A drop.
Two.
Three.
He carefully closed the vial and hid it in his pocket. Swirled the glass a bit. The liquid stubbornly refused to mix with the wine and formed an oily film upon the surface.
Alex put the glass to his lips and threw its contents back in one gulp. Then poured himself another splash of wine to wash it down. A slight acrid aftertaste remained.
The substance wouldn’t work right away. Edgar had said something about three to four hours before the behavior modifiers, already present in the body, were flushed out from the nerve cells. And yet, Alex stood for a while, listening closely to his own sensations.
He felt sleepy, and that was all….
“Let’s go take a nap,” said Alex. The Demon, of course, had no objections.
Then he was in a dream, a strange, chaotic one, composed of bits and pieces of everything that had happened in the last few days. As though he was a ruler of some unknown planet, maybe Heraldica, or Earth, or Edem. A good, kind, peaceful planet… Alex stood at the foot of a throne. Ten or so guards, their swords drawn, were closing in on him in a tight circle. And in front of Alex, on his knees, stood the boy named Edgar, awkwardly clutching his broken and bent glasses.
“Why’d you do it?” his own voice seemed unfamiliar to Alex. He even realized that he was asleep, and was ready to wake up, as it often happens as soon as you say something in your sleep. But the dream didn’t end, and Edgar lifted his head, squinted myopically at Alex, and gave an awkward shrug:
“I wanted to save myself…”
“Add ‘Sovereign,’” said Alex, and the guards tensed, ready to rush over to Edgar and hack his skinny body to pieces.
“I wanted to save myself, Sovereign.” Edgar had finally straightened out the frames, and now fastened the glasses onto his nose.
“But why in this way, exactly?”
The boy—who stubbornly continued to wear glasses, a thing that had been forgotten by everyone a century ago—winced.
“It was the only way that remained to me, Sovereign.”
“You’re cruel…” Alex looked over the guards’ heads and met the glance of Kim, who stood hugging Janet. Kim nodded to him, and cried out:
“Kill him, Sovereign! I never wanted to be this way, Sovereign!”
Janet stopped her by putting her hand to Kim’s mouth. Then shook her head, whispering:
“Our soldiers were unable to shoot at humans… Alex…”
Alex nodded to each of them. Approvingly to Kim, soothingly to Janet. But he was the Sovereign, and that bound him with invisible fetters much stronger than the altered spesh operons….
“You’re cruel,” Alex repeated, looking down at the boy, who was awaiting his decree. “Guards!” And ten glistening swords swung up into the air….
Having opened his eyes, Alex lay motionless for a while. He winced, remembering the dream—bright and colorful, it seemed to have embossed itself upon his memory.
His experience with psychoanalysis was limited—a standard course in elementary school and, later, the occasional trips to the union therapist. But the interpretation of this dream did not present a difficulty.
He winced at the memory of Kim yelling, “Kill him!”
But the most frightening thing was that she was actually right… and these words might someday ring out for real.
He didn’t sleep long—there were still two and a half hours before they would exit the channel. He could go to the recreation lounge and sit around with a glass of whiskey. Or he could stop by Kim’s or Janet’s and indulge in the simple pleasures of sex. For a while, Alex lay, trying to decide to whom he was drawn more. Both women were very attractive, but each in her own way…
He sighed and decided not to bother anyone.
The neuro-shunt was still in the desk drawer. Alex put the headband on and started rummaging through the contents of a pencil box, with its meager collection of entertainment crystals. There were a few “Wonderful Journeys,” which allowed you to travel through virtual copies of the most beautiful planets in the galaxy. Four detective adventures from the series about the Hunchback, agent-spesh of Imperial Security. This particular colleague of Kim’s, if you believed the authors, really did have a disposable plasma discharger… well, not in the body part that Edgar had mentioned, but in one of his sinuses. Alex hesitated—he had watched the crystals titled “The Hunchback” and “The Hunchback’s Truth” a while back, and he remembered being captivated by the daring plot, in which you could be on the side of the agent-spesh or on the side of his numerous but unlucky opponents. Someone had also enthusiastically recommended to him the crystal named “And Now—The Hunchback.” As for the one called “A Tomb for the Hunchback,” that promised either the end of the hero’s exploits or—and this was more likely—some totally mind-boggling escapades. But a quality virtual detective adventure, if you played as several characters, would take up no less than twenty-four hours. Alex put “The Tomb for the Hunchback” aside, where he could easily see it, and went on looking through the rest of the tiny crystals.
He immediately put away the bonus-crystal named “100,000 Best Commercials, from the 20th Century to Today” that had been included by the thoughtful merchants of the entertainment industry. No, thanks.
Three more crystals remained—classical literature, music, and drama. Of course, it would be pleasant to sit on a porch near the ocean shore, sipping a cold cocktail, hearing the cries of the seagulls, and reading a good book. It would be just as pleasant to enjoy the same activity on a cold fall evening in an armchair by the warmth of the fireplace, listening to the drumming of the slanting rain upon the windowpanes.
And, of course, there was the “Sex Kaleidoscope,” an entertainment crystal approved by the Imperial Health Committee, as well as by the Church, for use by space-crew on long trips.
Alex thoughtfully twirled the crystal in his hand. He did, after all, want to check out what love was. And the “Kaleidoscope” was best suited for that purpose. Even without any love, Alex had derived plenty of pleasant emotions from that simple handbook of all the possible forms of sexual activity.
He pressed the tiny crystal into the resilient suction cup, then waited a moment, and relaxed. The world went foggy as it disappeared.
After the abrupt transitions of the virtual space created by Edgar, the “Sex Kaleidoscope” made a cozy, soothing impression. Through the mist, the walls appeared, a chandelier poured down a soft light, and a soft fluffy carpet laid itself under his feet.
“Welcome…” said a gentle genderless voice. “Would you like to choose your sexual role?”
Alex thought a moment.
“Okay… I am a man…”
“Accepted,” confirmed the voice.
“Not inclined to masochism, no interest in bestiality or xenophilia… and let’s not try homosexuality…”
“Accepted…”
“The rest is up to you,” said Alex with a hint of doubt. “Random choice.”
“Enter.”
A door opened in the wall. Soft, pleasant music could be heard.
A random choice of sexual adventures was the favorite game of astronauts, especially those on long flights, though a few awkward mishaps had taught Alex to make strict provisions for a few basic demands. It wasn’t exactly fun having to flee from a crowd of naked, muscular black men armed with chains and leather whips.
But this time there seemed to be no trouble. Alex’s body changed as he passed through the door. He got taller, gained a sizable belly, and his arms were now covered with little red hairs. He carried a small carton, which was obviously not empty, though not very heavy, either. In front of him was the empty elevator lobby of a skyscraper. Judging by the color of the sky in the window, it wasn’t on Earth. Mingling with the music came a calm, self-assured voice: