Once upon a time human beings believed that the heavens were the realm of the gods. Great were their deeds and many a song has been sung. The gods, though, outlived their use, and after acquiring confidence in our own abilities we dispensed with them and were preoccupied solely with affairs here on earth. The cities came and with them a multitude of objects manufactured for both utility and luxury. We no longer feared the sky. In fact, we hardly cast it a glance, and when we did what we beheld was unfamiliar, a slight and dirty color of orange imposed against a dark, dreary background beyond which there was nothing except a few incidental pinpricks. But when we finally bled the earth dry of metals and ores and hopelessly polluted what was left of the rivers and streams, when there were no more trees or bees and no one could recall the taste of a breath of fresh air, when at last we had tired of the unending loneliness that reigned within, humankind remembered the stars. Even though on earth we could hardly see them, we desired to go there.
The first step on the way to the heavens is the moon. Knocked out of the cooling, soft ball of lava that was to become the earth when the solar system was yet young, the moon is receding. And yet there was a time when she took up half the sky and spat out blood. Vast chutes of flame reached for the earth, her face lit up brightly by lakes of lava and violent discharges from within. The earth shook. There was a time, I tell you, when the earth and the moon made violent, ceaseless love. No longer. Now the moon is a dead, cold lump of iron and valuable metals set far in the distance. She looks upon the earth with an unchanging face. They will stare each other down day and night one after the other throughout the ages until one day the sun finally engulfs them both in a fiery death and disperses their matter into a great, cold, molecular cloud which will float about the center of the galaxy and join up with other such great, cold clouds until eventually – if conditions are right – it condenses and forms a new star with planets.
When I first arrived on the moon, I was too weary and affected to notice much. The trip had lasted a little more than a day, and I hadn't slept at all. Munib was waiting for me. I don't remember arriving in lunar orbit or descending or stepping out onto the surface. I can't tell you what my first impressions were of this strange new world that was to be my own for the next ten years. But I do remember the first time I saw Munib in the flesh. He was small and impeccably dressed. It's a constant surprise to rediscover the fact each time I look upon him. In the mind, Munib lingers much larger than the physical world.
I do remember the train ride from the spaceport to the Observatory. It was a lone car, smallish, and it proceeded swiftly along the track that had been laid out for it in a straight line across the mare floor. The landscape consisted of a few dark hills and ridges. Occasionally, the round minarets and glass domes of a lunar colony were visible in the distance, but we never passed closely enough to get a good look. The mare floor was layered with a dark material that looked like soil, disturbed by the occasional boulder or rock formation. In the distance there were mountains. Everything was bathed in a rich, blue-green light. The sky was the purest color of black I had ever seen. The stars were incredibly bright points of light that did not twinkle.
Maya sat rigidly, staring unenthusiastically out the window at the bleak landscape. How she had never imagined she'd return to this forbidding wasteland! Jennifer, in the seat next to her, desperately clutched Precious as if for reassurance. The dog kept trying to escape, but her grip was firm. Her eyes darted randomly from object to object, but somehow she avoided aiming them at me. Icarus sat alone in the seats in front of the ladies. In contrast to the others, there was a great excitement in his eyes. They burned brightly as his brain busily soaked up the new sights and sounds. Of all of us, he alone was pleased to be where he was. Jango had assumed his place next to me. We were standing near the front of the car in a cramped space between the last of the seats and the exit. I was slumped against the window. Jango was sipping a beer he had sneaked along with him from earth. He tried to strike up a conversation with Munib, but the Shadow of God on Earth wouldn't have it.
General Munib stood nearest the exit, an unimposing, little, elderly man with short, cropped hair sprouting from the sides and back of his head. He was wearing a finely made off-white, silken suit. There was no tie and the top shirt button hung loosely open. The shoes were coal black and shiny like his eyes, which studied me shamelessly while absently he stroked his moustache.
There are gaps in my memory. The next thing I can recall is being alone with Munib inside the Observatory. We were standing on a wide, metal walkway with high railings. On one side was an unbroken window, curving slightly inward as it lifted off into the nothingness above. Strangely enough, the earth was suspended within it. The general was talking. I was having a hard time listening. The blue-green orb in the window had snatched all that remained of my attention. It was absolutely beautiful. The surface was smooth and shadowy like slightly shimmering glass.
“Welcome to Laplace Observatory, Marcellus Gyges. I hope you learn to like it here, as it is your new home. I am confident that even you must yield to luna's irresistible charms.” He smiled wanly. When I did not respond, he continued. “I feel it is only natural to first inform you of where you are. Picture in your mind the face of luna from earth when she is fully lit. Do you have it? Can you see those dark patches, concentrated mostly in the upper left side? You are now standing in that quadrant of luna's surface. The dark areas are called maria, or seas, and consist of flatlands of the sort you saw in the shuttle from the spaceport. The rest is lunar highlands, mostly mountains. Laplace Observatory is located on the very tip of a mountainous promontory that juts out into the Mare Iridium, or Sea of Rains.” One of his small hands was tucked slightly into one of the pant pockets. The other waved modestly towards the window. The fingers were slim, the nails tightly clipped. My eyes followed the cue. It was only then that I noticed we were suspended high above solid ground.
