Schismatrix plus - Bruce Sterling [79]
"You're not undressing?" She turned. "Abelard, what are you doing?"
"I want to remember you like this," he said. "This perfect moment." She laughed and threw the headdress aside. With a few deft movements she yanked the jeweled pins from her hair and tossed loose a surge of dark braids. Lindsay was aroused. He put the monocle aside and slid out of his clothes. They made slow, comfortable love. Lindsay, though, had felt the sting of mortality that night, and it put the spur into him. Passion seized him; he made love with ardent urgency, and she responded. He climaxed hard, looking throughout the heartbeats of orgasm at his own iron hand on her sleek shoulder. He lay gasping, his heart beating loud in his ears. After a moment he moved aside. She sighed, stretched, and laughed. "Wonderful," she said.
"I'm happy, Abelard."
"I love you, darling," he said. "You're my life." She leaned up on one elbow. "You're all right, sweetheart?" Lindsay's eyes were stinging. "I was talking with Dietrich Ross tonight," he said carefully. "He has a rejuving program he wants me to try."
"Oh," she said, delighted. "Good news."
"It's risky."
"Listen, darling, being old is risky. The rest of it is just a matter of tactics. All you need is some minor decatabolism; any lab can handle that. You don't need anything ambitious. That can wait another twenty years."
"It'll mean dropping my mask to someone. Ross says this lot is discreet, but I don't trust Ross. Vetterling and Pongpianskul had a peculiar scene tonight. Ross abetted them."
She unraveled one of her braids. "You're not old, darling, and you've been pretending it too long. Your history won't be a problem much longer. The diplomats are winning their rights back, and you're a Mavrides now. Regent Vetter-ling's unplanned, and no one thinks less of him."
"Of course they do."
"Maybe a little. That's not it, though. That's not why you've put this off. Your eyes look puffy, Abelard. Have you been taking your antioxidants?" Lindsay was silent a moment. He sat up in bed, propping himself up with his untiring prosthetic arm. "It's my mortality," he said. "It meant so much to me once. It's all I have left of my old life, my old convictions...."
"But you're not staying the same by letting yourself age. You should stay young if you want to preserve your old feelings."
"There's only one way to do that. Vera Kelland's way." Her hands stopped with the braid half-twisted. "I'm sorry," Lindsay said. "But it's there somewhere: the shadow... . I'm afraid, Nora. If I'm young again it will change things. All these years that there's been such joy for us... I froze here, lying in the shadows, safe with you, and happy. To be young again, to take this risk—I'll be out in the open. Eyes will be watching."
She caressed his cheek. "Darling, I'll watch over you. I'll protect you. No one alive will hurt you without coming through me first."
"I know that, and I'm glad for it, but I can't shake off this feeling. Is it just guilt? Guilt, that life has been good to us, that we've had love while those others died like rats in a corner?" His voice trembled; he looked at the sienna weave of the bedspread in the lamp's mild glow. "How long can the Peace go on? The old despise us while the young see through us. Things must change, and how could they be better? It can only be worse for us.... Sweetheart. . . ." He met her eyes. "I remember the days when we had nothing, not even the air to breathe, and the rot crept in all around us. Everything we've gained since then has been sheer profit to us, but it's not been real... What's