In The Abode of Angels

By Paul S Cilwa

In 2078, climate changes have decimated the world's human population. All world governments are now puppets of UniCorp, the single world-wide corporation that now runs everything and is the only legal seller of everything, from life insurance to sippy cups to pornography. "Ramos Tunnels", stable wormholes to other planets, are used by UniCorp to locate other populated planets, and turn them into "customers"--whether they wish it or not. This scheme has worked for years, but now, as young linguist Joshua Best discovers, one planetary population cannot be coerced, because they do not fear death. UniCorp intends to destroy the planet entirely before their subversive message can reach any more of UniCorp's customers, leaving Joshua, his best friend Dave and his girlfriend, Emmaline, to find a way to save a world of innocents from utter annihilation.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Paul S Cilwa
• Release date: Nov 30, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311853141

Paul S Cilwa

Paul S. Cilwa was born in New Jersey but at seven years of age informed his parents he was moving to Vermont and they could accompany him if they wished. It was in a small, three-room schoolhouse in the Green Mountain State that Paul began to write—first numbers and letters, then stories. He's lived in Florida, Virginia, Nebraska and New Hampshire, before settling in Arizona. That's where he lives today with his partner near a preserve of hiking trails called Dreamy Draw. Paul has written four technical books in computer programming including the bestseller Windows Programming Power with Custom Controls, and many articles on the subject as contributing editor to Windows Tech Journal. His published fiction includes several humorous shorts and two novels in addition to In The Abode Of Angels.

Book preview

Part 1: Dystopia

Chapter 1: A Near-Death Experience

The wheels of the commuter train clacked against the rails, but Joshua Best couldn’t hear them. Endless rows of strip malls and shopping centers unreeled past the windows, and Joshua’s fiancée stood directly in front of him; but his eyes saw neither stores nor Emmaline. Instead, the sounds of neo-swing filled his ears with music, and before his eyes images of news tickers, his favorite sit-com, an instant text message from Emmaline, and the name of the next stop of the train hung suspended in the air before him, all courtesy of his Visor. Thus distracted, he never noticed the face of the man who intended to kill him.

The train was crowded, and Joshua and Emmaline stood, clinging to a cool metal pole as they did most mornings. They shared the stanchion with perhaps four or five others, ignored as carefully as were those who couldn’t reach a pole or hanging loop but were kept upright by the press of swaying bodies. Joshua was accustomed, therefore, to ignoring the sensation of someone else’s elbow gently pressed into his side, a strange butt against his, an unknown shoe alongside his own.

However, a painful prick in his back caught his attention, made him jump. He spun around instinctively, but the Visor images obscured his view. Simultaneously he pulled his hand from the pole, clapped it against his back where the muscles were now contracting spasmodically. Poker! he cried, his voice hoarse. Poker!

Only a few people heard him over the webcast sounds of their own Visors, but those who did screamed, carrying on the cry. Poker! Poker! As if by magic, the crowd seemed to evaporate as each person in it withdrew into himself, taking up less room, terrified that the unknown poker might poke him, next. Meanwhile, as the train slowed for its next stop, Joshua felt a bitter cold descend upon him; his breathing became ragged and his vision began to darken, as if his Visor were shifting into sunglass mode. He could hear Emmaline screaming over the strains of String of Pearls even as his knees buckled and he collapsed onto the train’s carpeted floor. The doors opened and he was aware that everyone stampeded out of the confined space even as his breathing stopped entirely.

His heart pounded as if it were trying to break out of his chest. Hands lifted him; he felt himself placed on a padded, flat surface. Frantically he tried to breathe, to move, to do anything; he was engulfed by the paralysis. He couldn’t even cry. Jesus! He prayed. Let me live! I’m not ready to die!

Someone was pushing rhythmically against his chest; someone else was fitting a rubber mask over his mouth and nose. Dimly, he saw a third fiddling with a device. Joshua fought off a sensation of lowering peace. He would not die. He would not die! It wasn’t his time. He was going to be married in a few months. He was about to be promoted. Heck, he was just days away from his first trip to another planet! He couldn’t let it end, not now.

The man with the injector pressed it against Joshua’s neck and clicked the trigger. Almost immediately, Joshua gasped, drawing in a breath so painful it was like trying to inhale razor wire. His heart pounded as if trying to make up for lost beats.

Relax, one of the techs said. You were the victim of a poker. You’re lucky the train was so close to the station, and that you were able to warn everyone. That cleared them off the train so we could get to you on time.

The sweet sax of New Orleans Lost played in his ears. Joshua focused his eyes on the Close All button in his Visor field to shut down all windows. The music stopped, and in the resulting quiet he heard his fiancée weeping.

I’m okay, Emmaline! he gasped, reaching for her. She grasped his fingers, held tight.

Did you see who did it? A newcomer leaned over him, wearing the uniform of UniCorp Security.

