Authors: Jeannie van Rompaey
‘By magic?’
‘It is rather like that.’
‘Where do these – materials come from?’
‘From Oasis, I assume.’
‘Ah. Oasis. Has it occurred to you that all requests should come through me, that I am the only humanoid allowed to contact Oasis.’
I raise my three eyebrows in professed innocence. ‘I didn’t know that. I hear that, now it’s safe outside, other sectoids have projects in process outside their compounds. Kali and Jaga are developing arable land and Durga has built a parade ground and barracks for the golden warriors. So I thought – why not a city?’
‘You didn’t consult me first.’
‘I didn’t think it necessary. I understood that I was in charge here.’
Athene doesn’t answer. Her face is white, her lips tight.
‘Did Durga consult you before embarking on her project?’ I ask.
‘Everything has to come through me. How have you managed to arrange this on your own?’
I smile. ‘I have my methods.’ I point out the proposed layout of the city. ‘Over there I imagine a park full of trees and plants. Maybe even a water feature. A fountain perhaps.’
She shakes her head. ‘Dream on,’ she says.
‘It’s a good dream,’ I tell her. ‘A possible dream. It will take time but it will happen. Earth City will be built, with or without your approval.’
She takes a deep breath. ‘Does Stella know about this?’
‘Stella?’
‘Don’t insult me, Heracles. You know I mean Stella Jameson.’
‘Oh her. I have no idea if she knows or not. I assume she does. She’s head of Worldwideculture so she must know everything.’
‘But she’s not your contact?’
I smile. ‘She is not.’
‘Then who is?’
‘No one you know. Someone I met when on Oasis.’
‘One of your gaolers?’
I smile again. I will not let her rile me. We have walked some way. I look back and ask Athene to turn round. ‘Just take a look at the tower from here. Isn’t it the most creative design you’ve ever seen?’
The light is fading a little and the tower shows up, tall and dark, against a sky flushed with pink. The tower bulges at its tip, purple black, aggressive.
To my surprise, Athene bursts out laughing. ‘Why, it’s a penis,’ she says. ‘A phallic symbol. A statement of your power.’
‘You might think that,’ I reply. ‘I couldn’t possibly comment.’
She laughs out loud again at this apt quotation from a twentieth century TV series about a ruthless politician determined to reach the top at whatever cost.
She stops laughing and gives a little shiver. ‘Let’s go inside now, Heracles.’
‘Into the tower or the compound?’
‘The compound.’ She tucks her hand into my arm and we
walk along together as if we are old friends. Which I suppose we are. Old friends, who have had a bit of a tiff and made up. Temporarily.
Just before we reach the door, a tiny animal runs out of the flowerbeds and over Athene’s foot. She gives a little squeal and clutches my arm. We stop and look down at it. I bend over and try to pick it up, but it’s too quick for me and escapes.
‘I think that was a field-mouse,’ I tell her.
‘It made me jump whatever it was,’ she says. ‘It tells us that the animals are coming back, that the Earth is fertile again. Pity we couldn’t catch it to see if it has any mutations.’
‘It appeared to have the customary four legs but if there’s one mouse there must be more. I’ll catch one next time.’ I look up at the sky. ‘Once we have trees we’ll probably have birds.’
She looks up at me with an amused gleam in her eye. ‘Birds? That would be good. Oh, by the way, Heracles. I forgot to tell you. I brought another visitor with me.’
In we go. The hall is full. Every member of the sectoid must be present. And, in the centre of the crowd, towering over everyone else stands the ebony giant, Kata-Mbula.
Athene and I, mere observers, watch the crowd’s response to Kata-Mbula. The excitement is palpable. I’ll never be so admired, so respected or so loved. My mouth feels dry – stale. I swallow, but it makes no difference.
His hair has grown. Long corkscrew curls touch his shoulders. His embroidered robe, the coloured beads at neck and wrists, the wide calm smiles on both of his faces, all contribute to the joy he emanates. He is as delighted to be back as his fans are to see him. They try to get as close to the great humanoid as they can. They plant their kisses on any piece of exposed skin they can reach, his faces, his body and his limbs. Some crawl between the legs of their colleagues to lift his robe, kiss his feet and sink their greedy mouths into his ankles and calves. Others clamber over each other and cling on to his robe, his hands, his arms, as if they will never let them go. A sickening spectacle.
