The Antarcticans (5 page)

Gavin stopped at a toy shop, walked in, and looked around at the colorful displays showcasing toys from his youth. Solid wooden toys with painted eyes and clothes. The shopkeeper was pulling a small wooden dog with wheels for legs, with a black string attached to the front and a tail made from a spring that bounced along as the dog moved. The man was short, the size of a child, with pale white skin and sunken eyes. “We have contemporary toys in the back,” he said, loping around the store, pulling the dog.

Gavin left the store. He hadn’t noticed that Lucifer was waiting impatiently in the corridor.

They got back on the lift and went to Deck Four. Lucifer quickly buzzed him through the bland hallways, waving at doors and downplaying everything noteworthy about the deck. “I was never satisfied with this deck,” he said. “They told me, ‘It’s just for the crew. Why are you making such a fuss over it?’ I’ll tell you why: because the ship must be perfect; it must be the shining icon of the sea. I couldn’t get anyone to understand. All I heard was, ‘Function, function, function.’ I always think of function as a minimal requirement.” Lucifer stopped ranting, and they moved to Deck Five, the visitors’ quarters. They skipped Deck Six, and Deck Seven was the first deck they had been to, with Dr. Cristofari’s office, the grand entrance hall, Lucifer’s private area, and a large number of conference rooms. They stopped on Deck Eight and stepped out.

“I think you’ll really like this one,” Lucifer said. “Have you ever been to the UN headquarters in New York City?”

Gavin shook his head.

“But you’ve seen some UN speeches on television or the Internet, right?”

“Maybe, but I don’t understand what any of this has to do with my son,” Gavin said, his voice laced with frustration and anger.

“You’ve got quite a temper for a minister. You know, some things take time. I thought you might enjoy looking around at my creation. Oh…I guess it’s my pride kicking in. I should know by now that not everyone is interested in what I’ve done.” He shook his head.

“I don’t like how you’ve created all this technology then hidden it from the people who need it most and given it to those who need it least,” Gavin said.

“That is quite an assumption,” Lucifer said. “Who are you to judge or even know who deserves or needs what they get? But I guess it does seem unfair at first glance. What I can do, though, is limited. I’m bound by the will of the gods. Often I have to work back channels to complete my agendas. Don’t blame me for the uneven distribution of wealth, the wars, the strife, the poverty. Those are the provinces of someone else’s master. On this ship, we work tirelessly day and night to get around the order that has been set in motion.” He was looking directly into Gavin’s eyes, never blinking.

Gavin held back; he couldn’t jeopardize having these treatments taken away from his son just because he wanted to lash out with his sharp tongue. He and Lucifer were coming up to two golden doors, ten feet high, with a strange symbol on the center of each one. There were no handles. A touchpad illuminated in front of Lucifer as he approached; he keyed in a ten-number sequence, and the doors unlocked and opened with the hiss of a sealed vault. The doors purred like a velvety kitten until they settled, completely open, letting out a small puff of air. Lucifer walked into the room, and Gavin followed. The ceilings soared, and the walls leading up to them had a bumpy texture. Gavin thought the surface looked like small eyes pointing in different directions. The amphitheater-style seating circled down ten rows to a stage. Each row’s seats were lined with rich upholstery in a different color, giving the room a rainbow effect. A small seating box hovered in the air about ten feet from the first row of seats.

“How?” Gavin asked, pointing at the box.

“It’s an illusion. Vapor technology that allows us to project onto stable molecules in the air. Many of our leaders are uncomfortable if they don’t have a presence. Most are satisfied with this format. We’ve worked very hard to reduce the need to travel here. Someone didn’t turn that projector off.”