Joshua shook his head. No idea, he admitted, weakly. The guard turned to Emmaline.

She also shook her head. There were several people around us, she said. I could pick the people closest to Joshua out of a crowd, but I don’t know which one poked him.

The guard’s eyebrows rose in surprise. You saw them that clearly?

Emmaline looked sheepish. I usually clear my Visor when I ride the train, she admitted. I like to look at the people.

The guard frowned suspiciously. We’ll have to search you, Miss, he said. Just routine.

I understand, Emmaline agreed. In a moment, a matronly guard entered the car and motioned for Emmaline to follow.

Can I get up now? Joshua asked. I feel much better. The truth was, he felt drained and violated; he was still shaking and he knew this wasn’t a residual effect of the poison. But he felt more vulnerable lying on the gurney than he would standing, and right now that vulnerability was completely unbearable.

Sure, one of the techs said, and helped Joshua to a sitting position.

Damned pokers, the male guard muttered. We’ll find him, I promise. We’ll identify every citizen who stood within five feet of you between the last station and this one. Odds are, this isn’t his first poke. The Cloud will search for his proximity to any other pokings in the past year, and I guarantee we’ll find a match.

Then why are you searching Emmaline? Joshua asked.

The guard shrugged. In case it wasn’t a random poking, he replied. Thirty-seven percent of these crimes turn out to be murders or attempted murders by a friend or family member who tries to mask it as random violence.

Emmaline returned, the female guard right behind her. She’s clean, the guard announced.

Nothing was dumped in here, the male guard agreed. All right, let the passengers back in.

Joshua let the tech help him to his feet. What station is this? he asked.

7th Avenue/McDowell, the guard replied, after a pause that meant he was referencing his own Visor.

Joshua took a deep breath. I’m going to walk, he said. The idea of returning to the murderous arms of the crowd made him sick to his stomach.

I’ll go with you, Emmaline assured him solicitously. The guard ushered them both to the platform, and directed the impatiently waiting passengers to re-board around them. By the time he’d accompanied them both to the turnstiles, the station was otherwise deserted and the train had rolled out of it.

You’re free to leave, the guard assured them, adding politely, Enjoy your day.

Chapter 2: An Unfortunate Circumstance

Joshua and Emmaline weren’t the only pedestrians this close to the World Trade Tower, and Joshua found himself recoiling each time a stranger came near. His legs were still wobbly and he relied on Emmaline for support.

"We’re supposed to be safe, he growled. What the heck good’s all those metal detectors and wands and spot searches and our implants, if they can’t stop a poker from attacking some innocent victim?"

Abruptly, the face of a beautiful woman appeared before him, with black, gently curling hair and full, red lips. You’re late, the woman said.

It was Constance Buttermore, Joshua’s boss—or, rather, her avatar. Because the Visor was worn on the face, it couldn’t show the actual caller. So each person chose an avatar, an animated image that represented the speaker, complete with moving lips and eye movements that matched the caller’s. Some people preferred to use celebrities or cartoon characters to represent themselves on voice calls; but Constance had created one in her own image. Some might say it was because she was, in fact, a beautiful woman, and had every reason to make the most of that. However, Joshua was pretty sure the reason was less narcissistic. Constance, he believed, simply lacked the imagination to select a more interesting or amusing representation.

Joshua wouldn’t have frightened people with his own image. At five-eleven, with a strong jaw, broad forehead, thick black hair, and lustrous black eyes, some might say he’d have made a terrific avatar. And he could have created one; one of his hobbies was creating avatars and other smart video clips for friends. Yesterday’s avatar had been a talking chipmunk; and he had been too shaken to replace it this morning.

I was a poker victim, Joshua replied, shakily, using his sub-vocal voice. Constance would see the chipmunk but he trusted she would hear in his voice the distress a comic avatar couldn’t convey. I’m walking the last few blocks.

The brows of Constance’s avatar furrowed in exaggerated exasperation. "Oh, that’s just great. Now I suppose you’ll want the day off. Do you have any idea how this is going to affect my schedule?"

I’m coming in, Joshua assured her. I don’t need the day off.

But you’ll have to see the department counselor. Unless, Constance added hopefully, you didn’t report it?

If it hadn’t been reported, I’d be dead, Joshua pointed out. Talk about affecting your schedule.

Pursing its lips, Constance’ avatar blinked out, allowing a clearer view of the sidewalk ahead of him. People generally placed Visor images to the sides when they were walking or driving; but Constance had designed her avatar to jump dead center whenever she contacted one of her employees.

A few minutes later, Joshua and Emmaline reached the South steps of the 200-storey World Trade Tower, the world’s tallest building and heart of UniCorp. Twice as tall as any other building in Phoenix, it stood like the monument it was to Man’s overcoming the hardship of the new ice age, and rose into the sky as a manifestation of Man’s indomitable spirit.

