© Copyright 2004 by silli_artie@hotmail.com
This work may not be reposted or redistributed without the prior
express written permission of the author.
A work of fiction, meant for adults. Read something else if you are
not an adult, or are offended by stories with sexual content. Then
again, if all you’re looking for is in-out, in-out, in-out, you
should probably read something else. I welcome constructive comments.
Enjoy.
Cambridge, walking down a hall, walking to a pair of doors, doors with my son on the other side.
“Remember, refer to him as ‘Your Excellency,’ and let him take the lead,” one of his retinue hissed in my ear as we approached the door.
I nodded to her, glancing to Margaret, Rose, and Alex following behind. I paused in front of the double doors, took a breath, and opened them. Stepping into the room, a fireplace to the left, glowing, flickering, warm. My son -- my son stood in front of a desk, hands behind his back. He was wearing typical Western dress, pants, dress shirt, coat, no tie. Flanking him were two Sisters, a younger one and an older one, and two women in normal dress.
Stepping forward, I could see myself in him. He looked tall, strong. I saw what I wanted to see in him. His skin was slightly darker than mine, his nose larger, his eyebrows and hair darker, yet with blue eyes. His smile developed as mine did.
I stopped a meter and a half from him, bowed forward a bit, and said, “Your Excellency...”
Or I started to. I got out the “Your ...” when I felt his arms around me, hugging me tight. I held him, feeling his strong shoulders, feeling his arms around me.. My eyes filled with tears; his did as well.
When we stepped back a bit, he smiled -- a wry, happy-sad smile, his eyes twinkling.
“I am very happy ... and honored to meet you at last ... father,” he said softly.
It was my turn to grab him and hold him. We cried together, but quietly.
“I would be honored if you would join me for lunch,” he asked when we parted again.
My son -- I had a son, and he was standing in front of me. “I would be honored as well, Your Excellency,” I replied.
He frowned momentarily, glancing around the room. “Protocol be damned... Here, for now, please call me Richard.”
I nodded. “If that is your wish. Please call me Alan.”
That wry smile again, his dark full moustache moving as the wheels turned in his head. “I will try.”
We both chuckled.
“May I give you a tour? We can talk as we go,” he suggested.
My turn for the wry smile. “If our entourage permits.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I think a small contingent will be adequate to protect us. If I may suggest, two of your party and two of mine?”
I turned and glanced to Rose, Margaret, and Alex standing a ways behind me with others of my son’s group. Rose and Alex exchanged glances and stepped forward.
“Your Excellency,” I said, stepping to the side, “may I present my companion Sister Rose, and my invaluable assistant, Alex.”
Both ladies blushed; my son raised an eyebrow. “Sister,” he acknowledged with a nod, “Captain...”
Captain? He turned to his entourage and with a nod of his head, two young ones stepped forward.
“Sister Brenda and Captain Curtis,” he introduced the two.
Extending a hand he suggested, “Shall we?”
We retrieved our overcoats. I helped Rose with hers, and Alex helped me with mine. Both Alex and Rose looked a bit miffed. An unexpected gift for me to ponder -- Captain?
That could wait; I enjoyed the walk with my son. We talked about life, at school and away from it. We both shared a distaste for the cold, damp weather. I spoke of the high desert in New Mexico, with the scrub, Manzanita, and Mesquite, the song of the coyote, the shimmer of summer heat, and the crystal clarity of the winter sky. He nodded, speaking of many of the same things -- the shimmer of summer heat, the many words for desert winds, the beauty of winter nights with stars piercing the dark velvet of the sky.
He knew the history of his school; he’d attended a public school prior, speaking of being groomed for his future. He looked forward to vacationing for the holidays. I hung my head at that, but only momentarily -- the holiday season would be different for me this year, because this year, Rose was with me. With a smile I glanced back to her.
I couldn’t read the look on her face, partially hidden by her habit and slightly bowed head. The women were following us in pairs, the two Captains immediately behind us, alert and looking around -- police, military? Why? The two Matrons followed them, conversing, heads bowed forward together, hands hidden in their sleeves.
My son suggested that he had been trained for other Service as well, giving me that wry smile once more.
I nodded, smiling, almost smirking, and suggested it wasn’t that bad at times.
He raised an eyebrow; we chuckled together. When I told him of my “Service” on our outing to Bath, he laughed.
