Chaos Mode

CHAPTER 13—WEDDING

COLENE was in a whirl. She was trying to stay current with Burgess, who was trying a new pill each hour, as Nona ground it up and proffered the powder for him to suck up weakly. So far there had been no significant effect, and she was beginning to fear that this was not the answer. She was also trying to follow Darius and Seqiro, who had headed off to the seamy section of town to see about the Sin Eater. They were competent to travel alone, because Seqiro’s telepathy was operative, readily reaching across town; in fact it seemed to be able to reach thirty miles or so, here on Earth. Seqiro had long experience controlling human beings, and that’s what was here, by no coincidence. Darius provided the human brainpower and initiative and nerve; they would do something for the Sin Eater if it were possible. Amos would be pleased when he learned of this quiet effort, later.

But mainly Colene had to keep track of her mother, who was hyper. She had stayed home from work, to manage this occasion. She was determined that Colene was going to have a perfect wedding dress, come what may. And a grand bouquet of flowers. And a wedding cake. Everything. So she was measuring Colene, and sewing material, and baking, in parallel columns as it were.

“But Mother, it’s only a justice of the peace in Texas,” Colene protested. “A dinky little civil ceremony, no frills.” She didn’t have the heart to say that it was just so that Darius would accept her as Old Enough, and not go seek a relationship with someone else before Colene was of age. This really was a case of being born too late. Fortunately a token ceremony would remedy that. Nona really had found the way to solve her problem. She also didn’t say that the marriage would be valid only in the Earth Mode; she would be a mere mistress in Darius’ home Mode. But this was the necessary compromise she had to make, unless she could learn to be a vessel of joy.

“The bride always has a nice dress, and a corsage, and a cake to cut,” her mother insisted. “It will be a nice wedding.”

Colene saw that her mother had a fantasy of how a wedding had to be, and was determined that her daughter would fulfill the role. Perhaps she was fulfilling herself, in the manner of a father pushing his son into football, trying to realize the unfulfilled dreams of the parent in the child. And Colene could not say that this was wrong. It was certainly so much better than having her mother get drunk. So if this was what made her positive, it was best to encourage it. Colene could wear a wedding dress for a civil ceremony.

Her father had meanwhile gone off to work, but he was making the arrangements in Texas by phone. Her father had always been competent with details, and Colene had always gotten along with him well enough. She hadn’t even blamed him for his extramarital affairs, really. Who wanted to come home to a woman in an alcoholic stupor? Of course there was the nagging question whether her mother would have taken to drinking if her father had been home with her every night. Colene had never been sure which was the chicken and which the egg in this regard. Probably it had been a messy mixture, like everything else, with her father having a wandering eye and her mother a taste for drink. The two had played off each other, making each worse.

Yet it had to be recognized too that neither parent had ever abused Colene in any direct way. She had never been beaten or fondled or unreasonably punished; she had never gone hungry or inadequately clothed. Not even verbal abuse. Yet she had become suicidal. Now, as she saw her parents being so positive on her behalf, she was moved to wonder why. She had been raped, yes—but other girls got raped without turning suicidal. It had been a shock, certainly, and it had changed her opinion of herself and torpedoed her trust in people and made her extremely wary of strange men. It had left her with an abiding disgust with the whole business: the boys for doing it, herself for allowing it to happen, the society for fostering the attitude that a man was supposed to take whatever he could get away with, and that it was the girl’s fault for being the victim. She had indeed lost her innocence, and had never felt fully clean since. But now that she understood the larger picture—why was she still suicidal?

And she was still suicidal, she knew. She had not been tempted to try to kill herself since she had set out on the Virtual Mode to rejoin Darius, but she remained, in his parlance, a vessel of dolor. Any time things went wrong, she got depressive. Probably the key factor was Seqiro: within his mental ambience, she was always mostly positive, but without it she would be her natural self. She loved Darius, but she needed Seqiro. She was artificially propped up by the support of the group she had found. By the hive, as Burgess saw it. She needed the hive as much as he did.