Since they were nearly ten minutes late, the elevators were not packed, for which Joshua offered a silent prayer of thanks. Still, the one they entered wasn’t empty; and Joshua stood close to Emmaline. When the doors slid open at the 67th floor, Joshua had to peel his fingers from Emmaline’s wrist; and, when they did, they left white indentations. He gave her a rueful look but she just kissed him.

You’ll be fine, she said. Go see your counselor. I’ll be waiting to ride home with you. And she gently pushed him out of the cab into the corridor.

The doors closed behind him. A text message appeared in the air from his department counselor, confirming an emergency appointment at 0815 hours. He sent an acknowledgement and followed the plush-carpeted corridor to Doctor Phu’s office.

Joshua hated to visit Doctor Phu, who had some sort of eye condition that made both his eyes red-rimmed and severely bloodshot, as if the counselor himself were a drug addict or deranged poker. He also insisted on being called by his first name, as if he and Joshua were best friends. But UniCorp required periodic visits as well as trauma adjustments, so here he was.

There were two men and a woman seated in the waiting room, each staring straight ahead, absorbed in whatever they saw through their Visors. However, the door to the inner office opened immediately, revealing Doctor Phu beyond, the glistening of his red-rimmed eyes visible through his Visor.

Please, come in, the counselor requested. Joshua smiled wanly and entered, taking the upholstered visitor’s chair. There was an antique desk in the room, probably intended to provide a traditional atmosphere. Desks hadn’t had a functional purpose since the introduction of the Visor decades before Joshua’s birth; but some people used them as props.

Nevertheless, Doctor Phu made a point of moving his executive chair around the desk so that he could sit directly across from Joshua, their knees almost touching. I understand you had an unfortunate circumstance this morning, the counselor prodded.

I got poked on the train, Doctor, Joshua said.

Please, call me Craig, the counselor requested.

I got poked on the train, Craig.

That’s most unfortunate. Except, of course, that you survived. That’s fortunate.

Joshua felt his blood pressure rise. Gee, you think?

It’s natural to develop an attitude after having experienced a life-threatening situation, Doctor Phu intoned. Normally, you’d be given a day off to recover, but I understand you are giving an important speech at the M’nar semi-centennial Friday, and it hasn’t yet been written.

I can work, Joshua assured him. Though, frankly, Craig, I don’t see why I can’t work at home. It’s not like I wouldn’t have my Visor with me.

The counselor nodded. That would be great, wouldn’t it? But your supervisor prefers to work with you face-to-face.

She does not, Joshua corrected. I haven’t seen her in person once in the past five years. She hands out all assignments by Visor.

I see, Doctor Phu nodded. Through their Visors, Joshua could see his reddened eyes flicking back and forth, keeping notes on a virtual keyboard only the counselor could see. Do you resent that, Joshua?

Joshua shrugged, suddenly aware that it was possible to be too frank. I don’t care. It just seems to me I could work from home as well as from here.

Studies have shown people are more productive when they work in an environment dedicated to work, Doctor Phu pointed out.

My work statistics show my productivity is unrelated to my environment. I’m a linguist, Craig. All I need to do my work is my Visor and Internet access to my files. Which are equally available anywhere. He sent a link to his personal productivity stats to the counselor’s Visor.

But Doctor Phu remained unmoved. Studies have shown people are more productive when they work in an environment dedicated to work, the doctor repeated. I don’t make these statistics up, he added.

"Yes, well, I’m not being very productive now, Craig. May I get back to work?"

Hmm, yes, the counselor mumbled, his eyes flickering frantically behind the crystal lenses. Yes, I think you are fit for duty, young man. But do let me know if you have any nightmares or experience a fear of crowds. Both are common aftereffects of violent attacks, and I can prescribe medication to minimize your anxiety.

I think any anxiety would be well-justified, don’t you, Craig? Joshua put a touch of emphasis on the counselor’s name, hoping his sarcasm was subtle enough to not get him into trouble.

Pokings are an extremely rare form of violence, the counselor said. The odds are so high against it happening to you once, that I can virtually guarantee it will never happen to you again.

In spite of himself, Joshua felt a load lift off his shoulders. I guess that’s right, isn’t it? he said.

UniCorp has evolved over the decades with just one goal in mind, Joshua, Doctor Phu said. "That’s your safety. Yours and mine. All your finances are dealt with electronically, so your money can never be stolen. Your implanted Chip can locate you anywhere on Earth, so you can never be lost; and it reports your vital signs to the Cloud so that if you should suffer from a sudden illness, Emergency medical techs will be dispatched to you, as you learned today—to your great good fortune. Metal and explosive detectors guard every public space so weapons can’t be smuggled in. It’s very important, Joshua, that you not let today’s unfortunate experience assume unrealistic proportions in your mind. Pokings have gone from being an urban legend to pressing the edges of mass hysteria, yet they are actually very rare."

