Каарон Уоррен - The Lowest Heaven

Moments later the two of them were standing before us.

“Magnus,” she exhaled.

“Cornelia.”

As I may have discussed before, I am not one for understanding emotions, but even I could recognise that something passed between them with that exchange. Perhaps time unbuckled itself in their eyes, the years falling apart… but who can say?

I merely helped bring her luggage from the conveyor belt.

Later that night, the bodyguard and I watched Magnus make love to Cornelia.

The bodyguard ate a bowl of olives. He seemed a pleasant if quiet individual, not that the opportunity for conversation really presented itself.

The next few days, Magnus took Cornelia and her bodyguard around Orbis Romanus. He showed her his moon and what life was like here.

I rarely accompanied them, as I was an interloper. I prepared their evening meals and enjoyed the opportunity to refine my culinary skills in peace.

Repeatedly, the bodyguard and myself would sit through their evening lovemaking, for he would not leave her side and I had nowhere else to go.

“It’s really for me?” Cornelia’s eyes glittered in the sunlight.

“Of course,” Magnus replied. “Remember those days we spent in the library? You loved that era◦– you were besotted with it, and so was I◦– and I remembered those days. I remember your affection for it. So I built it all. Just for you.”

“But… really, just for me?”

Magnus gave a nod.

“What’s the catch?” she gave an awkward laugh.

“None. Just stay here with me.”

“You know,” she continued, “it was really only my father who stopped us. He said you were–”

“‘An insignificant nobody who would never amount to anything.’ Well, he’s wrong. Consider this a display of my wealth, if you like. Something to show your father I’m a success. And only occasionally a layabout…”

“So, you honestly mean to give it to me?”

A pause. “Why not?”

“You’re not serious!” Her excited squeal nearly short-circuited my sensors. “It it valuable?”

“Sure,” Magnus replied. “Everyone wants a piece of it. So take it. This moon is yours◦– I created it for you◦– just as long as you really want to stay here with me.”

“Do I!”

“Show your father, too,” Magnus muttered with a grin. “Honestly, tell him I gave it to you.”

“Don’t joke, Magnus.”

“I’m not◦– I’ll sign it over to you right now. Hang on a few moments. Felix!”

“Dominus?”

“Oh, Magnus…”

Magnus asked me to draw up the contracts immediately. I hastily sketched them out, a basic transfer of ownership, in only a few minutes. Magnus didn’t even seem to care about the precision◦– he wanted to seal the moment, to act on a whim. I felt certain a proposal of marriage would follow.

Magnus and Cornelia stood before an open window, their arms around each other. I laid the contracts transferring ownership of Orbis Romanus on a table before them. Magnus signed his name and stepped back, beaming.

Cornelia beckoned over her bodyguard with a briefcase. “I’ll used my cherished pen,” she whispered to Magnus, “the gift you once gave me.”

“You kept it?” He smiled as if recalling those days. In the momentary silence, birdsong could be heard from the gardens.

“Of course I did.” Cornelia reached into the case, pulled out a gun◦– and fired.

The back of Magnus’ head erupted, and blood and bone spat out.

He collapsed on the floor.

I do not experience anything near to shock, as humans do. But I did love Magnus Lucretious in my way. And I struggled to comprehend the logic of what had happened.

Cornelia signed the contract with Magnus’ own pen and placed the papers in the briefcase. The bodyguard placed his arms around her and whispered, “It was disgusting, watching him make love to you.”

“It was worse having him do it, darling.” They kissed. “I’m so glad it’s over now.”

“What next?” he asked.

“For the moon or for us?”

“The moon,” he replied.

“Call in the company right away◦– send them a scan of the contracts. We get rid of the Roman crap, for a start. We need hotels◦– more hotels, and a bigger spaceport. This place can be the biggest stop-off point in the galaxy. Pull down the temples, sack the centurions, and let’s make some money. We should probably get rid of the body as well…”

I stared at Cornelia.

“Don’t look at me like that, Felix. I just did you a favour. You’re free now.”

“I… do not know what you mean.”

“You’ve earned your freedom.”

“How so?”

“Tell him, Claude.”

The bodyguard turned to me. “You may have observed that Cornelia was not, in fact, in love with your master.”

“Oh, he was a beast,” Cornelia added. “Bombarding me with subliminal and overt advertising techniques, attempting to navigate the system defenses in my head. In realspace he sent salesmen round hawking his wares◦– this moon, this resort. For years!”

“Quite,” Claude concluded. “You were planted. Felix, you were our eyes and ears◦– literally. You may feel that your eye-lenses don’t quite work correctly, but that’s because we have cameras installed alongside them. We have been watching everything through your eyes. Magnus bought this moon a long time ago, when it was worthless, but he could certainly spot an investment. Pretty soon it became clear this place was worth a fortune. And he was still besotted with Cornelia. Still intent on wooing her back. When we learned of his search for a slave, we snuck you into the auction.”

“Obsessed with tradition,” she added. “Beastly man.”

“We just waited for the right time to respond,” Claude continued. “And when the time was right, we planted you. We knew he couldn’t resist your Athenian craftsmanship. Then we used you to work out the best time to come◦– once the terraforming was complete, and the market had developed to its maximum potential. Now, we own some of the most valuable real estate in the solar system◦– handed to us on a plate.”

“Easy for you to say,” Cornelia added. “Oh how I need a bath. You can draw one for me, Felix.”

“So you did this,” Claude said to me, “and we thank you for it. You were certainly lucky for us .“

“I guess, despite his fancy education,” Cornelia concluded, “despite all this crazy Roman nonsense, Magnus never bothered to learn a simple lesson like caveat emptor .”

We’ve got food for seven days. Water for 12. Because sometimes the Saturnalia doesn’t end when it should. It’s hard for people to settle, after. Mid slash, mid fuck, mid theft. Do you just stop, then carry on with your suburban life? Leave things half done? Most people prefer to see it through. Take the extra hour or two. Chase away the doldrums for a bit longer.

We’ve stocked up on hydrogen peroxide and oxalic acid. There are going to be a lot of blood stains and they’ll be coming in after with their bundles of clothes, “Oh, I had an accident,” is a good one. Or “I was helping an injured person”, is another, not one of them wanting to admit what they’ve been a part of.