Complete Atopia Chronicles (29 page)

“Nancy!” someone called out, intentionally overriding my sensory dataflow using an emergency channel.  The interruption jolted me and my conscious webwork partially collapsed.  It was David, of course, I realized after a split second of hang time. I sighed but smiled as his face floated into view.

“C’mon Nance, come to Davey-boy.  Enough is enough.” 

He was smiling too, but I could see concern worrying the corners of his mouth. 

“Just a little longer. I’m sorry.”

I had a splinter ghosting him but I’d lost track of it. Visions of him cooking up a storm in the kitchen floated into view as I retrieved that conscious stream. Most of my awareness was still hovering in countless minds and bodies scattered throughout dozens of worlds.  I checked the pulsating high–dimensional correlation matrix one last time. Things looked good, and that was good enough for me. 

I initiated a wrap to the session, and like a shockwave, streams of information flowed outwards from me into my agents across the multiverse.  Collapsing my cognitive webwork, it felt like a brick was being lifted off my brain.  The relief was palpable.

“All done sweetie,” I responded to David. “I’m all done now, and I have some wonderful news.”

“Great—and I have some wonderful food getting cold.  C’mon back, my hard working gal,” he said playfully.

I was more than very late for dinner.

With a final flurry of gestures I released my agents to autopilot and left the rest in the care of Cunard. My workspaces faded out and the outlines of a dinner setting faded into view. I could see David had picked out a romantic setting for dinner tonight—a small fire was crackling and popping in a marble fireplace, set on each side with a dramatic arrangement of exotic flowers.  In fact, the entire living room was decked out in white marble and tropical flowers tonight. Neo-classic columns graced the open terrace doors and a breeze was billowing in through satin curtains. Sea air mixed with burnt incense, and I caught a glimpse of what I was sure was the Amalfi coast through the open doors.

Italy, I thought to myself, of course. I could see where this was going. Cunard was sitting next to David at the table, and it looked like they’d been playing cards. A bottle of wine was half finished. Before I fully clipped back into my body, Cunard took me to one side in a private one-on-one channel.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I dressed you in that little black thing you love so much,” explained Cunard. “It just seemed appropriate given his state of mind, and I didn’t want to disturb you.”

I looked down at my body. Sexy, if I did say so myself.

“No, that’s great Cunard, thank you very much. You can leave us now and please, pay attention to that correlation matrix and have a talk with the editors at the Financial Times.  I left all the notes and instructions...”

“Go on girl,” laughed Cunard, “have a nice evening. I’ll take care of all that. Stop thinking for once.”

With that he popped out of view and I snapped firmly into my body.  The clarity and immediacy of being in only one place after being splintered for so long shocked my proprioceptive sense. I felt like little bits of me wanted to scuttle into the corners to get out of the glare of hard and fast reality, or at least, this single point-of-presence. 

I tried to shake it off, blinking as I did.

David was smiling intently at me.  The long, richly polished table was beautifully set for dinner with gleaming silverware, glowing candles and lace embroidered napkins.  With a phantom flick, the playing cards disappeared from the table, and he reached across to hold my hand. I squeezed and smiled back.

“Well, look who’s here,” he said, smiling.

“Yes, and look who’s there,” I replied, returning the smile. 

He looked like some kind of Italian swashbuckler, in tight beige linen pants and a laced white cotton shirt undone almost to the waist. He was tanned today, with two-day old stubble. I laughed lightly, looking at him.

“Okay stud, give me a minute?  I think I need to down a glass of wine to begin the unwinding process.”

“Your wish is my command, senorita.”

Grinning, he reached with his other hand for the glass of wine, already filled, and handed it to me.

I let go of his hand to take the glass, and brought it to my lips.  An earthy Cabernet flooded my mouth, and I could feel some of my tension washing away in its spicy wake.  I tossed my head back to take a big gulp, and shifted my ass forward to slouch backwards into the chair, my legs apart.

David wagged a finger in the air.

“Did you check your inVerse? Vince and Patricia both dropped in when you were busy. Vince had some odd requests…anyway, I dropped it with Cunard, and Patricia wanted to speak to you about some announcement?”