The incredible thing is that this Kat, far from objecting to their proximity, laps up their adulation. Even the long sour face is wreathed in a smile. No pop star ever had such a welcome. His reception is more like that afforded a prophet or Jesus Christ himself. Only more familiar somehow. A tad distasteful.
I think of Bathsheba’s letters and her assertion that Kat has
slept with many of his actors, all in the name of producing the best possible performances. I wonder if he and I have shared the same females and if so, which of us they consider the better lover.
Bathsheba stands apart. Her face transfixed on her hero. She’s glad he’s back but disappointed that he hasn’t taken any notice of her.
Ah at last. Kat’s eyes travel over the heads of the mob and rest on the lone figure by a pillar. He begins to make his way through the throng towards her. When his admirers realise what he wants to do they fall back to create a central aisle. It reminds me of how these same humanoids welcomed Sati and me on our arrival, dividing into two columns like the parting of the Red Sea, to provide a space for us to walk through.
Kat approaches Bathsheba, his arms outstretched. She doesn’t hesitate but trots straight into those arms and presses her body against his, honoured that he is paying her such special attention. Undignified behaviour. Ridiculous in a female of her age. Tears stream down her cheeks. An embarrassing display.
He takes her to one side and they exchange a few intimate whispers. I know it won’t be long before Bathsheba finds out that he didn’t receive any of her personally coded messages.
Athene looks at me. I give her a questioning look. Is Kat back for good? Am I being replaced? She doesn’t satisfy my curiosity. Not yet. She enjoys playing cat and mouse.
There is to be a celebratory feast for Kata-Mbula this evening, followed by the inevitable “show.” Athene is not staying to participate, but gently suggests it would be politic for me to attend.
So I am not being recalled to C99.
Before she leaves, Athene asks to be shown round The Heracles Tower.
‘It’s not finished,’ I warn her. ‘Sati is designing her aparto-cube and most of the other cubes are empty.’
‘You have a dormo-cube here?’
I look at her out of the corner of my central eye. I’m not sure if she is flirting with me or not. Difficult to tell with Athene.
‘I have. Would you like to see it?’
‘I would indeed but is there somewhere a little more formal where we can talk?’
‘My office on the top floor.’
I show her round the lower floors of the tower, mostly empty cubes. ‘I intend to have a small gym or exercise room, a salon, a kitchen and dining room.’
She nods. ‘You intend to make yourself comfortable.’
‘I hope you will think of this as your second home, Athene. You will always be welcome here.’
I leap up the circular staircase and she follows me at a more leisurely pace. On the penultimate floor a door opens and Sati’s two heads appear.
‘Hi,’ the blond head says.
I continue on my way. Athene stops for a chat. ‘Are you settling in, Sati?’
‘I’m still busy deciding on colours.’
‘You want any help?’
‘Oh no. I’m perfectly capable of making up my own minds, thank you Athene.’
‘I’m sure you are. I’ll leave you to it then.’
The other head shakes out her sleek dark hair and giggles. ‘Enjoy the view upstairs.’
Athene follows me up to the top floor and I walk her round the balcony. We look out of the curved windows. ‘You have to use your imagination to see the splendour of the future Earth City.’
She stands very close to me. ‘If I allow you to go ahead with your plan.’
‘Are you threatening me?’
‘Just stating a fact. I want you to realise that the outcome of your dream is dependent on my permission.’
A red flash lights up her eye. ‘I could stop the project now. I could order this tower to be destroyed. Just like that.’
She clicks her fingers. ‘You have exceeded your authority.’
She’s annoyed with me for going over her head and building the tower, for contacting Oasis myself, for deciding to build a city without consulting her, for this blatant exhibition of my power.
I need her on my side. ‘I’m sorry. I thought I was in charge here.’
‘In charge of the compound, but that doesn’t mean you have
carte blanche
to make the kind of decisions that affect other sectoids as well. A big city would encourage emigration from other compounds. It’s an executive decision that only I am entitled to make.’
I am very tempted to take her in my arms and attain her support by seducing her. With any other woman it would work, but perhaps not with Athene. The flash of fire is still there in her eye. ‘Come into my office and let’s discuss this.’
She looks round the green cave with interest. ‘All these years in a compound without natural light and you choose to continue to work in a windowless cube.’
I shrug my shoulders. ‘No distractions. Just me and the compu. It helps me focus.’
