“So,” she said finally, with just a hint of desperation in her voice, “tell me; who else do you have here with a famous face?”
“Oh, you’d be surprised, darling,” said the fake Owen easily. “We’ve got a Jack Random, a Julian Skye, two Robert Campbells (he’s very popular at the moment, with the royal wedding coming up), three Constance Wolfes, and four Hazel d‘Ark’s, for those who like to live dangerously.”
“How about Ruby Journey?”
“Sweetie, we wouldn’t dare. We do have several Lionstones, for the S&M trade. Would you like to meet your own lookalike?”
Diana stopped dead in her tracks, and glared at the fake Owen as he stopped too.
“There’s someone here with my face?”
“Well, yes. Everyone famous makes an appearance here eventually. Our job is fulfilling fantasies, and as there aren’t enough of the real thing to go around, people come here for the next best thing. You’re quite in demand, you know. A lot of espers have a thing about you. You’d be surprised.”
“Listen to me very carefully,” said Diana Vertue. “I don’t want to meet my double. I don’t want anyone to meet my double. As from this moment, no one with my face is to work in a House of Joy anywhere, on pain of my getting seriously annoyed. You’d be surprised how much damage I can do, when I’m sufficiently motivated.”
“Are we talking Jenny Psycho here?” said the fake Owen.
“Quite definitely.”
“I’ll see your message is passed on to the board of directors. And I would like to point out that there is absolutely no point in threatening me. I just work here.”
“Get a move on,” said Diana, and they started off again. After a somewhat strained silence, Diana calmed down enough to ask another question. “Where exactly are we going?”
“Right down to the basement level,” said the fake Owen, glad to be on uncontroversial ground again. “Your contact ... is very shy about meeting people. In fact, he hasn’t made an appearance in years. Quite a few people are unsure as to whether he really exists at all. We deal so much in fantasy here, it’s hard sometimes to keep reality in focus. Certainly I’ve never met him. Don’t know anyone who has. He makes himself known now and again, to a select few, to run the few errands he finds necessary. Eccentric, perhaps, but we’re used to that here. And please, sweetie; no more questions about him. I have no idea who or what he is, or why he chooses to live in our basement, and I don’t want to know. The one thing you learn here above all else is to mind your own business.”
He came to a halt before a large wooden door, intim idatingly broad and solid, and opened the old-fashioned lock with a large metal key. The hinges squealed noisily as he pushed the door open with an effort, and then he gestured for Diana to go in. She strode forward, head held high, and found herself in a torture chamber. The walls were rough stone, and ran here and there with dark streams of water. The floor was stone too, cracked with age and discolored in places with old dark blood-stains. It was stiflingly hot, and Diana could feel beads of perspiration popping out on her face. A great metal brazier stood in the center of the room, coals glowing redly as it heated a collection of branding irons. There was a full-sized rack, an Iron Maiden, and whips and chains and instruments of torture hung on the walls ready for use. The door slammed shut behind Diana. She spun around, found the fake Owen standing right behind her, grabbed a handful of his shirtfront, lifted him off the floor, and slammed him back against the closed door. His eyes bulged as he tore helplessly at her unflinching hand and arm.
“Talk to me!” said Diana harshly. “Tell me why you’ve brought me to an interrogation chamber or I’ll kill you right here!”
“It’s not real! It’s not real!”
The fake Owen was going very red in the face. “Honestly, darling, try not to be quite so brutal. This is a fake, just like me, for clients whose tastes run a little darker than most.”
Diana dropped him, and gave him a hard look. “People
pay
for this?”
“Some do, yes. There have always been those who like a little pain with their pleasure. Or vice versa. As they say: only the one who hurts you can make the pain go away. There’s a body shop next door to repair any damage, if anyone gets a little too ... enthusiastic.”
“Why would my contact choose a place like this for a meeting?”
“Probably because it’s the most secure and private part of the House. Can I go now, please? I’d really like to go somewhere and change my trousers before the stain sets.”
Yes, said a soft, carrying voice.
You can go. I’ll summon you if I need you again.
