A Regulator dropped me off in front of my house. One of my wives, short and wiry Cai, naked and gossamer wings spread wide to catch the energizing rays, sunned herself on the slope beside the walkway. She greeted me and, climbing to her feet, fell into step beside me as we entered the courtyard.
Dark and lanky Tano had set up a target. He and Swaantje fired arrows at it. From the expression on Swaantje’s face, I gathered she was in one of her sour moods, probably brought on by a reversal in the Militia’s ongoing virch wargames.
Over on the patio, lounging on chairs molded out of utility fog, sat Anaïs and Rohana, the family’s twin daughters, their eyes unfocused and indicating involvement in some webbed conversation or entertainment. The twins were going through, at age twelve, an elegance fad. Today one wore a red tunic over black bodystocking with hair and boots matching the tunic, and the other girl in opposition, black tunic over red bodystocking. A while back they’d fixated on a primitivism fad and gone about naked for a whole month. Like a pendulum, those two.
Dinner smelled promising. I spied short and stocky and muscular Jafar through the kitchen’s open door. Hair tied back, barefoot, dressed in khaki shorts and shirt, stirring various pots and woks on the stove top. (The stove itself was an old replica of some ancient, Pre-Singularity model.) He looked up and flashed a smile, then spread the fingers of his hand out twice. Ten minutes.
“Swaantje looks unhappy,” I murmured to Cai.
“The Green-and-White Regiment took a beating today.”
“Well, the defender does have the angelnet advantage.”
“The Green and Whites were the defenders.”
I winced. “How did they lose?” I didn’t add “this time”.
“Attackers took out a portion of the angelnet at the same time they released their nano-amucks. Obviously, security teams were immediately dispatched to the areas that lost angelnet capacity, but it was too late. I gather that the battalion leader who was in charge of Port security missed some obvious checks of incoming transients. I couldn’t follow her explanation. Too much specialist’s jargon for me.”
“I think Tano’s the only one who half-way understands that stuff, though Jafar’s good at faking it. Colonel-Brigadier Swaantje Van der Osten’s reputation is taking a beating though, isn’t it?
“We should take her out somewhere after dinner.” Cai stuck the pinky of her right hand into her mouth and began worrying the nail.
“There’s a theater group putting something on this week.” I accessed the Cultural Events menu. “Yes, The Meffit Mummers are performing at the Dionysian open-air theater. Show is scheduled to start a half-hour after today’s rain.” It rained every day at the same time (you could set a clock by it) and only for about ten minutes. “Benches should be dry after half an hour.”
“What play?”
“Ramcharitmaanas.” (Literally, The Lake of Rama’s Deeds.) “A play based on Grierson’s version of the classic. The play will last all week, with one book being dramatized each day. They’re starting today with the Bal Kand — the Book of Youth.”
Jafar finally announced dinner was ready, and the twins helped him carry the trays out while Cai and I morphed some chairs and a table out of the utility fog in the courtyard. An excellent meal, like always and, were our manners less than impeccable, we would have attacked it like piranha.
Cai broached the idea of going out to the play later on, but Swaantje already had plans to join her sister Bregt’s soccer team.
“So, what did you do today, Cris?” Tano asked.
“I spend a good part of it hanging around with Lemmikki Kauppinen.”
Chopsticks paused in midair, mouths remained opened. The dead silence went on for a long minute, and then everyone exploded into laughter.
“Seriously,” I said.
“You are serious, aren’t you?” Tano said after a while.
“Yeah. She knew who I was and came over to express condolences about Lucy Miner. We ended up walking around the downtown neighborhoods. Met some interesting people.” I put my sticks down. “Lady Kauppinen commented at one point about Yin and Yang principles in history; about how a Yang force needs to generate chaos before the gods can recreate society on a new Yin level of perfection. I think I got that right. I should do some research on the subject.”
“Anaïs, you’re studying history,” Jafar said.
“Yes, Poppo Jafar.”
“Could you help your Poppo Cris do his research?”
One shoulder lifted in a shrug. “Sure.” She turned to me. “I’m free Wodensdag morning, Poppo Cris. We can go over some basic material then.”
“Good.”
Following dessert the twins went off to join some friends in a virch game. With the children gone I felt free to express my concern. “I’m worried that the Transapients are planning to rebuild our sociocultural matrix on the ashes of the old. Lady Kauppinen said she believe we were probably centuries away from the introduction of chaotic forces. But I got to thinking –“
“Which is a very bad thing for a thrillseeker to do,” Tano commented.
I quirked the corner of my mouth back in acknowledgement of the old joke. “She said probably. As though she herself wasn’t sure. Why wouldn’t she know? The Lords and Ladies can see farther into the future than we can.
“And she allowed me to observe her handling of a group of foreign petitioners. And by foreign I mean from completely outside the Empire. She took a hardline against immigration with them.”
“That worries me,” Swaantje said. “Closing the borders usually only happens during times of crisis.”
“Kauppinen said it was to prevent a crisis. She also showed me the new fresco being painted and commented on the transapient and modosophont interactions it depicted. And similar themes in literature, and malcontents…. I have a feeling she was trying to tell me something. I just can’t … can’t get a clear view of what.”
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