Joshua nodded. So, how did the poker smuggle a hypodermic into the train? he asked.

Beg pardon?

A hypodermic needle. That’s how he got me, probably with synthetic curare. I’ve been looking it up on the Web. That’s how they do it. But how did he get a metal needle past the metal detector at the train station?

The counselor nodded again, his red eyes glistening as they caught the light through his Visor lenses. They use plastic needles, I believe. And you’re lucky they do; metal needles are thinner; you might not have felt one going in. In which case by the time the medics reached you, it might have been too late.

Joshua was somewhat reassured. Yet, as he passed through the waiting room, he thought he sensed all three patients recoil from him, as if he might mean them harm.

He also had to wonder. Who manufactured plastic hypodermic needles...and why? Because he couldn't see any reason for them, other than to become the weapons of pokers.

Chapter 3: Body Armor

It was a strange day. It seemed to drag, even though Joshua dreaded its ending. Alone in his office, he felt safe. Outside, there would be strangers, and who knew who among them might be another psychotic killer with a hypodermic filled with curare?

To distract himself, Joshua threw himself into the task of incorporating the required points into the speech he was to give at the 50th anniversary celebration on M’nar. It was a challenging job, because some of the things Constance wanted him to say either had no context in the M’nar language, or were actually rude. Nevertheless, every now and then his back would twinge and he would be drawn back to the moment he was poked, attacked while minding his own business; and then the sense of violation would again engulf him and he would find himself shaking and furious and frightened. The idea of boarding that same train, surrounded by the same strangers, made him nauseated.

Inevitably, it was time to leave. Joshua shivered when he saw the swarm of workers at the elevator doors, but forced himself to remember that he knew them all, at least by sight. They weren’t really strangers. The doors opened and the throng poured into the cab. Joshua pressed himself into a corner, Visor cleared and every sense straining for any hint of peril. The train station was on the -2nd floor, below the basement shopping mall. Joshua followed the other passengers out and looked around for Emmaline.

She was in the very spot he had first seen her some seven months before, waiting for her train, actually turning her head, looking at the other commuters instead of watching webcasts on her Visor, as most people did. Joshua had also looked at people, even before his attack, because as a linguist, he liked to see how people—real people, not actors or avatars—used body language to augment their spoken words. Now, he was looking out for danger. But Emmaline simply liked to be aware of the world around her.

Thus Emmaline spotted him almost as he reached the platform and text messaged him. How are you feeling?

OK, he lied.

I need a blue outfit for the celebration, she remarked, her avatar shaking its head sadly. Don’t think I have the money.

Won’t your department pay? Joshua asked in person as he reached her. He embraced her with unexpected ferocity, forcing himself to relax his grip before he hurt her. Maybe it was because she was the only person within miles who had his complete trust.

I doubt it, Emmaline replied with chagrin. It’s just another of those perks UniCorp gets from its employees.

Maybe you can rent something, Joshua suggested.

Maybe, she agreed. She was quiet for a moment, and Joshua knew she was accessing the Internet. Yeah, here’s a place, she said, and sent him the link.

Looks reasonable, he agreed. He highlighted one illustration and sent it back to her. This one is pretty, don’t you think?

Emmaline laughed out loud. "That bridesmaid dress? I’d rather go naked!"

If you don’t wear blue, that’s what the M’nar will think you’re doing. It’s a cultural thing. They judge by the color, not by the cover.

Yeah, so my supe said. How wretched!

What do you say we check out gowns in the mall? I can help if you need a loan. Joshua didn’t voice his hope that the crowd for the train would be somewhat thinner if they left an hour later than usual.

Emmaline agreed, so they took an escalator up one level to the mall. They found a smart, royal blue business skirt with matching jacket at the Dress No Stress. Opening a Bank window with his Visor, Joshua transferred the loan of a few credits to Emmaline’s account. Then they bagged the outfit, and the purchase price was automatically deducted from Emmaline’s account as she passed between the sensors.

I’ll never understand how those things know to only charge you once for an item, Joshua remarked, as he noted mentally the location of every other person in his vicinity. What if you go back into that store, wearing that dress?

That’s easy, Emmaline said, smiling. Every item manufactured has a unique serial number built into it. The Cloud keeps track so you don’t get double-billed for anything.

Let’s go in here for a moment, Joshua suggested, stopping in front of a Safety First. Inside, he found himself drawn to a manikin wearing body armor. Am I being silly? he asked.

Emmaline place a hand on Joshua’s shoulder. You are probably safer now from poking than you were yesterday. I’ve never heard of it happening to the same person twice. But if it makes you feel better to wear armor, and you can afford it, do it.