So it had to be her family. She had not been conscious of the stress at first, but after the rape she needed the support of a strong family, and it simply wasn’t there. Her father was mostly physically absent, and her mother mostly mentally absent. So Colene had wound down, down, into her own private hell, because there had been nothing to stop her. No real family, no close friends.

But now she had friends, on the Virtual Mode. And now her parents were trying to do what they had not done before, being there for her. Rather late, and almost pitiful in their determined sincerity, but they did mean well. It was not their fault that they hardly knew how.

So she would wear her wedding dress, and carry the flowers, Nona would have to make Darius a formal suit. They would go through the motions, to give her parents a memory picture to sustain them when Colene was gone again.

Her father called: it had been arranged, in Wichita Falls, just across the border in Texas. The caterer would have it ready tomorrow afternoon, Saturday.

Caterer? “Mother, what is going on?”

“For the reception, dear. There is always a reception after a wedding.”

“Not for a civil service!”

“Well, there will be a nondenominational minister. We couldn’t arrange a Catholic wedding, on such short notice.”

They couldn’t arrange a Catholic wedding regardless of the notice, because they were an extremely poor excuse for a Catholic family, and Darius had no truck with any Earthly religion. But what were they trying for?

Colene realized that she had to get to the bottom of this. She could have Seqiro pry it out of her mother’s mind, but that didn’t seem quite fair. It was better to make her mother be open. “Exactly what are you planning, Mother?”

“Well, we thought a nice church ceremony, with music, and a photographer—”

“A photographer! That’s only for a fancy full-dress social event! And a church—music—”

“It is all being taken care of. No need to worry.”

“But the expense must be ruinous!”

“Oh, please, Colene, we only want what is best for you. We want you to be married in style.”

Colene opened her mouth to protest this disaster, but saw her mother’s strained face and realized that she, Colene, was on the verge of parent abuse. She would be here such a brief time, and her folks wanted to make the most of it. How could she blame them? Perhaps this was their way to sublimate the romance that had been lost in their own marriage. They wanted their daughter to have a romantic wedding. No matter what.

She felt tears. It was touching, in its inadequate way. A brave show now, instead of emotional support back when she had needed it. Her parents just didn’t know how to relate. “Thank you, Mother.”

Then she was distracted by something Darius and Seqiro had done. Her mouth pursed in an O of belated appreciation. Males would be males, and the man and stallion were doing something naughty. They had found the earful of punks of who had beaten up Darius the first time he visited Earth. All because one of them had given him the finger, and he, thinking it to be a polite greeting, had returned it. He could have died, if Colene hadn’t found him in the ditch near her house and helped him. That had been their first encounter, the beginning of the restoration of Colene’s desire to live. But no thanks at all to the punks, because Darius had been looking for Colene anyway, and had not intended trouble for anyone. Colene had had to go to dangerous trouble to get back the key he required to return to his Mode. The punks had stolen it from him, not knowing its nature. The punks deserved whatever they got.

She watched the picture she culled from Seqiro, really enjoying it. The punks drove by the hangout of the Chain Gang and one of them gave a gang member a wicked finger. Another mooned them. Plus a verbal insult or two. Exactly as she had fantasized it for her revenge on the rapists, Seqiro had drawn it from her mind and made it come true, in a fashion. Soon the chase was on—and Seqiro let the punk driver go. The punks would have to get out of it whatever way they could. They had just about the same chance they had given Darius, for the same offense.

But the Chain Gang was not a collection of idle youths seeking incidental thrills. They took their honor seriously. They radioed ahead, and a barricade was put across the street ahead of the fleeing car. The youths, knowing better than to stop, tried to go through it—and nail-studded boards punctured their tires. They were lucky they didn’t roll over.

