In our first session, Anaïs taught me enough to make me realize how little I actually knew.
I also accessed one of Lubbock’s novels and read part of the first chapter.
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“… I was standing in line behind the woman and her daughter when we were being nailed to the wall prior to exile. I ran into them eight virtual months later in Oglethorpe. After eight months I’d sworn off mixing rebellious metaphysical constructs with activism and was looking for a decent above-subsistence niche. The woman had become a fagan, and her daughter a private sex performer — what they used to call a prostitute. I went to work for the woman as an illicit data miner. None of us expected to get rich. For one thing, those individuals who created criminal mega-corps died mysterious deaths (attributed to the Governors to assure social stability). I’d also taken a local warder as lover; or, to be more precise, she’d taken me as part of the kickback she got for ignoring my fagan’s business dealings. It was okay as same-gender sex goes, I suppose.”
I put the novel aside and surfed the data banks and message boards for background information. And ran into Rohana researching a paper for her Literature class. “Oh, Poppo Cris! Why are you reading that junk? It’s mostly flim and flam. Oglethorpe isn’t as bad as the author makes out. For one thing, all the warders are vecs because it’s been established that bionts warp into DeSades in that kind of job. And people in penal colonies don’t go around hurting each other because empire citizens are muy too polite to do that. Besides, everyone knows that any virch is by definition angelnetted. And the whisper is that Hades and Persephone walk the virtual streets ‘incog,’ so the person whose body you violate might be one of the Ubermensch governors which can cause serious negative feedback, no foolie. Gotta run now, Poppo. I have to finish my deconstruction of the poem Utility Fog Makes Me Cough.”
I also sent a private message to Lord Kauppinen thanking her for the honor of escorting her around town, etc. I told her I’d been thinking of some of the things we’d talked about, and was under the impression — mistaken, perhaps — that she was trying to explain something important to me that I have, unsurprisingly, failed to grasp, and most humbly request clarification. Her reply was short and concise: “Don’t let it worry you. If you can’t figure it out I’ll just find someone who can. (Signed) L. Kauppinen, Prefect.”
The reply totally humiliated me. I’d been selected by the Overlord herself for some task and failed to measure up. And it was no big deal to her, anymore than the twins failing their attempts to morph furniture out of u-fog at age six was a big deal to me.