The price was steep. But Joshua didn’t live an extravagant life, and maintained a decent bank balance. Besides, what good would savings be if he were dead? He took the armor into a dressing cubicle. It wasn’t easy to remove his outer clothes in the cramped space, and it was even tougher to slip the stiff, black fabric of the armor over his underwear. But soon he was covered from neck to thigh, the areas most vulnerable to attack by poking. And when he’d donned his outer clothes over it, there was no sign he was wearing armor other than a slight stiffness in the way he moved.

He emerged from the dressing cubicle looking for approval from Emmaline. His fiancée just smiled and asked, Is it on?

Joshua nodded, and felt relaxed for the first time since the attack. You should get one, too, he suggested. It’s really quite comfortable. And comforting.

Emmaline, smiling, shook her head. I spend enough time getting dressed each day as it is, she laughed. "Anyway, I understand why you need one today, but realistically, you will never be poked again. And, since I was with you when it happened, the odds are against it ever happening to me, either."

I don’t think that’s how statistics works, Joshua protested, but didn’t push the issue.

They returned to the Metro station, which was only slightly less crowded than before; but now that he was armored, Joshua didn’t care.

The train arrived and they boarded. The car filled quickly, as always, but as if to celebrate Joshua’s new invulnerability today they were lucky and managed to score a seat. Emmaline perched herself on Joshua’s knee. You know what I’d like to do tonight? She took his hand. I’d like to try that old Jacuzzi at your neighborhood pool.

Are you serious? Joshua laughed. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone use that thing.

I’ve got birth control, she texted him, just as the train exited the tunnel and the setting Arizona sun made her glow like an angel. Joshua’s jaw dropped in astonishment. They had never had sex with each other, and he had even imagined she was a virgin, as he was. One didn’t talk about such things, and birth control was illegal, though he knew it wasn’t hard to obtain. Still—

Are you serious? He messaged her back. Are you saying what I think you’re saying?

Yes, I am, she said aloud. She turned to look Joshua in the eyes, and he was, once again, struck by her lustrous dark eyes and the shiny blackness of her gently cascading hair as the setting sun struck it. It’s time, she explained, and, even though it might be a sin, even though it might just be an act of mercy on her part after his being attacked, he thanked God that this beautiful woman was in his life.

Chapter 4: A Chip In His Shoulder

They headed in separate directions from the Thunderbird and 91st Avenue station, and Joshua practically ran the three blocks to the bunk he rented. A century earlier, this spot had been nothing but bare desert, a barren stretch of cactus and sage. Then the housing boom hit, and the area had given over to luxury three and four bedroom homes. After the collapse of the Gulf Stream and the sudden resulting glaciation, the forced dislocation of millions of surviving Northerners to the South had resulted in private homes being divided up into multiple apartments. So Joshua shared a bedroom with three other single men.

Only marriage would entitle his wife and himself to the luxury of a room of their own.

Still, that was no reason to rush into marriage and Joshua hadn’t. His culture encouraged late marriages, a reaction to the dense population. But he and Emmaline spent every chance together they could, especially as summer arrived and, with it, the melting of the snow and the warming of the days. Now it was almost warm enough to use the ancient neighborhood Jacuzzi and Emmaline had decided this would be the night. It was a combination of lust and love that gave his feet wings.

The front door opened for him, having sensed the proximity of his embedded identity Chip. Though he was used to the sight beyond the door, he froze momentarily at the number of accommodations in the front room. How little he knew of his housemates! Could one of them be a psychotic killer?

Don’t be paranoid, he scolded himself, and forced himself to enter.

This, which had once been a single family’s living room, now held fifteen self-contained bunks, two high on the South side of the room, three high on the North side where the slanted ceiling rose to twelve feet. Several of the bunks were occupied, but in accordance with custom Joshua did not acknowledge the people within. One’s bunk was sacred space. If anyone wanted to tell him something, he or she would send him a text.

The next room contained a dining area, with a table and twelve chairs. Though occasionally someone would prepare a gourmet meal and share it with whomever was home at the time, this area was seldom used; most people warmed food in their bunk microwaves and ate while reclining.

Joshua knew the whole world was not so crowded as Phoenix. A lot of building had been done in the area between Tucson and Nogales, where many people actually had an entire house to themselves. But Joshua didn’t usually think of his house as being crowded. It was just that today, his shocking experience on the Metro left him with this residual sensation of being smothered.

The population density was part of what gave Phoenix its energy, what made it such an exciting, vibrant place. The residents of the house all made good livings and got along well—most time was spent in one’s bunk, anyway; so there wasn’t much opportunity for friction. Nevertheless, Joshua now found himself looking forward to the day when he and Emmaline might be permitted to occupy an entire room to themselves.