Diana and the fake Owen both looked sharply around them. The voice seemed to have come from everywhere at once. It was an unpleasant sound, dark as death, soft as corruption, vile as a living thing crushed beneath a steel boot. Diana could feel her heart pounding in her chest. The last time she’d heard a voice like that, she’d been a prisoner in Silo Nine, and Wormboy had been playing mind games with her head. She suddenly felt like running, but even as the thought came to her, the door opened and slammed shut behind her as the fake Owen made his escape. Diana forced her thoughts and emotions back under control, and let some of the colder Jenny Psycho aspects of her personality come to the surface. This was no place to be weak.
“Who are you? Where are you?”
Right here,
said the voice, and the words had the impact of iron nails driven into yielding flesh.
Pardon my reluctance to reveal myself, but it’s so hard to know who to trust these days. Anyone can be an agent of the Mater Mundi; anyone can be an assassin in disguise.
“So I’ve been finding out,” said Diana. “All right; let’s try this one. Why are we meeting here, of all places?”
Because it’s the best place to hide. Open your thoughts just a little, Diana, and dip your toe into the passions that thrive here.
“Like hell,” said Diana immediately. “My shields are up and they’re staying up. This place is dangerous. Far too many emotions spilling out on all sides. An esper could drown in a place like this.”
Very wise, my dear. Passions run free here as reality is discarded in favor of personal fantasies. Everything is permitted in a House of Joy, as long as you don’t expect it to be real. Love or sex, or reasonable facsimiles, available to anyone who has the price. The wildest of emotions are commonplace here, and passions rise and fall as regularly as the tides. A perfect place to hide, for such as you and I. For the things we’ve become. Even the Mater Mundi can’t pierce the maelstrom of real and faked emotions that fuel the everyday business of a House of Joy. And down here, where the darkest aspects of the human heart are released and savored, a careful and cautious mind can stay hidden forever. I’ve lived here a long time, maybe decades, maybe centuries, it’s hard to tell. Hidden in the eye of the hurricane, forgotten by the world.
“So why make contact with me?” said Diana. “Why bring me here?”
Because I’m frightened,
said the soft, awful voice.
You’ve been stirring up things better left alone, awakening things that have been sleeping in the dark forgotten cellars of human history. I know the truth of the Mater Mundi, a secret that frightens me so much I’ve chosen to live here like a rat in its hole rather than risk the wrath of Our Mother of All Souls. You have no idea of what you’re challenging.
“Then tell me. And show yourself. I didn’t come all this way just to listen to a voice in my head. You don’t have to be afraid of me.”
Oh, but I do, I do. You don’t know what I’ve become, what I had to become, to survive. I was human once, like you. A manifest of the Mater Mundi. I thought I was the chosen one, the holy one, the savior of the espers. And just like you, I was crazy enough to avoid being driven insane, and destroyed by the process. I survived, when so many others died. And also like you, I went looking for answers, for the truth behind what had touched me and changed me forever. I found my answer, but it didn’t make my happy or wise. I faked my own death, and came here, long, long ago. And now I can never leave.
The swirling emotions and raging passions were enough to hide me, but after a while . . . that wasn’t enough. I was tempted, bit into the sweet apple, and fell from what little grace I had left. I don’t just hide here, these days. I feed. My mind draws on the energies around me, draining sustenance from my sweet victims. Never enough to be noticed, but enough to keep me alive long after I should have died. I told myself I had to stay alive, it was my duty, to wait for someone like you, who might prove strong and brave enough to confront the Mater Mundi where I could not. But really, I was just afraid to die... and the feeding was so sweet, so very sweet. My name is Varnay, and there is a very old name for what I am.
He finally let his shields drop, and appeared before her. Diana’s stomach turned, and she grimaced despite herself, fighting to keep from looking away. Varnay was inhumanly large, fat and bloated, pallid as a corpse, with a huge wet red mouth. Dressed in black rags and tatters, he looked like nothing so much as a giant, distended leech. His dark eyes were huge, dominating his face, staring unblinkingly. There were patches of rot visible on his face and hands, and his nose had been eaten away long ago, leaving a discolored gap in the middle of his swollen face. A body that should have been dead long ago, sustained by unnatural energies and an inhuman hunger.
