Anderson, Poul – Avatar. Part seven

Joelle had but the vaguest idea of how the thing was made or how it ran.

The Others knew laws of nature man or Betan had not discovered. That was no surprise. Did she ever meet them, she felt confident she, the holothete, could soon learn…converse, oh, maybe enter their fellowship!

Brodersen conned Williwaw toward the opposite satellite.

“Please,” Caitlin said, well-nigh timidly. “Eat this sandwich, drink this milk. It’s starving you are.”

Beneath her helmet, Joelle blinked. She wasn’t hungry. But when had she last eaten? The circuits ought to include physiological monitors of me, flashed through her. Yes, that would be an interesting addition, albeit a minor one. She decided she’d do best to heed the girl’s advice, and reached for the food and squeeze bottie.

“You should sleep, too,” Caitlin ventured onward. “You look like death’s discarded mistress. Remember how slow and cautious they’re boosting the boat.

They won’t reach goal for many hours.” Not getting her head snapped off, she continued: “Frankly, I think it’s a mistake to have a water nipple handy for you and yourself with direct connections to the plumbing. You should need to get out of that hookup several times a day at least.”

In free fall, unexercised, my heart shrinks, my blood stagnates, my bones atrophy. No part of the admonition felt real. It was certainly not important, unless in symbolizing a kind of apotheosis. The Others aren’t so plagued. They don’t have to cram things down a reluctant gullet and excrete the dirty residue.

“When you’re done,” Caitlin pleaded, “let me take you to your cabin, give you a little physical therapy, put you to sleep. You’re no use to anyone if you cave in. Your brain won’t function properly if your circulation doesn’t.”

She’s right, damn her. “Very well.”

Loosely harnessed in midair, Joelle felt legs locked around hers, hands kneading her torso or flexing her limbs for her, through the whole of her bare skin. Caitlin was warm and springy. She was having a period, which sharpened the odor of her. A stray lock of hair waved past Joelle’s cheek, tickled, and carried a different scent, clean and bright.

“I must admit your treatment feels good,” she said. “I hadn’t noticed how stiff I’d gotten.”

“You’re in better form for your age than you deserve to be,” Caitlin Side 153

Anderson, Poul – Avatar, The replied, bolder now. “That’ll not last, though, unless you work out regularly.”

“I did, you’ll recall, till we arrived here. Right now I can’t spare the time.” Can’t amputate myself from the glories around. How feebly alive I am this moment!

“You should. We’ve not so great a haste. I recommend men, too.”

Joelle tautened. “I’m sorry,” Caitlin said. “I’d no wish to pry. Still, you and Dan- you do truly understand, do you not, I’ve no jealousy about that?”

How could you dare be jealous, the way you carry on? Joelle considered throwing back. She decided she didn’t want to. The issue was supremely trivial.

Besides, her nerves and glands told her, since I am out of circuit, I would enjoy it if he made love to me – no, fucked me, nothing else, I passive. The palms and fingers along her back raised heat. Or this creature, in this room with me? She’s not equipped, of course, and doubtless not interested, but- no!

Christine, Christine! No!

Caitlin halted. “What’s the matter?” she asked in alarm.

“Nothing,” Joelle coughed.

“The hell it’s nothing. You jerked and tightened as though a thousand volts had shocked you.” Caitlin brought herself around face to face, at arm’s length, lightly clinging to the older woman. Distress took hold of her countenance. “If you care to talk about it, I keep secrets well, and I’ve known a diversity of people. This day we share dread of what may happen to Dan. Would you like to share more?”

Joelle shook her head till she grew dizzy. “No. It’s nothing, I told you. But stop the massage. Give me a knockout pill good for four hours. I must be alert when the boat makes rendezvous.” As Caitlin hesitated, she screamed,

“That’s an order, you tramp!”

No Christines. No Erics. I can’t afford them. They hurt too much. Why take further pain? It’s the merest epiphenomenon anyway, like its sister phantom, desire, which is also its mother. In the Noumenon is peace. It never betrays. Let it be my lover, my life, while I remain sundered from the Others.

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