“David,” I said excitedly, “it’s time. The timing is perfect for putting Infinixx onto the stock markets.”

I knew he was in the mood for love, but I couldn’t help myself. I was practically bursting at the seams. One of the reasons I was with David was that he had an infinite patience with me, and I abused it all too often. Perhaps, though, perhaps he could sense our relationship was living on borrowed time, and he made allowances he shouldn’t have to try and keep it going.

The gleam in his eye diminished, but still he responded enthusiastically, “Wow!  Are you sure?  You’re going to do it before the commercial launch of pssi? Can you do that?”

“We sure can. I’ve checked and rechecked everything—we can only stand to win if we go now. When Cognix goes ahead with pssi, we’ll get a double bump up the hill. Jimmy’s been helping me out. I do need to chat with Patricia quickly though, is that okay?”

David nodded glumly as he looked at the place settings. I squeezed his hand and pinged Patricia. Her head appeared a moment later floating in one of my display spaces, and she pulled me into her reality. Out of the corner of one multiplexed eye I could see David sulking and taking a sip of his wine. He got up to add more logs to the fire.

“So you’re sure you want to go ahead with this?” Patricia asked immediately.

“Absolutely!” I almost yelled out before noticing where I was.

Everyone in the pub turned and looked at me. I’d materialized sitting on what appeared to be a small, worn out church pew tucked in the corner of an old English pub. The crowd turned back to what they’d been doing and the hubbub returned.

“Okay, good. Well, I will press on ahead on my side, then. You’re keeping on top of the New York trials?”

“Yes, Aunt Killiam,” I responded, feeling like a child. “Of course I am.”

I smiled at Alan, one of Patricia’s old mentors, who was sitting across from me. He nodded back and smiled.

“Okay,” she replied, “perfect. I’ll start a campaign with the Board then.”

I was hardly able to contain my excitement, but I was now nervous as well. I realized that this was actually going to happen, that all my dreams were coming true. But there’d been another reason I had asked to speak with her as well.

Squinting slightly, I took a deep breath, not sure how to bring this up.

“There’s something else?” asked Patricia. She could sense me hesitating.

I sighed. “What’s going on with Uncle Vince?”

Reports were flooding in about him dying almost constantly, along with rumors of him selling off chunks of his vast, if haphazard, empire. He wasn’t my real uncle, but I’d known him all my life and he was a close friend of our family.

It was Patricia’s turn to sigh, her face clouding up. I thought she was about to share some terrible secret with me when she just said simply, “Nothing is going on with Vince, nothing at all.”

“What do you mean?” What was happening certainly didn’t count as nothing.

“He’s just, well, he’s just fooling around.”

Aunt Pattie shrugged, as if to say: What could one expect from a bored trillionaire? But her eyes said more. Whatever was going on, she wasn’t going to share it with me now, and I trusted her reasons, whatever they were.

“Okay,” I replied hesitantly, “if you say so. Just tell me what I need to do to help with the Board.”

“I will. Speaking of the Board, will we be seeing you at the Foreign Banquet tomorrow evening?”

“Yes, I’ll be there.”

Patricia hesitated. “Dr. Baxter said he may bring Bob along…”

She let the words hangs in the air.

“Well I think I’m going solo anyway,” I replied with a smile. “It’s an official function and those bore David to death.”

“I just thought I’d mention it.” Patricia smiled back. “Now you get back to your evening!”

My excitement bubbled back up, and I positively squealed as she faded away.

“That’s fantastic, Nance, that’s really good news,” said David on my return to him and dinner. He seemed a little uncertain now, hovering, but his love for me shone out in his eyes. Try as I might, though, my heart could never quite return it.

“Come here, my big bad boy,” I said lustily, trying to hide my uncertainty.

I grabbed his hand and pulled him across the side of the table and towards me.  He took my cue, and met my lips with his in a strong, firm kiss, opening my mouth and meeting my tongue.  I could feel one of his hands sliding down my back, gripping me, pulling me further into him, and our bodies pressed together.

