“Some of us fear you; these would have destroyed you while you recovered. They say you will loose a cancer of nihilism among us that will eat away our collective soul. But most of us are eager to learn from you. Come to us and you will never be alone again.”
“No,” said Ruiz.
“No? The alternative is slavery.”
“I’ve been a slave. It’s a temporary condition, for me.”
Hemerthe became agitated. “We cannot force you to join us — then you would be a cancer indeed. Can we bargain with you?”
“I have things I must do.”
“The mission-imperative? We can deal with that. The Gench is too feeble to remove the net, it claims, but it can clean away the mission-imperative — and then the net will gradually break down.”
“It’s not just that,” Ruiz said. He felt a sudden flood of terror, which he strove to conceal. To stay down here in Deepheart forever, with nothing but the endlessly repeated pleasures of impersonal sex… it suddenly seemed to him a horror. What must it be like, to be buried alive in a grave of eager flesh? “I have other responsibilities.”
“What are they? I tell you now, the woman must stay. She may protest initially, but our reading of her character assures us that she will soon adjust — and be one of us. You might be able to resist our persuasions; you’re much older and harder than she is. But she won’t.”
“I’m not so sure.”
“No matter,” said Hemerthe. “She must stay. But it’s you we most desire. Tell me why you object so much. Many risk slavery to come to us, but you reject us without hesitation. Why?”
Ruiz sat up, feeling a little stronger. “Perhaps I cannot submit myself to only one pleasure. The prospect seems tedious — to do the same thing always.”
“Oh, you misunderstand us. Do you think we spend all our time in bed? No; we humans are not so vital; we would soon grow ill. We have other interests, like anyone else. We have the standard entertainments: vid, emotigogue, psych-skew drugs. Hobbies are popular. I myself breed flamefish; also I make traditional porcelains — though I must admit, my bodies vary in aptitude and dexterity, so that the quality of my work varies and sometimes I’m frustrated. Still, one day we all will learn to make porcelain, as my spirit circulates through all our bodies.”
“That’s very nice,” Ruiz said, “but I fear I would feel diminished….”
“No, no. It’s obvious you do not understand us at all. Please listen; you cannot know what it’s like,” she said. Her face lit, and her gaze had an inward quality. “I know, you imagine that what we seek is the small hardwired thrill that comes of copulation with a stranger. I know what they call us, above. The Fuckheads; correct? No, it’s so much more than that. You must trust me; the sensation builds, through body after body — you penetrate and are penetrated, you tangle your flesh with his, then hers, and then another, and another, until you begin to feel what we prize above all, a consuming identity with all the other great souls, a sense that you have loved the universe, or as much of it as is possible for a human being to encompass. You cannot know what it is like.” She glowed, and against his will Ruiz was moved by the intensity of her emotion.
“Yes,” he said. “But…”
Abruptly her mood shifted. She seemed angry; she bared her perfect teeth and spoke in a harsh voice. “We can make you wish you had joined us. We could sell you to a downlevel bloodstadium. There you might live forever, too, but you will kill and be killed every day. Wouldn’t you rather love and be loved?”
Ruiz said nothing.
“Or,” she continued, “we can hurt the ones you care about. We can sell your friends into hard lives. But if you come to us, we’ll set them free.”
Ruiz shrugged. “Free? Alone and naive in SeaStack? Not much of a bribe; how long would they last?”
She drew a deep breath and regained control. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I spoke in anger, foolishly. We would do nothing so vengeful, if you did not join us. We’re civilized people. Still, the SeaStack slave market is an open one, and the bloodstadia would bid heavily on you; so I would guess.”
Ruiz could think of nothing to say. He considered his prospects. If he did not stay, if he somehow escaped and thrust himself out into the brutal world of SeaStack and attempted to fight his way home, would he survive? Unlikely. Even so, the prospect of immuring himself in Deepheart’s eternal sexual frenzy was a dreadful one.
Above all, he thought, in Deepheart he would lose forever that special connection he had found with Nisa. Once in a thousand years he might lie with her, if they both dwelled in Deepheart, but it was unlikely they would ever again be together in the flesh they wore now.
He tried to explain. “Have you ever noticed that there are great differences between people who have lived everywhere, who have walked the soil of a dozen worlds and the pavements of a hundred cities, and the folk who were born in the house their grandparents were born in, who spend all their lives in one place?
“The city folk,” he said, “they’re clever and versatile and adaptable, and often the stay-at-homes envy them their breadth of experience. But there are advantages to staying in one place forever, too. The setting takes on an importance, a depth, that it never has for the travelers… and in that stability, people can come to know themselves more deeply. Sometimes they can think larger thoughts. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
She smiled. “An interesting analogy, to be sure. I think I know what you’re saying, and why you might feel that way — but it’s hard to keep them down on the farm. You are no bucolic, after all; how many strange worlds have you walked? Though I’ll admit it; few human beings are as intimately connected to their bodies as you are to yours — that’s one reason we want you so badly. We can learn much from you. But at least, I’m pleased to see that your objections are based on more than just blind fear.”
An idea came to him. A chilly revulsion resided in it, but he forced himself to consider it anyway.
“Perhaps we can make a deal,” he said.
She smiled and hugged him. “I hope so. What do you propose?”
He drew back slightly from her embrace, but she didn’t appear to notice. “I’d have to discuss it with Nisa first, before I can formulate my offer. Will you arrange it?”
She looked at him with suddenly cautious eyes. “There will be no opportunity for escape, Ruiz. We know your capabilities; we’ve taken stringent precautions.”
He shook his head. “You mistake me.”
“And we must watch you constantly. There will be no privacy.”
“I understand,” he said.
The mech let her into his apartment and closed the door, leaving them alone.
Nisa threw herself into his arms. “I thought you had died,” she whispered, arms tight around him. “When the monster touched you, you threw yourself back, and your face was someone else’s. The monster fell off its cart and shrieked. When they took you away, you didn’t seem to be breathing.”
He pressed her to him, oblivious to the spycells that surely watched. “I’m all right. Are you?”
“I’m fine. They’ve treated me well. My rooms aren’t as nice as the ones Corean kept me in, but I won’t complain.” She giggled.
He led her to the couch. “Sit with me. I must ask your opinion of a plan.”
She looked surprised, as if she’d never expected to be asked for counsel. “Heroes never ask the princesses what to do.”
“This is no goblin tale, Nisa,” he said, smiling. “But first, tell me. Have they explained what life would be like here?”