MANY WORLDS
So many worlds, so much to do, so little done, such things to be.
— Alfred Lord Tennyson, In Memoriam
— Alfred Lord Tennyson, In Memoriam
1. Guardian Angel
The streets were deserted. They always were. But Erynn had never gotten completely used to the stillness and silence of the city. She quickened her pace, and shivered as a sudden gust of cold, dry air wailed through the canyons of concrete and steel. The tower blocks, dark and ugly despite the bright sunshine, loomed over her like brooding giants. Behind their bleak, barren façades, countless sleeping citizens dreamt their latest lives.
She was greeted by the first flesh-and-blood she had seen in… she could hardly remember how long. For the doorkeeper, it was yesterday. He was a small, joyless man whose immaculate suit and impeccable grooming unnerved her. Such preening in the real world was one of the sure signs of the fanatic or the phobic, someone who never left this reality. The overseers must have been getting desperate, to be hiring his kind.
“Welcome back, miss,” he said, with a hint of disapproval in his voice. Yet his eyes lingered hungrily on the contours of her crumpled overalls. They weren’t much to look at, but they were genuine.
“Thanks,” she replied. They never spoke more than a few words. She had not even bothered to learn his name.
Her mission was simple enough. Aberrations like this were rare and easy to fix; but they had to be. Even small program deviations could snowball if left unchecked. Nonlinear amplification was the formal term. The technicians were waiting in the control room, to brief her on the inevitable last-minute updates. They were friendly, but clinically efficient, as they carried out their testing protocols before activating her implants.
There was a flash and a blur. The white sterile walls faded, and she found herself standing in a green meadow. She heard sounds in the distance, getting louder — men’s laughter and the neighing and snorting of horses. She took cover in a patch of long grass. The soft blades tickled, and she realized her skin was bare save for a sliver of gossamer on her loins and a ribbon of fine silk across her chest. A bejewelled collar encircled her throat, golden bands enclosed her wrists and ankles.
A dozen riders passed, close enough that she could smell their steeds. They were returning from a hunt. Twenty or so young women, naked and bound, were trotting beside them, sweating and gasping in an agonized effort to keep up with their mounted captors. They were hitched in a line by the neck and the lead girl was tethered to one of the pack animals.
Erynn lifted her head just enough to glimpse the faces of the prisoners. It took her just seconds to make her assessment. Training, experience and instinct allowed her to quickly distinguish the subtly impassive gaze of the many from the bleak stares and glances of a few. Five of the girls, including the one in front, were unmistakeably sleepers.
Sucking in a deep breath, Erynn stood up and waited quietly for the men to see her.
“Come forward,” one of them barked. Like all of his companions, he was muscular and handsome. Though his clothes were weatherworn, his face was unspoilt. Below the dull grey steel of his helmet, his eyes glittered ice-blue. His beard stubble was dark but peppered with flecks of silver. When she was close enough, he tapped his riding crop on her chin to make her raise her head. He glared at her, squinting and squinching to detect the tell-tale signs of sentience. But she was good at her job.
“Sim,” he said. She sensed disappointment.
“What are you doing out here?” he demanded. “Where are you from?”
“Please, sir,” she replied, lowering her eyes. “I am a poor slavegirl from Shanidar.”
The man chuckled, and slid his crop along her shoulder and over her breasts. “Poor? I think not.” He turned to his comrades and they laughed. “Not with those expensive chains.”
She managed a mechanical blush. That was harder than she expected. She’d not been given much time to adjust to this body.
“I belonged in the harem of the Grand Duke…”
“Yes,” one of the other men interrupted. I have tasted the pleasures of the Grand Duke’s seraglio. I recognize you.”
“Liar,” she said, to herself.
“A runaway, I suspect. I’ve heard of it happening. There will no doubt be a sizable bounty for this beauty.”
“With a bonus to be paid this very night.” The men laughed again.
The first man held out his arm. Erynn grabbed hold, and he lifted her without effort to fling her belly-down across the front of his saddle. The horse’s leather tacks and the man’s leather trappings stank of grease and grime. Without being ordered to, she put her hands behind her back and he joined her bracelets with their tiny lock.
They rode for several hours, until the sun had all but disappeared behind the far-off mountains. They stopped to make camp on the edge of a forest beside a swiftly flowing river. Erynn was dumped on the grass; her body was sore from cramping, bumping and bouncing. The rest of the women, who had been on foot, collapsed with fatigue. They recovered quickly, of course, in time to pitch the tents before darkness fell. After the men had eaten, they entertained themselves with their plunder until the confluence of the two full moons high in the star-blazed sky. Sated by the evening’s delights, the men went to their tents, leaving their captives bound to nearby trees. Strange creatures making strange sounds prowled in the shadows, but the women were safe. In this world, wild beasts never attacked the helpless. Humans alone could defy their program codes.
As soon as the lamps had gone out, Erynn slipped out of her shackles. In the dim glow of the campfire’s crackling embers, she again studied the faces of the five girls she had identified, just to be sure. She freed them from their bonds. They stared at her, astonished.
“Are there any more?” she whispered.
Each in turn looked around and shook her head. The others were awake and watching; but all had been gagged, so even if any tried to alert their masters, the men had made Erynn’s task so much easier. She led the way out of the fading circle of light and into the eerie blackness of the forest. The river was too deep and fast-flowing to cross, so they followed its course upstream until a pink flush on the eastern horizon heralded the coming of dawn. They hid amongst the boulders in an amphitheatre of crumbling basalt. (The crater offered shelter from the bitter highland winds as well as refuge from their pursuers. Erynn wondered if the other women gave it a thought that this extinct volcano had never known eruption.)
They walked for three nights, concealing themselves during daylight. They were exhausted. None had eaten since her capture. Naked, they suffered from the cold and the ravages of the wilderness through which they trekked. Once their path intersected fresh tracks. Only the imprints of hooves showed in the soil. The men had rid themselves of their burden. Erynn had seen flames flickering in the distance the previous night. She guessed it was a funeral pyre. The fate of the women she’d left behind played over and over in her mind. Even after all these years working for the bureau, she still had to remind herself — convince herself — that they would not have felt a thing, neither pain nor fear.
The fugitives reached sanctuary just before sunrise. It was Neryssa’s village. The ramparts appeared new; the place had been fortified since her abduction. A search party circling back from another fruitless expedition gave shouts of joy. A feast was held to celebrate the rescue of a fellow warrior, and Erynn discovered, to her surprise, a new talent as dancing girl. The worldsmiths were thorough in their designs.
After the first good sleep since their escape, the remaining girls were dispatched to their home communities with armed escorts. Erynn accepted once more the thanks of Neryssa’s people. They accompanied her only as far as the crest of a nearby ridge before she bade them farewell. They did not see her disappear. Though some might suspect, they would never know for certain that their world had been visited. The renegade raiders would be dealt with by the overseers.
The technicians were gone when she re-entered.
“Till tomorrow,” the doorman muttered as she passed. She saw him frown. He’d noticed the limp she didn’t have that morning. But the avatar’s aches quickly vanished and she strode briskly through the empty streets to her apartment. It was small and sparsely furnished. If she’d wanted, she could live in the penthouse; she was the building’s only resident since her last neighbour departed a decade ago (or a few months… it didn’t really matter which). But it was not important.
She ate a quick, cold meal, then peeled off her overalls and tossed them into the hamper, on top of the rest. She adjusted the settings on the control panel and plugged herself in. Her husband was waiting for her by the marble fountain.
“Mission accomplished?” he asked.
“Guardian angel now off duty,” she replied. She danced for him across the lawn to show off her new gift. Then she sat beside him, spreading the hem of her dress like a white rosette on the grass. She closed her eyes and sniffed the fragrant air, basked in the mellow breeze, revelled in her children’s laughter, tasted her man’s sweet lips. Everything felt so real.
*