The Journey of Rick Heiden - Chapters 29 and 30
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This novel contains 50 CHAPTERS, and every post will have 2 chapters each.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The college's dining hall, at the center of campus, held the honor of the most adorned of all the Art Nouveau buildings. The fairytale-esque doorways, columns, vaulted ceiling with exposed beams, and figural statuary, complemented the extraordinary stone floor displaying an intricate mosaic. The stone tables, carved with whimsy, appeared as massive mushrooms, placed in circular formations to form concentric fairy rings. Aiden sat next to Laurel and left two cushy toadstool seats across the table for us.
Laurel spoke up, "We have disappointing news."
"But also, some encouraging news," said Aiden, "and then some terrible news."
"I figured you would," said David. "What's the disappointing news?"
"You were right, the other portal doesn't phase out," said Aiden. "Unlike on Earth, a satellite here can scan the whole planet in just a few hours searching for the localized field the portal produces. With Amare's agreement, we had one do that, and it found nothing."
"What's the encouraging news?" I asked.
"A large crew of engineers and Trust members, including Cadmar, Magnar, Tamika, and Gabe, along with a few bots, work to get the carrier up again," said Aiden.
"I think `struggle to get the carrier up again' is a more appropriate phrase," said David.
"And Gabe too?" I asked. "That's interesting. So, what's the carrier?"
"It's an old hover ship we used to carry stone and other minerals from various areas," said Laurel. "It's the one ship we have large enough to take a couple of thewsbots to dig out the portal, get to the bodies, and carry it all back. Once we find it, of course."
"They would have better luck building a ship from scratch," said David.
"I haven't seen it," said Aiden, "is it that bad?"
"Yes," said David and Laurel.
"How can Jiyu not have an entire fleet of amazing craft at the ready?" I asked David.
"On Jiyu, necessity is the mother of an endeavor," said David. "We haven't needed such things, and we build things because we need them. We would waste resources to build something because we can."
"I wouldn't consider it wasteful as much as an expression of prudent vigilance," I said. "At this point, I think someone should consider building at least a single new ship, but I would recommend more. Who does that here?"
"Laren College does most of our design work," said Laurel. "They would jump at the opportunity."
David took a deep breath. "Okay --may as well get this over-- give me the terrible news."
Aiden dug into a bag he carried with him and placed a fist-sized stone on the table. "I thought to pick up one of the stones from the portal in Japan for analysis. This one appeared to have the same composition as the larger stones and boulders, but the only thing here more common than this sample is dirt."
David picked up the stone. "That's a shame, Aiden. You did well to think of it."
"That looks unusual," I said, pointing to the side of the stone.
"The smooth side," said Aiden, nodding. "Yes, I thought that too. I suppose that's what drew my eye to it when I picked it up."
"Let me see." I took the stone from David to examine it closer. "It looks polished. It even shines in the light from the window."
"I know that tone of voice," said David. "You're doing that thing you do."
"What thing?" asked Laurel.
David motioned for them to wait while I thought about it.
"I think I know how it got this way." I pointed to David and Aiden. "Do either of you remember in Japan, a high-pitched hum coming from the portal while it created the energy sphere?"
Aiden shook his head.
"I didn't pay attention to the sounds," said David.
I held up the stone. "I think the portal, on this side, cut the stone that sat on top of it. I would bet if you scanned this stone and analyzed the curvature of the smooth side, you would discover it matched the inside curvature of the portal's sphere." I set the stone in the middle of the table, smooth side up.
"Fascinating hypothesis," said Aiden, "but it doesn't help much."
Laurel picked up the stone to study it. "Perhaps not, but it interests me," she said. "Thank you, Rick; I will add this information to our Portalphiles database. I will have to label it as anecdotal, of course, but I will cite you as the origin."
"Well, I have a question," I said. "Why couldn't you scan for the energy signatures given off by the portal itself? Shouldn't the plasma inside it give off something?"
Laurel shook her head as she examined the stone. "It shields itself so long as the energy is down in the device," she said, "so we can't detect it from space while the portal remains dormant."
"The portal activated a few days ago, what about then?" I asked.
"We have 289 satellites in orbit," she said, "not all the satellites there can detect such things, and of those that could, few of them face the planet.
"One thing I should mention," she said, "you told us the debris might cover the portal here, and that debris covers the ground at the portal site in Japan. It doesn't work unless the portal on Earth can reveal itself, and it won't do so as long as something solid sits in the same space."
"What happens if the Americans uncover the location in Japan?" I asked. "Will the portal send the debris from here to Earth?"
"It wouldn't send debris alone," said Laurel. "If they uncover the location on Earth, and bodies still lay atop the portal here, along with the debris, it will send them back."
"You can't send objects through unaccompanied?" asked David.
"No," she said, "and I suspect that some other notions we hold as true about the portal are actually false. I will test them one day."
"If someone goes through from here with no ring on the other side, what happens?" asked Aiden.
"The portals on Earth must reset themselves by phasing out," she said. "Without the quantum chip in the ring, it gives you time to step off the portal, but if you don't, you'll find yourself laying on the ground where the portal stood as the stones did in Japan."
"I see," I said. "So, the portal works without the chip, but if it must phase out, you need the chip to make it reveal itself."
"Where did the quantum chips come from?" asked Aiden.
"We duplicated the original," David said.
"We found the original in a diamond," said Laurel. "It sits in a protected case in the museum with the pylon."
"Pylon?" I asked.
"The aliens made an obelisk-shaped stone about four feet high," said Laurel. "The diamond came from the pylon; you would have to see it. The ancients found it on the Earth side just outside the portal's localized field, or at least that's what the writing at the archive we can read says. It sat in One City square for ages, but the cylindrical bell replaced it when the pylon went to the museum."
"They found it on the Earth side," said Aiden, "but for which portal?"
Laurel and David looked at one another.
"The one in Japan, maybe," said Laurel.
"Our scholars will have to work that out," said David.
"If the pylon came from Japan," I said, "does this mean that one from the portal in London exists somewhere?"
We could almost bet on it, but none of us knew the answer. If so, it meant that Earth had another original quantum chipped diamond.
After eating and some further chat, it grew close to shadow-time when the sun recedes behind the mountain casting the shadow across the city. David and I returned to the penthouse to watch it. Aiden left for the temple to stay the night with Maggie, and Laurel asked Venn to transport her home.
