Expendable - James Alan Gardner [109]
She sat huddled in the doorway of a glass blockhouse, her arms wrapped tightly around her legs and her face pressed against her knees. The skin of her glass thighs was rainstreaked with half-dry tears.
My Attempts to Help (Part 2)
I sat beside her and put my arm around her shoulders. For a while, neither of us said a word. Then she whispered, “I am very sad, Festina.”
“I know.”
“It is not fair to be so sad.”
“No. It isn’t.”
“Nothing is the way it should be.”
“I’m sorry.”
She didn’t speak again, but leaned in toward me. I let her rest her cheek against my chest. I could see straight through the back of her head to the tear-stains dribbled down her face.
“Eel is not here,” she said at last.
“So I heard.”
“And Jelca does not care. He does not care about Eel or me or anything.”
I leaned over until my lips touched the hard glass hair on the top of her head. “Jelca is quite the shit, isn’t he?”
“He is extremely much the shit,” she agreed. “Shitty fucking Jelca.”
“To hell with him,” I said.
“A very deep hell. With flames and everything.”
“That’s the spirit.”
I gave her shoulders a squeeze. She reached down and patted my knee. After a moment she said more softly, “I would like to punch him in the nose.”
“Yes?”
“I would like to make him feel very bad.”
“I know,” I told her. “But civilized folks like us don’t hit people.”
“What do we do?”
We brood, internalize, and make ourselves miserable, I thought. Aloud I said, “We give ourselves permission to indulge. Like eating something rich, or buying something we can’t afford, or making excuses to get out of work….”
She looked at me without comprehension.
“Okay,” I admitted, “maybe those things aren’t right for you. Is there someplace you want to go, something you want to do?”
“We could go visit ancestors,” she said with sudden interest. “They live next door.”
“Really.”
“Yes. It is very fitting that Jelca lives beside the ancestors of this place. They both have bad brains.”
“And you want to visit…” I didn’t finish my sentence. It would be rude to describe the ancestors as senile near-corpses.
“It is pleasant inside the ancestors’ home,” Oar said. “It is warm and good.”
“Ahhhh,” I nodded, understanding. “You realize I can’t go in with you?” I asked.
Her face fell. “Then maybe…”
“No,” I stopped her, “you go. If it feels good, you deserve it. I’ll wait outside.”
“You will not go away?”
“I promise.”
We got to our feet and walked arm-in-arm to the next building: an enormous tower, even taller than the sixty-story building where Ullis lived. Unlike other buildings in the city, this one had glass walls I couldn’t see through; they had been opaqued to prevent the radiation inside from leaking out.
“I will not be long,” Oar promised.
“Take your time,” I called as she disappeared within. Oar looked eager for time in the tower; I didn’t want her cutting the experience short because of me. It must be like a sauna, I thought—hot and steamy, the chance to lie around languidly….
Oar barreled out the door, mere seconds after she’d entered. “There is a problem, Festina. The ancestors are very upset.”
“At you?”
“No. At you. Come inside.”
Talking with the Ancestors
It took some time for Oar to understand that going inside would damage me. I doubt if she really believed it; but she grudgingly agreed to act as intermediary, carrying messages between me and the ancestors to learn what was wrong.
Me: Why are the ancestors upset?
[A pause while Oar ducked into the building, asked the question, and got the answer.]
Oar: Because a fucking Explorer is bothering them.
Me: Bothering them how?
[Pause.]
Oar: Walking over them.