We were standing partway up a structure perched on the edge of a towering cliff. A huge gulf of space separated myself from the mare floor far below. It is hard to judge distances on the moon if you're not used to it because the curvature of its surface is greater, but the view must have extended for fifty kilometers. From where I looked out, the mare floor appeared to be smooth and flat and featureless even though I knew it to be otherwise. Spreading out away from me was a thin, barely detectable network of shuttle lines, a flimsy but luminous web that connected the round, domed structures dotting the mare floor as far as my eyes could see. There were other structures, too, busier, larger, and better lit with what appeared to be free-roaming vehicles and flying shuttles clustered about them. These consisted of mostly flat, paved areas poised along gaping holes and next to them huge, rectangular buildings. Far to the left keeping near the line of the mountains was the brilliant orb that was the earth. She hung about two hand's breadth above the horizon measured from the mare floor, but from where I was standing she was almost obscured by the nearest mountain peaks. Her full face – about the same size as the moon seen from earth – was lit by the sun, which was nowhere to be seen, and was shrouded in white, wispy clouds. As I looked, I thought I could discern the southeastern portion of the Asian continent and some of Australia.
Without realizing it, I rested my forehead against the glass. Munib did not appear to notice. “These mountains form the northern side of the ancient basalt sea. They were thrown up when the comet that created this region struck some billions of years ago. The formation is curved, as you can imagine. The area within and which you see below is referred to as the Bay of Rainbows. The Mare Imbrium is the heart of our operations here on luna. This is where we mine the indium, gallium, vanadium, and other metals we send off to earth to sustain Vassily's unquenchable thirst. You can see some of the mining stations below, although we are also active in the mountains themselves. The ores are easier to access up here, but they are quite difficult to transport once we get them above the surface. The round structures are the various colonies where my soldiers, miners, and technicians live. The spaceport, sadly enough, is out of sight. It's quite impressive if you've never seen it before.”
“Water,” I wheezed. My breath steamed up the glass.
Munib shook his head. “No, we get the water from the north pole and bring it back here for transport to earth.”
“I need water.” I hadn't eaten anything since we left.
“Allah forgive me,” Munib intoned and gestured intently to someone standing not far away.
Someone thrust a plastic cup into my hands. Greedily I clutched it and in the process a few precious drops spilled to the floor.
“We'll inform you later of the special rules concerning water,” Munib told me as I swallowed as quickly as I could manage without choking. His harsh, Eastern accent jolted my ears. “There are a great many rules here on luna. You will have to learn them all, Marcellus Gyges, even if you would be the ruler of a great nation with the fates of billions in your hands. Here on luna, following the rules is nothing less than a matter of survival.”
“More,” I pleaded and held out the empty, partially crushed cup.
Munib took pity on me. “You are distraught. I should have realized it sooner. I am familiar with the reports. Come, I will show you to your quarters.” A small but strong hand took me by the upper arm and led me away.
Munib leaned close and spoke softly into my ear as I stumbled after him. His voice filled my brain like water splashing into an empty bowl. “I understand you, Marcellus. I know more about you than you think. You didn't want to follow the crowd. You refused to be boxed in. You refused to be assigned a nice, cozy place among a row of desks buried somewhere in a tall, nameless building with tainted glass windows, hoping one day you'll be rewarded with a view, stabbing your colleagues in the back, building up a pension you'd invariably be robbed of. You didn't want to suddenly find yourself in your thirties, vaguely unsatisfied, sitting in your car with your wife and kids along with every other fool on the planet who has the week off, gripping the steering wheel and fuming at the traffic. You didn't want every day of your future to stand out clearly in your mind, one after the other in an endless procession until the day you would die. I understand you. There are those of us who choose differently even though we know the risks. We are brothers in that regard, Marcellus. Are you hearing me?”
The last thing I remember was a smallish shadow standing over me as I lay in a narrow bed. The earth atop a mountain peak hung precariously over his head. “Sleep now, Marcellus,” it said. “We'll speak again tomorrow.”
When I awoke, the shadow was gone, but the earth had hardly moved. I stared at it, not sure whether to believe it was really there.
“Glad to see you've finally decided to join us.” The voice was familiar and close. Off to the left of my bed, sitting in a tiny, metal chair against the silvery wall, was Icarus. His thin frame was slumped over, chin resting idly in cupped hands, elbows propped up by his knees. The wild, curly hair seemed more unruly than ever.
“Is this a dream?” I asked uncertainly.
Icarus snorted and laughed. It was a hyena's guffawing. I took his response as a no.
