about all he is—and the late great Boy Wonder—you have a gift for naming these guys, it seems—and young guys like Ace are in favor of ‘going back to the basics of policing’. None of them remember the injustices of that time—the young ones weren’t alive then—and they find reminders boring. People like Katy and me are being pushed out, if not by conscience, like her, then by the exigencies of power.”
“You are fun to listen to. Do you know, you often speak in complete sentences?”
“So do you. Of course, mine are more reasoned and considered …”
“And mine are more erudite. So, who wins?”
“You surprise me,” he said. “Have you actually developed an ego?”
“I’m not sure. Are they catching?”
“I must introduce you to my daughter Salomé. You would find affinity. She’s the video artist you talked about earlier to Andris. You know her as Hester McKenzie.”
“John was always talking about her. But you said Salomé.”
“That’s her other name. She uses her first name professionally. She keeps Salomé for us; I don’t know why, really.”
“
Ask her
.”
He chuckles. “That’s what she said about you.
Tell her. Ask her.”
“She sounds smart.”
He laughed. “She is.”
“Why did you call her Salomé? I mean, in the first place.”
“Because she had unlimited power over us. Parenting does that to some people, makes you heartfelt captives of your children. It did to me. She could have had my head on a platter if she wanted. She still could. I hope she never finds out.”
“You think she doesn’t know?”
He glanced at her sideways, eyes narrowed. “She certainly never acts like it.”
“Oh, don’t give me that cop look,” said Morgan. “When you know you have that kind of power over someone you love, you work very hard to make sure you never even let on, let alone exercise that power. You should know that.”
“I have never had that sort of power over anyone.”
“Yeah, right. And I’m not queer.”
“Except maybe my wife, and she died.”
“You have it every day in your job.”
“Oh, that.” He waved a hand aside, dismissively.
“Yes, that. Absolute power. Life and death. Life and safety.”
“But that wasn’t over lovers.”
“I didn’t say lovers. I said over people you love. Can you honestly tell me there wasn’t anyone you loved in this house?”
To her shock, he colored slightly and his glance flickered away from her.
“Oh, shit,” she said. “I didn’t mean … I meant Blue.”
“Yes,” he said. “Blue too.”
She felt for a moment almost disappointed, at the thought that this one too, whom she had respected, might have fallen for the mystique that she, in this recent life as Morgan, not in her past life as merely Constance Shelby, seemed to have created without intending to. “I can’t just be myself any more,” she said irritably.
“Not in the slightest,” he said, and stood. “Don’t forget, you have done all the things for which we admire you.”
“Oh, shut up.”
“Come here,” he said, “and I will prove to you that I don’t hold any illusions about you.”
“Maybe later,” she said, but she walked hesitantly toward him. He simply put his arm around her and pulled her close to his chest. She could feel his chin rest on the top of her head. She drew her head back and he kissed her softly, his lips tender and closed against hers, so quickly she hardly had time to kiss back before he withdrew and pressed her head against him again. She sighed with the outflow of tension, or perhaps it was the inflow of another layer of peace.
“You
are
short,” she said. “How did you ever get into the Mounties?”
“They changed the height and weight requirements to remove the bias against women and non-Caucasians. And short people. They’re probably changing them back next year. Brand-new back-to-basics cops have to be big.”
“More tea?” she said.
“No, thanks,” he said, and she heard his cup click onto the Arborite tabletop before his other arm completed the hug; Morgan returned it. “Who knows?” he continued. “I’m not making any plans. Let’s go around the world first. And perhaps I’d better get to know Delany better.”
“Good idea,” said Morgan, but she didn’t move for a few moments. Then: “I have to get ready for the news conference.”
Delany wheeled through the door. “The first of the camera crews is here,” she said, and wheeled over to them.
After a moment Morgan pulled away from Grey, holding his hand, and, standing between her two lovers, put her hand on Delany’s shoulder. Delany lifted her shoulder and lowered her cheek to press Morgan’s hand for a moment. Morgan smiled at her, and Delany looked the grey man up and down, not quite smiling, but almost. “So it’s going to be you, is it?” she asked softly.
“Me who does what?” he said.
“Provides the balance,” said Delany.
“I hope so,” he said, and he too didn’t smile yet. Morgan, however, knew he would, and so, by her glinting glance, did Delany, wheeling her chair around on a dime to lead the way out of the kitchen.
How the aliens came to us and left again. What it was. I dream about that long pale face, those feverish warm hands. I dream of cats, that curl up on our chests at high summer, to warm themselves. That blue gaze, too open to be so enigmatic.
Like the cat that after many years learned to play, to turn my shoes upside down in search of demons, I am learning to see the demons, learning to play with them, thinking there is something vital in that change, something more innocent than passion, if only I could find it, turning the world upside down, hoping that whatever falls out will be fun to play with. Or even, will be the answer, the real reason why that blue touch on my face was burning, burning through all reasoning, burning away the demons.
Where am I bound? If Blue’s emissary to the stars, I’ll be emissary to this world. Hard work but not as hard as it was to trust when those blue hands came toward my face and I thought I would die if Blue touched me. Maybe I did. Don’t some religions call pure consciousness “self-destruction” and long for it as fiercely as I longed to be alien?—and here I am, human again, and I don’t even mind, strangely enough.
Sometimes I am tempted to write as if Blue were going to read my journal, or dream as if Blue were going to share my dreams, or live as if Blue were going to meet me when I am old, to share memories of our ordeals. But Blue is gone, and I am more alone than I ever prepared to be. Blue is gone, vanished into the dusky sky, vanished into the night the color of those eyes, the color of that hair, the color of that mind, the color of nothing. Gone along that path I cannot follow, even with death. Up there in that strange mothership they will take Blue apart more guickly than we worked together to put that beautiful person together, and I can only hope it is with as much love. Meanwhile here they will take me apart too, and not easily, and not with love, by and large anyway, and all I will have when I am left alone at last will be the common memories, the story I will have told until I have only memories of a memory. Of love. Of a lover.
Ah. Love, I will say, and they will think I mean sex. Well, we did try everything eventually, but there was a time in language when “lover” meant one who loves, and one who is loved, and that’s how I want to use it. I did my best not to be trapped into admitting it, but for Blue I admitted that I love, that I love the world in all its strange and alien splendor. And now it is easy to admit it to anyone, for Blue is gone, and if I learned anything from what has been done by those who hate, I learned that there’s no sense in keeping any secrets.
The only way to be strong is to be completely vulnerable—
—and if they believe that, I can tell them what it was like.