Rags & Bones: New Twists on Timeless Tales (22 page)

The
second course arrived: a tomato bisque and rolls dripping in butter. Courteous tore off a piece of bread and dunked it into the rich soup, and the flesh of the bread turned scarlet.

“It’s not something I can tell you,” he said. “I must show you.”

“I’d prefer that you just tell me.”

“And I would prefer that I just show you.”

Through the next ten courses, as all light bled from the sky, during
the after-dinner massage, lying naked beside her on the white divans, the twinkling lights of the city shining through the glass floor, like, his mind insisted, a million diamonds, and then the shower afterward, lathering her perfect flesh, her quintessential form, he maintained his composure. They chatted about their pending celebration upon the moon. Gossiped about the latest scandal among the
First and Foremost Families. Discussed the recent news, fresh from their cogboxes, of the fighting in Africa and the proposed union of the Republic of North America with the United States of Europe into one mega-state, the United Atlantic Republic. They boarded the private shuttle a little after midnight, sated in body and spirit.

“Where are we going?” Courteous asked, for it was clear they
were not heading in the right direction. “Beneficent? Where are you taking me?”

“To show you the surprise.”

He took her hand. Smiled reassuringly. Kissed her gently. The shuttle dropped into the unloading bay and then it was just a few steps to the tram, and then just a couple of stops to their destination.

“My Transfer boutique?” she asked. “Beneficent, what do you have up your sleeve?”

“Come
and see,” he said.

The Transfer agent was waiting for them behind the frosted-glass door, smiling, obsequious, giddy with excitement, a coconspirator in Courteous’s anniversary surprise. Giggling, the agent led Courteous to the prep room, asked in a very dramatic voice, “Are you ready, darling?” and threw open the door. Courteous gasped.

Lying upon the padded table was the wedding look she had
chosen over her mother’s objections five years before. Tall with flashing green eyes, because green was Beneficent’s favorite color.

“Well, what do you think?” Beneficent asked, beaming. “They’ve discontinued this look, but I managed to pull a few strings … ”

“
I
found it,” the agent said proudly. “Pulled it out of deep, deep storage. The last one!”

Courteous pursed her lips and said, “I don’t
want it.”

“Oh, darling, please say that you will,” Beneficent said. “It’s perfect, don’t you see? A new beginning—or rather, another chance at the same beginning.” He turned to the agent. “A moment, please.”

When they were alone, he took her hands in his and gazed imploringly into her eyes.

“My old look is waiting in the next room, my love,” he whispered. “I’ll switch, too, and it will be as
if the last five years didn’t happen.”

“It’s too soon,” she whispered.

“Your father signed the waivers yesterday. Here.” He dropped the documents into her cogbox.

“Father approved?”

“Courteous, you are right. Of course it was stupid—
is
stupid—of me to consort with that girl. It’s not the thing I desire, but denied that desire I turned to her … ”

“The thing you desire … ” she echoed. “What
do you desire, Beneficent?”

“You know what I desire. What sadistic pleasure does it give you to hear me say it?”

“You would have me believe you seduced Georgiana because I refused to bear you a child? It is
my
fault?”

“It is the fault of our curse, Courteous. The blemish upon our perfect face.”

“Don’t talk to me in riddles. I don’t care about the waiver; I was never fond of that look.”

“But
I was,” he said. “Courteous, you know there is no choice between her and you. How can there be? You said it yourself. She will pass; you will endure. I pledged to care for you for all eternity, and that I will. No mortal thing can ever come between us—how could it? No matter how much I think it can’t or hope it won’t, the flower fades, the rain passes, the sun winks out.”

He fell to his knees
before her, still clinging to her hands.

“Put on the look,” he pleaded. “You may switch when we return, but for this, for me, for
us
, put it back on.”

“Are you a wise man, Beneficent?” she asked, her eyes filling with tears. “Or are you a fool?”

But she allowed him to lift her onto the empty table. Beneficent summoned the Transfer agent. Handed him Courteous’s blue psyche-card for the upload
to her master file. Her eyelids fluttered; she was “saved.” A final kiss and then, whispered so only he could hear, “I will do it, Beneficent. I will bear your child.”