The room I was in was cramped, hardly large enough for the narrow bed I was lying in, the chair Icarus was sitting in, and the modest, little table standing next to it. Everything was made of the same silvery metal, even the tiny lamp on the table. The longer walls were unadorned save for the thick bundle of multicolored wires that occasionally burst from the tracts meant to conceal them. Soft, white light seeped out from somewhere behind the ceiling, which was made of a translucent, plastic material. Behind me was a sliding door. In front was a large window overlooking a mountainscape. There were no trees, just hard, unyielding rock. The sky was a rich black, the stars bright and insistent. I had never imagined the stars could seem so real. The earth, though, drowned out the nearest stars and flooded the room with a soothing, blue-green light that was almost bright enough to read by. The metallic surfaces reflected it readily. Even the whites of Icarus' eyes shown ghostly, blueish-green.
“Where do I take a shower?” I asked, rubbing my eyes, hoping in the process the scene would be scrubbed away.
“You don't.”
I frowned. “What do you mean, I don't?”
Icarus smirked. “Didn't you notice the smell when we got here?”
“No.” I was feeling surly. “Can I at least brush my teeth?”
“Sure you can. But it's not exactly brushing. As in, with water.”
“I don't care what it is, as long as they have it here.”
“There's a lot of stuff they don't have here.”
I choose to ignore that particular reality. “How long have I been asleep?”
“Nearly a day.” He tossed an soft, silvery packet at me.
“What's this?” I groped for it amid the folds of the blanket.
“Breakfast. Get used to eating out of a straw.”
I stared disinterestedly at my meal for a long moment before putting it down. “Icarus,” I told him honestly, “I have no idea how I got here. And I don't care. I'm not intending on staying.”
He shrugged.
“Where are the others?” I sat up and threw off the covers. My eyes kept straying towards the earth as if they had a will of their own.
“Jango's probably in the sim. He was real happy when he found out they're linked up out here. Maya's off exploring.”
“Jennifer?”
Icarus clicked his tongue. “She's pretty angry, Mark. I think you should let her cool off for a while.”
“I just need to talk to her,” I responded crisply. Inwardly, I shirked from the memory of using the ring on her. I was only doing her a favor. If I'd left her behind, she'd be dead by now. I told Icarus as much.
“Don't kid yourself,” was his reply. “We all know you didn't make her come along out of generosity.”
True. “I just need to talk to her,” I repeated resolutely and slid my legs over the side of the bed. I wanted to stand up, but there wasn't much room with Icarus sitting in the way.
“There are two soldiers outside with orders to bring you directly to the general,” he told me, jabbing his thumb in the direction of the door.
“Really? I'll take care of them later. Now do you mind waiting outside so I can change my clothes?”
Icarus, the fucking prick, snickered. “Did you bring any with you?”
There were indeed, just as Icarus said, two soldiers posted outside my door. And just as Icarus said, they wouldn't let me go anywhere unless it was directly to see Munib. They were armed with laser tubes, so I agreed.
Icarus fell in beside me as the soldiers led us off. “Are they mods?” I asked quietly.
Apparently, though, not quietly enough. “Mods?” one of them asked, turning with a puzzled expression on his face. This one had long, brown hair and a rugged, almost handsome face.
Icarus shook his head at me.
“I think he means genetically modified,” the other soldier said and yawned.
“Modified?” There was a slight tremor in his voice. He threw a burning glance in my direction. “Don't you be starting dangerous rumors or you'll regret it, hear?”
“Chill, Norm,” said the other soldier. “Don't you know who this is?”
They were leading us down a metallic, slightly curving corridor running along the inside of what must have been the outer wall of the Observatory. On one side, a procession of solid, joyless doors gave way to quarters such as had been assigned to me. On the other was an unbroken mass of slightly humming machinery and bundles of wires bandaged together by aluminium plates. The floor was laid with grated metal sheets. Some warm, faintly smelling vapor wafted up to us. The ceiling was low and made of the same translucent plastic as my sleeping quarters. The soft lighting ebbing from it occasionally flickered, especially if one of the soldiers put his foot down too hard. At regular intervals we stepped through what looked to be bulky portals embedded in the corridor. The metal plates in the floor and walls seemed to be welded directly into them. I had to duck to pass through. Once in a while, we met soldiers coming through the other way, also armed with laser tubes. They all would exchange greetings amiably.
Norm turned and studied both Icarus and myself with a critical eye. “No, Krisz,” he said decisively after a moment. “Haven't got a clue.”
“It's the old Secretary of the Environment, Hawkeye,” Krisz told him nonchalantly. “He's just been ostracised. Don't you remember the party?”
A wide grin broke out on Norm's face. “Oh yeah,” he breathed. “How could I forget!” He bobbed his head in my direction. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Hawkeye.” He was about to turn around when he added thoughtfully, “I voted for you, you know.”
“Thanks,” I responded dryly.
“No problem.”