Speaking more of travels, I told him I had been cloistered for many years; I’d only recently been traveling, and this was my third trip in over twenty years. Hopefully I would get to visit London soon, and possibly attend a conference on the Continent in the Spring.
He gave me a stern and serious look, and told me it wasn’t right that I should be treated so; if he could be of assistance, all I had to do was ask. I thanked him.
We passed through one of the old libraries; I thought ours were better, and said so. We chuckled. He told me the food at my school had to be better. I told him I doubted that, and we both laughed.
We saw other people as we walked, even a few other men. Richard volunteered that there were about a dozen males total, students and faculty. His sisters saw more coming up in their Public schools.
We passed some of the dining halls, hearing the chaos within. With a smile, he led us to a pair of doors. “Forgive me, father,” he said softly, with a smile.
He opened the doors, old wooden tables and a clutch of people standing in front of them, ranging in age seeming from fourteen to twenty.
As I looked at them, from person to person, from woman to woman, it struck me -- overall build, facial features, the blue eyes -- my children?
“Oh shit!” a voice exclaimed behind me; I didn’t recognize it.
Looks of surprise, some smiles, some tears -- what does this mean? What am I to them; what are they to me?
I gave a questioning look to my son. He nodded, smiling slightly. Our group was inside the room now, the doors closed behind us.
Standing in front of me, a head and a half shorter, a girl of perhaps fourteen. Familiar blue eyes looked at me.
“I am honored to meet you. Thank you for coming,” I told her. She held out a hand; I held hers briefly in mine.
I moved through the crowd, eighteen young women. Some hugs, some tears, some merely shaking hands.
I ended at the head of the table, Richard beside me. The two Captains looked amused, and the Matrons looked miffed.
“I don’t know what to say,” I told them.
“How about, sit down and eat?” Richard suggested pragmatically.
That broke the ice, and gave us direction. We sat and enjoyed our meal. I fell into what I do in the first few tutorials, learning about new students. They were all bright, talented and motivated. They’d come in from Cambridge, other schools, some Public schools. They were interested in a wide range of careers -- medicine, science, public policy, music, and I congratulated a few who were honest enough to admit to, “I don’t know.”
Things evolved into more of an exchange, more questions for me.
One of the young ones turned up the heat. “I want to study Foreign Policy at St. Antony’s -- why can’t we go to Oxford?”
I looked to Rose. Even though she was off at the end of the table, I could tell she sighed.
“There is no reason,” I answered. “I’ll raise hell. Keep trying, and let me know what happens.”
“How do we contact you?” was her blunt follow-up.
I gave them my e-mail address.
“Won’t work,” Richard interrupted. “that address is heavily filtered. Whitelisted and then some.”
I passed a frown to Rose.
“All right then, someone start circulating a piece of paper -- put your contact information on it. I’ll push things from my side.”
Another of the young ones held up a handiphone. “Don’t suppose you have one of these?” she suggested.
“...Along with some goatherders in outer Azerbijan,” I suggested, attempting humor. It worked, partially.
Richard plopped one in front of me. “This is now yours. It will work anywhere.”
I picked it up. Hard to believe -- I’d had one back in Las Cruces. “Shards of light pierce small cracks in prison walls,” I intoned, holding it in front of me, the modern Grail.
“Do they really have you locked up?” another person asked.
“Until a few months ago, yes,” I answered. “Rose has brought quite a few changes, and improvements to things.”
“Physically or mentally constrained?” another asked.
“Both,” I replied with a sigh. “But again, things have loosened up immensely in the last few months, thanks to Rose and Margaret. I think we’re all familiar with the techniques used by The Order.” That received nods, even from Rose and Alex in the back. Some of those nods were not very accepting. “Before you judge them,” I said, “remember that they focused on saving the human race. And without those techniques, Sister Margaret, and Sister Rose, I am not sure I would have survived.”
“But some of the restrictions imposed on us seem so ridiculous, like not seeing you, or attending Oxford,” someone suggested.
I looked to Rose, who smiled and nodded.
“And they are -- when you find one, challenge it. Ask them ‘why?’ five times. That’s what I’m doing. ‘For your safety’ doesn’t cut it anymore.”
A quiet voice said, “I know some who have tried, and ... they changed them.”
