A farce. But dying would be painful even in a virtual world….
It was a huge circular hall with a dome of crimson-and-gold stained-glass windows, white marble columns, and mosaic-tiled floors. In the center of this hall stood a throne—a rough-surfaced hunk of black rock with a wide seat carved out. Edgar, dressed in black and red silks, seemed to be a part of the throne, just as dead and cold. Only his eyes glimmered behind his glasses, so appropriate among all these medieval props. Two very young girls, clinging to the boy’s legs, fixed a startled stare on the pilot.
“We’ve gotta talk,” said Alex.
Edgar said nothing. He seemed lost in thought.
“Get rid of your phantoms,” said Alex, annoyed. The blade at his throat trembled, as if about to strike.
“Say ‘Sovereign’!” Edgar ordered, the echo of his voice rolling inside the dome.
“Sovereign.” Alex had no intention to fuss about trifles.
The boy on the throne snapped his fingers. The young girls slid down the steps and rushed away. The guards were apparently reluctant to release Alex—they hesitated.
“Out,” Edgar told them dryly.
Rubbing his forearms, Alex got up from his knees. He approached the throne.
“What’s all this masquerade?”
“They’re very good self-teaching programs,” Edgar informed him, with an offended note in his voice. “And I’ve worked on this reality for five years. I have to live somewhere! And now I’ll have to explain to my courtiers the unexpected appearance of a sorcerer in the Sovereign’s palace!”
Alex sat down at the foot of the throne, shrugged his shoulders.
“What kind of sovereign are you, to have to explain anything to anyone? Well, it’s your game, not mine. Can’t you get down?”
“I can,” affirmed Edgar gloomily. He got up, gracelessly descended the stone steps, and sat down next to the pilot. “So, everyone’s off on a little vacation, eh?”
“Yup. Can you guess why I stayed behind on the ship?”
“’Cos you wanna talk to me?”
“Exactly.”
The boy frowned. Then peaceably spread out his arms, saying:
“Well, all right. Want some wine or ice cream? Or should I call in the houris?”
“I said ‘to talk,’ not ‘have some fun.’ Edgar, are you a good genetic engineer?”
“The best in the universe.”
Alex smirked. “All right, suppose you are. What can you tell me about Kim?”
“You’re still interested in that?”
“Of course. The girl is suffering, Edgar.”
“She’s suffering,” the boy agreed. “She’s in love with you. You were with her in the moment of metamorphosis, you see. Imprinting as such is not really characteristic of speshes, but Kim’s situation is different. Her psychological profile demands love, and you have become the first object of its application.”
“That I get. Her genes are part geisha’s?”
“A very small part.”
“And why was that done?”
Edgar was silent.
“Look, I want to be your friend.” Alex put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I want to help you gain a living body. Want to help Kim. But I need you to help me as well… just a little. Why was a fighter-spesh equipped with a geisha’s abilities?”
“Kim isn’t a fighter-spesh at all,” said Edgar abruptly. “A fighter! Hah! Mass production, cookie-cutter job, fodder for the Imperial cannons… Kim is absolutely unique.”
“What is she?”
“A secret agent.”
“What?” Alex couldn’t help laughing.
Edgar turned to him and stared furiously straight into his eyes.
“You think it’s funny? You think that secret agents are all made to be six-foot-tall hunks with plasma cannons implanted in their asses? An agent can kill. An agent has the skills and reaction reflexes of a fighter, but that’s not the main thing! To use an agent-spesh as a fighter is insanely wasteful! Kim has been created to revolve in the highest social circles, to make people fall in love with her, to have influence, to gather intelligence, to blackmail… and, well, to kill, if necessary. But that’s secondary. You can’t imagine even a fraction of her abilities! She herself doesn’t realize most of them… just yet. Kim can read information off computers remotely, she can hold her breath for a quarter of an hour, lower her own body temperature to match the temperature of her immediate environment. She has perfect memory, an intuitive ability to decipher codes… and a number of truly unexpected physical abilities—”
“Does Kim know?” asked Alex bluntly.
“Do I look like an idiot to you?” snarled Edgar. “No. She doesn’t even suspect anything. It will be a huge shock for her when she finds out. She’s used to considering herself a fighter-spesh, after all… well, at least some kind of fighter, something like a bodyguard or an assassin.”
“What would happen, if she found out?”
“I don’t know.” Edgar shrugged. “Most probably, she’ll be really shocked at first… and then she’ll want to take her place in life. People like her work for the Imperial Secret Service, or for planetary administrations… or perhaps for some massive and powerful corporation.”
“Why haven’t you told her the truth, Edgar?”
The boy looked up at him sadly. Then asked with a sneering tone:
“What would she need me for, then?”
Alex nodded. “Okay, I get it. Forgive me. But if you’re right…”
“I am right!”
“Then Kim has to find out who she is. A spesh’s whole life is about fulfilling her purpose. Working as an ordinary fighter, Kim will always remain unhappy.”
Edgar said nothing, and Alex felt a sharp sting of shame. The boy’s every hope was tied to Kim. All his plans to gain a real body, to break free of his monstrous captivity…
“I see what you mean…”
That is, if he wasn’t lying, of course!
“But we must come up with something for Kim’s sake, right?”
The boy looked at him in surprise.
“We?”
“Of course. You’re her best friend. You’re the genetic engineer. And I am the man Kim’s in love with.”
“So why do anything else?” Edgar shrugged his shoulders. “She’s got a job now, and she’s okay with it so far. When Kim does discover her own abilities, that will be the time to worry about it. But I hope to have a real body by then.”
“Anything is possible. But what’s to be done about the problem of her crush on me?”
“It’s not a crush, it’s love,” Edgar corrected him. He was silent for a moment, then dryly added:
“I have nothing against your encounters. It’s a natural need, so…”
“She doesn’t need sex. Or, rather, not only sex. By the way, why was that done? Sure, an agent has to be able to make others fall in love with her. But to fall in love herself?”
“Love is such a strange thing, Alex…” The boy got up, paced to and fro, his hands behind his back. “There have been many attempts to create geishas who would make others love them while staying cold and indifferent themselves, just doing their work without involving emotions. A seductive appearance, acting talents, smarts, pheromones… All to no avail, Alex. For a guaranteed seduction, the hetaera’s love must also be real. As soon as her goal is accomplished, a geisha gets to fall out of love with the object… to regain her freedom, even if it’s a difficult process, with lots of heartache and sadness. But first, a geisha must be in love herself. No matter for how long—fifteen minutes for a quickie or several years in the role of a lady-escort—but a geisha’s love is genuine.”
Edgar talked on, utterly immersed in his own words. As if mesmerized, Alex watched the skinny boy pace around the caricature throne, readjusting his glasses, dissecting the “greatest of all human emotions.”