They piled out of the car as it slowed to a stop. But the cyclists were already there, swinging their mean chains. They weren’t out to kill, just to make a demonstration. They were good at that sort of thing. It would take the punks time to recover physically, and longer emotionally, and some of the scars would be with them for life. It would also be some time before anybody else tried to aggravate the Chain Gang, knowing the consequence. That was okay; Colene believed that Slick, the man whose abused niece Colene had helped rescue, had come from the Chain Gang in his younger days, and Colene liked Slick despite his profession.

Colene tuned out, satisfied that justice was being done. There was the sound of a police siren, but in the minute or so it would take for the police to arrive the job would be complete and the motorcycles would be gone. There would be no adequate police report; it was just another incidental rumble. No one would know what had really happened, not even the participants. Except for the members of the hive.

“You must be very happy, dear,” Colene’s mother remarked, noting her smile.

“I think I am,” Colene agreed, allowing her mother to believe that thoughts of the wedding were responsible. Actually that too was worth smiling about.

But things were not going as well in the tent. Burgess was having a reaction to one of the pills. His body was shaking and his air was flowing erratically. The calculated risk was miscalculating.

“Mom, let’s take a break, okay?” Colene said, shrugging out of the dress-in-the-making. “I’ll be back.” She hurried to the back door.

“But you can’t go outside like that!” her mother protested.

Colene realized that she was in bra and panties. “I’ll put something on,” she said over her shoulder as she exited. Then, to Nona: Clothe me with illusion.

When her mother looked out, she saw Colene in normal street clothes. The woman turned away, blinking. Why had she thought Colene would go out unclothed?

Colene entered the tent. Nona was sitting with both hands on Burgess’ contact points, trying to steady him physically and emotionally. Colene plumped down on the other side, taking hold of two more points.

Now she felt the distress within the floater, which did not transmit well by telepathy. He had indeed been poisoned by the pill; something in it was bad for him. He was sick, feeling somewhat the way a person would when it was necessary to throw up. “Clear it out, Burgess!” she cried. “Just blow out the rest of that powder, if you can. We won’t give you any more like that.”

It was too late to blow it out, because he had taken the pill most of an hour before. But Colene’s presence, physical and mental, calmed him. His shuddering eased, and he became normal. But still very weak. He still needed that missing element.

“I tried to help, but I don’t relate as well as you do,” Nona said apologetically. “When you came, he started to get better. I could feel the change.”

“Maybe it’s my telepathy,” Colene said. “It helps me get in closer touch, when Seqiro’s at a distance.”

“Whatever it is, I lack it,” Nona said. “My magic just doesn’t help him.”

Colene let go. “Let me see those pills,” she said. She took the bottles and scanned their listed contents for common ingredients. “This is the first one with fish oil,” she said. “Must be something in it that makes him allergic. We’ll set aside any other with fish oil.”

She culled the remaining bottles. “Keep trying them,” she said. “Just don’t give him these three.” She marked the three with X’s and put them aside. “Now I have to go back inside, before Mom gets upset. But call me if you need me.” She grasped Burgess’ contact points again, giving him emotional reassurance, then departed.

She returned to the house. She paused in the kitchen. Vanish the clothing, she thought to Nona, and it faded out.

Now she could get back into the wedding dress, which was standing on petticoat hoops in the living room.

She had hardly resumed that business when she became aware of more activity by Darius and Seqiro. This time they had found the rapists! The boys who had tricked Colene to their apartment and coerced her into sex. She had known it would be futile to go after them, because it would only be her word against theirs, and the men always won that round. But she had reckoned without Seqiro’s power. All four were heading down to the police station to make detailed confessions.

But this was where Darius and Seqiro’s inexperience hurt. The police would not just take the word of the four; they would seek to verify it objectively, by interviewing Colene herself—and Colene would be gone. That would deflate the case. Especially since the boys would recant their confessions the moment Seqiro wasn’t there to keep them straight. Darius just didn’t know how things were, here on Earth; he thought one action would take care of it. There was a certain charm in his naïveté.