We changed into something more comfortable and laid on the balcony's couch. David wrapped his arms around me, and we discussed the anthromorph situation. Even in the middle of the mess in which we found ourselves, domestic matters still required our attention.
"I had the penthouse modeled after a traditional British gentleman's club," I said. "I think we need a male butler."
"That sounds sexist and servile."
"No. No, I just want to stick to the traditional theme for the sake of aesthetics. The anthromorph would still do what it does, and it would provide some of those basic parameters you spoke of."
"Well, if you insist," he said.
"I thought about the name Mason. I have always liked that name."
"That would make a good name for -" David jerked his head toward the balcony wall. "Did you see that?"
"What?"
"I thought I saw something." We leapt from the couch and darted to the wall. In a few minutes, the sun would pass behind the mountain ridge, and we had a bit of glare to contend with.
"What did it look like?"
"A dark blur sped by, not lightning-fast, but quick."
"I suppose we can rule out a bird."
He glanced at me and smiled. "Definitely, not a bird."
I looked down over the parapet wall. "We're 100 feet up. Was it a child's toy, maybe?"
"I shouldn't think so," he said.
As the shadow passed over One City, I saw it. Flying high above the city, the well-lit object shown well against the shadowed portion behind it. It flew high enough for the sun to strike it at an angle, causing it to reveal itself.
David relayed a message via Iris to all the members of the Trust. "This is David. Just in case you had yet to notice, I spy an object flying 40 meters above the city somewhere around Station 8 West. It appears a bit dark and 40 centimeters in diameter. It seems that at least one of our invaders at the other portal survived. They may have sent out a reconnaissance drone. Please, don't fire upon it. David out." He pressed his finger behind his ear once again, as we watched the object fly above the city. "Iris, connect me to Rom." --Rom was the artificial intelligence that controlled the satellites and space telescopes-- "Hello, Rom. I don't have time to chat. We have a situation. I suspect an Aggregate drone flies 40 meters- You see it?" David nodded at me. "Good. Oh, really? They might receive a transmission from a remote somewhere. Track it to the source if you can, and whatever else you do, don't take your eye off them." David ended the communication and turned to me. "There are two of them, so that's two chances to track them to their origin."
The minutes ticked past, and One City lay in shadow. Technically, it remained daytime for two more hours when the sun would set beyond the Western horizon. Having not slept well on the plane from Tokyo to London, I already felt too tired, but I suspected that David and I would have a long night.
Not long after the real sunset, Venn transported us to Laurel's private lab --where her Portalphiles group met-- tucked behind her home in a Tudor neighborhood far down the right arm of the city. I enjoyed my first time out at night, seeing One City so beautifully lit, and all the bicycles in use caught my eye. Many of them created a circular ring of blue light as the wheels turned, but with many, the body of the bike glowed fluorescent green.
"We have bike-hubs near the train stations," said David. "All the green bikes serve as public bikes. Everyone can use the green ones you find at the bike hubs. Just leave them in another hub somewhere in the city. All the other bikes are privately owned. I've kept both of my bikes in the storage room at the penthouse."
I gave David's thigh a squeeze. "I remember you told me of your penchant for mountain biking. Should I get a bike? I wouldn't want Venn or the train always to carry us everywhere we go."
"If you will, I'll get my street bike out of storage."
The atmosphere of Laurel's place looked somewhere between a lab and a swanky hangout. Drafting tables, an electronic version of a chalkboard, and tons of books --some written by members of the group themselves-- surrounded a sunken lounge area containing a rounded couch. One could find a mural of the One City skyline --as seen from the lake-- wrapped around the walls there.
Laurel, Gabe, David, and I were there. Gabe, wearing his red-jacketed Trust uniform, didn't impart a pleasant first impression because of his appearance. He had black hair, oppressive-looking eyebrows with dark eyes, and he didn't smile much. To describe him, the word 'severe' sprung to mind, and his question to David at the Arena reinforced the notion. Regardless of any first impressions, however, we gratefully welcomed his input.
We grouped around a 3-foot circular holographic-display table that could tap into Jiyu's central computer, as well as various artificial intelligences, like Venn or Rom, and could display what Rom could see from orbit.
Rom showed us an image of the planet from space. As the sun had set, Rom couldn't present a live picture over One City; it came from earlier in the day. Jiyu didn't look much like Earth. Earth always stood out from its darkened, spatial surroundings as a big blue and green marble with white clouds, while Jiyu looked like an even larger green and blue marble with white clouds. When Rom removed the clouds from the image, I saw no oceans, but many enormous seas, some more impressive than the Caspian Sea on Earth. Rom informed me that Jiyu consisted of 55% landmass and 45% surface water. The single landmass had no continents separated by water like on Earth; one could circumnavigate the globe on foot. As Rom zoomed in closer, I saw how much more substantial our lake appeared. One City sat in a bit of the upper right corner.
"I had no idea One City had grown so much," said David. "I'm sorry, Rick, I keep thinking of Jiyu the way I left it. When I went to Earth, we had 3 million people. How many do we have now?"
"Jiyu now has a stable population growth rate at 1.5% per jear," said Rom. "Over the last 50 jears, the population has risen to 5.3 million."
"People have lived on Jiyu for thousands of jears," I said. "Why didn't the population explode after the creation of the youth enhancement? Shouldn't Jiyu have tens, if not hundreds of millions of more people by now?"
"After Aurum's creation of the youth enhancement," said Rom, "Jiyu's population began a steep decline. I do not know the reason."
"It went down?" asked Laurel.
"That makes no sense at all." David glanced at me.
"There's something wrong with that," I said to myself. I felt so bowled over with Jiyu when I first arrived. David said if you live someplace long enough, you begin to see every single flaw. This information jumped out at me as a red flag, the first one. Against all reasonable expectations, the population declined. Of all of us, Gabe said nothing, and his expression had a notable change. He knew something, which he kept to himself. I looked him in the eye and decided to question him.
"Why did it go down?"
"We need to focus on the problem at hand," said Gabe.
I could tell he hid something. "You know, don't you?" I asked.
"Rick!" His tone was sharper than the occasion warranted. "Not now. We have more important matters."
I couldn't argue with that, so I let his over-reaction slide. I would get the information soon enough.
The drones managed to elude Rom's ever-watching eye and vanished. No one found them at their last known location. He believed they hadn't left. They flew above the city for some time, and Rom detected something interesting in their behavior. He overlaid the pattern of the movements of the drones on the aerial view of the city. Each one moved about in a different section of the city.