Moving around in the light, lunar gravity was going to take some time to get used to. I found that if I took too large a step, I would actually loose contact with the ground and float over it. At first this kind of jumping and floating was amusing, but landing was another matter. Fortunately, falling was an act that wasn't over as quickly as on earth. There was usually enough time to notice what was happening and reach out and grab onto something. Still, I tended to put too much force into my movements, and instead of picking something up I would often send it scrambling out of reach.
“Are they prisoners?” Krisz asked in a hushed voice.
“I don't think so,” Norm said. “He's got a suite up here in Beverly Hills, don't you see? Anyway, the Shadow wants to see him.”
“Oh,” Krisz said and smacked his lips.
“Telling him you voted to ship him out here against his will probably wasn't a good idea.”
“What?” Krisz replied, startled. “I didn't mean it like that.” He stopped abruptly in the corridor and turned hastily to face me. “I didn't mean it like that,” he told me earnestly. “You were so nice to that old lady.”
Norm reached out a gloved hand, grabbed Krisz by the shoulder, and gave him a tug. “C'mon,” he said. “I'm sure he won't hold it against you. Will you, mate?” He looked over at me and winked.
“You know, it's like a popularity contest,” Krisz continued, speaking directly to me. “That's what they told us anyway. I didn't realize they'd send you all the way out here.”
“Don't worry about it,” I mumbled. “What's done is done.”
“You see?” Norm called out. “Now let's get a move on.”
Every once in a while, a narrow corridor opened up in the solid, metallic mass of humming machinery, leading off into the bowels of the Observatory. Eventually we turned into one. If it were possible, it was even more cramped than the corridor we just left. It was only wide enough for a single person, although when someone came along from the opposite direction it was possible to press up against the sharp, cold walls and squeeze uncomfortably by.
Soon we stepped out onto a much broader platform, suspended high in the air over what must have been ground level. The ambient light was sparse and had a faintly reddish tinge. Two wide, metallic pathways led off on both the left and right. A series of thick, vertical tunnels intersected with the platform. These turned out to be elevator shafts. Norm and Krisz chatted and made jokes while we waited for one to arrive. They seemed to know most of the people walking by. All were soldiers, and all were armed with laser tubes.
The elevator arrived soundlessly. The door slid upward into the ceiling, revealing a confined space hardly large enough for the four of us to fit. There was a panel of neatly labelled buttons inside, but Norm ignored it. Instead, he pressed his thumb against a tiny plastic plate embedded in the wall. Instantly the door slid down with a brisk whoosh of air, and the elevator began to rise rapidly. When the door slid open again, we stepped out into a very different place.
There was that blueish-green light again. It flooded the chamber from all sides, pouring in through the transparent dome that capped it. The view outside was stunning. There was the earth, hanging low in the horizon just over the sharp mountain peaks, partway up the wall. The light it cast was bright enough to see by, like those moments back home after the sun has set and all the orange hues have drained out of the sky and all that's left is a lingering, electric blue. It cast sharply defined shadows over outcroppings of rock on the mountainsides. Outside on one side of the chamber there were endless piles of cold, dark stone. These weren't like the mountains I knew on earth. They were lumped together into a thick mass of stone that when viewed from atop looked more like steep, rolling hills that occasionally yielded to rough terrain and here and there a sharp peak. Out the other side, far, far below, there were the lunar lowlands and their network of flimsy, illuminated tracks, a delicate spiderweb laid out on the mare floor.
The round, domed chamber appeared to be set atop the highest tower protruding from the center of Laplace Observatory, which could be seen about a hundred meters below on all sides. The Observatory was a round structure consisting of several levels, not all of which were visible. Some were set with windows, some were fitted with transparent walls, and others were faced with solid sheets of metal. Four limbs extended a short way from each side, at the end of which sprouted smaller towers. The outer surface wasn't exactly smooth. Antennae, satellite dishes, the muzzles of space cannon, and other, unidentifiable structures could be seen, some of which appeared to be moving.
The chamber itself was about twenty meters in diameter and sparsely furnished. The elevator shaft penetrated near one side. Directly opposite was a simple but large metal desk over which hung the earth. Behind it, standing around a roll-up spread out on the table, stood Munib and two women, intently engaged in discussion. A tray with a large, terracotta teapot and several small, terracotta cups rested nearby. The teapot, its large, loopy handle, and its thick, stubby neck were painted with thick stripes of white, brown, orange, and yellow. Not far to the right was a young man guiding some kind of humming contraption that looked like it was polishing the floor.
No one paid us any attention, not even the cleaner, but Norm and Krisz snapped stiffly to attention anyway. We waited patiently. Eventually, during a lull in the conversation, Munib appeared to notice us. “I see you are finally up and about, Mr. Gyges,” he intoned softly but gravely. “I'll be with you in a moment.” Brusquely, he dismissed our escort.
Norm and Krisz, though, hesitated.