We both flittered for a stimswitch almost at the same time, and I laughed, my mouth pressed against his, as my point of view switched into his and I felt the heat and strength and urgency in his body.  I found myself staring into my own eyes with him staring back out from them into my gaze, our senses shimmering back and forth like two mirrors reflecting an image endlessly into each other.

“What about dinner?” I asked breathlessly as our bodies rocked together in rhythm and slid to the floor while we pulled off our clothes. 

“This is dinner,” he gasped back.

He phase-locked our stimswitch so we simultaneously ghosted each other.  I was him and he was me, our sensory channels now overlaid into and onto each other as we began our lovemaking.

While most of me was there, perhaps the most important part of me wasn’t. If you can’t be with the one you love, then you love the one you’re with.

At least, you do your best.

Identity: William McIntyre

I
’
D
HAD
ANOTHER terrible night. With my splinter limit fixed at ten, I’d been forced to funnel more and more of my resources into the Phuture News Network. Combining my natural abilities with the reduced rates I’d managed to get from Vince through Bob, I was still beating the markets, but I wasn’t the star I used to be.

“Are we going to have breakfast together?” asked Brigitte, standing next to me in the bathroom that morning. She was brushing her teeth.

“Pumpkin,” I sighed, “I just don’t have time.”

I was staring at my face, lathering it for a shave. I enjoyed a real shave from time to time. It helped me reconnect with myself after nights spent shattered all over the multiverse.

“You could have Wally shave you,” she suggested meekly. “We haven’t sat down for breakfast together in more than a week.”

She was pouting.

“Jesus Brigitte, you know I just like to shave myself sometimes!” I snapped.
Why couldn’t she just leave me be?

Her hurt expression reflected in the mirror. With a quick intake of breath I was about to apologize, but she’d already flitted off without another word. Bardot, her proxxi, sat staring back at me from Brigitte’s body, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. She spat out her mouthful of toothpaste into the sink, handing me the toothbrush, and left as well.

I sighed.

I felt bad, but I really just needed some more time to myself.

Rubbing away the condensation from the mirror, I focused on my face and began to shave. I felt an itch and erratically scratched my shoulder as I held the razor up. With a swipe of the razor across my lathered face, I thought, what the hell am I going to do? Things were just starting to work out for me, and now Nancy is ruining it all.

Goddamn it! My hand shot under my armpit to scratch something. What the hell? My neck was itchy too. I dropped the razor into the sink with a clatter and began to madly scratch at myself.

It felt like ants were crawling under my skin.

I managed to stop scratching for a second to inspect my arm, and was shocked to see a small bump under the skin. What was going on? Then it moved. I wildly scraped at it, ripping open the skin and blood oozed out. Looking into the mirror in horror, I saw my face seething and roiling with boils. My hands shot to my face, feeling a crawling mass under my skin.

“Waaallly!” I cried out.

A burst of laughter erupted from behind the shower curtain. Immediately I knew what was happening.

“You assholes!” I exclaimed, turning to rip open the curtain, my face dripping and oozing worms, millipedes and other hideous creeping and crawling little creatures.

Hoots of laughter exploded from Bob, Martin, Sid, and Vicious as they held onto each other, crowded into the small shower stall.

“You should have seen your face, mate!” laughed Vicious, tears now streaming down his face as he gripped onto Sid, who was doubled over and laughing hard too. Bob was grinning widely, his arms around the others, shaking his head. I couldn’t help joining in laughing as well, despite it all.

“Fine,” I declared, “you got me. Okay Sid, make it stop.”

Immediately the itching stopped and the beasties quit wriggling. I absentmindedly rubbed my hand across my now smooth face, feeling the remains of the lather and my stubble.

“Sorry man,” said Sid, still wiping away tears, “when you asked Vince for a Phuture News upgrade, I slipped a skin in and you authorized it. You gotta pay more attention to what you’re doing!”

They all laughed some more.

“Hey it was Martin’s idea,” added Vicious, giving Martin a little shot in the shoulder.

“Oh yeah?” I replied, shaking my head and smiling at Martin. He smiled back timidly. I was glad him and Bob were hanging out.

I didn’t even remember authorizing that transaction, but I had already called it up on my inVerse. I really did need more sleep.