Tamlyn Kirk finished powdering her long, golden brown hair, reached for her
airbrush, and began to comb and vacuum all of the oil absorbing green granules
back out again. The soft purple white glow of the dustbots was visible in the
outskirts of her vision as she worked before her mirror, concentrating on
making herself look absolutely perfect for her meeting later with Raggenil
Alsaite. She bound up her long tresses in a sloppy knot she secured with an
aluminum clip before applying more of the green powder to her lean, soft form,
smoothing it over every curve, across each limb and her face before using a
vacuum pad with a brand new velvet filter to remove the excess that hadn’t fallen to the floor. The dustbots recognized the substance they were encountering and lingered near her so that no microparticle might escape them. Despite the fantastic job they did, along with her apartment’s microfiltration system, the air always seemed dry and strangely soft--almost oily to breathe--but Tamlyn had never known a world without air like that and so took no real notice of it.
She was lean not from exercise--for no one in her time had ever heard of such
a thing, and had they attempted any form of it, they probably would have died in no time--but because of her powdered diet administered as pills and
capsules, and sometimes formed into a near solid gel. Her foods were often
flavorless or intensely flavored, but always sweet to some degree. Salt, to
her, was nothing but a mineral found outdoors or left behind when seawater
evaporated, or so she’d heard once during her daily education breaks.
There was no water anywhere in Tamlyn’s world. Virtually every supply of fresh
water known to man had been used up or irreversably contaminated generations
before, forcing the human race to adapt or die like the rest of the native life on Earth. Seawater still existed, but a reliance on powdered material made it dangerous to use, and it was loaded with mercury and other toxins anyhow, so procuring a mere glass of tepid, purified H2O was extraordinarily costly and difficult to obtain.
As the small, dome-shaped dustbots hovered around her feet, the young woman
applied fragrance powder to her body, then began the job of color sculpting
her face with a small, fine brush and an assortment of rare and expensive
powdered minerals. She was not wealthy by any means, but was indeed better off
credit-wise than the average dweller of her apartment system due to the inheritance she had received from her father just three years before. An
antiques dealer and museum acquisitioner, he’d been in hot demand, since a great deal of antiquities had been left to decompose under a bruise-colored sky in an outside world that stank and rained acid almost constantly. His father had been a dealer too, and his father before, so the wealthy still funded his excursions topside, supplying him with whatever means necessary to acquire things they’d only seen in old movies or read of in books. And while Tamlyn had inherited the title after her father’s passing, she had forgone the practice of escaping topside after acquisitions, slowly selling off a few things her family still kept in storage, mainly heirlooms passed on by members of her very own bloodline, enough to allow her to keep her title and priveleges on paperwork.
Now she moved into the second of the three rooms of her tiny apartment,
deciding what it was she would wear. She sent a conservative, yet romantically colored bright burgundy body suit with high sculpted shoulders and a frilled waistline to the dustcleaner for freshening. A fine white powder followed by a bath of grey colored gel particles, followed by a shower of blue powder cleaned the outfit in the acrylic tube before her. She used the control panel to select a color refresher powder, then finished the cleaning with a powdery cloud of the fragrance she was wearing before removing the garment and sitting
on her airbox bed while she put it on.
Tamlyn’s father, Aric Kirk, had been murdered by Raggenil Alsaite. Ragg was a
slightly wealthier antiques dealer who dealt in cloned animal matter for
culinary use. He’d developed such a fondness for sampling the concoctions he
helped the wealthier ecclectic make, that he was one of the few Obes she’d
ever seen. The Obes were the creme de la creme of credit society, able to
afford luxuries like antique recipes and the occasional shot of purified
seawater for special occasions and treats. Because Ragg looked like an Obe and dealt with the Obes, he wished to actually become an Obe, so had offered Aric Kirk a considerable fortune in credits if he would just sell him all of the antiques he had which required water for use. Such items were nearly
priceless, as only the wealthiest of the wealthy could afford to use such
objects for display. He offered credits plus information on how to acquire
cloned animal meats if only Kirk would give up the few water-using pieces he
owned.
