Каарон Уоррен - The Lowest Heaven

Knotting the belt on his robe, he crossed the lobby, following the tinkling music spilling from the spa’s smoked-glass doors. The rugs felt warm under his bare feet and he caught himself thinking, This is no way to spend your last day in sight of the Sun. In a dressing gown.

He decided he’d get dressed◦– after he apologised to Marco.

Ted found him stepping out of the showers, towelling his hair. His eyes were scrunched up tight, so he didn’t spot him at first. Ted cleared his throat, and said Marco’s name out loud.

Marco opened his eyes and froze, his long fringe held in a bunch of towel.

Ted stepped forward. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I messed up. I was too caught up in my thoughts, and I said some stupid things.”

Marco said nothing. He barely moved a muscle. Water pooled around his feet.

“I’m just nervous,” Ted added with a shrug. “You know, who knows what’s out there? I was just freaking out a bit, I didn’t know what I was thinking. But look…”

Ted moved closer.

Marco lowered the towel, holding it loosely at his waist.

Ted put his hand on Marco’s arm◦– the same one holding the towel. Marco stared at it like he’d never seen it before. Then his eyes met Ted’s. Ted smiled and moved closer still.

“Everything we’re leaving behind,” Ted said, “all that shit◦– it’s right that we’re putting it behind us. But that doesn’t make what’s in front of us any less scary.”

Now Marco smiled too◦– that soft smile that puffed his cheeks up like pillows. Ted took hold of Marco’s fingers and gently insinuated them into his grip; Marco dropped the towel and held Ted’s hand.

“I’m sorry,” Ted said. “Make it better?”

Marco’s smiled broadened. He tipped his head to meet Ted’s. They kissed.

“A blank slate, yeah? That’s what we need, isn’t it? A blank slate. A fresh start. A chance to build a new life. Just for us. You and me, Marco. That’s all I want.”

Afterwards, Ted showered, but when he came out, there was no sign of Marco at all. He wasn’t in the room either◦– his stuff was gone, too. A red light was blinking on the console by the bed.

“Trident?” said Ted to his room, waiting for the answering bing of the hotel’s computer system. “Has Marco checked out?”

A soft voice replied: “Yes. Mr. Campbell is currently in the departures suite. He told me to say he would wait for you there.”

Keen. Very Marco.

Everyone who wanted to leave the solar system had to do so via the Trident, and everyone who stayed at the Trident was required to spend their final night in the departures suite. This room was effectively quarantined from the rest of the hotel, and in the final hours before departure, guests were given one last medical exam and had to fill out a few more bits of FentiCorp paperwork. Once you went in, that was it.

No way back.

Ted took a deep breath.

He dumped the robe on the floor, threw on a T-shirt and jeans, then crammed the rest of his clothes into his bag. Marco had already taken the toiletries from the bathroom, so Ted was at the reception console in the lobby within just a few minutes.

As he was checking out, he saw his clone carrying a tray of clean glasses towards the bar. The clone smiled awkwardly and quickened his pace, but Ted said, “Hey, wait, just a minute.”

Ted quickly signed off on the check-out process, ignoring the polite voice thanking him and giving him directions to the departures suite as he turned to face his double. “We’re off now, so… You know. Bye.”

“Goodbye. I hope you had a pleasant stay.”

“No you don’t. I don’t think you really care one way or another.”

The clone didn’t reply to that.

“Look,” said Ted, “I’ve got a question.”

“I am happy to help.”

“Just… Do you guys◦– you know, the clones◦– do you have relationships?”

“That aspect of the human experience is coded out during the conception process.”

“Coded out? Jesus . Ow. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” said the clone. Ted couldn’t read his smile. “It’s not like I’m going to miss something I never had. And remember◦– your memories aren’t my memories. My memories only started a few months ago.” The clone shrugged. “I’m a blank slate.”

Ted chuckled. “Then we have one thing in common.”

“Marco?”

Ted stepped into the living area in the departure suite. The door clicked shut behind him, then he heard the puckering of something hydraulic which he tried to ignore. ( No way back. )

Three closed metal doors studded the wall opposite, a dome-shaped light on the wall above each. Two lights were inactive, and the third was red. The doors seemed out of place in the otherwise plush room. A sheepskin rug covered most of the floor and a plump sofa sat facing a video image of a roaring fire. In an alcove to one side there was a high double bed, richly made-up with colourful linens. The lighting was soft, and the air was dry and warm. Ted thought he could smell cinnamon.

If there was going to be a “last hotel room you ever stayed in”, it might as well be this one.

“Marco? Are you there?”

He dumped his bag on the floor, then noticed another blinking red light on a console next to the sofa.

“Trident?”

“Marco is currently undergoing his final physical examination, in medical room one. Room Two is free. Would you like to take your examination now?”

Ted shrugged and said yes. One of the other lights in the wall opposite turned green and the door beneath it hissed open. Ted stepped inside.

After three boring hours lying under an MRI scanner and a further hour at a console tidying up the last of the liferights contracts, Ted was exhausted. Rubbing his eyes, he stepped out of the examination room to find the fire switched off and the lighting dimmed. Marco was sleeping soundly in the bed.

Feeling more ready for sleep than he had been in months, Ted joined him. The satin sheets sighed underneath him, and he barely had time to sigh with them before sleep took hold.

He is in blue, naked. A wind tears by, licking at his skin. Mist curls around him, thickening and thinning in curves and waves. Ice shifts beneath his feet, floating on an invisible ocean of black. Sometimes he sees stars above. Sometimes, he sees nothing but blue. Biting blue. Teeth nibbling at his fingertips. He looks down and the skin hangs loose like a tattered flag sucked away by the wind. He sees his face◦– his mouth a silent circle, his eyes empty shadows. Skin torn by the wind. The roaring wind. The roar. His features dissolving as, fragment by fragment, they are carried away into the blue. The wind picks up and he is pieces now, carried on the current, through the mist, into an icy nothing where he sees the shattered atoms blown away, out of the cold, back towards the light, back towards –

“Ted!”

He mumbled, smacked his lips, rolled over. Where was he?

“Jesus, Ted. Just shut the fuck up and let me sleep.”

The bed rocked as Marco turned his back. Beautiful Marco. Brilliant Marco. The light to lead him on. His light. Ted stroked Marco’s shoulder. His skin was warm and smooth under his palm.

Marco shrugged him away and hunkered down under the sheets.

“Just fuck off , Ted.”

And then Ted slept a deep, black sleep, with no blue.

The Trident was behind them. They sat now in the twin pilots’ chairs on the flight deck of their ship. The ship they’d sold everything to buy. Every last penny on a ship, the permits, the stay at the Trident, and FentiCorp’s assisted departure service. Every last penny and then some.

The ship’s engines had been spinning up since before they boarded, and now they were starting to whine. Marco flicked a switch on the console and the acoustic dampeners kicked in, deadening the noise. Finally, Ted could hear himself think.