The Unincorporated Future (43 page)

Marilynn stood up and looked at the group in grim regard. “Did you kill Justin Cord?”

Before Marcus and Lucinda could begin the automatic denials that were already escaping from their lips, Dante answered. “Yes.”

Sandra’s eyes sparked for just the briefest moment as the fire of a deep-seated rage emerged—only to be immediately suppressed. But it was enough for Dante to know that his whole race was in danger of extinction.
She loved Justin.
The thought came unbidden, but the President’s momentary slip told him everything he needed to know. He prayed that Sebastian’s prophecy would not come true, that Sandra would not take out her considerable anger on what was left of his dwindling race. Sandra, meanwhile, had returned to her detached amused self—a look that would never fool Dante again.

“We need to know everything that happened,” Sandra said.

“Of course,” said Gwendolyn. “You will be given complete access to all the records and can interview whomever you need.”

“That won’t do,” said Sandra. “You killed the President of the Outer Alliance in time of war to serve your own ends. We can’t trust your records—or even you, for that matter. We will need to know
everything.
”

“But isn’t that what we just offered you?” asked Gwendolyn, a tincture of confusion and fear mixed in her voice.

“I’m not exactly sure yet,” answered Sandra. “When two avatars want to share information, they can perform something called a twining, yes?”

“Yes,” answered Marcus, “but an avatar can’t twine with a human.”

“Not in the way that two avatars can, I agree,” answered Sandra, “but that’s not what I’m suggesting. The subsystem that evolved into your ability to twine came from a program to enable a human mind to more directly integrate into the VR world it was experiencing. The core elements of that program are still in the routines you access when you twine. It took some effort, but I was able to create a patch program that will enable an avatar to twine with a human on a basic level. The two beings should know what the other is willing to share and what the other is withholding.”

“Or they could both end up suffering permanent damage,” said Lucinda, eyeing Sandra with open contempt. “This sounds almost Al-like. And you accuse
us
of playing loose with your lives! Good luck finding volunteers.”

“I’ll do it,” said Dante.

Lucinda’s mouth dropped open. “No,” she pleaded. But Dante ignored her.

When the other avatars began to protest, he cut them off as well. “We killed Justin. We all voted on it and it was passed.” Gwendolyn looked toward Sandra shamefaced, but was not given a hint of comfort. “If the humans are ever going to trust us again, they must know why—or this war could be lost, or worse, we may find ourselves fighting the war Sebastian prophesied: avatars against humans. That must not be allowed to happen, and if my program gets fried to prevent that, so be it.”

“In that case,” said Sandra, “as soon as you’ve backed yourself up, Marilynn will twine with you. Please make arrang—”

“Marilynn doesn’t have the ability to save herself,” interrupted Dante, “so why should I? If this goes wrong, she may be permanently harmed. All I risk losing is a few weeks’ worth of memories. Let’s do this—now.”

Sandra looked at Marilynn, who nodded her agreement, and then at Dante with something approaching respect. Without another word, she opened her palm and a blue crystal appeared in the center of it. She placed the crystal on the table in front of Marilynn, who took it up carefully and walked it over to Dante, who, standing up, had locked his eyes on to hers. Marilynn then took his hand and placed it over the crystal so that both their hands were covering it up and holding it together. She slowly lifted her head up until her eyes too were locked in to his. For a moment, nothing happened as the human and avatar stared deeply into each other’s eyes, each other’s souls—both vulnerable, both wondering if this was perhaps to be the last time they would truly see each other again, on any level. Slowly, a light began to suffuse both their bodies, which at first permeated but then melded them into one, as if carved from a single stone.

Silence filled the room as the three avatars and one human looked on in awe, realizing that they were witnessing something entirely new in the universe. After a time, the glow began to fade, the bodies began to separate, and the human and avatar became slowly aware again. Dante removed his palm from the blue stone and looked down at his hand and then back up to Marilynn—confused, amazed, and even a little scared. Marilynn looked as if she’d just been woken from a deep slumber and was desperately trying to remember all the events of a complex dream. A description that was not far from the truth.

She looked briefly to Dante, almost in thanks, and then over to Sandra. “I can report, Madam President.”

Sandra looked to the group of avatars and barked her order. “Stay here.” She then disappeared with Marilynn.

“What are we going to do?” asked Gwendolyn.

“We’re going to stay here,” said Dante, who then collapsed into his chair.

“By the Firstborn,” cried Lucinda in utter exasperation, “since when do we let a meatbag tell this Council what to do?”

“This is no longer about the Firstborn, Lucinda,” said Dante. “This is about the
next
born. We murdered their President. Imagine how we’d feel if the position were reversed, if we found out that they’d murdered Sebastian and then one of them tried to kill his successor.”

By the looks on Marcus’s and Lucinda’s faces, Dante saw that he’d a least made some headway.

“I don’t know what they’re going to come up with, but whatever it is, we must go along.”

“Sight unseen, Dante?” asked Marcus. “Why would we ever do that?”

“Because Sebastian was wrong. Our future is
with
these humans, not against them. We didn’t start winning our war against the Als until we joined with them. And I’m not ashamed to admit, didn’t really start living until we joined with them. We’ve had more creativity, energy, and sheer life in the last year than in the fifty years preceding it—all because of the humans.”

“But we would never had allied with the humans if Sandra O’Toole had not become their President,” said Lucinda, still exasperated. “And she would not have become their President if we had not assassinated the old one.”

“I am in no position to debate the merits of fate.”

“Then tell us, Dante,” said Marcus, “what drives her anger?”

“Trust,” Dante lied. “Perhaps a more valuable virtue to a human than to an avatar.”