I motion for her to sit down on a shaper. She chooses a single one. I don’t make the mistake of sitting behind my desk. Too confrontational. I pull up another shaper next to hers. I must play her game. Let her believe that I’m loyal to her, that my intention was not to go over her head but to use my initiative, to do something useful for the community, something she would be proud of.
‘Athene, tell me what I can do to win back your trust. Just tell me and I’ll do it.’
Shit. I’ve never eaten humble pie like this before. But whatever it takes I will do.
I see the corner of her mouth twitching. She finds it amusing that I should be forced to beg for her forgiveness.
‘Oh Heracles.’ She shakes her head. ‘What am I going to do with you?’
At that moment I know it’s going to be all right. She won’t knock down the tower or stop me building the city.
‘You want me to come back to C99 with you?’
‘Great Zeus no! I can’t cope with you that near to me. Better only to see each other from time to time, don’t you think?’
I don’t insult her by agreeing with her. Instead I say, ‘It’s up to you. I will do whatever you want me to.’
The words sound false, even to me. Can she really believe that this subservient Heracles is for real?
She takes my hand in hers. ‘I want you to stay here,’ she says simply. ‘Live in your tower, build your city.’
I look her straight in her eye. ‘Really?’
‘Really.’ She takes her hand away, stands up and moves around the cube. ‘But Kata-Mbula stays too. He has finished his work in C99. He has designed a magnificent stadium surrounded by houses and hotels. Not exactly a city. No competition on that score. More like an Olympic village. Those from our sectoid who wish to live in the houses can move out of the compound. Some have moved out already, but not as many as I imagined. I suppose we’re all used to communal living. It’s not so easy to start afresh. In time I’m convinced attitudes will change. Especially now we have several pregnancies. Some humanoids are bound to decide to live in family units again as in the time before.’
She pauses for a moment, as if to remember the drift of
what she was saying. ‘The hotels are for the visitors we hope to attract to events in the stadium. The Big Event will be followed by other activities: conferences, sports fixtures, pageants, dance events, opera – spectacles of all kinds. I intend to show the completes what we are capable of.’
Inspiring stuff. Quite moving, if I were in the market to be moved.
I stand up and walk away from her. ‘You say Kata-Mbula is to stay here and that I should stay here too. Who is to be in charge of the compound?’
Athene hesitates. ‘Kat came to C99 for the purpose of designing and overseeing the stadium. He has never been entirely at ease there.’
She comes up to me and lays a hand on my arm. ‘This is Kat’s home. His heart is here. Compound Creative is his baby. And, more important, I need him here now to make sure the show for The Big Event will be the sensation I intend it to be.’
‘But what about me?’
‘You will live in the tower and build your city.’
‘But I need the workforce of Compound Creative to be under my control to do that. They work here in the mornings.’
‘Kat will need to rehearse longer hours now in the lead up to The Big Event, but I’m sure with your negotiating skills you will manage to persuade him to give up some colleagues to help with the construction. Or you may come up with a different plan. Your workers for the project may come from another source.’
‘Are you telling me that that I am no longer the Head of Compound Creative?’
‘These titles and labels are not important, Heracles. Let’s call it a division of responsibility. The focus must be on preparing for The Big Event. If that means that your
building work has to progress a little more slowly, you will have to accept that. I promise not to reclaim Thor. He can stay here as construction manager. I know how much you value him. And he you.’
She puts her hands on my shoulders. ‘Don’t be unhappy about this, Heracles. We have something even more important to do now.’
‘And what is that?’
‘If you are willing, I thought we might try to make a baby.’
My mouth drops open. I must look as flabbergasted as I feel.
Athene takes my reaction to mean that I need a bit of persuading. ‘Just think what kind of humanoid our combined genes could produce.’ She grins and smoothes her hands over my face, neck and shoulders. ‘How could we not produce a perfect child, two perfect specimens of humanity like us?’
I stare at her but say not a word.
‘If you are in accordance with my plan, Heracles, maybe this would be the right moment to lead me your dormocube.’
She’s cool. I’ll give her that. But I’m sure I’ll be able to generate a bit of heat to warm her up. If our actions do produce a child so be it. If not, at least I can take possession of her incredible body at last. And, if I use my wits, of her mind too.
An hour or so later, she says, a little less coolly, ‘You do realise, Heracles, that one session might not be enough. We may have to repeat this experience from time to time. Do you think you could cope with that?’
I don’t answer. I remember the old adage, “actions speak louder than words” and take the opportunity to consolidate my rights to her amazing body.