Except that it turned out that there had been other girls. Colene hadn’t thought of that. Go after another girl first, she thought hard to Seqiro. He would see that the first confession featured one of the others, who would still be available, and that might be enough to establish the case. They normally made the case from just one example, so that if that failed, they could take up the next example as a new charge. It made sense. Certainly those four boys would be in for the hassle of their lives before this was done. That was a nice thought.

“You are smiling again,” her mother observed.

“I was thinking of the nice things my friends are doing for me.” Such as diddling the diddlers. There was immense satisfaction in that.

Then they worked on her hair. She had always worn her brown tresses loose and shoulder length, trying to cultivate sensual curls, but now her mother bound them up with a sparkling tiara.

The dress was finally ready. Colene had to admit that she looked extremely mature and fetching in it, sort of like a picture. She was small, but some women were. She was young, but women were supposed to look young. The dress actually aged her somewhat, by its conservative lines, and the hairdo transformed her face. The bodice even made her bosom look fuller. She hardly recognized herself.

“Oh, Mom!” she cried, hugging her. She hadn’t wanted anything this fancy, but now that she was in it, she loved it. This was just one terrific experience.

“Now you had better rest,” her mother told her, pleased. “You will have a big day tomorrow, and you want to look fresh.”

She was making sense. So Colene went upstairs to her old room and lay down on her old bed. Everything was charged with nostalgia, now. She couldn’t really relax, of course, but this was a good place to be in touch with the others.

Burgess was unchanged, finding neither poison nor cure in the next pill Nona administered. That was getting worrisome. Suppose none of the pills worked? Would it mean that they just hadn’t found the right one yet, or that the whole theory was wrong? They just had to find something to make Burgess better, and to keep him better. That was the whole reason they had stopped here on Earth.

She tuned in on Darius and Seqiro. Now they were addressing their true mission, the Sin Eater. They had learned all about the situation, which was ugly, but were still trying to figure a solution. There didn’t seem to be one. Were they going to have to let it go? Darius had discovered that his joy-spreading magic worked on Earth, when he was with Seqiro, but there was no joy to be spread in that neighborhood, only grief. Those miserable folk were as bad as Colene herself, except that they got their kicks from humbling others. That made them worse.

Yet there had to be some way. Colene cudgeled her brain—and came up with it. No misery was worse than that of the Sin Eater, or less deserved. Why not spread that around? At least it might teach that community a lesson.

When everyone felt as bad as the Sin Eater, maybe they would stop being so mean to him. It was worth a try. She fired that notion off to Seqiro, and he suggested it to Darius. In a moment Darius was doing it, drawing from Raff, then sending it out to everyone in range. The effect was stunning—for everyone except the Sin Eater himself, who was used to it.

Would it have the desired long-term effect? It would be hard to know. But it was most gratifying for the short term. Darius and Seqiro had done excellent work this day, settling scores with the beat-up punks, the rapists, and the oppressors of me Sin Eater. Now if tomorrow just went as well…

To her surprise, she slept. When she woke, it was evening, and not only were Darius and Seqiro back, they were gone again. They had consulted with Colene’s parents, and decided to head off for Texas early, so as to be in no rush on Saturday. “But I wanted to see them!” Colene protested, bemused.

“It is too close to the wedding,” her mother cautioned her. “It is bad luck for the groom to see the bride right before the ceremony.”

You let her push you around, Colene thought to groom and horse.

She made sense, Darius returned. The distance is about fifty of your local miles, and we would like to rest before the occasion, so we started out early. Seqiro will wait about halfway there, because that is about the limit of his range in this Mode, and we need to remain in touch with Nona and Burgess. He should be able to reach both parties, from the center.

“But my folks don’t know anything about Seqiro and Burgess,” Colene muttered subvocally. “I mean, that Seqiro is a special horse.”

When we explained it, we made sense, he replied, with a corollary thought indicating how the horse had touched the woman’s mind just enough. Seqiro was proving to be extremely useful in this respect. You and your parents will rendezvous with us tomorrow morning, and I will then join you for the remainder of the journey.