I nodded. “We were there a few months ago.” I glanced back to Rose. “We have a shorthand, ‘teapot,’ wondering if one of us is going to reappear singing ‘I’m a little teapot.’ It hasn’t happened yet. I’m pushing limits. Rose and Margaret are helping. I’ve broken out of prison, with their help. I think we’ve picked our battles carefully. I came to visit Richard. I’ve met all of you. I’m going back with my own handi, something I haven’t had since I was a teenager. I will continue to push, and I’ll do what I can to help you. And if one of us suddenly turns into that teapot, please, all of you, please scream bloody murder.”
We talked for a while longer. I told them I didn’t know what I could do to help, but I’d try. I made them the same offer I made to my students -- ask me a question, and I’ll answer as best I can. With a grin, I reminded them I was an Oxford tutor, so my answer might be a question. That brought groans and smiles.
It also seemed to be a cue for Richard, who leaned over to me and whispered, “I promised to deliver you to your physics colleagues.”
“We need to be going,” I told the group. Sighs and groans. “No!” I told them loudly and enthusiastically. “I finally get to meet people I’ve been collaborating with for years! I finally get to see them, and The Cavendish!” That brought more looks of understanding.
I couldn’t get out of the room without more hugs and handshakes. One of the younger ones, after shaking my hand, told Richard and I, “I’m glad I decided to come.” So was I.
Two of the older ones walked with us to The Cavendish, peppering me with questions about my work on gravity. They wanted to know what I thought of Sakai’s work. I told them I’d really like to meet with Doctor Sakai and discuss it with her. Richard wanted to know where she was -- Argonne, outside Chicago, I told him. He smiled and I frowned. “Complicated,” I told him.
We reached our destination. Richard and I hugged again. He wished me well, and suggested we could meet for breakfast before we started the journey back to Oxford. I glanced to Rose and Alex, who nodded. I told him we would like that very much. Another hug, and we parted.
What a day! Actually meeting and speaking in person with Doris and Betty, two eminent physicists I’ve collaborated with for so many years! We quickly left Rose, Alex, and one of Richard’s minders in the dust. We covered whiteboards, talked nonstop through dinner, and after. It wasn’t all physics -- we talked about students, colleagues, the weather. They really hoped I’d be able to attend conferences -- we had Geneva in the Spring, then the annual one in Copenhagen in the fall. We talked about Sakai’s work, and Thompson’s; we ended the day with glasses of port, making wild interpretations of preliminary results from CERN in Geneva.
I was dizzy and giddy as we were led to our quarters for the night. I hugged Alex, and Margaret, and then Rose and I retired.
I must have been babbling still as I brushed my teeth. I turned to look at Rose, who smiled as she shook her head. She took the toothbrush from my hand and wrapped me up in a delicious full-body kiss.
Eyes closed, holding her, my head buzzing and spinning. “Oh, I need you,” I whispered. “I hope I behaved today.”
She chuckled as she held me. “No you didn’t -- and you were marvelous. What do you need, darling?”
I stepped back a bit. Laughing, I picked up a washcloth and wiped the remnants of toothpaste foam from her mouth, and mine. “Take me, please, and unwind me. Use me and take me to sleep in your arms.”
Her smile broadened. “I’d love to... Finish up and get into bed.”
On my back in bed, eyes closed, my head was still going. I felt her crawl in next to me. As I turned she drew me to a nipple. I held her, feeling the joy of skin against skin. She drew me close, squeezing me, leaving my mind behind.
We made joyous love again in the morning, only needing to hurry slightly to make breakfast. I think I surprised Richard by asking how his studies were going. When he gave me an offhand response, I inquired if his tutors would agree with his assessment. The young Matron in his entourage chortled. With a haughty (regal?) look he told me the measure of his learning would begin in a year and a half. I agreed, suggesting that made his preparation here, now, even more valuable. He rolled his eyes, looking up to the ceiling, and laughed. He reached over and squeezed my hand.
He suggested that with my help, he might be able to confer with people at St. Antony’s, one of our colleges. I glanced to Rose and Margaret. To our surprise, Margaret informed us that those roadblocks existed no more.
As we were about to take our leave, Richard presented me with a paper bag, and a piece of paper. “The charger for the handi,” he said as he handed me the bag, “and a list of my tutors,” as he handed me the paper. I glanced at the paper -- besides a list of tutors, it looked to be the list from our meal the previous day.
“Thank you for everything,” I whispered to him as we hugged.
“Thank you ... father,” he whispered in return.