Munib studied them briefly. “Ah,” he breathed, “you fear for my life among strangers.” He glanced at my hands and saw that I was wearing the ring. He smiled. “Alas, soldiers, you cannot protect me from Mr. Gyges.” Now his coal black eyes focused on Icarus. “Who is this you've brought with you?”
“Icarus,” I replied simply. “He's a friend.”
“I was told you arrived with four companions.” Munib reached behind him and pulled out his PA. Aiming it in Icarus' direction, he pressed a few buttons and studied the screen. “Charles Dixon, it says here. Your immigration papers have been uploaded.” He snapped his PA shut and returned it to his pocket. Bowing his head slightly, he intoned, “Welcome to luna.”
Norm and Krisz took the cue. Snapping a crisp salute that was promptly ignored, they slipped into the elevator shaft and were whisked away.
“Is he talking to me?” Icarus whispered uncertainly in my direction.
“Yes, of course,” Munib answered coolly. “Who else would I be talking to?”
“Well,” Icarus continued, “Epstein and all those Secretaries and what-have-you never spoke to us directly. Only Mark.”
“Yes, Mr. Dixon, but this is luna. We cannot afford the luxury of such silly customs.”
“Good,” I sighed, genuinely relieved. “No entourages. I hated the fucking entourages.”
“Really?” Munib murmured. “That's interesting.” He seemed to drift away into his thoughts, eyes straying towards the black sky and all those bright, little stars. Suddenly he clapped his hands together. The eyes returned to the inside of his tower. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a war to prosecute. As I said, I'll be with you in a moment. There are chairs over there behind the elevator shaft. Please make yourselves as comfortable as you can.”
“I can see in your eyes,” Munib told me softly as he lifted the teapot with both hands, “that you do not trust me.”
Icarus and myself were seated at the general's desk, facing the glowing orb that was our biological home. The general himself, silhouetted by its light, stood on the other side. From where I was sitting, the blue-green rays appeared to stream forth from his head. The two officers with whom he had been conferring were now gone. Only the young man cleaning the floor was still present.
Munib thrust the teapot in our direction. “Your cups?” he inquired.
“What cups?” Icarus asked.
“Ah.” Carefully, Munib set the teapot down. “For reasons of hygiene, everyone here is equipped with his or her own cutlery and utensils. You'll find them in your quarters. Perhaps you overlooked them. Remember to keep them clean. We cannot afford outbreaks of illness up here. A single insignificant strain of bacteria can easily wipe out an entire colony. It's happened before, you know.” The general sank into his simple, metal chair. The earth burst into view behind him, hanging not far above his head, and I could see his face again. “Now,” he breathed and folded his hands on the desk in front of him.
For a few long moments his eyes studied me intensely. When he didn't show any signs of stopping, I grew uncomfortable. “Would you please stop doing that?” I snapped irritably and glanced at Icarus as if for support.
“Stop what?” the general inquired softly.
“Staring at me!”
“Ah.” Munib bowed his head. “You must forgive me.” He took a deep breath. “Perhaps I should tell you that in the last two days a full scale civil war has broken out in the United States and her provinces.” Without turning to look, he lifted a hand and indicated the great, glowing ball behind him.
Icarus shot forward in his seat. “Xiling and Epstein?”
Munib nodded his head. “Naturally, both are soliciting my support.”
“Great,” I muttered. “So we're hostages.”
Munib smiled coldly. “Not hostages, no. You see, it is not my intention to support either of them. Out here on luna, we can continue independently for some time. Our only concern is the lack of resources. Fortunately, the Chinese and the Russians are taking advantage of the situation by attacking some of our more vulnerable positions.”
“Fortunately?” Icarus exclaimed in disbelief. “How's that fortunate?”
“Because, I now have an excuse to go and capture their bases. Among the other treasures will be a large store of food, water, and oxygen.”
“Won't the prisoners need to eat?” Icarus asked.
Munib's eyes glittered. “There won't be any prisoners.”
Icarus' mouth dropped open.
“I am a cruel man, Mr. Dixon. I do not pretend otherwise.”
“You can't remain neutral forever,” I pointed out, ignoring the exchange. “Eventually one of them will win. I don't know what kind of firepower you're packing out here, but I doubt it's enough to withstand the entire earth-based fleet.”
“True,” Munib told me simply and smiled.
When he did not say anything more, I rolled by eyes and grunted in frustration.
“Perhaps you are keen to hear that I would prefer to support the President over the Chief Justice?”
“Yes!”
Munib's eyes glittered. “The President just tried to kill you.”
I frowned. “What do you mean? I asked him straight out – I used the ring! He said he didn't have anything to do with it.”
“My sources do not indicate what you asked him, Mr. Gyges, but I have the information here in front of me. Naturally, he didn't order the assassination himself. There was no need. He knows his entourage well enough. They've been working together, pent up inside that forsaken compound of his, for more than a decade. He knew that eventually one of them would take steps of their own accord. Naturally, he turned a blind eye to their aggression when they tested him, which was interpreted as a kind of permission.”