It did indeed make sense. “Okay, manface, horsetail,” she said. “But don’t do it again.” Then she remembered another thing. “But your suit! Nona needs to make—”

She has done so. I have it with me in a bag. Also food for us both. If we need anything else, we shall obtain it on the way. We work well together.

“Hey, don’t get too friendly, and cut me out,” she said.

Never that, girlface, Seqiro’s thought came.

Colene checked on Nona and Burgess. They were doing well enough, considering. They had tried all the remaining bottles except the three Colene had set aside, with no sufficient effect. But Burgess seemed slightly improved. Perhaps the Earth air was slowly restoring him. Nona was having no trouble, as she was able to use her magic to provide anything she desired. They would be all right for the night, and for the following day, until the hive could get back together and ponder die next step.

EARLY in the morning Colene heard a motor. She looked out the window and recognized Amos Forell’s car, She hurried out in her nightie to intercept him, forgetting that Seqiro was not close by to make things seem reasonable. Fortunately it was an unusually warm morning, for an Oklahoma winter.

He eyed her, smiling. “What mischief are you up to now, Colene?”

“I’m getting married.”

“That’s the outfit for it?”

“My mother made me a fancy wedding dress. I’ll squirm into it when the time comes. Why are you here?”

“Your horse says that none of the pills worked. I have another idea.” He showed a larger bottle. “It occurred to me that something ancient might be the key. This is dolomite.”

“You mean now dolor comes in a bottle?”

“Calcium-magnesium carbonate. Don’t you remember your science? We need both calcium and magnesium for our bones and teeth, so it stands to reason that Burgess could have some use for some of this too. It seems worth a try.”

Colene warred with herself. She did want to try the dolomite, in the hope that it would cure Burgess. But she was afraid that there could be a bad reaction, and if that happened, she would need to be there to help tide the floater through the crisis. It would be safer to wait until she returned, late tomorrow.

Then her suicidal aspect took control. It was a gamble, but a good one. “Let’s try it!”

They entered the tent. Nona, still asleep, was startled awake, her limbs flashing. Embarrassed, she quickly clothed herself in illusion.

“As if I didn’t see enough of that in class,” Amos muttered with mock annoyance. “I must say, though, it’s impressive, considering that you obviously weren’t using illusion while sleeping.”

Nona looked blankly at him. Colene, realizing that Seqiro was not on the job, translated. Then Nona smiled.

The dolomite was already in powder form. They put a little bit out, and Burgess sucked it in.

Almost immediately he perked up. This was it! What he needed was here!

“It is?” Colene asked, thrilled. “Well, have some more!” She poured out another spoonful.

“Caution,” Amos said. “It is better to give it the time test, before taking too much.”

But Burgess had already sucked up the spoonful. “Well, we’ll stop there, for now,” Colene said. “No more, for another hour or two, if you’re okay. But it sure does look promising.” She turned to Amos. “I have to go get married. You can stay here with Nona if you want to. But I warn you, she’ll hit you with a fireball if you get fresh.”

“I would have the devil of a time explaining that to my wife. I will leave you to it. But I will check again later in the day, to see how Burgess is. It is a phenomenal pleasure to associate with such a creature, and I would like to see him in healthy action.”

“I think you will,” Colene said as they left the tent. Then: “Damn! I forgot to do it in the tent.”

“Forgot what?”

“This.” She pulled him down toward her and kissed him. “It would have been better if nobody saw.”

He shook his head, bemused. “Colene, I think you had better get married quickly.”

“Yeah. That was my last maidenly kiss. I didn’t want to waste it.”

Amos returned to his car, and Colene to the house. Her parents were stirring, but she was able to make it back to her room before they realized she had been out.

They had breakfast, and packed the wedding gown. Her mother fixed Colene’s hair, complete with tiara, then put a plastic bonnet over it, so that it would keep until the wedding. Her father went out to start the car. Colene went back to check on Nona and Burgess one last time.