Joshua stepped into his bunkroom and nearly walked into a nude Dave Beckman. Beckman was the only one of his housemates that Joshua thought of as a friend, even though he had to tolerate Beckman’s claim that dressing in his bunk was too awkward and he didn’t care whether anyone saw him naked or not. Beckman was an exoanthropologist, which meant he felt free to take measured liberties with culture just as Joshua sometimes took them with language.

Beckman was tall, about six-foot-three, and ruggedly handsome in a bearded sort of way. He was Joshua’s best friend, but he had a habit of seeing too easily into Joshua’s soul. "Shit, what happened to you? Beckman said by way of greeting. You look like you fell down an elevator shaft. Just ahead of the elevator."

Joshua sighed. There was no point in pretending nothing had happened; besides, Beckman would just check with Emmaline if he suspected Joshua had been less than upfront with him. I got poked on the way to work this morning, Joshua confessed.

At least Beckman was appropriately horrified. His mouth opened and he impulsively reached toward Joshua, catching himself just before there was actually any touch. Bucko, he said. That sucks.

Joshua nodded.

But at least you weren’t killed, Beckman continued, brightening. So, that’s good, right? And you should be okay for the celebration on M’nar Friday.

"Yes, I’m fine. Just a little jumpy. But I got this." Joshua pulled down his collar so his friend could see the top of the new body armor.

Joshua pressed the button that released the hatch of his bunk; there was a whoosh as the conditioned air within rushed out. Are they letting you go to the celebration? he asked.

Of course, Beckman replied. For this, they’re going to want as many employees as they can fit through the Tunnel.

But you used to work there, right? On M’nar, I mean. So I guess it won’t be a holiday for you.

It’s no fun at all, Beckman said as he slipped on a pair of jeans. I won’t have a chance to meet up with any of the natives I met. The outback is really cool and the M’nar are awesome, but all we’ll be able to see is the one city.

I got the impression from Constance that we’d have a chance to sight-see.

Well, I haven’t been to M’nar in three years, Beckman said, but from what I hear the freedom fighters will be out in force.

Freedom fighters? Joshua repeated, surprised. What freedom fighters?

"The news streams call them insurgents," Beckman clarified.

"Oh, them, Joshua snorted derisively. Everyone knew about the insurgents. On every world, there were always a few die-hard hold-outs who resisted joining UniCorp, in spite of the clear and many advantages to doing so. Freedom fighters. What freedom do they think they’re fighting for?"

Beckman pulled a T-shirt over his broad shoulders. Not everyone wants to plug into the Web, he shrugged when his head emerged. Not everyone wants to have a Chip implanted into their…whatevers.

That’s nonsense, Joshua said, shaking his head as he began the climb into his bunk. "No one has to have a Chip."

Really? Beckman was smiling again, but his brow was furrowed. And how would you have gotten into the house today without yours? He poked his feet into a pair of self-fastening shoes and saluted cheerily. Later, bucko.

Chapter 5: Watched Over

The longer Joshua waited for Emmaline's arrival, the more vicious the butterflies in his stomach became. To pass the time, he shaved and applied all the makeup, deodorants, and pheromone colognes that were considered essential before leaving one’s bunk. His stomach roiled when she finally sent a text message that she was standing at the gate to his neighborhood. He hit his head in his rush to leave his bunk, took a deep breath, and tried to recover his cool. Emmaline wanted to make love to a man, not a dubya.

Joshua felt almost naked, especially without the body armor, despite the heavy coat over his bathing suit. Once the sun set, the temperature plummeted rapidly. The mountains around Phoenix wrung the moisture from the air moving over them, and the glaciers had pulled a great deal of water from both sea and air to begin with. So, in spite of the climate changes of the last century, Phoenix was still a desert; and the dry air did not retain heat. While it might reach sixty degrees during a June day, it wasn’t unusual for the temperature to plummet to twenty degrees or less at night.

His face felt the peculiar tingle that he knew meant a below-freezing temperature; and the readout in his Visor agreed: 29˚F. Clouds billowed from his mouth and nose as he exhaled.

The gate slid open when he approached, and a dark figure walked in silence from the main street. Don’t say anything, she messaged him. Let’s not attract attention.

So they strolled quietly the single block to the pool enclosure. Emmaline’s head nodded in time to music Joshua couldn’t hear. What are you listening to? he messaged.

Rodgers & Hart, she replied, and sent him a link. He followed it, and the strains of a ballad from the previous century came through his earphones, while the lyrics displayed themselves in front of him:

It seems we stood and talked like this, before.

We looked at each other in the same way then,

But I can’t remember where or when.

The music was romantic and Joshua was eager to share as much of this experience with Emmaline as possible. With all recorded entertainment available for instant download from the web, each person was free to enjoy whatever genres appealed to them. Emmaline preferred musicals from the 1930s; Dave Beckman watched science fiction and survival flicks, and, as far as he knew, his boss Constance just watched videos of herself. Joshua preferred to read books, from science fiction to English drawing-room novels. Learning what another person liked was part of getting to know them. So he let the music play on.