Diana wondered if he slept in a coffin.
“Don’t condemn me,” said Varnay, and his voice was just as awful in his mouth as it had been in her mind. “You don’t have the right to condemn me. Only the smallest of chances separate your Jenny Psycho from what I have made of myself. I’ve followed your progress, from a distance. We’ve both done questionable things. We’re both monsters.”
“No,” said Diana. “The Mater Mundi’s the real monster. She made us what we are. She bears the responsibility, and she must be brought to justice.”
“Oh; if you only knew,” said Varnay, his distended red lips moving in something that might have been meant as a smile. “Even after all you’ve learned, you’re still so far from the truth.”
“Then tell me!”
“What use is wisdom if it brings no profit to the wise? The truth won’t make you happy, Diana. It won’t set you free.”
“Tell me anyway. You know you’re going to. Otherwise all the years you’ve spent hiding here, becoming ... what you are, will all have been for nothing.”
“Sweet Diana. Dear Jenny. Looking so hard in all the wrong places for what was always right under your nose. Don’t look outward for the Mater Mundi; look inward. All the way in. The Mater Mundi, Our Mother Of All Souls, is nothing more than the collective unconsciousness of all espers. A subconscious massmind that has learned to exist separately from the individual thoughts and consciousnesses of the millions of espers that give it form. The Mater Mundi arose spontaneously, from the moment of the creation of the first batch of espers in an Imperial lab; created from their fears, their needs, and their darkest desires. Down the many years, it has learned purpose and ambition. It is the naked communal id, the secret dark heart of esper power. In emergencies, it can pull all the espers into one gestalt mind, to serve its will, but it cares nothing for the individual members of that gestalt. Individual esper minds, with their conscience and ethics and morality, mean nothing to the Mater Mundi. Its only real concern is survival, and it knows it can only continue as long as the conscious minds remain unaware of its nature and existence. Sometimes it draws on the massed power of all espers to create superpowerful agents, like me, and you. Most burn out, like moths forced to fly too close to the sun, but you and I survived by being strong enough and crazy enough to separate ourselves from the esper massmind. That’s why it has to destroy us, not only because we know the truth, but because we have learned to exist separate from it.
“It doesn’t want competition.”
“But ...” Diana’s thoughts were whirling wildly. “What about the leaders of the esper underground? If we went to them, told them what we know ...”
“There are no esper leaders! Never have been. They never were anything more than illusions, masks for the Mater Mundi to hide behind as it manipulated the esper underground to its own ends.”
“Legion,” said Diana softly. “This is just another Legion. An insane gestalt mind, doing what espers really want, in the deepest areas of their subconscious. Power over the inferior, destruction of the different, punishment for those who have harmed it ... or didn’t love it enough. An endless rage, unlimited by remorse or conscience or morality.”
“You begin to understand,” said Varnay. “But it has its own goals, quite separate from what any individual or group of espers may think they want. It draws on their powers to sustain and defend itself, just as you and I do. Haven’t you ever wondered where your heightened powers come from? You live off them, just as I live off those who come here. I am what you may become, in time. Unless you find a way to destroy the Mater Mundi without killing the innocent espers who host it.”
“What can I do?” said Diana. “If every esper is potentially my enemy ...”
“Go to New Hope. The Esper Liberation Front. They’ve formed their own gestalt, deliberate and fully conscious, and have thus seperated themselves from the rest of the esper massmind. They are the Mater Mundi’s enemy. They may have the answers you seek ... or at least a place to hide.”
“I don’t like running,” said Diana. “And I don’t like depending on others. You survived on your own.”
“Don’t confuse surviving with living. I continue in this ragged existence only because I lack the strength of will to end it.”
“Then why call me here? Why risk your precious anonymity to tell me the truth about the Mater Mundi?”
“Because you’re different. When I discovered the reality behind the Mater Mundi, my only thought was to hide. Yours was to fight. You’ve been touched by something greater, something powerful, even before the Mater Mundi chose you as its agent.”