I could feel my face growing red with rage. “That lying, stunted, donkey cunt!” The words were squeezed through clenched teeth. “Who was it?”
“Tina Martinez, the Secretary of Justice and the Interior. Didn't you know?”
I slapped my forehead with the palm of my hand. “How could I be so stupid!” I cried out. “Fucking grandma! Somebody tried to kill me and it was fucking grandma!”
“How do you know all this?” Icarus demanded.
“It is my job to know. A successful general is successful in part because he doesn't take unnecessary risks. He keeps himself informed.” He leaned slightly forward in his seat when he told me, “The President is your enemy, Mr. Gyges. It would benefit you not to forget it.”
“I won't!”
Munib leaned back in his seat. “The President is my enemy as well. I wanted this command, it is true, and the President gave it to me, it is true, but not for the reasons I wanted it. Out here,” he said, waving vaguely at the sprawling lowlands beyond the dome, “I am isolated. An assassin could easily be planted. I could be gotten rid of. They would attribute it to my ill health, of course. I'm sure the state funeral back home would be lavish. The President would probably give the oration himself.”
“Why would Epstein want to kill you?” Icarus asked incredulously. “You're his best general.”
“Precisely because I am his best general. When he rehabilitated me I was useful. I performed wonders for him. I think he expected me to die of natural causes, but I didn't. The President is a very jealous man, Mr. Dixon. He does not appreciate rivals.”
“So you want to be President?” I asked plainly. “Is that what this is about?”
Munib chuckled softly and pulled at his moustache. “They tell me you are called Hawkeye.”
“And they call you Munib the Magnificent!”
The general nodded his head. “And the Shadow of God on Earth.”
“So?”
“Those titles are enough for me.”
Icarus snorted, hardly attempting to conceal his contempt. I got the point. “This is starting to seem like a familiar exercise! When I first met Judas he went through a great deal of trouble pretending he didn't want the ring, either. He said he didn't need it.”
“He doesn't.”
“Then why'd he try and kill me?”
Munib shrugged. “Power is a potent drug, Mr. Gyges. He fears you'll relieve him of his burden.”
“I'd prefer it if you'd call me Marcellus,” I snapped petulantly.
“I will call you Mr. Gyges. Now, it's important to be perfectly clear on this matter. I am not a threat to you, Mr. Gyges. The fact that you have come to me is a boon for the both of us. Up here, I can protect you. And now that you have publicly revealed the existence and powers of the ring, your presence here reinforces my position.”
“You knew about the ring?” I asked incredulously.
Munib nodded.
“How?”
“Do not mistake me for a fool, Mr. Gyges! General Margolis and I worked very closely together. He did not hide the existence of the ring from me.”
“I don't know what you're talking about. I've never met the man before in my life.”
Munib's calm and calculated demeanor suddenly collapsed. Whipping out his PA, he proceeded to present me with the picture of a black skinned, uniformed man in his fifties whom – as I had just told him – I had never seen before. I repeated the fact.
“Impossible!” The general's tone had taken on a sudden and savage ferocity that made me jump. “How is it that you have possession of the ring?”
I scrambled to remember. Instantly, the touch of cold, dead flesh came to mind. I shivered. “Back at The Company. They locked me up in a dark room. I found it on the hand of a dead man lying on a table – ” My voice had faded away.
Munib was smiling coldly at me. The calm and calculated demeanor had returned. “I see. So you have met the general after all.”
“I wouldn't exactly call it a meeting,” I mumbled.
“Why'd they kill him?” Icarus wanted to know.
“General Margolis?” Munib started stroking his moustache once again. “He was plotting to use the ring to seize control of the government. I warned him not to, but he wouldn't listen.” A cold smile flitted across his lips. “It's ironic, isn't it? The one general the President unequivocally trusted plotted to stab him in the back, whereas myself, who would gladly have been his friend and supported him in every way, he has driven into the role of rebel.”
“What about Jewel?” I wanted to know. I couldn't keep the bitterness out of my voice.
Munib frowned. “What about her?”
“Is she in on it? I mean, can we get her over here to our side? I think it can be done.”
Munib stared at me, eyes squinting slightly as if he were trying to make sense of the words. “Excuse me? Bring the President's wife here? Why on luna would you want to do that?”
“She would be a valuable asset! I mean, he treats her so badly. At dinner the other night he almost mounted the serving girl.” I rolled my eyes derisively.
“Ah.” The general lowered his eyes. “I had heard of this childish obsession you have with the President's wife. I assumed after she betrayed you that you'd be strong enough to put it aside.”
“Betrayed? She was only doing what was necessary to protect – ”
“That serving girl you spoke of,” Munib said stiffly, cutting me off. “You realize she bought the girl for him herself, don't you?”
“Bought? You're saying Jewel – ” I couldn't bring myself to complete the sentence.