There was not another person in sight; and, while there were undoubtedly security cams about, no one would inspect their feeds unless some sort of problem arose.

The gate to the pool enclosure clicked open on his approach, which brought to mind Beckman’s odd statement that he wouldn’t have been able to enter his own house without a Chip. Of course he wouldn’t! That was the point. No stranger could enter one’s house without being invited in. The pool would only allow members of the community, adult members at that, for the protection of all.

As Joshua had expected, there was no one else at the enclosure. Emmaline picked up an elongated stone from the rock garden and balanced it carefully on the top of the gate.

Steam hung over both the pool and the Jacuzzi, eerily lit by the underwater floodlights. Joshua and Emmaline removed their coats and piled them on a picnic table. The frigid air immediately raised goose bumps. Joshua stepped to the Jacuzzi and dipped his foot into the steaming water. The jets automatically came on. He stepped down until the bubbles came to his thighs, then held his hand out to Emmaline. To his surprise, he could barely see her. The steam made an effective screen. He suddenly realized why his fiancée had suggested this: The clouds would render them invisible to the security cams. It would be known that they had come to the Jacuzzi, but not what they did while there. Joshua wasn’t sure whether the fluttering in his stomach came from excitement or guilt.

Everything suddenly disappeared. Joshua clawed at his Visor, removing it, and feeling almost as naked as he would without his bathing suit. But with its steamed-up surface no longer blocking his vision, he found himself looking directly and completely at Emmaline, seeing her for the first time without her Visor. He caught his breath.

She was so beautiful it was almost painful for him to contemplate.

Her black hair hung in ringlets that relaxed with exposure to the steam as he watched; her dark eyes were luminous, her red lips full and slightly parted. Joshua knew she was seeing just his ordinary self and hoped she wouldn’t call the whole thing off at the sight of him. He worked out three times a week and restricted himself to a healthy diet of all-enhanced nutrients; so, though like everyone else he was tired most of the time and hungry all of the time, it kept him looking lean and muscular and, he hoped, exciting to her.

Emmaline suddenly immersed herself completely, and Joshua took a deep breath and followed. The sensation of hot water on his face was almost overwhelming. He opened his eyes and saw Emmaline’s face immediately in front of him, lunging at him. Before he could steel himself, her lips were upon his and, to his amazement, her tongue pushed into his mouth. He was so taken by surprise that he nearly gagged, and exploded out of the Jacuzzi and into the steamy air above it.

She, too, burst from the surface, laughing. You should’ve seen yourself! she howled. You looked so funny!

Joshua was too embarrassed to admit he’d been shaken. He’d heard of French kisses but had never participated in one. In fact, he’d never done a lot of things, including what Emmaline had planned for tonight.

He smiled back at her, trying to look like a man of the world. I’ve never been under hot water, before, he explained. But maybe I can make it up to you here in the air. He put his arms around her and pulled her close. She tilted her head back expectantly, and he gently placed his lips against hers, separated them slightly, and slipped his tongue between them.

And then, their kiss stopped being gentle, and took on an unexpected urgency. They tore off their bathing suit tops and then the bottoms, kicking them out of the way without regard for where they might end up. This was something he wanted, had wanted for all the months since he’d met her and for years before that, and although they were not yet married, he no longer cared.

Yet, as Joshua lost his virginity in the midst of sensations that beat anything he’d ever before experienced, he found a corner of his mind praying to God for forgiveness. And afterward, it was with a mixture of guilt and awe that Joshua held Emmaline against him, steam rising around them, shielding them from the outside world.

A sudden clatter from beyond made Joshua jump. It took him a moment to realize that Emmaline’s carefully-placed rock had fallen, but Emmaline seemed to have expected the interruption. In less than two seconds she had slipped on her swim suit top and handed Joshua his. He was still pulling it on when two uniformed figures loomed through the mist.

Are you all right? one of the figures asked, his uniform resolving into that of UniCorp Security.

Yes, of course, Emmaline answered primly. Joshua prayed they wouldn’t be asked to leave the pool; his bathing suit bottom was somewhere beneath the screen of roiling bubbles. He tried to find it with his toes.

You’ve removed your Visors, the guard pointed out.

That isn’t against company policy, Joshua’s fiancée challenged.

No, it’s not, the guard frowned.

They steamed up, Joshua said as his toes touched fabric. He couldn’t figure how to put his shorts on, without being obvious. While pre-marital sex wasn’t exactly against company policy, it was against every religion and persons who were known to engage in it could find themselves overlooked for promotion for years afterward.

The locator in your Chips noted that you were in a swimming pool but hadn’t changed location in over fifteen minutes. That’s why we were notified. He paused and looked at his partner. Not many people go for a soak this late at night, he added.

