–Immortal? He won’t die?
Balot was astonished. Tweedledum laughed and returned to the side of the pool.
–He has a multidimensional body. When his body’s injured in one dimension, it can be repaired from another dimension. That’s the great advantage of a Living Unit. He won’t die unless you blow him to pieces in all the different dimensions, or crush the nucleus of his life. He does have a life span, though.
–Life span?
–Yeah, that’s the weak point of a Living Unit. All living creatures die sometime. As a matter of course. That’s the first principle of this sort of unit. And that’s what’s so remarkable about Oeufcoque.
–What do you mean?
Balot felt startled, and she grabbed onto the ledge to steady herself. She stared at Tweedledum, feeling that the conversation was entering dangerous territory.
–Obesity.
Tweedledum’s voice was curiously meek.
–Mice gain weight all through their natural lives. They grow bigger and bigger. Can’t help it—something to do with their metabolism, So, even if you use longevity-enhancing procedures, as long as the weight issue remains, sooner or later they end up crushed to death by their own body mass. However much you try shunting your weight off into different dimensions, in the end you can’t outsmart Mother Nature.
–A disease? And is there no cure?
–Not sure you can really call it a disease, babe. More like the inevitable course of nature. That’s why, according to Oeufcoque, he first felt the need to leave this place—when he first had his intimation of mortality, as he put it.
–What does that even mean?
Tweedledum stopped for a moment.
–Ah, who knows? It’s not as if I’m ever even going to be leaving this place. Ask him yourself, why don’t you?
Balot nodded, realizing that she’d touched on a sensitive subject. But she couldn’t stop herself from asking:
–What about you—have you ever wanted to leave this place?
She regretted asking the question as soon as the words had been transmitted. Tweedledum lifted his face into the air.
–How would I live?
Balot couldn’t answer. Indeed, it wasn’t really a question that Tweedledum was asking—rather, he was giving an answer. It hit home sharply. But Tweedledum continued in a gentler vein.
–I have this ocean. I have peace, and I have plenty of stimulation and excitement. Maybe everything’s an experiment, but there’s a certain pride in knowing that my existence is, in and of itself, at the forefront of cutting-edge research. And, above all, I have Tweedledee. Nah, babe, I can’t leave here, but I also wouldn’t want to, even if I could. But what about you, eh? Why don’t you settle down here? With your Oeufcoque.
–What, me…?
–The outside is just full of danger, right? Locking out the outside world—that’s one way to ensure that life thrives.
But Balot ever so gently shook her head. She whispered back,
–I made my choice. To live outside the shell—to survive.
–I get it…
And then Tweedledum cried out for the first time. A fine, pure cry that seemed to squeeze Balot’s chest tight.
–I wonder what the real ocean’s like…
She heard his words just as clearly as she heard his keening cry.
–They’re back, babe.
Tweedledum spoke, and Balot rested her upper body on the ledge of the pool, sensing Tweedledee coming toward them through the forest.
She thought that he was supposed to be bringing somebody with him to introduce to her, but he seemed to be on his own, carrying a boxlike object. A large one. From a distance it looked something like a birdcage.
–Hi, sorry to keep you waiting.
Soon Tweedledee was back with them, smiling.
Balot went to pull herself out of the water with both arms, but her body suddenly became stiff.
Tweedledee was indeed carrying a birdcage. Or at least something that looked just like one.
And inside it was a human head.
Tweedledee stopped walking and stood still. He was still grinning, evidently enjoying Balot’s surprise.
The face inside the cage had the same expression.
“Hello, Rune-Balot. I’m the Supreme Warden of Paradise,” said the face inside the birdcage. He was a man, on the old side of middle aged. His bright white hair was cleanly cropped, and he was closely shaven. His slender face was etched with deep wrinkles, but he had a refined, gentle expression. The only thing that was at all odd about him was the fact that he didn’t seem to have any body parts other than his head.
“Everyone calls me Professor. Professor Faceman, that is. Quite an appropriate name for someone in my present state, don’t you think? Some people go one step further and call me Facemanin-the-Cage. Which is truer still, wouldn’t you say?”
Balot had forgotten about even her own nakedness and was staring at the Faceman-in-the-Cage, as he put it.
“Table!” Faceman ordered. Doing as he was told, Tweedledee interfered with—snarced—the ground by the poolside, and a white plane emerged, folding out to take the form of a round table.
Tweedledee placed the birdcage on the table. Then he undressed again, quickly. His role now complete, he jumped straight back into the pool without a moment’s hesitation.
Faceman watched, a serene smile on his lips, and then spun around slowly in his cage to face Balot.
Balot slipped back into the pool without thinking.
“Try snarcing my cage. We should be able to converse.”
–Yes, sir, Balot replied reflexively. Faceman laughed indulgently.
Balot felt Tweedledee splashing about behind her, but her eyes remained fixed on Faceman.
“I’ve taken the liberty of examining your data. Such wonderful aptitude. But if it’s left unchecked, the technology you’ve had implanted in you is likely to have an influence on your maturity, your emotional well-being. Have you noticed yourself becoming overstressed because of this?”
Balot shook her head. Without realizing it, she was touching her throat and the surrounding area on her neck.
She was trying—not very successfully—to imagine what it would be like to have a body that didn’t continue below the neckline.
“Well, it might have made you feel bad, at least. Access to all your battle data stored up inside Oeufcoque-Penteano—those were my terms for your use of the facility.”
–Terms? Even as Balot spoke, she put two and two together.
–So you’re healing Oeufcoque’s injuries in exchange for information about me?
“Exactly. Hasn’t Dr. Easter explained all this to you?”
–No, he’s been too busy treating Oeufcoque…
But she wasn’t about to get downhearted because of this. After all, Oeufcoque’s injuries—and everything else—were her fault in the first place. She was determined to do anything to help Oeufcoque recover.
“I wonder if I could have a look at how your transplanted metal fiber is doing?”
Faceman only had to ask, and Balot was out of the pool, showing him her body.