As she went, she became aware of something wrong. “Oh!” Nona cried in her language. She sounded desperate.

Colene almost dived into the tent. Burgess was having a reaction, a worse one than before. Air was blasting down, causing him to float erratically. The substance he needed seemed to be in the dolomite powder, but there was poison too. Now he was in trouble, having taken too much of the stuff.

“I can’t hold him!” Nona cried. She was sprawled across the floater, trying to keep him down. “I’m afraid he’ll hurt himself!”

Colene plumped down beside Burgess, grabbing on to his contact points. “Hey, easy, easy, fellah,” she said, exerting her mind to calm him. “Try to get the bad stuff out! You can do it.”

“You’re helping,” Nona said. “Oh, I’m so glad. I tried, but I don’t have the rapport you do.”

Colene knew it was true. She had the best rapport, and she could help Burgess when others could not. Now she was aware of the agony within him, and knew that this would be no five-minute problem. He was in deep trouble, and it would take hours to tide him through—if it could be done at all. She had made a bad mistake, giving him the extra spoonful of dolomite.

“You must go,” Nona said. “I think it will be all right, now.”

“No it won’t,” Colene said. “I can feel his pain, deep down. I’m damping it some now, but if I let go, it will rise up to overwhelm him. I can’t leave him.”

“But you have to get married! Everything is ready.”

Colene wrestled with horrible alternatives. She came to a decision. “I can’t let Burgess die, when I’m the one who OD’d him. I’ve got to see him through. You’ll have to go instead, Nona.”

“But—”

“It’s all set. Seqiro’s in range. He’ll make you understand the ritual and words. You can make yourself look like me. I can’t disappoint my parents. The marriage must go on. Go and do it, Nona. It’s the only way.”

Nona stared at her. Then she got up and clothed herself in illusion. Suddenly she did look like Colene, face, dress, and size. Even the tiara and bonnet. “I will do it, Colene. For the sake of our friendship.” She left.

Colene concentrated on Burgess, seeking the pain in him and suppressing it. The flow of air diminished, and he settled back on the ground. He was still in agony, but it was becoming tolerable, with her help. She hung on, tiding him through, making sure that his fundamental will to live remained. It seemed like hours, but her watch said ten minutes.

She heard the car move out. She tried to reach it with her mind, but her range was too short. She was alone with Burgess.

Gradually in the course of the next half hour, the pain in the floater eased, and she was able to disengage from him somewhat. She sat beside him, one hand on a contact point. “Well, I did it,” she said conversationally. “I sent Nona off to my wedding. I wonder if that’s what I had in mind all the time? She’s really a better match for him. She’s older, and prettier, and she has way more magic than I’ll ever have.”

Burgess began to be aware of his surroundings and her thoughts. He had not been in a position to understand what was happening in her social horizon. What was Nona doing?

“Nona is marrying Darius, in my stead,” Colene said. “I told her to. It just had to be done. We couldn’t cancel; it would have broken my folks’ hearts, after they put themselves in the hole to finance it. The show just had to go on.”

Then she put her head down and wept. The tears flowed, and kept coming, dropping into her lap. She knew she had done it to herself. She had gambled on Burgess’ treatment when she shouldn’t, and then had to throw away her dream. But if it hadn’t been for Burgess, would she have found some other excuse? She had so blithely set up to marry Darius, but she was afraid of marriage, too, because she had seen so clearly what a loss her parents’ marriage was. Was she, deep down inside, determined to avoid the married state herself?

Or was it that she remained suicidal in every way? Not merely in the body, slicing her wrists, but in emotion, slicing her potential happiness? So that every time something good threatened to happen to her, she just had to mess it up? Sometimes she had used her nature to beat others, such as when she had won back Darius’ Mode-traveling key by challenging the jerk who had it to a bleeding contest. She would have bled herself to death, too, if he hadn’t backed off. Because part of her always wanted to die. Did another part of her always want to be miserable?