This is a Jacuzzi, Emmaline pointed out. "There isn’t a lot of room to move."

Well, as long as you’re all right, we’ll be on our way, the first guard announced. But we’ll be in the neighborhood, should there be any problem. The two men retreated beyond the veil of steam and Joshua heard the gate open, then click shut. He heaved a sigh of relief and found himself shivering in spite of the heat of the water.

Joshua massaged the muscle between his neck and right shoulder, where his Chip had been implanted when he was a baby. It was bad enough that God watched everything you did, but God didn’t make entries in one’s personnel file. The Chip was supposed to make him feel secure, but just now it was somehow not that comforting to know UniCorp was watching over them so very closely.

Chapter 6: Irreplaceable

The next morning, standing at the kitchen table trying to eat his Honey-Sweetened Eggs, Joshua found he couldn’t stop smiling. He even smiled and nodded at housemates whose names he couldn’t remember. And so, it was probably not startling that Beckman took one look at him and figured it all out.

Holy shit, bucko! he declared. You got laid!

Joshua reddened and frowned fiercely. Hush! he hissed. What kind of trouble do you want me to get in? I feel guilty enough already.

Beckman’s eyebrows arched. Yes, I see you are wracked with remorse. I apologize for being so insensitive. Then he snorted. You’re blushing. Oh, my God! You were a virgin, weren’t you?

Beckman!

Oh, I’m sorry. I was being insensitive again, wasn’t I?

Just drop it. It’s none of your business, anyway.

The wedding is still on, isn’t it? Beckman dropped his tone. "It was with Emmaline, wasn’t it?"

You’re very close to being decked, Joshua warned him.

By who? Beckman asked curiously. "By you? Nizhóní! I’d like to see that."

"Look, Beckman. Just because you’ve got no morals or good sense doesn’t mean I want my issues bandied about in public by you. At least have the decency to text message me instead of ruining my reputation out loud and in public."

Beckman looked at him in amazement. You think text messaging is more private than a voice conversation in a room? He sighed heavily. You have to be the most naïve person in the galaxy.

Trying to change the subject, Joshua noted Beckman’s attire. A Security uniform, Joshua remarked. Not office clothes. Are you going to a costume party?

Off-planet, Beckman said. Sirius B.

I don’t know that one, Joshua confessed, shaking his head. I mean, I know about Sirius, but I didn’t know it had a Planet B.

Beckman shook his head. Amazing, he said, as if to himself. UniCorp has Ramos Tunnels opened to a hundred worlds, but most people have no idea where they are or what they’re about.

I can look them up if I need to, Joshua pointed out, and began to do so.

Sirius B is a brown dwarf star orbiting Sirius A, the bright star you can see even through the light pollution at night. It has one planet, unique because it gets more of its heat and light from Sirius A than from its own sun.

Planet called Nommo, Joshua read from his Visor display. Tunnel opened just two years ago, one small settlement. Is that where you’re working now?

God, no. This is just a shit job, I’m filling in for Chrissie Rumsfeld while she’s on her honeymoon.

His breakfast finished, Joshua grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair where he’d placed it and put it on. I don’t understand you, Beckman, he said. You constantly bad mouth the corporation, you visit all kinds of seditious Web sites, you’re openly irreligious, and yet UniCorp doesn’t fire you. If I didn’t find the thought terrifying, I’d suspect you were sleeping with the boss.

Constance? Beckman’s eyes widened in horror. Please, I just ate!

But, if not that, what? Joshua asked, pleased that he’d gotten the topic off him and Emmaline, and even turned the tables on his roommate.

There’s something to be said, Beckman drawled, patting Joshua on the shoulder, for being irreplaceably good at one’s job.

Chapter 7: Difficult to Access

His body armor safely hidden beneath his business clothes, Joshua met Emmaline outside the station and they went in together. The morning crowd was tightly packed but, feeling indestructible in the armor, Joshua pushed through aggressively until he and Emmaline were positioned in front of where the train’s doors would be when it stopped.

will u take me for a ride 2nite? Emmaline text messaged.

anywhere, he responded. where do u want 2 go?

glacier, was the terse reply.

The glacier? Joshua wondered why. He cleared his Visor so he could see her face. She seemed pale, but he didn’t question her. ur wish is my cmd, he sent, and promptly reserved a rental car via his favorite bargain rental Web site.

At work Joshua wrestled, via Visor, with the strange sounds and Roman letters that made up the M’nar written language. The M’nar had not bothered writing prior to first contact by UniCorp. That wasn’t a problem; UniCorp liked to Anglicize off-world languages as soon as possible, anyway. But Joshua had to compose a speech that not only made sense to the M’nar; it also had to be something he could pronounce without hurting his throat—and the M’nar’s voices were not at all human; if a cat could talk, Joshua thought, it might sound like