On one of the walls, a painting of the Kenyan savanna parted to reveal a side room. Lucifer stepped inside, turned a light on, then moved around; Gavin lost sight of him when the painting closed. The amphitheater went dark for a few seconds, which was when Gavin realized the large doors they had entered through had shut behind them. His eyes shut instinctively when a bright flash lit up the room. When he opened them, the room had transformed. The walls were gone, and he was looking out over the Mediterranean Sea. He recognized the coast from his vacations to Italy and the south of France. The seating had changed and was now the deep-blue color of the water. The stage, which had transformed into a jagged rock outcropping, was rising up to eye level with the top row of seating. Lucifer emerged from the control room.

“What do you think?”

“Stunning,” Gavin said, wide-eyed.

“We can program just about any destination in the world. We even have a Martian landscape built from the pictures taken by NASA’s rovers. Our research tells us that people are most comfortable in their home settings and will make the best decisions for themselves and their people when they’re in an area that feels safe. So we alter the landscape based on what we want to accomplish at each conference.” Lucifer looked around quickly. “Anything else in here you’d like to see?”

“Who comes here?” Gavin asked.

“Anyone who’s anyone…or at least that’s what the people who come here like to think.” Lucifer smiled.

“Then why am I here?”

“Are you complaining about being here? The last time I checked, you came searching for me.”

Gavin shook his head. “None of this makes sense.”

“It will…Just hold up your end of the deal by bringing your lovely wife and Joshua to the ship.”

“Noila was never part of this,” Gavin shot back.

“I thought you said the whole family followed your decisions. Noila is still your wife, yes?”

Gavin’s brows knitted. “Why’s it important to have her here?”

“Because everyone has value.” Lucifer gestured toward the doors. “We should get going.”

Gavin followed him back into the lift and headed to the top of the ship. The pools, trees, cabanas, and landscaped gardens could make anyone forget they were standing on tons of steel cutting through the great oceans. Attendants were in abundance, taking orders for anything a guest might need. A small tropical lizard darted in front of Gavin.

“I wanted to create a six-star-resort feel for my guests. I imagined a floating Peninsula Hotel. Their lives are often stressful, and my ambition is to swathe them in comfort so they can make the best decisions.” Lucifer had returned to his grandiose affectation.

Gavin nodded as he walked past a row of chaise lounges. A hefty woman in her late fifties speaking precise German into her headset, while reviewing a packet of papers, was lying out, enjoying the sun and the South Atlantic Ocean.

“Is that…?” Gavin asked.

“The chancellor of Germany? Yes. One of our regulars. She’s a key driver of our policy in Europe. We’re wondering how long the people of Germany and Europe, though, will stand behind her. Anyone in office, no matter how effective, becomes the object of blame for long-term problems cropping up in the present. And over there, you see that woman with all those children around her?” Lucifer continued. “She’s a famous actress you might recognize. Easy to spot with those distinctive tattoos. Her husband rarely accompanies her. I think their opposite work schedules inconveniently bring them to different parts of the world. Listen, Gavin, I know you have responsibilities at home, but would you like to spend the night here? We can arrange for you to travel back tomorrow at whatever time is convenient for you. There’s always a helicopter here. I’d like you to mingle with more of our guests. We have a religious historian on board. Ibantha Sagona, the Vatican’s head archivist.”

Gavin thought about it for a moment; he had come this far, and the extra time might buy him more insight into how things worked around here.

“Okay. Let me call my wife and let her know I won’t be home this evening.”

“Perfect. Leo will show you to your quarters,” Lucifer said. The same attendant who was on the flight to the ship appeared from behind one of the cabanas. He had a drink tray in his hand, which he set down, and nodded to Gavin.

“Whenever you’re ready, sir.” Leo stood tall as he waited.

The chop of the ocean picked up, and the ship shifted slightly, causing Gavin to reposition himself. He looked at the attendant’s clothes. He had changed from his casual polo and shorts into a tuxedo.

“Big party tonight?” Gavin joked with him.

“No, sir. This is required dress on the
Dragon
.”

“The
Dragon
?” Gavin asked, stepping back from him.