"They each confined themselves to a different portion," said Rom, "and they never overlapped, even when they could have done so."
"That connotes intelligence," said Laurel.
"It also tells me they can communicate with one another," I said.
"Did you detect any communication between them, Rom?" asked David.
"None that I observed," said Rom. "The scanning of the city had already begun when we discovered them, perhaps they communicated before they began."
"From this display," said Gabe, "they intended to scan and map out the city in detail. I would have shot them down, David."
"And in doing so, you would have made a mistake," said David. "Rom, why do you think they haven't left."
"I believe they await the dawn," said Rom. "From what I can determine from the area they had scanned, and if I estimate the scanned portion before we noticed them, they are only 38% complete."
"How far might they have traveled to get here?" asked David.
"Earth doesn't' have advanced power technology," I said. "Rom, do you know how long they flew before their disappearance?"
"My best guestimate is three hours, twelve minutes," he replied.
David looked at me with lowered brows and shook his head. "Not including the journey here, that's a long time for a drone with a Terran power source."
"Do we call them Terrans now?" I asked. "I thought we called them the Aggregate."
David looked at me. "I never intended to call them the Aggregate, but that name seems to fit." He glanced at Gabe. "Their technology is Terran. We must differentiate Earth's technology from ours, and I find the word `Earthling' laughable."
"Fair enough." I thought about it for a moment, and something occurred to me. "Wait, what if it doesn't use a Terran power source?"
David's expression changed to one of realization. "They'll find that piece of technology easy to reverse engineer." David turned back to the display. "Oh, no."
Pearce's betrayal continued to exhibit causational effects that persisted for some time to come. Pearce couldn't do what he did in isolation of all other repercussive factors. If he could, we would have had no trouble forgiving him, and I believed we had. However, his betrayal had come home to roost. He might not remain forgiven if his actions caused us difficulties at every turn.
David told the others what had occurred and informed me of the extent of the damage. I understood the significance of the situation. The nano programming device Pearce took to Earth, once reverse engineered, didn't just act as a template for more NP devices. In the hands of someone creative, it could usher in a new era of electronics built upon its technology. The American government had already begun utilizing some of it.
Jiyuvians called the power source used by the NP device an Isotopic Cell. And as scary as the idea of using isotopes sounded to me, they assured me of its safety with a genuine, intact cell. They would have had to craft the cell with a proper configuration and quality ingredients of exacting purity. If they had, it could power a device safely for decades. Bigger cells produced more power, and a group of cells could power a city, as it did on Jiyu with its Isotopic Array. However, while cells made without a proper configuration, or with lesser quality ingredients, could produce power, their safety and stability remained in question. Given the right conditions, an unstable cell could explode at a magnitude proportional to its size. Even with my rudimentary understanding of them, the danger they presented hadn't escaped me. It could create an explosion that would throw nuclear material into the atmosphere, like a dirty bomb.
"If the drones run on an isotopic knockoff," said Laurel, "I'm glad we didn't fire upon them."
"A knockoff?" asked Gabe.
"An inferior imitation," I said, "as opposed to an exact duplicate."
Gabe nodded. "So, they require capture; we can do that."
"It would also provide an opportunity to do a little reverse engineering of our own," said Laurel. "Aiden will enjoy that, I bet." She looked at me.
"I'm sure." Aiden loved technology, but he might draw the line at nuclear materials. I know I did.
After a discussion, we decided that because the drones could evade Rom's eye, it took too much of a chance leaving the drones an opportunity to return to the Aggregate. Rom monitored the city, and the areas left unscanned. The instant we spotted them at daybreak, two teams wearing flight packs would net them, and then bring them to the industrial area away from the city.
From the time the invasion began with the five Americans, we spent more than a day on Earth before returning home, and due to the time differential, five or six days had passed on Jiyu, plus the many hours after having returned home. At least one soldier survived, and they had plenty of time to act. Still, five or six days, assuming they didn't send the drones out upon arrival, and depending on how fast they could fly, it might mean we would find the other portal closer than we realized.
We had a long, eventful day, and we hadn't had slept for well over 28 hours. We stayed at Laurel's lab for another two hours when I almost fell asleep standing up. It served as a notice to end the evening and go to bed. Before Venn drove us home, Gabe told us that he would ensure the capture of the drones, so we could get some rest and not worry about it.
My memory grew more sporadic for the remainder of the evening. I must assume I slept most of the ride home. I recall my head resting on David's shoulder, and he told me later he carried me into the penthouse, putting me to bed. I remember saying goodnight to Mason, and the next thing I knew morning had arrived.
I felt better, but I hadn't slept enough. The sun had shown in the sky, and my stomach rumbled. David lay sleeping beside me. I looked him in the face. I smiled to see his tousled hair resting adorably across his brow. I attempted not to awaken him as I left the bed. After a quick trip to the loo for the necessities, I crept from the bedroom to find 'Mason' --as I had dubbed him-- setting out breakfast for me.
I gasped in shock when he turned to greet me. "Where did you get that face?" I asked.
He looked human, realistically so for a hologram. He projected wearing a stylish grey suit with tie, which I suspect he chose from one of the many periodicals sent to Jiyu over the jears from Earth. He had hands that looked human in appearance, and his skin had a lovely tone. His face, however, looked odd. His fine, light blonde hair looked like it belonged to a baby. His eyes seemed far too big for a nose so small it appeared to belong to a little boy. He had no chin to speak of. His face looked like the image in a funhouse's distorting mirror.
"It's part of my holographic interface," he said. "I cobbled it together from various random male images in Jiyu's database."
"I see that." I sat down, trying not to look him in the eye. "Thank you for breakfast, Mason. So, tell me, did you have the goal to create a visage worthy of Picasso?"
Mason stared at me with what I took as a quizzical expression.
"I find this idea of yours an interesting one," I said, "but why don't you select the facial features with intention rather than at random?"
He tilted his head as he does when he's perplexed, which distorted his appearance further. I had to look away before I laughed.
"What intention should I have?"
"Well, one presumes the intention of appearing natural," I said, "and perhaps pleasant to see or even handsome."
"I would require an external judgment of natural, pleasant, or handsome. I have no sense of aesthetic beauty. Perhaps, you could help me."