“Yes, Mr. Gyges, she's arranged a whole harem for him. It's common knowledge.” He paused before he added in measured tones, “I'm actually rather surprised. You're a bit old to let your penis be making all the important decisions, don't you think?”
Icarus, sitting next to me, snickered.
When he saw the look on my face, Munib closed his eyes and backed down. “How rude,” he breathed and opened them again. So softly he spoke, such that at times I had to strain to hear him. And yet those pupils... everyone's pupils are black, and yet his seemed blacker, deeper and darker than the everblack of space and time because it was pure and unbroken, radiant almost, if the color can ever be said to radiate. “I consider you my guest here. Where I come from, a host does not insult his guest. He extends him every courtesy.”
“Yeah, well, thanks,” I muttered, not really sure what else to say. “So... if I've got this right, I help you by keeping Judas off your back with the help of my ring, and you help me by keeping Judas off my back with the help of your army. Right?”
Munib nodded.
“What about later?”
The general cocked his head slightly to one side. “I propose,” he began in that sing-song voice of his, “that we worry about later, later.”
They took Precious away from Jennifer the next day, saying that a dog posed a serious health risk to everyone in the Observatory. She came running up to me hysterical and bleary-eyed and demanded that I use the ring to make them give her back. When I wouldn't do it, she stomped off in a rage and locked herself in her quarters. Naturally, I felt bad for her, especially after having used the ring to make her come along in the first place, so I thought I'd try and coax her out. I was having a hard time of it.
“It's not a question of being mean, Jen,” I told her, pressing my mouth against the heavyset door, “or not wanting to help. You're one of my best friends. It's just that if they say there's a health problem, we've got to take it seriously. I for one am not in favor of taking chances when there's nothing between us and the solar wind but this wall.” I patted it affectionately.
I was kneeling on the grated surface of the corridor which I now knew circled the outside of the Observatory. Our quarters occupied a mid-level and had the special distinction of being fitted with windows. Most of the ordinaries, including the soldiers, bunked in tiny cells below ground. They called this part of the Observatory Beverly Hills because only the most privileged and important residents stayed here. Lounging around nearby and watching, laser tubes slung loosely across their backs, were a number of soldiers. Apparently, amusement was hard to come by on the moon, and Jennifer's little scene counted for plenty.
“I hate you!” came the muffled reply. “I loved that dog! Now she's dead and frozen through and lying in a ditch on the moon somewhere and it's all your fucking fault, Markie!”
I blew out a beleaguered sigh. This was proving even more difficult than I had imagined.
“What's the trouble?” asked a familiar voice. I turned and saw Maya pushing her way past some of the soldiers.
“Oh boy, am I glad to see you,” I told her gratefully. “Where have you been?”
Maya shrugged. “Taking a look around.” She glanced at Jennifer's door. “Precious?” she mouthed. “Jesus, Mark, you really screwed up this time.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.” I glanced at the door. “She won't even listen. How many times can I say I'm sorry?”
One of Maya's eyebrows raised slightly. “Sorry? Mark, sometimes sorry's not enough.”
“You tell him, Maya!” Jennifer's muffled voice floated out to us. “He's a selfish fucking prick who can't even get it up!”
“Just leave her alone. You're only making it worse.” She tapped lightly on the door. “Can I come in?”
There was no response, but a tiny illuminated square just to the left of the door blinked out.
“I thought you two didn't like each other,” I remarked dryly as the door slid up into the ceiling.
The soldiers and myself all craned their necks for a look, but Maya deftly stepped into the opening and blocked the view. “Mind your own business,” she sneered and slipped inside, the door quickly sliding shut after her.
“This place is linked up!” Jango was excited. “There's a docking station underground, as big as any I ever saw at the White House. And there's no charge to surf! Did you hear me, Mark?”
I was too busy staring down the empty gulf that separated myself and the floor below.
“Don't be afraid, Mark,” Maya told me. She was standing on a tiny platform off to my left. “We're three meters off the ground. I know it looks high, but up here on the moon gravity is much weaker. Watch.” And with that she leapt from the platform. At first she seemed to drop in slow motion, but she quickly picked up speed, and when she landed some two seconds later it wasn't very softly. Her knees bent, and she tottered, stumbled, and fell forward onto her hands. Looking up, her plain face flushed red with excitement and framed in her tussled, dirty blond hair, she smiled at me. “See! Now you try!”
“I hope he fucking breaks a leg,” Jennifer muttered stiffly from where she was sitting against the wall. Her legs were drawn up and she had clasped her arms around them, resting her chin on the tops of her knees.
“Oh, Jen,” Maya admonished, scrambling to her feet and brushing herself off. “I thought we agreed to be nice.”
Off to my right, Jango made the jump. He was off-balance, though, and thrashed his arms wildly as he dropped to the ground. When he landed, he flopped immediately onto his side and lay there.
“Oh, get up, Jango,” Maya muttered, annoyed. “You're putting Mark off.”
