Maya Bohnhoff - As the Angels in Heaven

Illustration by Steve Cavallo

From the moment they met, eye to eye, hands clasped over the same book, it was inevitable that they should fall completely in love and having done that, that they should marry. It was an archaeology book, which was fitting; both had master’s degrees in the subject and both were employed by Archaetech, one of the world’s largest private archaeological corporations. It was a match made in heaven; they were intellectually equal, philosophical aligned, and theologically unified. They cried at the same movies, were inspired by the same authors, angered by the same injustices. They were, in a word, compatible. And more.

Archaetech was corporately pleased by their decision to wed; husband and wife teams were preferred for the long term digs. It was a perfect situation.

Birch Asbury was a happy man. He congratulated himself almost as often as his many friends did. In a matter of mere hours, he and Meli Bocamp would be married and on their way to their first long term dig. They would live together, work together, make discoveries together and bicker over technique and the significance of artifacts. He smiled.

“Daydreaming, eh?” His closest male friend, Clay Munsi-Couric, sat down across from him at the table they shared in the Company Commons. Clay grinned and nudged Birch’s arm, just missing the two cups of steaming coffee that had exited the wall replicator seconds before. “Let me guess—fantasizing about your first dig together, eh?”

“As a matter of fact, yes, I was.”

Clay’s grin widened. “Kidding, right?”

Birch sipped his coffee and wrinkled his forehead. “Why should I be kidding?”

Clay leaned closer to his friend across the table and lowered his voice. “Come on. Admit it, old bud. Don’t you at least want to drink a toast to the end of chastity?” He raised his cup and winked.

It was a slight gesture and one Birch nearly missed since his own eyes were dodging away. He blushed, knowing that implied a certain falsity, and wondered if he should bother with a denial. Truth was, he had given some thought to that aspect of his future: An end to chastity. A whole new area of life to explore; a whole new set of rights and prerogatives. But his feelings when he contemplated this were far from salacious. Birch Asbury was frankly uncomfortable with the subject of sex.

He was not a prude. He didn’t deny his sexuality. There were those who did, of course, with varying degrees of success and/or honesty, but he was not one of them. He was probably no more ashamed of his sexuality than Clay was. Not really. What bothered Birch was the particular bent it took.

So now, to cover his mild embarrassment, Birch grinned and raised his coffee cup. “Guilty.”

Clay touched the cup with his own. “Then here’s to the end of chastity.”

Meli Bocamp was toasting, too, at that moment, in a patio bistro on the massive, gleaming eastern flank of Archaetech’s corporate headquarters. Her two closest girlfriends around her, she lifted a glass of alcohol-free champagne and drank to her future.

“So tell,” demanded Cari Munsi-Couri, dark eyes dancing. “What’s the honeymoon to be?”

“Indian sub-continent. The caves at Ajanta.”

Golden-haired Roella nodded vigorously. “And paid for by Corporate, no less.”

“And why not?” Meli asked. “Are we not, after all, doing the work of the Company? Preserving our ancestors’ treasures for our children?” Meli flushed at her own mention of children, without really knowing why. But neither Cari nor Roella noticed, and the celebratory lunch continued around a rousing discussion of the halcyon days of the Gupta Dynasty.

Birch Asbury adjusted his collar and reflected that he was not nearly so nervous as he was eager. Eager to get through the brief ceremony, eager to board the international shuttle to Nagpur, eager to meet his new colleagues and begin his new life with his new partner. At Ajanta he would bury himself in the heady atmosphere of discovery, wallow in the contentment of cultural minutiae—with Meli at his side.

Best man Clay interrupted his maunderings by tucking a red paisley scarf into his suit pocket. “So, old bud, have you found a cleaning lady yet?”

Birch fussed with the kerchief. “Uh, no, actually, I haven’t. Haven’t had time.”

“You’re leaving for India tomorrow morning. It’s a little late to do it now.”

“Honestly, I haven’t given it much thought.”

Clay gave him a wry smirk. “Bashful boy. You haven’t even interviewed anybody, have you?”

“What would be the point? I’m on my way to a dig, for God’s sake. I don’t suppose many women would consider a remote base camp on the Deccan plateau a plumb position. I thought I’d… wait until we got to Nagpur.”

Clay nodded approval. “An exotic, dark-eyed beauty. I can see the appeal.”

“Honestly, Clay. That’s borderline racism.”

“So sue me for being politically incorrect.” He watched Birch pick at the inoffensive scarf for a moment more. “You really are bashful, aren’t you? Good grief, Birch, we’re talking about Ming a domestic position. Has Meli interviewed anybody?”

Birch kept his grimace to a mere twitch. “She says she’s not interested.”

Clay shook his head. “That’s women for you. Cari tells me most of our married lady-friends have the same attitude. How do they do it? Must be that extra X chromosome.”

“It’s time,” Birch said, then checked his watch.

Clay patted his shoulder. “Look, you’ll be in town tonight. Why don’t I introduce you to Sonia?”

“Sonia?”

“My cleaning lady.”

“Oh, right. Thank you very much, Clay. I appreciate it, really. But, well we’ve got a lot of packing to do and I couldn’t just run off and saddle Meli with it.”

“It won’t take long.”

“No, really.”

“Birch, you’ll be a married man in less than half an hour. You’re entitled. Besides, you’re my best friend, next to Cari. I helped you get the job at Archaetech; I guess that means I’m indirectly responsible for your meeting Meli, right? We’ve shared a lot of important things in our lives. I think it would be kind of, well, special to share this.”

Birch didn’t allow his face to betray shock. He was getting quite good at masking his thoughts and feelings, and it worried him. He smiled in return. “It’s a wonderful gesture, Clay. Thanks. But, look, your—Sonia—might not like you offering her services—”

“She wouldn’t mind at all. Trust me. For one thing, she’d jump at the chance to make a better living.”

“Assuming she even has room for another client.”

Clay grinned. “She’s an exclusive. And she likes me. A lot.” He winked.

“No. Thank you. I’ll take care of the domestic situation when I get to India.”

“Will you?”

Birch gave Clay no time to say more. “I’m getting married now,” he said, and slipped from the room.

“Beautiful ceremony!” enthused Cari, and her eyes brimmed with tears, because some people will always cry at weddings. “It reminded me of mine and Clay’s. Mom cried, Dad cried, everybody cried.”

“I didn’t,” said Roella. “I don’t see any reason to cry at weddings. They’re supposed to be happy occasions. Not like before Equilibrium, when it was tantamount to being sold into slavery.”

“I am happy,” Cari assured her. “I’m happy that Meli and Birch are finally embarking on a life together. Just like the minister said: ‘as the angels in heaven.’ Meli, believe me, marriage is heaven. Here’s your makeup kit.” She handed that item to Meli, who tucked it into her carryall. “Just imagine: India. Tomorrow. You and Birch and that heavenly dig. Clay and I went to Peru on our honeymoon. Nice, but too hot until we got into the High Andes. But then… oh, the ruins!”