All of us pooled the resources of our assumed characters — looked down on the Earth, so fragile and threatened — and we loved it with an intensity I had never felt even for family, a dreamlike rush of awed emotion and dependency. I was ready to do anything, sacrifice anything, to save it…
Throughout the entire experience, a distant tiny harbor of my individuality wondered idly if this was what Earth wished to do to Mars — use us. Join in a vast, insignificant orgy to save the future. This backwater self tapped its foot impatiently, and suspected the overblown love of Earth to be a kind of propaganda…
But it was effective propaganda, and I enjoyed myself hugely. As the group sim drew to a conclusion, and our dance slowed — as the illusion began to break up, and we returned to full body awareness — I felt contented and very tired.
We had saved the future, saved the Earth and the sun, defeated the evil evolvon Chakras, and coincidentally, I had bonded with all my partners. I knew their names, their individual characters, if not the intimate details of their daily lives. We smiled and laughed and hugged on the large floor.
The lights rose and music played, abstract projections suggested by the music swirling around us.
We had been through a lot together. I had no doubt that if I stayed on Earth long enough, I would be welcome in each of their homes, as if we had been lifelong friends, lovers, there wasn’t really an appropriate word — more even than husbands and wives. Mates in group sim.
Kite and I rejoined Shrug and Orianna on the street. Reality seemed pale and gray against what we had just experienced. A gentle drizzle softened the night air. Orianna seemed concerned. “Was that okay?” she asked. “I thought too late it might be more than you wanted…”
“It was interesting,” I said.
“They call them amity sims. They’re bright fresh,” Kite said. “The next drive. More people in sim than ever before — all proprietary tech, but I’m sure there are some major thinkers involved.”
Shrug looked dazed. His path along the street wavered, a step this way, a step the other. He grinned over his shoulder at us. “Touchy getting used to the real.”
“That was really nice,” Kite said, putting an arm around me. “No jealousy, just friendship and affection — and no anxiety, until we met the bad Chakras.” I looked up at Kite. We had not been lovers — not physically — but I felt extremely close to him, more than I had to Charles. That bothered me.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared,” Shrug said.
“Really social,” Orianna said. “Everybody knows everybody else. Could bond all of Earth if it maxes.”
Indeed, I thought, it could. “I need to rest,” I said. “Get back to Washington .”
“It’s been wonderful, spending the day together,” Orianna said. “You’re a good partner, a good friend, and — ”
I stopped her with a tight embrace. “Enough,” I said, smiling. “You’ll puncture my Martian reserve.”
“Wouldn’t want you to leak reserve,” Shrug said, standing apart, arms folded, fingers tapping elbows.
“We’ll walk to Penn Station. You can track to DC from there.”
We said little as we navigated the crowds and adwalls. The glow of Circus Mind faded. Orianna became sad and a little withdrawn. She turned to me as we neared the station. “I wanted to show you so much, Casseia. You have to know Earth. That’s your job now.” She spoke almost sternly.
“Right,” I said. Already a deep sense of embarrassment had set in — a reaction to the unearned intimacy of the Circus, I presumed. Martian reserve leaking.
“I’d like to get together again. Will there be time?”
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “If there is, I’ll call.”
“Do,” she said. “Don’t let the sim shade what we’ve earned.” Her use of that word, echoing my own thoughts, startled me. Orianna could be spookily intuitive.
“Thank you,” Kite said, and kissed me. I held back on that kiss — Earth kissing Mars, not all that proper, perhaps, considering.
I entered the station. They stayed outside, waving, farewells as old as time.
Four hours later, I sat in my room overlooking Arlington , the combs, the Potomac , and the distant Mall. Bithras had left the suite. Allen had not returned from Nepal . Alice was deep in broadband net research for Bithras and I did not disturb her.
I focused on the Washington Monument , like an ancient stone rocket ship, and tried to keep my head quiet so I could listen to the most important inner voices.
Mars had nothing that threatened the Earth. We were in every way Earth’s inferior. Younger, more divided, our strength lay in our weakness — in diversity of opinion, in foolish reserve that masqueraded as politeness, in the warmth and security of our enclosed spaces, our warrens. We were indeed rabbits.
The fading sim had left a strong impression of Earth’s passionate embrace. The patriotism — planetism — felt here was ages old, more than a match for our youthful Martian brand. I shivered.
Wolf Earth could gobble us in an instant. She needed no excuse but the urge.
We received our invitations — instructions, actually — two days later. We would meet secretly with Senators Mendoza and Wang in neutral territory: Richmond , Virginia , away from the intense Beltway atmosphere.
The choice of city seemed meaningful. Richmond had been capitol of the Confederacy during the American Civil War, over three centuries before: a genteel, well-preserved town of three million, for nearly ninety years a center for optimized human design research.
“Are we being sent any subtle messages?” Allen asked as we gathered in the suite’s living room. A projection of the Richmond meeting place, the Thomas Jefferson Hotel, floated above the coffee table, severe gray stone and pseudo-Greek architecture.
Bithras regarded us dourly, eyes weary. He had been up all evening communicating with Mars; the travel time for each signal had been almost eight minutes, a total delay of almost sixteen minutes between sending and receiving a reply. He had not revealed any of the details of his conversations yet. “What messages?” he asked.
Allen nodded to me: you explain.
“ Richmond was once a symbol of the failed South,” I said.
“ South America ?” Bithras asked.
“Southern states. They tried to secede from the Union . The North was immensely more powerful. The South suffered for generations after losing a civil war.”
“Not a very clear message,” Bithras said. “I hope they haven’t chosen Richmond just for that reason.”
“Probably not,” Allen said. “What have you heard from Mars?”
Bithras wrinkled his brow and shook his head. “The limits to my discretion are clear. If the deal we agreed to is inadequate… then we agree to nothing. We go home.“
“After coming all this way?” I asked.
“My dear Casseia, the first rule of politics, as in medicine, is ‘Do no harm.’ I do not want to act on my own initiative; the Council tells me they will not tolerate any initiative; so, there will be no initiative.”
“Why summon us to Earth in the first place?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Bithras said. “If I didn’t suspect strongly otherwise, I would call it gross incompetence. But when your adversary’s incompetence puts you at a disadvantage, it is time to think again.
“The Council will make some decisions and get back to me before we leave for Richmond . So, we have tomorrow to ourselves. I suggest we give Alice a break and set up an appointment with Jill.”
“We have a five-minute appointment at twenty-three this evening, broadband ex net, private and encrypted,” Allen said. “Alice and I made arrangements with Jill yesterday… just in case.”