“I know, I know,” he whispered back, stroking her perfect cheek. He spoke the obligatory words,
May you wake safely upon that far shore
… He stepped away from the table. The agent took his place. Unobserved, Beneficent removed
her card from the slot and inserted an identical card.

She will pass; you will endure.

The agent administered the first shot, the one that stole away her consciousness. As she drifted into oblivion, she kissed Beneficent’s hand, and said in a desperate voice, “Tell me it isn’t pointless. Tell me that it’s beautiful.”

“It is not, and it is,” he told her, but she had already fallen asleep.

“That was the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen in my
life
,” the agent said, tears streaming down his cheeks. A moment later, his joy turned to confusion: the system was not responding to the Transfer command. His fingers danced over the touch screen, trying to track down the error.

“Is there a problem?” Beneficent asked.

“Incompatible data streams,” the agent muttered. “The psyche-card isn’t
matching the master file … ”

“But it matched on the upload,” Beneficent said.

“I know! I’ve seen mismatches before on uploads—a damaged psyche-card or an input error—but never afterward.”

He pulled the psyche-card from the slot to examine it for defects. Beneficent left his wife’s unconscious body and stood behind the agent, peering over his shoulder.

“It can’t be the card,” Beneficent pointed
out. “As you said, if the card was damaged it wouldn’t have uploaded.”

He pulled the blue card from the agent’s grasp and slid it back into the slot.

“Download her.”

“I’m not allowed,” the agent protested. “The protocol is quite clear, Mr. Page. In the event of incompatibility with the master file … ”

“Overwrite it.”

The poor agent was taken aback. “Excuse me?”

“Overwrite the master file.”

“Mr. Page, if I overwrite the master file with corrupted or incompatible data, the damage could be irreversible.”

“I will take full responsibility.”

The agent didn’t quite know what to say. The proper procedure was to abort the Transfer, wake Courteous, and run a full system check to track down the error. With any other client, he might refuse, but this was not just any other client. This was
a member of the first and foremost family of
all
the First and Foremost Families. Refusal could cost him his livelihood. Or worse, his
life.
But if he
didn’t
refuse, if he overwrote the file and something terrible happened, he
still
would be held responsible for ignoring the protocol! He was in an impossible situation. His only prayer was Beneficent’s same prayer: that the Transfer took without
a hitch.

May you wake safely upon that far shore …

The eyelids of Courteous’s new look—or her old one, since she had worn it before, on her wedding day—fluttered as the data flooded into its brain, igniting synapses, wiring the irreversible connections that made up the human map, mixing memory and desire, breeding lilacs, as the poet said, out of the dead land.
Both men held their breaths until
it was done, and the green eyes came open, the pupils contracting in the sudden onslaught of light. Beneficent leaned over, so his face filled the entirety of her vision, so that all she could see was his reassuring smile.

“Hello, my love.”

Her body convulsed upon the table, and Beneficent seized her flailing hands and held them tightly between his own, whispering urgently, “No, no, no. Don’t
be afraid. It’s fine now, perfectly fine, it’s done, you’re here with me forever now, my precious one, my darling, my true love.”

And he covered her new face with kisses, Georgiana’s perfect, flawless face.

“Beneficent,” Georgiana whispered hoarsely. “What have you done?”

“It is not about what I am willing to give up for you,” he told her. “But what I can give
to
you.”

Beneficent dropped a
message into Georgiana’s cogbox:
You are Courteous now! If he suspects anything, we’re both doomed!

“And how are we feeling?” the agent asked Georgiana, patting her bare arm.

“A little light-headed,” she murmured, clutching her lover’s hand.

“Hmmm-mmmm.” The agent was studying her vitals on the monitors. Blood pressure and heart rate slightly elevated, but that was to be expected, brain activity normal. He ran quickly through the obligatory questions. What year was it? Who was the president of the Republic? What was her mother’s maiden name? What was her earliest memory?
She answered all fifty questions correctly—there was no one who knew her mistress better—hesitating on only one: What is the name of your persist?