“Yes, the name of the ship, sir.” He held his hands behind his back as he waited for Gavin to make the next move. “It’s a play on words on believe. The boss thought it had a progressive ring to it—” He stopped abruptly.

“Leo is full of facts, isn’t he? I’m sure Pastor Pennings isn’t interested in so much detail.” Lucifer glanced at something over Gavin’s shoulder.

Gavin started to turn around, and then he heard the rhythmic thumping of helicopter blades slicing through the air. He wondered which celebrity or world leader was touching down.

“NATO’s supreme allied commander,” Lucifer said.

“What?” Gavin looked over at him, wondering whether Lucifer had intended for him to hear that.

“He’s here to discuss the military posturing by some of the Middle Eastern powers. Do you have any interest in meeting him?”

Gavin shook his head. He couldn’t get used to the commonplaceness that some of the most powerful people were regarded with here. The magnification of life on the
Dragon
felt overwhelming. When Marcel Pagel, one of his more irregular parishioners, had initially tipped him off that Lucifer might be able to help him with Joshua’s plight, he hadn’t mentioned any of this. Perhaps he didn’t know, or maybe the mere mention of it was too dangerous.

Lucifer pulled his white suit jacket down and grasped Gavin’s hand. He was slowly moving in the direction of the flight deck and seemed to ignore what Gavin was asking.

“Leo will take care of you.” He didn’t look at him, as he was focused on the helicopter. “I need to attend to this personally.”

“Is there a chapel on board?” Gavin asked.

“A chapel?” Lucifer was pointing to the helicopter pilot.

“Yes, a chapel.”

He ignored the question. “Leo,” he said, then snapped his fingers and quickly walked behind the thick rows of trees and succulents that divided the two areas. Gavin saw his blond hair bob up and down as he lengthened his stride toward the visitor.

Making tight eye contact with Gavin, Leo straightened his back and pulled down his tuxedo jacket. “We should get to your fitting. You’re in need of different clothes for tomorrow’s events.”

Leo led them through the corridors to a small gallery. The floors changed from white marble to a rich brown-and-green travertine. Glass rose up from the floors, framing storefronts and displays. The ceiling was flickering blue with points of stars scattered and twinkling within it. They stepped through one of the storefronts into a small shop. An elderly tailor was on his knees, measuring the dress length of a slender Asian woman with a long shiny ponytail extending beyond her waist. His arthritic hands were defying their disease, dexterously pinning and pulling the periwinkle silk into bunches, working quickly over the flowing material.

“I’ll be right with you, Leo,” he mumbled through the pins he held in his mouth.

The woman glanced at them then went back to perusing her computer tablet.

“Rico is usually booked days in advance. I really should have called him, but your visit was unexpected,” Leo said.

The phone in the shop beeped, and an attendant pushed a small curtain aside and picked up the receiver. Gavin couldn’t hear what she said, but she gestured for him to come over and take the phone from her.

Who could possibly know where I am right now?
Gavin thought.

Joshua traced the lines of the Formica countertop in their kitchen with his pencil. The quadratic equation on the page in front of him wasn’t budging until Margie popped into his ear.

“I know you aren’t good at math,” she said in her thick Southern drawl.

Joshua shrugged. “Yeah, so? I just don’t try. It doesn’t matter anyway.”

“Why don’t you do somethin’ about it?” she asked.

“Like what?”

Joshua could no longer see the lines on the countertop; it was just one smooth surface, and it had started buzzing. He imagined a giant swarm of bees a few hundred feet from where he sat, around the oak tree he used to climb as a kid.

“I’ll make you better. Don’t listen to her.” This was the deep, gravelly voice that always preceded bad things.

Joshua took his pencil and pushed it hard into his index finger, hoping the pain would scare the voices away.

Belly-rolling laughter filled his head. “Wha, wha, hahahahaha. You thought…” The gravel crunched up, and the voice started choking before he caught his breath. “You thought a little graphite in your tiny finger was going to hurt? Ah, c’mon, kid. You can do better than that.”