Kirk refused steadfastly, willing his daughter, his sole heir and kin to take
over his title and rare pieces some day, so that she might never be forced to work in the powder plants which were a necessary evil. They manufactured
builder’s stone and glazed builder’s stone and glass insulation, they
fashioned particulate metals and glass fabrics, fabricstone and powder filters, they made the powders which were used as lubricants, as makeups, as
hygiene products, as prosthetics. They manufactured medicines and foods, and
the plants manufactured death as well, for despite all of the filters and
vacuums and advances in powders technology, the human race paid for their folly with drastically shortened lifespans, and Kirk had hoped his daughter could avoid the fate of the powder workers and live long enough to produce and raise another Kirk heir someday. Naturally conceived children were a rarity which brought greater credit status and priveleges to the beleaguered masses. Most such offspring died early on, but Tamlyn had lost her mother in exchange for her life long ago. Heirs were more important than mates. Offspring could be taught old ways and encouraged to develop new ideas while elders simply deteriorated and took up valuable resources as they aged. The limited wealth of the world could not be wasted on hordes of degrading humans. Governments were hard pressed to come up with new solutions just to keep the entire race alive.
Raggenil had not inherited his title of Dealer--he had purchased it, sometimes
after the deaths of his rivals. Tamlyn had access to dealer records because of
her profession and had done some digging into Ragg’s past after her father’s accidental death. It seemed odd that so many dealers had perished in untimely circumstances after refusing or sometimes after just meeting Dealer Alsaite. In every case, the suspect dealer had accrued better credit and greater privileges, though was not yet wealthy enough to enjoy her own exalted status as a natural heir and bloodline Dealer. Because dealers were so rare, and natural offspring even rarer, there had never been anyone legally empowered to stand in Ragg’s way of a title purchase after death. He was, of course, one of the first to be offered the acquisition of a dealership since he was a dealer himself, and it was plain he sought to monopolize the industry in Tamlyn’s apartment system at least, making himself one of the highest credited Obes in the entire subcity structure.
“You have ten minutes until your next appointment,” her autobuttle announced
in its gentle, clear, androgynous voice.
Tamlyn unclipped her hair and gave it one last brushing before entering her
visiting room and checking on the strange device she’d had brought up from
storage.
The buttle chimed softly when Ragg neared the outer doors of her apartment.
She admitted him remotely and heard the guestvac activate, removing any excess
powders he may have accumulated on his journey six hundred and thirty floors
down from his own apartment in sector N12. By the time the vac had finished
and the inner doors were parting, she was ready to greet him with false warmth
and begin their negotiations.
“I brought you this,” he said, handing her a smoked cube as a gift, “for your
Legality Day.”
“Yes, my Legality Day,” she repeated a little distantly, wondering what object
might be concealed in the box to kill her. The lid slid off and within was a
dome, similar in shape to the dustbots, but clear with a tiny scene inside and
no electronics. “Hmm,” she said, with no idea what he had handed her. “It’s
pretty.”
“It’s a snowglobe,” he told her, then took it from her and shook it violently,
causing her to step back in fear. Minute debris drifted around the small
plastic figures within.
“Looks like a world too full of powder.”
“No. It’s festive and decorative. A water-based luxury. Antique.”
“This is water?” she asked, almost breathless as she snatched the item back
from him.
“No. A liquid silicate. Be careful with it! If you broke it, your dustbots
would short trying to clean it.”
Nodding thoughtfully, she set the odd item on her visitor room display and
stared at it, miles away, nervous about the crime she was about to commit.
Ragg extended a thick arm toward her. “I’m sorry your father couldn’t be here to see you now as an official, legal dealer,” he said, almost sounding like he meant it. She glared at his amazingly broad fingers and pudgy hand, waiting for her to clasp them as a symbol of trust and understanding. It seemed he’d become even more swollen since the last time she’d seen him, right after her father’s death. Despite her status as a Dealer, Tamlyn had never dealt with an Obe herself before. Her father used to try and explain to her how fat and soft they were from luxury, but she’d never quite understood what he’d meant. The Dealer laughed gently, ending it with a slight, phlegmy cough. “Take my hand. It doesn’t hurt me. See how warm and soft I am? You could be that way, too, if you partook of the antique recipes I know you could afford instead of trying to choke down a handful of pills every once in a while.”