"That would prove awkward," I said between bites. "Not that I couldn't do it, but it's not how things go. If I'm right, it's your job as a person to present an appearance that seems natural so that we'll accept it as a given that you're like any other individual. If I help you decide what to look like, it will hamper my ability to accept it. I'll try to perfect your appearance, and I suspect it would result in your looking as if you'd had extensive plastic surgery. Everyone has, at least, some minor level of realistic flaws that show. So, I'm not suggesting you must appear perfect or drop-dead gorgeous, but any sober individual who can alter their appearance shouldn't find satisfaction with features that look --and please forgive me for saying so-- but comical and creepy."
A booming voice emanated from the direction of the bedroom. "What the bloody hell have you done to your face?"
David stood in the doorway.
"It's okay, David," I said. "Mason's just having a little facade trouble. We've already discussed it. Mason, why don't you go work extra hard on that. You must have someone from whom you could get advice. I'll take care of breakfast for David."
Once Mason left, David, shirtless and wearing a pair of pull-on pants, kissed me good morning and sat down.
I began filling his plate with food. "So, what have we on the agenda today?" I asked.
"We should inquire about the success of the drone capture and visit Pearce's mother. Beyond that, I'm uncertain, but I have something I wish to discuss with you."
"Oh? I wanted to discuss something with you as well but do go on. What's on your mind?"
I stared into his face, and his alluring amber eyes showed I held his full attention.
"As you know, because of the drones, things have changed," he said.
"Yes." I nodded.
"I've given it some thought," he said, "and I don't think the Americans want to invade. That's perhaps one of their long-term goals if it becomes viable, but they can't for now."
"What do they want?"
"The drones tell us. They want reconnaissance. They send five soldiers through the portal with six containers, and Major Palmer said they would send more the next day. That's maybe six days here. So, they don't expect to need many supplies but would need some. We have two drones flying about-"
"What about the stones on the portal here? Shouldn't that have damaged things?"
"I've reconsidered that," said David. "Our assumption seemed reasonable to think that the soldiers got crushed upon arrival, but what if that hadn't happened? At least one of them has survived. What if the transfer of the stones to Earth uncovered the entire portal? It may have lain closer to the surface than we realized?"
"Yes, I see. That would change things. But no one performs reconnaissance with a drone as a vicarious form of tourism."
"No," he said, "I was getting to that. If they want to remain dominant on Earth and invade us one day, they will need our technology."
"So, they wish to pilfer like common thieves."
"I think they would refer to it as appropriating enemy resources."
"Hmm," I said, "so, what's the plan?"
"The plan, yes. It keeps having to adapt. For now --on the defensive-- an abundance of damage control." He closed his eyes and shook his head. "We have so much to do, and I still must return to Earth to keep my promise. You had something to tell me?"
"I know I have bad timing, but I want to join the Trust."
He dropped an "A-ha" as a passive remark. "What made you consider that?"
"Jiyu is my home now. I want to defend it, as well as myself."
"An idea just crossed my mind again," he said. "I dismissed it before because I didn't think you would agree, but it would help to make use of our time more efficient and get us back to some semblance of normality faster."
My eyes narrowed. "More efficient use of our time... You'll suggest going to Earth without me."
"I haven't made any immediate plans to do so," he said. "However, you've had considerable reservations about returning, and now you bring up joining the Trust, but something more important, you promised to translate the ancient texts. They could prove useful in our current circumstances. For as much as I want us to stick together, dividing and conquering would require less time."
I shook my head. "I don't know...," I said. "Wouldn't it disrupt our connection to separate us?"
"Do you think our connection drives your feelings for me?" he asked.
"No, of course not."
"You're ready to branch out, Rick. You don't need me to hold your hand every instant. Believe in yourself."
"When will you need to leave?" I asked.
"Probably, when our situation settles a bit, and I will arrange a means for you to reach me should you need to come to Earth."
"Earth is dangerous," I said. "What if something should happen to you?"
He put his hand on mine. "I cannot make any guarantees about me, and neither could you of yourself."
I didn't know if I felt ready for our first time apart, but I didn't see any alternative. I couldn't argue against David's logic. For my betterment, I needed to continue to grow and complete the undone thing in the back of my mind. The more danger hovered around us, the more that undone thing nagged me.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Jiyu's years --known as a jear-- began at the cross-quarter, the first actual day of spring for what we considered the Northern Hemisphere. Over half the jear had gone, as of that 279th day, and while the seasons lasted 103 days, summer had started 73 days earlier, just after we left for the mission on Earth. Despite the subtle difference in temperature from season to season, the day felt muggy for One City, and the forecast expected the temperature to climb to an unbearable degree. David wore his uncomfortable Trust uniform --something I expected he would regret-- and I wore my pants from the mission with a white short-sleeve pullover. We needed to find time to acquire more suitable clothing for the weather. All the clothing we purchased on Earth would not maintain its own cleanliness.
On our second day back, Maggie and Rocke would leave the containment area. Rocke would stay at the home of Cadmar and Tamika; Maggie would come to the penthouse with Aiden. With our busy lives, I would have difficulty making time for Maggie.
David and I both contacted Iris as we exited our building. David wanted to know the status of the drones from Gabe, and I needed to know where Pearce's mother lived. I learned she moved to her then, current home at One City Square when Pearce left for Earth.
David's communication with Gabe resulted in disturbing news; one of the drones had disappeared, but they managed to net the other one. The volatility of its power source remained unknown, so they took it to the edge of the industrial area for safety. Many of us would meet later to investigate it further.
On my previous visit to Jiyu, many nuances to living there had escaped my attention. For example, no postal system existed on Jiyu, but it had an address system of a sort. They plotted the entire planet by the spherical polar coordinate system centuries ago. The city, however, they had mapped into various aesthetic-based districts, divided by the train, which lengthwise bisected the city. Our home at 1452.6-West Bragi Avenue made 6-West our closest train station, 6 kilometers west of Central Avenue.
From our building, we walked the few kilometers toward the sea to reach the station, passing every road junction through its pedestrian tunnel --there were no above-ground crosswalks in One City. As David and I chatted, I sensed his impatience to get to the drone, and he had no desire to inform Pearce's mother of her son's traitorous actions, but he promised Amare.
"So, what can I expect of Pearce's mother?" I asked.
"I can tell you her name is Teresa, but I couldn't say what to expect, fifty jears have passed. However, when I knew her, she always seemed contrary to life here."
"Contrary. In what way?"
"Most ways."
"Here?"
"Yes," said David, comprehending the implications of my question, "and it stuns me that she survives, given the way she treated her body."