The weather had turned seasonal again, dreary, gray, and drizzling. We started our return journey to Oxford.
Our initial chat was about surprises and successes, the family resemblance with Richard and the others at lunch. Rose surprised me, saying that he had my sense of humor. When I quizzed her, she remarked that a sense of humor was a superb coping mechanism.
Rose and I were in the back seat of our little car; Alex was driving, with Margaret next to her.
“There is so much to learn,” I told Rose and the others. As they nodded their heads in agreement, I followed up. “Such as why Richard called you ‘Captain,’ Alex...”
I watched Alex; her grip on the steering wheel tightened. Did her facial colour fade a bit?
“Well?” I prompted when an explanation wasn’t forthcoming.
“Alan,” Alex spoke up, “I’m a Captain in Her Majesty’s Home Guard, part of the military detail responsible for your security.”
“I’m confused. I thought The Order did that.”
Alex smiled. “Rose? Margaret?”
Rose held my hand. “Alan,” she told me, loud enough for the others to hear as well, “You are citizen of the United Nations, Swiss for convenience. In spite of what some of my sisters in The Order might think, you are not the property of The Order, but in essence, a ward of the U.N. As with many things, there is a delicate balance here -- officially, the United Kingdom as host nation provides your security -- Alex and her team watch you. They run your exercise program as well, tracking your health.”
I nodded, smiling. “They watch me, and in the process, they also watch you,” I suggested to Rose.
She nodded. “What do you think of that?”
“Alex,” I said in response, “Thank you. Please don’t let me take you for granted.” To all of them I added, “Actually, I feel better. There have been times I felt at the mercy of The Order. It’s good to know someone is guarding the guardians.”
Rose asked, “Alan, have I given you cause for concern?”
I looked into her eyes and brushed a soft pink cheek with my hand. “No, you haven’t.” Louder, “it’s your colleagues who worry me. Like one of the girls said, taking people and changing them.”
“I will not allow that to happen to you,” Rose told me softly but firmly.
“And neither will I,” added Alex in an equally strong tone.
“Then it’s unanimous,” Margaret agreed.
“Thank you,” I told them. “And I suppose this is one of those things I’m not supposed to know about, at least officially?”
“Yes, please,” said Alex from the front, “Although I’ve wondered how we’ve kept it from you for so long.”
“And what do we do about my handi?” I inquired, neglecting to comment on my own powers of observation.
“Whatever you like,” said Margaret with a smile.
“I won’t rub their noses in it -- not too much...”
The laughter relieved the tension which had built up. I asked, “Were there restrictions on my, ah, offspring attending Oxford?”
Margaret turned to look at me better. She wore a satisfied smile. “Yes, and the operative term is ‘were’ -- there were, and they are present no longer. They were one of the less relevant restrictions imposed by our Order. The school has always chafed under them. Gone.”
“Margaret, that’s yet another thing I have to thank you for.”
She smiled.
“Our meal yesterday -- that took you by surprise?” I asked them.
Nodding heads -- Margaret responded. “Oh yes! I don’t know what they were afraid of -- spontaneous combustion? The resemblance is quite striking among you, Alan, seeing you next to them -- and he has a number of sisters, at Cambridge, and at other Public schools. I imagine they were involved in planning and execution.”
Alex added, “Oh, they might have had a little help...”
I laughed, as did Rose, and eventually Margaret and Alex joined in. “It’s good to have support for the insurrection!” I told them.
“It was also a security move,” Alex informed us. “While my colleague didn’t share The Order’s paranoia, she was concerned.”
I nodded. “I understand -- it isn’t physically possible for me to meet them all, even if I wanted to, if it was safe.”
Alex smiled. “As a future leader, Richard understands that as well. You met a very select group.”
“When do you return to Geneva?” I asked Margaret quietly, holding her hand and kissing it.
She smiled, a sad smile. “Tomorrow morning, I’m afraid.”
“Then let’s make the best of the time we have,” I whispered, kissing her hand once more.
Ex Maria Virgine, Gaudete!
The words of the chorus still rang in my head as we left the hall. Rejoice? Sitting in the old hall, listening to the echoing of the chorus, listening to the Christmas pageant as I’d done for many years:
Clausa pertransitur,
Undelux est orta
Salus inventur
Light has arisen, salvation is come, bursting the gates of death. Are we salvation, Rose and I? Have we, the genetic clears, thrown back the gates of death? Or have we just postponed the inevitable -- how much good would two, ten, or twenty more generations done the dinosaurs?