She ignored the disturbing mass of flesh and fingers, turning toward the panel which concealed her bargaining item. “The pills are manufactured to be of the highest quality, precise measurements, all of the essential nutritive-”
“A rack of ribs would do you good,” he said cryptically, and Tamlyn hugged
herself as though she was afraid he might try and take a few of her own.
“How do you know what you sell isn’t what’s left over after the organ banks
get through?”
The portly man found her question intriguing. “You think the Obes are
cannibals?”
“I don’t see how you can manufacture meats without water.”
He nodded to himself as she approached her autobuttle and entered the commands
that would let the partition rise. “What have you brought me, little girl?”
She whirled to face him, angry that he’d called her that, especially on this, her Legality Day. As of twelve-oh-one that morning, she had gained complete control over her father’s business, no longer forced to make every business move with the help of a government guide. Tamlyn licked her gel-coated lips and cleared her throat of the tickle of some powder residue she might have breathed in earlier. “I’ve brought you the best, Dealer Alsaite. The most luxuriant item I have and can offer you...if you will just leave my family's dealership alone.”
The fat man snorted, then coughed into a fabric square he pulled hastily from
a shoulder pocket. “What is it you have here, little girl? An aquarium? Dealer
Essenblaum tried to offer me one of those before he...I overtook his little
business.”
“Aqua means water. What is an aqua-room?”
“A box of water that holds fish alive.”
“Fish?” she asked as the partition rose and folded back to become a part of the room’s ceiling.
“Exactly. What good is it without the fish inside? And...my word! Is this what
I think it is?”
She found herself flushing beneath the powdered face color she wore.
Before the two occupants of the room stood a strange and very rare sight. It
was perhaps two meters long and half again as wide, with three steeply sloped
sides and a more gently sloped one in the rear. The object was stripped to an
original cold dark grey so the new owner could get it powder coated in
whatever color he or she desired. There were two small old-fashioned knobs on
either side of a larger one near the top of the steepest end and a hole
beneath them facing the floor. Four strangely shaped small pedestals kept the device a good dozen centimeters or so off of her slightly textured flooring.
“It’s a bathtub!” exclaimed Raggenil, using his fabric to mop at his brow. “A
genuine bathtub...a foot-tub from nearly four hundred years ago. You see the feet it stands on? They’re made to resemble the feet of an animal from long, long ago.”
“There was an animal that looked like this?” she asked doubtfully.
The man’s eyes practically glowed with desire and dreams of his immediate
future. “What else have you to offer me?”
“Well, that’s it,” Tam replied in irritation.
“No credits? A share in your title?”
She shook her head uncertainly.
“The rest of your holdings in storage?”
“You mean, the whole business? I thought you would take my best piece in lieu of all that! We’re the last two dealers in this apartment system! Why do you think you have to have it all?”
Ragg stepped nearer the tub to look it over and mentioned, “Do you know how
old I am, my dear Tamlyn?”
She was eighteen years that day. Because of his strangely shaped proportions, she thought he looked a lot younger than he probably actually was, almost childlike with a very round face and no veins visible through the backs of his grossly swollen hands. She shrugged, unwilling to guess.
“The Obes have access to medicines which help prolong the lifespan. I have no natural heir, but with your business added to mine I could afford to have one
created artificially and live long enough to teach him all of my ways.”
That sounded unpleasant. Tam gestured toward her gift. “Why not try it? Make
sure it is what I say it is and not some cruel trick.”
He laughed, coughing at the end. “Do you think I’m so stupid I could not see a cruel trick out of you? I invented the cruel trick, my dear. I’ve perfected
it. Now what is it you would have me do to verify what I’m looking at? It’s a
simple enough object. I can see how it would function.”
She pointed out the large modern device it was attached to. “That’s a water
pump.”
“Of course. So whomever buys it from me can display it behind glass with real
water flowing into and out of it.”
“There’s real water in it now.”
His dark eyes widened, and then he sneered at her. “You do think I’m stupid, don’t you?”
“It’s heated,” she continued. “I had to sell nearly everything in our family’s
storage to obtain it and have it filled. You can strip and sit in it and enjoy an actual bathtubbing if you’d like to give it a try. Make sure it works correctly and all.”
Now she could see the suspicion in his eyes and fear gripped her heart in a
cold, hard fist. “Show me the water,” he commanded.
“You want it to drift down upon you. The water comes through here,” she said,
indicating a fixed nozzle with numerous holes in its flared end which protruded from the tall pump and was focused toward the center of the open-topped cast iron container. “And when you’re done with the water, it flows back out here,” she told him, indicating where a drain had once existed when the tub had occupied someone’s bathroom long ago. “See this hose? It will drain back into the pump so you can vacuum all the water out or keep it flowing continually. Whatever you prefer.”
“You said it’s heated water?” he asked, eyebrow raised.
“The temperature controls are here,” she said, indicating the knobs which got the water flow started. “You’ll want it warm. Water the same temperature as an apartment feels cool. It cools quickly once exposed to the air. It feels best nice and hot. I believe they were medicinal--they make it a lot easier to breathe.”
“How do you know all this?”
She shrugged. “Because I tried it first myself to make sure it worked.”
“Show me.”
Tamlyn turned the two small knobs, then moved to the edge of the antique as
water was expelled through the shower head. She held a hand beneath the soft,
soothingly hot, clear liquid. “It’s seawater, I’m afraid. Detoxified, but
still salty. I couldn’t afford purified water. We’ll have to clean it well
before you sell it to anyone or else the salt will leave residue on the bare
metal.”
Ragg shoved her aside so he could feel the temperature of the water himself.
He laughed at the soft, slippery feel of the precious liquid and marveled at
its soothing warmth. “This is amazing! Do you think I’d fit in here?”
He did look rather wide compared to the object. “You can stand in the water or
sit and let it cleanse the powder off you. Try it and see.” She went ahead and
pulled the temperature controlling knobs free, aware he had no idea he might want access to them later. She had carefully blocked the return intake of the drainage tube with waste-absorbing gel the night before. It would have dried nearly to stone by now.
“It’s not draining back out.”
“It fills to here automatically,” she lied, indicating the upper edge of the
bathtub, “anything you displace as you rest in it will be drained back into
the pump.” So saying, Tam backed out of the room and into her privacy room where she used her buttle’s emergency override to seal the exit doors and the
doorway she’d just come through. Ragg probably thought she was just giving him
some privacy. He had no idea she was killing him and sealing herself off in
order to save her own life.
A week ago when the pump had arrived for the tub, she’d tested the unit by
standing near it for several brief moments as it ran. A wonderful, warm
cloud had arisen when the heated water began to rise into the surrounding
artificially cooled air. She had tried to smell the cloud, hoping it didn’t
stink of the outside world, but found to her delight and astonishment that she
was suddenly able to breathe more freely than she ever had in her life! She took several luxuriantly deep, cleansing breaths, unaware of the internal damage she was doing. Only the knowledge of how precious and expensive the water she’d obtained was had forced her to abandon the experiment. Within
moments of draining the liquid back into the pump, the serious coughing fit
had begun and Tam had thought she would perish there on her floor, hacking up
blops of gel and wet clay. She’d remained ill for three entire days afterward and still choked occasionally on hints of wetness in her throat. It had been a close call, but well worth the risk.
Tam thought of her father as the sounds of coughing began to increase in the
room behind her. He’d be wracked with spasms as his lungs sought to expel the
thick sludge forming within them, and his eyes would tear up as he sought
frantically to shut the thing down. Even if he managed somehow to shut the
water flow off, he could not escape the steam filling the small room from the hot water which had already entered the tub. She’d sealed off the filters with her autobuttle, shut down the air circulator, and only had to wait. As she stood before her bedroom mirror, she wondered how much younger she might look with a few extra pounds of added weight.
A Subtle Armageddon follows in the tradition of C.S. Lewis and J. R. R. Tolkien in defending traditional values in an increasingly secular culture. It deals with the plight of the last man on Earth, who ought to have had it easy. But he is not the la
A female assassin, known as Raven and hailing from both human and alien backgrounds, shares her story with Security Chief Salina Craddock of the Earth Conglomerate Space Security Agency (ECSSA) after being captured.
Michael, just Michael, simply wanted to live life his own way. He had no intention of becoming a revolutionary. Yet destiny calls even the uncertain and the arrogant to duties beyond themselves. Hidden agendas, false friends, and his own confusion le