"What do you mean? I figured the foundational enhancement would keep someone going for a long time regardless."
"It will," he said, "but she refused to get the Forever Young enhancement, and the effects of aging relate to how well you treat your body, epigenetically speaking."
After everything I had experienced on Jiyu, it shocked me to hear it, but it piqued my curiosity. "What made her contrary?"
"She had a host of deplorable habits and borderline agoraphobia. She never involved herself with the community any more than necessary, or with anyone, after John died."
"Who was John?"
"Well, mind you, I never met him," said David. "I heard he died on Earth before I met Pearce in school. He served as our envoy to the United States, and I understood he brought Teresa to Jiyu before she had given birth to Pearce. I don't know what caused him to think she made a suitable candidate for life here. She always seemed miserable."
"Should I assume John was Pearce's father?" I asked.
"Why not? Pearce did," he said. "People knew John on Earth as John Pearce. Teresa didn't disabuse Pearce of his presumption for many jears, but much later in his twenties, she confessed his father was someone else. On top of everything else she put Pearce through, she had done him an outrageous disservice, and he hated her for it."
"It sounds like it," I said, "talk about cruel."
"That's Teresa."
I didn't know what to think about it all. It felt like gossip, and like David, I'd begun to despise gossip. But, when it came to Pearce, even gossip might prove less impertinent than it seemed on the surface. So, I filed the information away for future reference since the situation with Pearce seemed unsettled.
One City had an orderliness that reflected itself in specific repetitions. For instance, they had designed all the train stations double-sided; one side faced the mountain, the other the sea. Our local station stood in the middle of our Edwardian Baroque district with its dusky-looking, stratified gray stone, overlaid with marble trimmings and accents. When we approached it, the arched and columned entryways caught my eye. A hundred people came and went on the spacious ground floor of Station 6-West, while others ate in the Cafe or sat waiting in the comfortable seating of the terminal.
Every station had one set of tracks, apart from the Central station, which had two. The second set of tracks served the portion of One City on the opposite side of the mountain, and they had just completed the tunnel for that line.
The shell of the gothic station on Central appeared reminiscent of Ely Cathedral northeast of Cambridge. The tower from it stood as the tallest structure on the seaside of the city.
As we descended the broad, earthen-colored, stone staircase from the platform, we happened upon David's father. His parents lived in the gothic district. We didn't notice him in the crowd until he called David's name. He looked handsome in the geometrically patterned pullover he wore. He greeted us with warm hugs and a friendly demeanor far more becoming than the sour disposition he displayed when we first met.
"I'm sorry we haven't visited, Father," said David.
"I'm in the Trust, too, you know," said Liander. "I know you're busy. Your mother would love to see you. She wants to talk to you both, but that will have to wait.
"I heard they missed one of the drones this morning," he said. "I don't know what we'll do about that."
"Rom has kept watch for it," said David.
"Has it not left the city?"
"Gabe told me Rom had not detected its departure," said David, "and they will alert me the instant anything changes. For now, we're paying a call on Pearce's mother to deliver the news of her son."
Liander stared into David's eyes. He tilted his head, and his face held an expression of having looked upon David for the first time. We blocked the flow of pedestrian traffic on the staircase, so he drew us to the bottom by the lamped newel post.
"I spoke with my friend, Dmitry, last night. He told me how much people respect and trust you, David. He also told me that...talk has happened during your recent absence."
"Talk," David said.
"What sort of talk?" I asked.
Liander leaned forward. "Organizational," he whispered.
"What?" asked David, unable to believe his ears. "Why?"
"After all this time?" I asked. "Do they now believe Jiyu's ship will sink without some, you know, structure to keep it afloat?"
Liander gazed at me in benevolence. "Earth knows we exist, and a faction of the Aggregate plans to attack us in the future. We aren't sinking yet, but changes are coming, and it hasn't gone unnoticed by our people. Passengers have already begun abandoning the ship."
"What do you mean?" asked David.
"Three families packed what they could last night and have gone through the portal this morning. They're seeking asylum in the United Kingdom."
I stood there with my mouth agape.
David closed his eyes and shook his head a little. "They're free to do so, of course."
"Why would they leave?" I asked.
"I figured we would have some fair-weather families," said Liander, "made up of Earth-born parents, and their children. Some people, in their fear, retreat to what they find more familiar and certain. No matter how bad they may have it there, a terrible 'known' often feels more comfortable than the 'unknown'. I predict more families will go."
"They see us as weak," David said to me.
"But we have technology," I said.
"Untried technology," said Liander, "in the hands of people who have seen no battles."
"That doesn't engender confidence," said David.
"That's troubling," I said. "Have we come to the end of Jiyu?"
"Change happens, Rick," said David, "and we will have to adapt. It's not the end, but rather the beginning of something new."
"David, I tell you this because you need to know," his father said, "important people in the community may approach you."
"Do you know what they will ask of me?"
"I think it relates to the organizing, and that worries me too. You can say `no' to them, David."
David looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "You have never said that before."
Liander gave a little smile. "I said things would be different. I must go; the designers and my fellow engineers at Laren College expect me by nine. Today, we announce the construction of something astounding that Amare requested."
We said our goodbyes and left for the city square.
"Do you think Amare will approach you? What do you think they might ask of you?"
"If Amare does approach me --contrary to what father says-- in good conscience, I doubt I could say 'no' to it."
"What about your return to Earth?"
"They will have to accommodate it," he said. "Whatever they ask, they should know I will not break my promise."
I noticed the cloisters first when we entered the city square. As some of my favorite architectural elements, my eyes gravitated toward them. They made up the first floor of the five-story building, which lay on three sides of the square. I found it disappointing and smaller than Piazza San Marco in Venice. The center of the square held an oil-rubbed bronze, cylindrical bell 6 meters tall and 2 meters in diameter. It sat upon a pointed bronze column, allowing it to vibrate unobstructed. Beside it, they placed a massive, embellished, 1-meter-long bronze striking pole attached to a swing. I noted they made the striking end wooden, lessening the likelihood of damage to the bell.
"So, the pylon stood there," I said as we walked past.
"Yes," said David, "which reminds me. I must take you to the museum today."
The third floor of the south building held Teresa's apartment. Gothic arched, tracery windows faced the square, illuminating the fan-vaulted ceilings in the hallways. When we arrived at her door, we met an acrid, sickening odor permeating the air.
"She's still at it," said David, glancing at me with a curled lip. He knocked, and the door opened, but we kept outside the apartment in the hallway.
