Shaman Machine the Mentor Read online

  Initially, the fabric floated on the surface of the ocean, only half a meter down from the circular edge of the gap. It was a glinting pile of dry ripples. Within seconds, the surface began to bead with moisture. Cady and Solomon (and soon Kris) observed the rapid progress, as the beads became rivulets. Within twenty minutes, the membrane had migrated into position. Having displaced the salty ocean water with newly distilled fresh water; the lining now hugged the concave surface of the frame. Solomon gave Cady a questioning glance.

  “Go for it,” she said.

  Removing his water shoes, Solomon set them neatly beneath a bench. Taking off his clothes, he draped them neatly above his shoes.

  Slipping naked into the pool, he cried out in pleasure. “Ah-h-h. Oh, my god,” he said, “you were right, Cady. This is so-o-o much better than that net we had.”

  Tearing off their own clothes, Cady and Kris were quick to join him. Kneeling on the belly of the bottom, Cady and Kris were swallowed to their chins in purified water that felt light compared to the dense Varunian air.

  “Thanks for ordering this, Cady,” Chris said. “Mm,” he moaned, “I can't believe it came in time.”

  “Yeah, Cady, thanks,” echoed Solomon.

  “I’m glad, too,” she said. Eyes closed, she wore a satisfied smile.

  Indulging only a brief soak, Solomon soon stepped with long legs from the pool. Kris opened his eyes, and watched Solomon tidying the discarded tangle of clothing left behind by he and Cady. He folded two pair of water pants and placed them on the bench, before pulling on his own pants. He put on his shirt then hung two crumpled shirts onto separate hooks on a wall. He slipped his feet into his water shoes; afterward setting the other two pair into a tidy line. When Solomon disappeared up the stairs, Kris let his eyes drift closed again.

  In the interest of gaining nautical miles on their first days back at sea, the three of them had agreed to fish from the deck, instead of using the preferred method with spear guns. From the tangle of equipment on the main deck, Solomon pulled out one of the casting rods. Humming to himself, he examined the rod. It didn't appear to have sustained any damage since the last use. Humming to himself, he strolled to the back of the boat with the rod lightly balanced on the finger tips of one hand. Arriving to the stern, he stopped humming long enough to carefully lean the rod beside the bracket already attached to the handrail. He resumed humming as he loosened the bracket fittings. After fitting the rod in place, he made some test casts. He headed to the kitchen for bait.

  Solomon fished off the stern while Kris and Cady stayed in the plunge, enjoying the languor of their first day back on the open water. Eyes closed, Cady listened to the rhythm of the waves. In the sunken patio, they were protected from the early morning breeze, and the overcast sun had not yet reached them. Kris stirred, causing the water in the pool to dip down a few inches and then rise up again. Cady opened her eyes into lazy slits of vision to see that Kris was now floating on his back. His body was the same pale gold color as the fuzz of hair on his head, and at his groin.

  Kris resumed the discussion. “Cady, we're really not going to find the dolphins at the Ridge. I mean, come on, that's where everybody goes. We spent four months there on the last trip.”

  “Exactly. Only four months.” her voice affirmed from the edge of the pool. “The rest of the time we spent changing our minds, and changing directions,” she maintained. Watching Kris drift, Cady’s eyes settled into a soft focus. She continued, “Every single one of the dolphin sightings have been along the Ridge.”

  “But not a single one since we arrived to the planet. The Ridge is where everyone goes to fish. The Ridge is getting crowded, Cady.”

  Cady ducked her head underwater then slipped up into a floating position alongside Kris. “I'd hardly call it crowded at the Ridge,” she said. Smirking, she pointed out, “The Ridge is thousands of kilometers long.”

  Floating alongside his uniform coloring, her white skin and dark hair presented a stark contrast. The water slapped in the thin gap between them. Their two bodies bumping, they drifted for a while with no more words.

  After a while, Cady opened her hazel eyes onto the sky. There were no birds on Varun. Being a researcher who focused on the watery realms, she had not noticed this particular deficit at first. Cady and her mates had been at sea for almost three months when she was struck with the realization that the sky was empty of life. No birds and no insects. Cady was not aware of any native air breathing creatures on Varun, except possibly the dolphins. Earth dolphins had been air breathers. They could remain under water for no more than fifteen minutes at a time, before threat of drowning compelled them to the surface for another lungful of air.

  Kris bent his knees, causing himself to sink from his floating position. Kneeling in the pool beside Cady, he unleashed another round of conviction. “Cady, I agree that we should choose a direction and commit to it. That's why I think we should agree to go to the Aleutians now, rather than six months from now! The Ridge is just too damn close to Kamarong. It’s only going to get more crowded. Cady, you're an anthropologist! You of all people know dolphins live near the surface.” His next five words he spoke singly, in emphasis. “They. Are. Affected. By. Congestion. If we haven't already chased them off, we will!”

  Dropping, also, to her knees, Cady assumed a reciprocating pose to his. Facing Kris with only centimeters separating them, she delivered a vigorous response. “It will take us almost a year just to get there!”

  “Exactly! Come on, Cady! Kamarong is a dot on the planet! Let's cut the damn umbilical and leave all those drifters behind!”

  Eyes wide open and bodies tensed, they stared intensively. Cady dropped her eyes; and her chin quickly followed, landing near her chest. Nearly inaudible, she breathed out, “You're right.”

  “What? I’m what?” Kris asked.

  Talking to her breasts, Cady repeated herself, “You’re right.”

  Kris blinked. Confused, he asked, “I'm right? I'm right about what?”

  Chin still tucked and eyes closed, Cady quietly confessed her concession, “Kamarong is a dot. It should hold no bearing on our decisions, but it has. On mine it has. You're right.” Bringing her face back up, she looked straight at Kris with her hazel eyes. Her voice modest, she confirmed, “Let's go for it. Let’s go to the Aleutians.”

  Water flew and a wave slapped the deck when Kris catapulted to his feet. His golden brown eyes were twin flames of joy. “For real!?” he roared.

  CHAPTER 15

  Skin tingling, Joud donned the robe and slippers before exiting the booth. His personal care-bot was waiting just outside the portal.

  “Nice to see you, Joud,” the bot said, “Please, come this way.”

  Joud followed it to a small station, nestled amongst walls holding a thick planting of succulents. The bot indicated a chair via a supple flow of its long fingers. Smiling into the mirror, the bot asked, “What will it be today?”

  “A trim, and--” Joud stopped to blush, “and some highlights on my face, Allor-bot.”

  “You must have a pretty important date,” Allor-bot responded. When Joud's face turned a deeper shade of crimson, the bot teased, “I'll start with the hair. I’d find it difficult to compete with your blush.”

  While Allor examined Joud's hair, the chair rotated and tilted in fluid response to the bot movements, as if the two machines were dancing. This was one of the reasons Joud always chose Allor-bot from among the many stylists in the salon. All of the personal care-bots were linked to their equipment; but in Joud’s estimation, Allor was an artist of the highest order, delivering every action as creative sympathy. Caressing with every gesture, the bot delicately touching Joud's oversized head. Closing his eyes, Joud surrendered to the pampering.

  Joud and Carla stood among the half dozen other riders. The handrail, tinted the same stark blue color as the daytime sky, was illusive, seemed almost not to exist inside the clear glass booth. When the matching blue floor began to lift them, the whit
e knuckled hands of the others appeared to carry the handrail. Joud had already decided they were tourists. In a show of scornful disdain, Joud and Carla conspicuously ignored the handrail, confidently observing as the ground fell away. No one spoke. When the elevator coasted to a stop, a rumble of expectant mumbles concluded the erstwhile silence. Unlike the crystal clear booth, the doors were amber and etched with haphazard not-quite-vertical stripes. When they purred open, they revealed a three meters wide glass corridor as as clear and invisible as the elevator walls.

  “Are you kidding me?” one of the tourists objected.

  Someone else giggled.

  “After you. No after you,” they joked.

  Joud led Carla past the nervous newbies, flagrantly flaunting his ken with an overtly confident stride. Advancing in silence, Joud and Carla did not stop until the others were reduced to silhouettes; their presence no longer appreciable.

  Joud's voice brushed softly against the quietude. “This looks good,” he said, noting the aspect of the dropping sun. They sat down cross-legged on the floor, facing the view but also angled toward each other. Looking squarely at Carla, Joud announced, “I went to the Service Center today.” Eyes fleeing, he instead told the view, “I spoke to a counselor.” Glancing back her way, his fingers played on the subtle texture imprinted to the floor.

  Scraping her eyes from his fingers to his face, Carla said, “Did you ask about Varun?”

  “I did.”

  She waited. When he didn't say more, she asked, “So, after talking to the counselor, are you still considering it?”

  “The logistics are a little more complicated than filling out service preference forms.”

  “Complicated how?” she asked.

  He explained the complication. “They require a minimum of three crew members to pilot any water vessel. Even if Ziggy is serious about giving me his bot, well…I'd still need a third crew member.”

  Joud and Carla were washed bronze. They turned to witness the display. The bottom of the sun broke open against the mountain top; the newly misshapen sphere trembling to bloody red. The ruptured sphere smeared dabs of blush on chosen contours of the land. As the sun finished melting into the peak, the sky flushed peach, then lavender, then gold. The world collapsed to steely blue.

  “I’m feeling really selfish,” Carla announced. “I want to do this project; and now I want you to go too. There must be some way to make all of it happen.”

  CHAPTER 16

  Near the stern, Kris sat on the edge of the deck, straddling one of the poles of the railing. His feet, slung overboard, swung happy arcs through the breeze. Above him Solomon leaned with his forearms draped over the same handrail. Overhead, the evening sky revealed a scatter of stars peeking past the high lace of clouds. One of the boiling cloud rivers was growing increasingly wide and turbulent. Squirming through the sky like a fat black boa, it menaced with approach.

  High above the clouds a pale moon partially shone through, highlighting the ledge of Solomon's jaw.

  “So,” Kris said, “you're definitely game for heading directly to the Aleutians?”

  Solomon chuckled softly. Looking at the water not the sky, he replied, “I find the whole dolphin thing to be a rather, mm…odd fixation, Kris. Truthfully, I'm not attached to any destination in particular.” Shifting his eyes to Kris, he added, “I was pulled onto this journey by my two loves.”

  Feigning ignorance, Kris probed. “Oh, huh…. Remind me again,” he said. “Which two loves are you talking about?”

  “Well, I love a good adventure. This is, without a doubt, a worthy adventure.”

  The wind was picking up and chopping at the waves, signaling the storm’s imminent approach. Kris waited for Solomon to finish answering. With no more words forthcoming, he looked up and saw Solomon examining the sky boa.

  “And the second thing?” Kris pressed.

  Solomon turned to look at Kris, his black eyes gleaming from his oval face. Cropped curls riffled on the top of his dark head. “Sorry. What?” his dark lips asked, “Second thing. What second thing?”

  “You said you were here because of your two loves. Number one is adventure. What's number two?”

  “Did I say there were two?” Solomon hedged.

  Kris reached over and yanked a hair on Solomon's calf.

  Solomon yelped his response, “You!” And then laughing quietly, he confirmed, “I love you, you maniac.”

  Cady called out a greeting as she strode from the cabin to the deck. She’d been tracking the approaching storm, and concluded it was on target to strike sometime within the next half hour. “Category One on the way,” she informed.

  “Excellent,” said Solomon. “Nothing like a wild ride on the waters.”

  “Do we need to drain the plunge, Cady?” Kris asked.

  “Yes,” she confirmed, “drain the pool, dismount the rods, and engage the lift.”

  Solomon said, “I'll do the rods.”

  “Got the pool,” said Kris.

  “Okay, Kris, let me know when you guys are ready. I want to engage the lift, the absolute moment everything's secured,” she said, already heading back to the cabin.

  Keeping an eye on the rapid approach of the side winding storm, Solomon removed the casting rods from their mounts. The stars were now hidden. The air was less warm. By the time Kris completed his task and checked in with Solomon, the rain was beginning. Though still sparsely spaced, the droplets arrived at hard hitting diagonals. Kris retreated to the cabin ahead of Solomon, to inform Cady in person that all was ready. Solomon lingered outside to assure himself the equipment lashed to the deck would not shift during the lift. Solomon heard the hum of the intake motors. Striding along the perimeter deck, he felt a deep thrumming rise up through his feet. Tunelessly, he hummed along. When he came to the bow, he gripped the rail with a firm hand. Holding steady, he watched the ocean seem to drop away as the body of the boat smoothly rose up.

  By the time Solomon had completed his circuit and returned to the stern, the deck was safely held aloft and moving smoothly, high above the increasingly tempestuous waves. And though the waves could not disturb the high flying body of the boat, the wind whipped across the deck, that much stronger. Squinting through the rain, Solomon bent low as the gale attempted to snatch him from his feet. Reaching the cabin with effort, he had to grapple with the portal as the pressure of the wind fought to keep it closed. His victory slim, Solomon wrestled it open. When he managed to slip through, it slammed shut of its own accord. Wiping water from his face, he headed to the pilot room.

  PART TWO

  “No one saves us but ourselves. No one can and no one may. We ourselves must walk the path.” ~Buddha

  CHAPTER 17

  At loose ends, Alex stalked the perimeter of his tiny apartment on the campus of the Universidad de San Carlos de Lacandonia. After completing several circuits of the room, he stopped at the only window. Glaring at the manicured garden, Alex drummed his fingers on the sill.

  “Ah to hell with it,” he said to himself. Strumming his device, he placed a call. Remembering Danel was off-planet; he cursed and slapped an end to the request. Frowning his frustration at the garden, he considered who to call instead. Maybe…Tazo. Alex placed the call.

  Tazo: “Well, well, well, to what do I owe this auspicious communiqué?”

  “They call it a jungle; but it’s really just a theme park,” Alex grumbled.

  Tazo: “And here I thought you must be enjoying your poet gig. I haven’t heard so much as a peep from you since you started.”

  “Actually the poet thing has been great,” Alex allowed. He sighed. “And now there’s talk of a professorship opening up in the Anthropology Department.” But Alex sounded tired instead of happy.

  Tazo: “So the poet residency is ending soon?”

  “Yes.”

  Tazo: “Do you have a good chance at the professorship?”

  “Apparently. They say, it would be tenure track. I could settle in and stay,” Alex
informed.

  Tazo: “You sound completely depressed about it—Oh, hey! I just had a thought. How old are you, Alex?”

  There was a pause when Alex didn’t immediately reply. Finally he conceded, “I turned 49 a few months ago.”

  Tazo: “You turned 49. So, what does that mean to you?”

  Alex expelled a cynical laugh. “Maybe it’s time to change some patterns,” Alex said, “I’ve been traveling from province to province every year for all of my adult life. Maybe it’s time to grow up.”

  Tazo: “‘Time to grow up.’ Hmm, sounds like one of those implant thoughts. So, you’re attempting to please the voices in your head. So, tell me this, Alex: what do you really want?”

  “What do I really want,” Alex murmured. “What do I want?” He choked out another laugh. “I’ll tell you what I don’t want.”

  Tazo: “Okay. What don’t you want?”

  “I don’t want to be like this stupid fake jungle sitting outside my window! I don’t want to be a sanitized version of myself. I know what I want! I’ll tell you what I want. I want to be where the action is,” he said laughing. “I guess, I’m incorrigible!” he crowed.

  Tazo: “You are the action, Alex. You don’t have to go anywhere else to find it. You’re a free spirit, my friend. And in case I need to say it: a free spirit is a gift to us all.”

  Not a single star shone through the dense jungle canopy. Creatures of the night slithered, skittered and chanted somewhere beyond the soft glow leaking free of the circular room, where nine devotees waited for the evening ceremony to commence. At the very center of the room, the shaman sat with head bowed. Robed in vertical stripes of black and white, and a skullcap instead of hair; she appeared to be praying but made no sound.