She remembered telling Seqiro that she wanted everything—and nothing. She was a cipher, even to herself, a riddle never to be understood. Even buoyed by her friends of the hive, she had never truly known her true desire, and she didn’t know it now. What did she want, if she didn’t die?

“My future is a blur,” she said to Burgess. “I have no goals, I only want to make my life count. When I think of how short life is I can’t accept mere survival as an achievement. If there is nothing after we die, we have to make every second we’re alive count. I don’t want to be caught in ‘Mundania.’ I can’t bear to live a dull, gray existence when there are bright glorious adventures to explore. I know they are out there somewhere. Because I can read about them. Perhaps that’s my trouble. I read far too much. At least I did before I found the Virtual Mode. How can I help it, though? My life and the life of a fantasy character just can’t compare. Before, I was satisfied to live the lives of the people in my books, but now I know that it’s not the same. I want to really and truly live. I want so many different things I know I can’t have. I’m bright, creative—I could probably choose any profession I wanted, but I don’t want any of them. Not here on Earth. I want to roam the universe looking for adventure, never being sure where I’ll go next. I want to be a famous artist or musician or something. I want a simple home and family. I want to change the world. I want everything anybody wants—and more. I wish there were no civilization, only nature and living. I want to live in the wilderness empty of people and technology. Yet I love to watch different people come and go. I want to live in a bustling city. I want love, I want hate. I want a cause I could give up everything for. I want to be able to just get up and leave where I am and not worry if I have enough socks and whether I forgot my toothbrush. I want to be organized and under control. Nothing can satisfy me.”

She glanced at Burgess. “Does any of that make sense to you? Well, it doesn’t to me. I’m a bundle of conflicts. No wonder I can’t even get married when it’s all set up. I have a love-hate feeling about marriage. I want it and I fear it, at the same time. So I guess it’s not surprising that I’m sitting here mourning the marriage I didn’t make. I really walked out on Darius at the altar. And I shoved Nona into something she really didn’t want.”

She shook her head. “You know, sometimes I even wrote poems in my diary. I would tease Maresy Doats with them. Maresy is my friend who is a horse. Before I met Seqiro. She always understood me. The way Seqiro does now. But still I teased her.”

Colene closed her eyes. She recited the poem from memory.

“My eyes aren’t actually green, in this life, of course, but in my fantasy realm they are. In the ugly real world they’re brown, but when I’m exotic they’re green. So if you ever see me with green eyes, you’ll know I’ve crossed over. With my loneliness.”

She laughed, verging on hysteria. “Do you want to know something funny, Burgess? Last year, when I had been raped and was turning suicidal, I was voted the happiest person in my class. That’s how well I fooled everybody.”

She thought the floater was laughing, before remembering that he had no sense of humor. He was going into another seizure!

She grabbed on to him. “Easy, Burg, easy! You got through it before; this one’s bound to be easier. Just tide through, and the poison’ll be gone.” Her words were more for herself than him; what counted for him was her presence and her emotion. Whatever comfort and hope she had, she gave to him, spreading mental oil on the troubled waters of his malady.

Slowly, it eased, and at last he settled again, his pain diminished. But Colene’s pain was increasing. Because more time had passed than she thought, and now the wedding was beginning.

She was at the limit of Seqiro’s range. Most of his mental energy was devoted to the wedding, to make sure that the groom and bride did not miss their cues. But there was enough left to send Colene a picture, and snatches of sound. No actual thought, but that didn’t matter; the picture was enough.

There was the church, nondenominational but still looking very churchly, with stained-glass windows and pews and a chancel in front. There was an organ. There were flowers. There was an audience: well-dressed people, looking sedate but expectant. Her folks had set it up to be perfect, and the caterer had really known its business. The whole thing had a preternatural familiarity, giving her an overwhelming sense of déjá vu. She had witnessed this scene before!

Of course she had! This was the wedding of her vision! Her nightmare—and now it was happening, exactly as she had seen it. She had seen it coming.

