Roger Zelazny - Donnerjack

“But… army? You live in Virtu.”

“Virtu has its armies, its bloody battles, its ancient wars. I told you something of this during our time together.”

“You did, but I thought that those were long ago, during the Genesis Scramble.”

“They were. Something has been at work for some years now, awakening old ambitions, stirring forgotten feuds. A time of change may be upon us.”

“Change? In Virtu or Verite?”

“Virtu is where it will begin, but the indications are that it may spill into Verite.”

“Ambry, where did you hide? Why couldn’t you notify me?”

“I went to lands even wilder than those wherein we dwelled, my love, to places that I suspect— Do you remember that strange visit we had, the visit from Ayradyss and Heather?”

“Certainly. Ayradyss said that her husband was John D’Arcy Donnerjack and that her basement held a portal into our virt realm. Heather said less, but I had the feeling she was surprised to find us there— surprised and a bit defensive.”

“For good reason, I think.”

They had reached the lakeshore now. Lydia still had not looked at Ambry except for that first startled moment of recognition. Now he took her gently by the shoulders and turned her to him. Fingers under her chin, he tilted her face upward.

“Your eyes are still so lovely—such a dark, wild green.”

“You knew me!” she said suddenly, realizing that except for her eyes she looked nothing like she had during their brief cohabitation in Virtu. “How?”

“Your voice, tricks of gesture, how you smile. I had been watching you from across the lawn while you talked with Gwen. When I came closer, I was certain. Well—almost certain.”

She shrunk into herself, the poor posture that a combination of exercise and increasing confidence had banished bending her shoulders.

“I’m not nearly so pretty now.”

“You are prettier.”

“Flatterer.”

“No. This you is real. There are tiny things that make you unique. And you have a beautiful smile and a voice to drive men wild.”

“I do?”

“Believe me. You do. Will you look at me, or have I grown unpleasing to you?”

“Yes. No.”

“Then look at me.”

She did, blushing as she did so. He smiled at her and she smiled and buried her face in his chest.

“I feel so… shy. Isn’t that dumb?”

“No. It took all my courage to walk up to you. I wasn’t certain that you would choose to know me. I wasn’t certain that you wouldn’t slap my face and call me a cad.”

She giggled. “I don’t know if anyone calls anyone a cad anymore.”

“Perhaps not, but I have been one. I abandoned you and our daughter for over two years. Now I come walking back up and hope to be welcomed.”

“You are welcome.”

“Lydia… I didn’t wish to ask before, but… two years is a long time, especially when you are young and lovely. Have you found someone else?”

She glanced up at him through her lashes, remembering her conversation with Gwen. For a moment, she considered prevaricating—perhaps that would make him value her more. Then she banished the thought.

“No one. I didn’t even look.”

“Nor did I.”

He sighed happily. They held each other for a long while. Over the lake, a pair of swallows dove after midges.

“How long before you are expected at home, Lydia?”

“At least another hour.”

“Spend it with me, please. I will tell you everything I can about where I have been and I want to know all about what you are doing, too.”

“All in an hour?” She laughed from pure happiness.

“An hour now,” he said, squeezing her hand as if he would never let it go, “and perhaps we can make a date for longer later.”

They sat on the virtual shore, arms around each other, and talked about love and other very real things.

None of the mysteries that troubled Dack about his young charge were solved in the six months that followed. The boy grew larger and his vocabulary increased. When Dack questioned him carefully regarding the butterfly, the snake, the dog, and the monkey, his reply was always, “They’re my friends. They come play with me.”

As he grew, the bracelet expanded to accommodate his growth. Even so, John Junior often struggled to remove it as he removed his shoes, socks, and play clothes.

“Take it off!” he demanded of Dack.

“No,” Dack told him firmly. “Your father made it, but he never told me why. Still, I don’t think you should take it off.”

At the mention of his father, the boy smiled, his pique forgotten.

“Tell me about my father,” he said, “and my mother.”

“I’ll show you what they looked like,” Dack responded, summoning their images onto the holo-stage.

Young Donnerjack stared at them for a long while.

“You do bear them some resemblance, young sir,” Dack said.

“Were they nice people?” the boy asked.

“Yes,” Dack replied. “I would say so.”

The boy walked around the figures.

“Good. They look nice,” he finally said.

“Who knows? You may grow up to be something like them,” Dack said.

“Good.”

“Come. It’s almost dinnertime.”

Dack changed him, bathed him, and led him off to eat.

“Can you tear yourself from your work for a moment, Davis?” Randall Kelsey asked. “I would have words with you.”

Arthur Eden looked up from the hard copy of Mud Temples , the text he had been reading. His eyes were bleared and a bit sticky. Glancing at the clock, he realized that he’d been at work long past his usual break. Kelsey stood in the doorway of his office.

“Yes, sir.” He rose, rubbing the small of his back as he did so. “I think I had better stop or my muscles will freeze in that position.”

“Something good?”

“Architectural analysis of some of the ancient Sumerian/Babylonian ruins with extrapolations as to how the actual buildings might have been constructed. It’s ancient stuff—late twentieth century—by a guy named Keim who also did work on Southwestern American ruins with an archeologist named Moore. I think we’re going to be able to use some of Keim’s ideas on structural stress to enhance the virt programming for the Sacred Citadel.”

“Great. As the congregation grows, so does our responsibility to serve their needs on every level. The vestments you helped design for the new tertiary lay initiates were a great success.”

“The ones for the Devotees of Innana? Thanks. I was pretty pleased with how they came out myself.”

They had walked down a short corridor and now they paused in front of an elevator door finished in what appeared to be beaten brass worked with a relief sculpture depicting a portion of the creation myth. Kelsey pushed the button discreetly hidden in a minor demon’s eye.

“Remind me how long you’ve been with us, Davis.”

“Full-time? For about two years. Then I was consulting a year before that and a member of the Church for a year or so before that. I guess that makes four years.”

The elevator arrived, the doors slid open. Inside several of the major deities were depicted, each with their characteristic emblems. The artwork was original, by a well-known convert, and preserved behind bulletproof glass. The Church chose to flaunt its growing influence even in its mundane establishments, but that didn’t mean it was careless.

“Four years? Is that all? Are you content with your progress?”

The elevator door opened and Kelsey gestured for Eden to precede him down the corridor. Eden looked around in interest. He’d never been invited to this floor before. Glancing up, he saw that the ceiling was made up of a dome of glass panels revealing what was apparently blue sky overhead. He frowned. The skyscraper was topped with a step pyramid. How could this be? Kelsey caught his expression and chuckled.