Inside, a woman, whose aspect looked every bit of 150 years old, sat ensconced upon a filthy, tufted, fan-backed chair in the living room. A unique specimen, her unimaginably skeletal 5 feet 2 frame juxtaposed against the miracle of her well maintained, shoulder-length hair, adorned by a luxurious sable dye job. She had pallid, almost translucent, crepe-paper-like skin, most noticeable when she held what looked like a homemade clay pipe to her mouth. She inhaled the burning fumes of something that reeked more than a paper mill in midsummer. A yellow day dress hung loosely upon her emaciated frame, styled for a woman a fraction of her age with its low-cut neckline.
I couldn't tear my eyes from her direction to notice David's expression. I presumed that when David saw her last, she didn't appear quite like that.
Her eyes narrowed as she held onto the chair arm to steady herself. She spoke as harshly as her frailty would allow, "Yes? What do you want?" Her rough, phlegmy voice had a familiar thick Southern American drawl.
"Hello, Teresa, I don't know if you remember me, but I'm David, and you've not met this-"
"David?" She wheezed her words like an asthmatic with pneumonia. "You mean the skinny queer boy who went to school with my son, Zachariah."
Confused, I turned to David. "Zachariah?"
"I named him Zachariah." She suppressed a cough, but I still detected the indignation pouring from her. "He foolishly named himself Pearce." She glared at David. "What do you want?"
"May we come in?" he asked. "We bring news of your son."
She acquiesced with a wave of her hand.
The delightful space contained grand ceilings and a bedroom up a spiral staircase. Teresa didn't use the loft as her bed made a spectacle of the living room. A large photo in a shiny, well-polished frame of an attractive young woman with a handsome man sat in prominence at her bedside.
In the details, I found the apartment charming, but her presence marred the attraction. She had left a thick residue from decades of her habit on every wall and surface; the evidence was visible ten feet away. Looking about, I knew I didn't want to sit--or stay for that matter. To my relief, her accent, a remainder of her former life, survived unaccompanied by the graceful Southern hospitality that guests would find in 'my' home. She neither offered us a seat nor anything to drink, indicating we should keep it short.
She took a drag from her pipe. "You think I don't know," she said before David could speak.
His brows rose in curiosity. "I don't know. Do you?"
With every word, a cough rose in her chest, and from her palpable stubbornness, she refused to give in to it. "I knew you were coming. You will tell me Zachariah won't come back."
"Perhaps," I said. "Who told you we were coming?"
"Never you mind." A fit of wheezing forced a few choking coughs. She then reclined in the ruddy-looking travesty she sat upon. "Did he find his father?"
"His father?" asked David. "I don't know. Why?"
"I made a grave mistake with Zachariah."
"Yes, he told me John wasn't his father," said David.
At the mention of his name, she slipped into reverie. She closed her eyes and placed a bony hand on her face. "John," she whispered in the anguish of a treasured memory. "I couldn't tell," she said, opening her eyes. "The boy looked like me, but I hoped John was his father. I wanted to believe it so badly that when Zachariah assumed it, I had no desire to tell him otherwise."
Witnessing her body struggle to force a series of shallow coughs grew difficult for me; I wanted to help her. Her lungs, somewhat unobstructed for the moment, had allowed her to speak.
"He thought of you as his family," she said to David, whispering. "He loved you like a brother. He seemed content with that so long as he believed his father had died. I made the mistake of telling him the truth. Afterward, you weren't enough, and he never loved me." She sank into a fit of coughing that made a rattle in her lungs. "As Zachariah grew older," she continued, "I realized that John wasn't his father. He reminded me too much of the other one." She sneered. "I told him the truth, and in his anger, he did terrible things to get me to name him." She took a drag from her pipe, and smoke emanated from her mouth as she whispered. "He made me tell him. I hoped that once he knew he would leave and free me of the thing, John helped me escape by bringing me here. Zachariah became a daily reminder of his father, and I wanted nothing to do with him. He finally left when you did."
"That doesn't sound like the man I knew at all."
"You didn't know him," she said, once more suppressing a cough. "He showed you what he wanted you to see; his father was the same. Once I had married him, he showed me his true self. He could be quite cruel, and so could Zachariah."
David squatted by her chair. "Who was his father?"
She coughed a deep and unproductive cough that told me she wouldn't last.
"You'll have never heard of him," she said, dismissing the question with a wave of her bony hand. "His father was Jackson Scott, a cruel, ruthless bastard."
"Senator Jackson Scott?" I asked.
"Senator?" She repeated, her eyes perking up for a moment, she then shook her head. "It shouldn't surprise me. He just talked about running for the Senate when I knew him, but he won't stop there. He would sell his mother's ashes for more power." She took another drag from her pipe.
The smoke had gotten to me. I wanted to leave, but David took the time to tell her all that had happened, everything from the betrayal and Pearce's own family to the NP device that he had taken from the temple. Teresa expressed no amazement, and when David finished, she said something portentous.
She gripped the chair arm and leaned forward, motioning for David to come closer, and she had an ominous tone. Her breath, shallow and ragged, she spoke with a flutter in her chest. "Don't trust what you think you know of him. What you've told me says your dealings with him aren't over."
"Why?" asked David.
"It changes everything. Besides himself, Pearce cared only about you, but you've rejected him as a traitor. He will resent you just as he resents me. There's nothing to stop him from telling them everything now, and they will destroy this place."
"But you live here, and you're his mother," I said.
She looked up at me and laughed a mirthless laugh, shaking her head. It induced a coughing fit lasting several minutes.
She touched David's hand. "Read them, seven and eight. You know what I mean. Read them, and you too will know." She coughed for a minute with little success. "Get out. Go, both of you," she said when she could speak again. "I want to die alone."
David and I took the sudden prompting and exited the apartment. We moved to the end of the hall to escape the poisonous cloud emanating from the crack of the door. We gazed through the transparent leaded glass window into the square for a few minutes while David mulled over what we had heard.
"Shouldn't we get medical help for her?" I asked.
"No, of course not," he replied.
"But she's ill and dying. It's what we would do on Earth. Why would we do less here?"
"You heard her, Rick, she wants to die alone. I know this seems harsh to you. You grew up in a culture that's made people afraid of death their whole lives, thereby creating all those religious busybodies with an expectation of their presence. We prefer to respect people's wishes. She wants to die alone."
"Some people don't always say what they mean or mean what they say," I said.