A hand squeezing mine -- Rose at my side, making things so different. In years past the Christmas pageant marked the beginning of a lonely time for me, a dark time as students took off for the corners of the globe to friends and family. If Margaret didn’t come to visit, I was alone.
But this year -- Gaudete! -- rejoice, Rose is here. This year, we have each other.
Outside the hall, cold winter air, our breath visible as we start the walk back to our little abode. I was silent, Rose was silent.
I glanced up, and saw a star twinkling brightly in the sky. So much had changed. She had brought so much change.
I stopped and turned us, facing each other. She looked at me, questioning.
“Rose, I love you,” I said.
Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. I kissed her, holding her close.
Jostled by the departing crowd, I moved us to the side of the footpath, holding Rose close to me. “I love you,” I whispered to her.
So much to be thankful for this year, so many changes.
She lifted her head from my shoulder and kissed my cheek. She was smiling, with her tears catching the lights nearby. I wiped them with a finger.
She nodded, her smile broadening. She put her head back on my shoulder and hugged me close. “Oh I love you! I do!”
Her words filled me with joy.
“Are you two packed yet?”
I returned to Earth, looking at Alex, standing smiling next to us.
“Of course not,” I told her.
Rose laughed, and after an initial frown, so did Alex.
“We do have an early morning, you know,” she reminded us.
I nodded, keeping my tongue civil and in my mouth.
“Wouldn’t it be quicker to fly?” Rose asked.
We were headed to a ski chalet, somewhere on the Swiss-Austrian border, courtesy of Richard. He’d be joining us for the New Year, and we’d return together.
Alex shook her head, and moved us along the path. “Not this time of year; we’d have to take the train for the last two legs anyway. It should be fun.”
“I don’t know about the tunnel part, actually going under the Channel,” I cautioned.
Rose gave me a squeeze. “You’ll do fine, I promise.”
I chuckled a bit. One way or the other, I suppose.
*
Flying back to the U.K.--
I met up with Rose and Alex in Customs; they were waiting with our bags and a group of uniformed officers.
“Alan! What happened? We were about to send out a search party!” Rose exclaimed, hugging me.
“It’s okay,” I told her.
“What happened?” Alex asked. “I expected you’d get through formalities quicker than the rest of us -- should I have stayed with you?”
I shook my head. “Don’t know if that would have helped. All are bags here?”
“Yes -- we’re ready to go. A car is waiting.”
“Where’s Richard?”
“He said he’ll see you next week, the usual time. They had a tight schedule. Tell me, what happened?” Rose asked.
I managed a smile. “When we’re in the car.”
Turning to Alex, I added, “And next time, I would very much appreciate an escort.”
After brief introductions, we were escorted to the car. The three of us sat in back, with a uniformed driver in front.
“Well, what happened?” Rose asked again.
I held her hand. “It was pretty surreal. I presented my passport, put my hand on the authenticator, and waited. The battleaxe, I’m sorry, seasoned civil servant, behind the window gave me a very strange look, then asked me to re-authenticate. She looked at her screen, then at me, then at her screen, then at me again.”
“And?” Alex asked.
“Eventually she started going on about how she never forgot a face, and she was sure she’d seen me before.”
I could tell Rose was trying not to laugh.
“Yeah, that’s how I felt. She recognized my eyes, she’d seen them before. Right -- how many times? She didn’t believe I was an Oxford scholar, not for one moment. Eventually, another woman showed up, waved her hand over the plate, and had me do it again. This time, her screen gave a much different beep. Both of them looked at the screen and turned somewhat pale. They handed me my passport and wished me a good day.”
Alex and Rose both looked at me, smiling.
“How many times has she seen my face, my eyes?” I asked them.
Rose took my hand. “I hope she continues to see them for a long, long time.”
I chuckled and reached inside my coat, pulling out a gold-engraved invitation. “Will she see them a year from June?”
Now she smiled.
“I’ve never been to a coronation before,” I told her.
She smiled more. “And you don’t have to ask -- there’s nothing The Order can do to prevent you from going. When they find out, they’ll do their best to spin it to their advantage, but we’re going.”
A Life of Service
By silli_artie@hotmail.com
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/artie/www
© Copyright 2004 by silli_artie@hotmail.com