The agent had her wiggle her toes, flex her fingers. He tested her reflexes, then helped her down from the table and ran the usual tests on balance, coordination, and basic neurological function. All the while, messages from Beneficent dropped into
her cogbox.
You’re doing marvelously! It’s almost over. Be strong, my love.

The agent was a bit baffled, but relieved. The Transfer was a complete success. He excused himself and wheeled Courteous into the adjoining room for the second shot, the one which would stop her heart. It could be disconcerting, to say the least, to watch the body you had just a moment before occupied die right before
your eyes. In any other age, it would be called murder. In this age, it was called
termination of the redundancy.

In this particular case, however, it
was
murder.

“You must stop him,” Georgiana demanded.

“It’s too late,” he said.

She shoved him aside and started toward the door, but collapsed before she had taken two steps. A Transfer could be overwhelming, a disorienting existential disconnect,
particularly the first and especially if you’ve had no warning, no chance to prepare yourself mentally. Beneficent lifted her into his arms and carried her back to the table.

“Why?”
she asked weakly.

“Because I could not suffer you to die.”

The Transfer agent returned to their room. Georgiana burst into inconsolable tears, but it was too late: Courteous was already on her way to the incinerator.

At Beneficent’s request, the agent gave Georgiana a mild sedative. It was not an uncommon reaction, to grieve the passing of your former look. The
little death
, it was called.

He brought her back to their quarters in the white tower and laid her in his marital bed, drawing the covers over her shivering form, promising her she would feel better in the morning. Dawn was near. He went onto the balcony
and waited.

He closed his eyes when the door behind him slid open. The smell of warm muffins. Her delicate scent. What had he said to Courteous?
The flower fades, the rain passes, the sun winks out.
Her cool hands pressed against his closed eyes and her soft voice murmured in his ear.

“Good morning, my love.”

He grasped her wrists and stood up. She saw at once something in his expression. Love
gives us eyes that see down to the marrow of our lover’s bones.

“What is it, Beneficent?” she whispered.

“Nothing,” he answered, gazing into the face of Georgiana’s redundancy. He realized he was seeing this face for the last time, and his heart ached with a sudden rush of grief.
You’re smashing the empty vase,
he told himself sternly,
the flower within endures!
Keeping a firm grip upon her
wrists, he swung her toward the railing. She giggled nervously, a little unnerved and confused.

“A trifle,” he said. “Not to be considered.” And he kissed her one last time before hurling her over the railing.

Two days later, they departed for the moon to celebrate the anniversary of his marriage to his dead wife. It was understandably hard for Georgiana. Not only did she have to adjust to her
new body, which can be hard enough, but she had to adjust while pretending to be her former mistress, mourning the untimely and tragic suicide of her persist, who also happened to be herself! Beneficent had justifiable concern for her mental health. The
trip could not have come at the more perfect time. Just the two of them, away from all family and familiar surroundings, the ideal opportunity
for her to recover and get used to her new body—and the mind-boggling reality of life eternal.

Their room had a glass dome for a ceiling, so when they made love they could see the Earth suspended like a glittering blue diamond in the star-encrusted sky. Their bodies, unfettered from Earth’s heavier gravity, strangely insubstantial, as if their bones were hollow. She cried afterward and here even
her tears were lighter and rolled as if in slow motion down her perfect cheeks.

“You lied to me,” she accused him. “You said you would take me into yourself, not imprison me.”

“Imprison you?” He was confused. “But I have freed you, Georgiana.”

“You are a murderer, and I am the accessory to the crime.”

“More like the motive, I would say.”

She struck him across the cheek. The blow fell lightly,
though, like her tears.

“What I have done, I have done,” he said simply. “It was the only way.”

He kissed away her tears. They did not taste the same as her old tears. He pushed that disconcerting thought away.
Not the vase, but the flower!
He looked deeply into her luminous green eyes, the color of the wet grass of Omniscient’s garden, and, despite himself, saw a stranger there.