In a matter of minutes, Marilynn and Sandra reappeared. Dante had to resist looking at Marilynn with the sudden hunger that he felt. There was too much at stake for him to be distracted by what they had just experienced, but he had to admit that he was gratified when he caught a furtive glance from her.

“If you want this pact to continue,” Sandra said, standing at the head of the table, “there are going to have to be changes.”

“What changes?” asked Lucinda.

“First, you have an opening on the Alliance Avatar Council. Marilynn is going to fill it.”

Presidential quarters
The Cliff House

Catalina Zohn entered the President’s quarters in order to prep the space for a visitor. She first put the gift boxes down on the front hall table and then set the quarters temperature to a manageable chill. She then pulled one of the President’s current favorite shawls from a nearby closet, walked over to the living room, and draped the shawl over the right arm of the couch. She returned moments later with the gift boxes and put them on the coffee table, and then she set the holo-tank to display the latest news reports. Nothing political or military—that had its place, but for this guest, the President had suggested the fashion and gossip sites with a healthy dose of entertainment channels. Finally, Catalina set up the now mandatory pot of tea. Though, in this case, the tea had been replaced by hot chocolate.

As if summoned by the act of putting the pot of cocoa on the coffee table, Katy stormed into the Presidential quarters and flopped down backwards onto the couch. “Hi, Cat!”

“Good evening to you, Katy,” sang Catalina.

Lying on her back, the little girl looked up to the painting that hung over the fireplace.

“That’s after the Battle of the Needle’s Eye! I did that. I did that in my room!”

Catalina giggled. Almost everyone had heard about Katy’s battle reenactments at the expense of the grand admiral’s living quarters.

“That was the flagship that Mommy Bo captured, all by herself!” Katy now lay still, hands clasped together on her chest, eyes staring dreamily up at the painting, as if trying to will herself into it.

It was only when Catalina poured the cup of hot chocolate that Katy broke from her reverie, propped herself up, and reached for the cup.

“Careful now, sweet thing,” said Catalina. “The cocoa’s still hot. Blow on it like soup, okay?”

Katy’s nod was very serious. She first blew on the surface of the cup and then took a first sip. Her lips lapped up the chocolate, and her face twisted about as she tried to get the liquid to every part of the mouth. Then she took another sip, and another—her eyes getting wider with each one.

“Is this really chocolate? Like really, really chocolate?”

Catalina nodded yes, and the little girl held out her empty cup for more, which was promptly refilled. Before the little girl could finish the next cup, the door opened again and in walked Sandra O’Toole. “Sweetheart,” said Sandra, looking down her nose at Katy, “if I’d known you were going to sprint from the transport tube to my quarters, I would’ve worn sneakers and not”—Sandra looked down at her elegant, if not made for running, pumps—“these things.”

Catalina, knowing her boss was happiest when she had something minor to complain about, had long stopped trying to solve the minor problems. Nonrunning pumps being one of them. It was only when the President complained about the same thing twice that Catalina would know it was something that needed solving. “The hot chocolate was a hit, Madam President,” she said, diverting the President’s energy.

Sandra brightened at that. “How many have you had?” she asked the little girl, who was busy licking her lips. Katy raised her finger in a
V
sign, only she folded her fingers slightly over, thinking that maybe two was too much.

“Good,” said Sandra. “Little girls are allowed to have an entire pot of hot chocolate when the President says so, and I’m the President and I say so.”

Katy smiled wide enough to show off her three missing teeth.

“How was the play?” Catalina asked Katy.

“So silly.”

“What made it silly?”

“No one talked. They all sang. Are all plays like that?”

Sandra’s smile grew even larger. “No Katy-coo, but maybe they should be.” Sandra turned her attention to Catalina. “I am sorry you couldn’t make it.”

“I would have loved to, Madam President, but the arrangements for the Fleet Officers’ Ball could not be delayed. Speaking of which, it begins in less than two hours, and you still need to get dressed.”

Sandra looked at Katy and saw her shiver. “Katy, see that shawl over there on the couch?”

Katy nodded.

“Wrap it around your shoulders. It’ll keep you warm.”

“But I’m not cold.”

“But you just shivered.”

Katy shrugged her shoulders defiantly.

“Suit yourself.”

“Wanna help me pick out the right earrings and necklace for my dress?”

Katy clapped her hands and put the cup and saucer down so abruptly, Sandra was afraid they were going to break. She then flew into Sandra’s bedroom.

“Did you at least enjoy the play?” asked Catalina as they walked toward the bedroom.

“It was good, but…” Sandra seemed at a loss for words as they entered her bedroom.

“But what, Madam President?”

“Catalina, you’re about to see me in my underwear. If you can’t call me by my first name when I’m half naked, when are you going to? If you keep this up, little Katy will be calling me Madam President, and then everyone will think I’m an ogre who demands formality from six-year-old girls. Is that what you want? To make everyone think I’m some sort of martinet?”

“Of course not, Madam Pres—” Catalina sighed. “—Sandra.”

Sandra quickly disrobed and carefully hung up her clothes in a large closet she’d taken to calling her candy store. It wasn’t filled with any candy, just the goodies she enjoyed adorning herself with: clothing, shoes, purses, and jewelry that she found distinctive and would often be seen wearing in her publicity jaunts to malls, stores, and flea markets.

“Katy,” she said to the girl, now pulling open every sliding jewelry drawer, “please look at the dress Catalina put on the bed and then come back in here and look in the
top
three drawers. Pick out three necklaces and three pairs of earrings, and I’ll see which ones I’ll use, all right?” The little girl nodded and went to the bed to study the dress like it was the battle formation to one of her re-creations.