A cruel laughter bubbled up from where he lay. “Maybe he wants his teddy bear.” With that he pushed himself over. He looked like a beached whale, huge, hairy gut lolling about as if floating on a turbulent sea. He had gained a lot of weight in the last year and a half. A tired looking bellybutton peeked out from underneath a splotched T-shirt. The leather pants and cowboy hat were gone. The old Jango, baseball cap and all, had suddenly returned.
“What about you, Icarus?” I shouted.
He was pacing about in a small, tight circle some meters away from the others, eyes glued to the ground. “Jumping doesn't exactly strike me as an activity one regularly engages in at our age,” he answered without looking up.
“Can't you speak plain old English?” Jennifer sneered, lifting her chin slightly from her knees to glare at him.
“It is English!”
“I mean English we can all understand.” She clicked her tongue peevishly and set her chin back down.
“Yeah,” Jango agreed, propped up on his elbows and still breathing heavily. “Actually, I have a better idea. Don't say anything at all.”
Icarus did say something, but none of us could hear it.
We were standing in a large, cavernous hall at the ground level of Laplace Observatory. Or, rather, it seemed large and cavernous. On earth there were plenty of spaces just as big and lots more even bigger. But up there on the moon, we were thankful for any space at all. Cramped quarters and cramped corridors and cramped little vehicles that we got around in – the walls were always within hands' reach, and there was almost always someone standing too close. But not here. This was the living room of the colony, the only place besides the sim where its inhabitants could socialize and relax. They affectionately referred to it as the Commons.
The area was circular with a diameter of some sixty meters. It stretched up all the way to the very top of the transparent dome some two hundred meters above, although half way up the surrounding wall narrowed considerably, choking off the view. A few crosswalks beyond could be seen bridging the gap in each successive floor. Four corridors fed into the Commons from north, south, east, and west. There was a small bar to one side and near it some pool and foozball tables. No matter what time it was, day or night, it seemed these were constantly occupied. The smooth, round walls were riddled with ladders and platforms such as the one I was standing on. Some people jumped from them, but there were platforms even higher up that were used by those who liked to glide down using artificial wings. Ziplines, too, stretched from one side to the other, and occasionally some soldier barrelled down, clutching both ends of his belt and yelling wildly.
A large, stately portrait of President Epstein against a black background hung over the head of the barman. The first time I saw it, I didn't recognize him. This wasn't the overweight, stunted man I had come to know all those months in the White House compound! No, it was a tall, graceful man with smooth, milky white features and a sense of destiny. But then I remembered the image of the man as he had been presented to me on the link since I was a teenager, an image that had been slowly unravelled, and I realized in that instant that my time shut away in the coffers of government was finally over. I felt relief even as a firm distaste of that portrait began to sink in. It wasn't real. I thought of the statues I had seen in New Baquba. Those weren't real either.
Of course, the Commons' greatest attraction was a live maple tree, transplanted all the way from home, as far away as it was. It was the only one of its kind on the moon, at least as far as we knew. It stood twelve meters high in a large bowl of dirt, looking very sad and droopy. The poor thing wasn't sure what season it was or what had happened to the cycles of day and night it had known since it was a sapling. But somehow it survived. A little wire fence had been strung around it. A few soldiers and others dressed in civilian clothes were lounging there, the soldiers leaning casually on their laser tubes and chatting quietly, most of them sipping drinks. Some of them were observing us, the newcomers. I heard more than a few snickering as they watched me descend from the platform. My cheeks burned all the way down the ladder, but, of course, there was no other way.
“You could have jumped,” Maya told me plainly, hands on her hips, head cocked to one side.
“I wish they wouldn't watch me all the time,” I complained bitterly, fists clenched at my side and refusing to look in the direction of the maple tree.
“Yeah, well, maybe you shouldn't have decided to become famous,” Jennifer growled.
“I'm not Secretary of the Environment anymore!”
“You're still interesting.” Icarus wandered over, hands buried deep in his pockets. “You've been ostracised. And you have a ring that makes people do whatever you tell them.”
“Don't keep on reminding me!” Jennifer howled.
I grated my teeth.
“I thought I told you to shut up,” Jango growled, crawling to his knees with difficulty. His knees made loud, popping noises like little fireworks.
“Hey, Mark,” Maya said a bit too cheerfully. “Munib won't be back for a while. I found some quibbles no one's using. We can take the elevator down to the lowlands and take them out, explore a little. What do you think?”
I wasn't sure. Glancing at Jango, I could see he had another idea in mind. “Fuck the buggies,” he told me as he finally managed to clamber to his feet. “We've got the sim. Unlimited access. Let's surf!”
“Yeah, the sim,” Jennifer breathed thankfully. “If we can't be on earth, at least we can pretend.”
“Icarus?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Not really interested in the buggies.”
Maya turned a thin, pretty face in my direction. “Okay, they've made up their minds. What about you?”
This site and all its contents are the result of the tumultuous workings of the mind of one Adam Wasserman.