"Then she picked the wrong planet to die."
I looked at him --my face pinched with concern. I tipped my head, almost pleading with him.
David gestured to Teresa's door. "If you won't take her at her word, be my guest and find out for yourself. Pardon me, while I wait here."
I had to try. I hadn't gotten any feelings from Teresa that made me doubt her sincerity. I just felt I should try to help, if by no other means than offering her my assistance. I would have asked before we left, but she summarily threw us out. David was often right, and I thought even then I had set myself up for a telling-off.
Diving back into the vaporous stench, I found myself at her door once again. I almost knocked when I heard a crash inside. I opened the door uninvited, bold as brass, to find Teresa prostrate upon the floor struggling to breathe with her broken pipe next to her. I yelled for David and hurried to her. I turned her over and cradled her head. She tried to speak, and with difficulty, I deciphered what she said just before her struggle ended, "I hope Jesus can find me." As a Southern woman far from Earth, that worry must have weighed heavily on her mind. David rushed to my side in an instant. He knew Teresa dying in my arms would overwhelm me. I placed her head gently on the floor, and David held me while I cried.
When I had regained my composure, I took the sheet from the bed and covered the body. David contacted the people responsible for bodily remains and then proceeded to rifle through Teresa's apartment.
"David! Must you do that?"
"Yes," said David, searching through an old desk, shuffling around papers, and maneuvering around oversized coffee table books. "Besides, she had no relatives here."
I stood there watching him. "This woman is not even cold!"
"If your concern is a mere matter of propriety, I assure you, I'm not in pursuit of choice pickings."
"Then what do you think you'll find?"
He stopped for a moment to think. "I wonder if this apartment has storage. As for the object of my search," he said to me, "Teresa may have said she wanted nothing to do with Pearce, but she was his mother. Also, as you pointed out, not everyone always means what they say. She kept his things; I know the desk used to belong to him, as well as everything inside it."
"She had her bed down here," I said. "Perhaps, she used the loft as storage."
Dozens of containers lay stacked against the wall there, and many scattered about on the floor. "Somebody has dug around up here," I said, picking up a box. "Ugh! Smoke grime has covered the lid."
Discovering the same thing, David sniffed his hand. "Someone unstacked these jears ago."
"What do you think you'll find?"
"She told me to read seven and eight," said David. "She meant Pearce's journals. For jears, he had this notion he would write them, and one day they would find their way into the archive along with all the other writings. He carried one everywhere. He may yet get his wish, though perhaps not for honorable reasons. I think someone else has searched for them also."
While David and I dug through the containers, I made an inquiry. "Okay, I must know, what the hell was Teresa smoking? It smelled nothing like tobacco."
"She smoked the leaves of an alkaloid plant native to the planet," said David. "They grow wild here; we wouldn't cultivate such things. She inhaled the fumes to feed her recurrent narcotic habit."
"Narcotic habit? I thought the Foundational Enhancement would prevent such a thing."
"It won't do everything, Rick."
"Oh, well, who gave her the stuff?"
"No one, I should think," said David.
"Then how did a frail woman like Teresa get it?"
He paused a moment. "Sorry," said David, as he continued his search, "I'm making a distinction between giving and bringing. I can almost guarantee no one gave it to her. However, Venn will bring you whatever you want, or need, if you make a specific enough request. I found them!" He pulled one from the box and leafed through it.
Jiyu's equivalent to thick, black leather-bound journals lay within the container, and despite the environment to which his mother subjected the box's exterior, they remained in good condition.
"I see books one through seven," said David, "but someone has taken number eight."
"Perhaps, Pearce took it with him," I said. "Maybe, whoever else searched for them found it missing too."
David shook his head. "I wouldn't think so. Teresa must have read them, and that opportunity wouldn't arise until Pearce had left. I think whoever unstacked these boxes has the journal."
"Who else knew of them? Who might want them?"
"They weren't a secret," said David. "Anyone could know of Pearce's journaling; As I said, he carried one everywhere. But I can't imagine who else would bother with them."
David searched the end of book seven, and Pearce completed it not long after his mother made her confession about his father. For Pearce, that seemed a pivotal moment. David brought the open box of journals with us, but we waited for the mortuary service before we left.
We opened the balcony door for the fresh air and waited in the hallway by the open door of the apartment. They sent only one serviceman. He stood my height with meticulously coiffed, toffee blonde hair, and wore the appropriate dark suit. He pulled a levitating gurney behind him.
As the man came into view at the end of the hallway, David whispered, "Oh no."
"What's wrong?"
"Stay on your guard," said David, whispering to me. "This man excels as an intelligent, crafty devil."
"Well, do my eyes deceive me, or have I the honor of standing in the presence of the Ambassador to Earth, David Levitt? This pleases me," the man said as he neared us. In his voice, I heard the same Jiyuvian accent as David's. It blended a mixture of several accents but chiefly a variant of the Received Pronunciation British. He stopped short when the stench grew more pungent. I noticed he resisted the temptation to hold his nose. I suspected he meant to avoid appearing unattractive. "Ugh, horrid smell," he said. "I knew she wouldn't last once she started again."
"Hello, Neal," said David, emphasizing considerable disdain. "Please meet my mate, Rick. Rick, this is Neal." He spoke his name with unconcealed antipathy. "Well, is this what you 'do' now?"
Undaunted by David's apparent dislike of him, he pressed on. "Several of us take it in turn, but I requested it for Teresa as she had remained a client of mine for many jears." Neal turned to me. "As you might imagine, the rarity of having to perform this job; it gives everyone involved time for other things."
Neal, a comfortable and flamboyant man whose mode of speech expressed itself in fluency and flourishes, gestured with his head and eyes as much as he did with his hands, like an overblown thespian.
"You used the word 'again'," I said. "Had Teresa quit smoking? How long had she stopped?"
"Yes," he said, "she quit again for a time, but she didn't abstain long enough. Everyone said it would kill her one day."
David eyed Neal with cautious curiosity. "I will regret this, but would you happen to have heard anything about Pearce in recent days?"
"You mean gossip?" he asked in feigned shock, a hand to his throat. "I thought you didn't stoop to that sort of tawdriness. I believe you spoke those exact words to me 61 jears ago."
"Yes, point taken. I apologize," said David. "Right now, gossip or not, we need information."
Neal drew near with his pointer finger like a metronome in a shaming fashion. He stood before David, he cracked his knuckles and held his fingers together, beaming with a sly smile of pure delight. I couldn't tell which made him happier, gossiping with David or witnessing what Neal viewed as David's condescension in descending from the heights to mingle among the common folk. He lured us into the apartment, and I closed the door behind us. He glanced down into the box David held. He selected one of the books, looked at it, and smiled. He spoke by drawing out his words, savoring them, as he milked every second of the moment. "Yes, these ears of mine have heard things --some not new, some just this morning. Pearce's name is on some important lips, and so is yours. They speak of the past, the present, and the future, all of which they say comes at a price."
"Price?" I asked. "Jiyu doesn't have money."
"On Jiyu, nothing is more valuable than information," said Neal, smooth as silk. "So, no one pays the price in cash." He looked deeply into David, and his tone oozed the sound of portents and omens. "But sometimes, they pay the price with lives...and sometimes, in stains upon one's honor impossible to wash away."
"Must you do this?" asked David. "We have the pressing matter of the drones to attend to. I asked you a simple question; you can drop the Oracle of Delphi shtick. If you know something, spit it out."
He replied in a singsong voice, sliding the book he held through his fingers corner to corner like a box of cards. "You will want this, so indulge me."
David began growling, so I put my hand on his arm to keep him from tearing into Neal, and I spoke up, "What's David's price?"
David glanced at me and back to Neal.
Neal nodded in my direction and winked at David. "He's the smart one, isn't he? As you know, David" --Neal continued fingered the journal in his hands-- "I like secrets. I especially like those secrets not kept from me. The price is you must tell me everything you discover about Aurum's secret, which, apparently, is now Amare's secret."
"Aurum's secret is a legend," said David.
"Who's Aurum?" I asked.
David set the box on the table next to us and drew his sword. "Aurum was Prime 159," said David, "that's four Prime's ago. He designed these Trust swords and made the gold sword Amare carries now, as his sword. He also invented the Sharing. He made the gold cup used in the initiation ceremony, and he took it as his crest, placing it on the pommel. Through his efforts, he finalized the polishing of Jiyu into a shining light of civility and harmony from the structure established by the ancestors."
"You are so naive," said Neal. "It may have started that way, but we have grown quite dull over the centuries if you bother to look beneath the surface."
David glowered at him. "If such a secret exists, it has nothing to do with us. So, if you want that information, you'll have to get it on your own." David sheathed his sword and snatched the box from the table.
Neal displayed the spine of the book in his hand, embossed with a gold number '7'. "Looking for number eight, are you?"
"What do you know of it?" David asked.
"I, also, want number eight," he said. "A reliable source told me that Pearce didn't take it with him, so I came here to borrow it while Teresa slept in oblivion from the drugs, but someone beat me to it."
"How long ago?" asked David.
"Oh, 36 jears," he said.
"Why would someone take it?" I asked.
"It held knowledge they wanted to keep hidden." He dropped the seventh back into the box. "Pearce didn't merely journal in these tomes, the older he became, the more he turned them into a kind of expose of his times. He filled them with information that many people would not want others to know. Only a few people know the nature of the material they contain."
"Who gave you that gossip?" David asked.
"It isn't gossip; I've read these." --David scowled-- "Don't give me that look; I brought them back, didn't I? Read them yourself, David. Trust me on this; you'll want number eight as well."
"This is a lot to read. With the drone situation, I don't know that we can spare the time," said David in contrived disinterest, "I intended to drop these off at the archive. I doubt it has anything to do with our current circumstance anyway."
"I understand," Neal said in a patronizing tone, "and you still don't have enhanced memory, do you? Well, this is important, so I'll give you this one for free. For whatever else you may think of me, David, I hope you do know where my loyalties truly lie." He brushed the front of his suit. "Does the word `Sancy' mean anything to you?"
David and I both indicated it didn't.
"What is it?" asked David.
"I don't know," he said. "I've attempted to ascertain that since I read it. It has something to do with the portal. That I'm aware, no one on Jiyu calls themselves Sancy, and nothing here by that name exists, so I conclude it comes from someone or something on Earth, and I won't go there."
"Right. Anything else?" asked David.
"Did you know Pearce wrote about you a great deal?" asked Neal. "I got the distinct impression he loved you."
"Teresa said Pearce loved David like a brother," I said.
"Teresa was a pious Southern American homophobe and a hypocrite," said Neal. "So, she would prefer to see it that way. If she had believed anything else, David would never have seen her son again.
"From what I recall from my enhanced memory of book seven," said Neal, "pay close attention to page 584 mentioning Sancy. You will find it a compelling reason for concern, but you'll have to decide for yourself once you've read it."
"And if I don't find it as compelling as you?" David asked.
Neal shook his head. "Not even you could miss the implications."
"What benefit do we get from this deal?" I asked.
"I give you the name of the person who has taken book number eight."
"If you know who has the book," said David, "why haven't you gotten it yourself?"
"Alas, despite its importance, it lies beyond my humble abilities," he said. "I want Aurum's secret, that's all. Say `no,' and I take the body and go."
"I don't know, Neal," said David. "It sounds like a lot to ask, for something so important, and coming from someone as loyal to Jiyu as yourself."
I don't know what came over me. I seldom give in to impulsivity, but I did then. For an unknown reason, I felt pressured to do it, and I didn't think twice.
"Agreed," I said.
"Rick!" exclaimed David.
"...providing." I glanced at David. "Providing I feel compelled by the information I read in the book."
"Agreed," Neal said, shaking my hand.
"You don't know to what you are agreeing, Rick," said David.
"Who told you all this?" I asked Neal.
"Why, Teresa, of course," Neal said, gesturing to the body beneath the sheet. "She may have had a plethora of faults but lie she did not. With no real life outside these walls, Teresa used whatever information she encountered as fair game for conversation, and she had no filter. She said she read her son's journals. She enjoyed reading the secrets they held, and she exampled a few. One of them she took from book eight, about Aurum's secret. Pearce knew and uncovered things. He questioned in a way none of us had, and I believe he found answers. The incident occurred during one of Teresa's more lucid moments while sitting in my chair. I could not resist borrowing them."
"Your chair?" I asked.
"Neal has a salon," said David.
"Ah!" I exclaimed. "Now, I get it."
"You must have had clients waiting," said David. "Who else knows?"
"The three other people in the salon who awaited a chair, but I would concern myself with only one of them. I feel certain she has the book."
"And who is that?" I asked.
"Meridia."