The music swelled. The Bride swept down the aisle, ethereally lovely in the gown that had been made for Colene, and magically grown to fit the other woman. Beside her was a man: Colene’s father, impeccably garbed, looking proud. They made a perfect father/daughter couple. Colene felt her face wet with tears, but the vision did not blur. She was not seeing it with her own eyes.

“That should have been me,” she whispered brokenly. “So close, so close…”

The Bride progressed to the front. The view shifted, and now the audience was seen from the front. There was Colene’s mother, dabbing her face with a silk handkerchief. Her father came to join her in the first pew, and took her hand. They looked so much like the ideal parents. Most of their marriage might have been a shell, and this was a shell too, but it was a picture to remember. This was the way it should have been, had there been reality beneath the shell. It was impossible to begrudge them this image. It was about all they had.

Now the scene was the Bride and Groom. Darius was the Groom, looking well groomed (naturally!) and handsome. Nona was the Bride, fair in the sense of beauty, dark in the sense of beauty, the loveliest possible creature. They made the perfect couple. They stood before the minister, and the key words were spoken.

Colene realized that Nona no longer looked like Colene. The illusion was gone. Of course Nona could not have fooled Colene’s folks about her identity; not during the hour’s ride in the car to Wichita Falls. The moment she opened her mouth, they would have known. Even if Seqiro was able to translate, at that distance. Because Nona was just plain different. So her folks knew, and accepted Nona, so there was no need for illusion.

“Oh, God, I can’t stand it!” Colene cried, trying not to listen.

Nevertheless, she heard Darius speak: “I do.”

“I did want to marry him! I did! Why did I throw it away?”

Nona spoke: “I do.”

“And what is left for me now?” Colene sobbed.

The picture came, relentlessly. Darius turning to face Nona. Nona lifting back her veil. Colene jammed her eyes closed, but could not shut it out. Nona smiling.

They kissed. There was the flash of a camera’s bulb. It was done.

Colene found herself hunched against Burgess, her hands grasping his contact points, her head against her hands. Her hands were wet with her tears.

She had done it for Burgess. To tide him through the reaction. She had given up her important ceremony to save him. She had valued friendship more than experience.

That was Burgess talking! “Burg, you’re back!” she exclaimed. “You’re conscious!”

He was conscious. He had been aware all along, but of too low a vitality to do more than focus on surviving. Now he was improved, though still far from well.

“That dolomite—it did have what you need. But also what you don’t need. So it’s no good, but it gives us a clue. Is it the calcium or the magnesium you need—or some associated trace element? I wish we had a safe way to tell.”

Colene thought about it, taking her mind off her own misery. “Maybe Amos would know.”

She knew that her range was too short, but she tried it anyway. After all, when she had sent her mind across the Virtual Mode, asking “Is anybody there?” the mind predator had heard. So maybe, with a narrow focus, she could reach him. Amos! Dolomite is halfway there. How do we find what counts?

There was a silence for a moment. Then, faintly: Colene!

He had heard her! Dolomite—good, bad. What next?

Idea.

So Amos had been notified. Maybe he would have the answer. She relaxed.

Then the wedding scene returned. Seqiro was still sending. She saw the wedding cake her mother had labored over. The caterer could have provided a fancier one, but her mother had wanted this aspect to be personal. She saw Nona’s hand on the knife, with Darius’ hand on hers, giving her strength. They were still following the ritual.

“If only I could have done that!” Colene said, her tears resuming.

She watched the continuing vision compulsively, as she might the funeral of a close friend. It was so perfect, and so dreadful. Like her life. Every time she came close to happiness, she bypassed it in favor of dolor. It was her way.

They even danced. Colene’s folks had somehow managed to squeeze a bit of everything in! That, too, was beautiful and horrible. Her man and her friend, so perfect.

There was the sound of a car pulling in. That was Amos. He walked directly to the tent. “Colene! How did you get back so quickly?”

“I never went,” she said.

“Never went! You’re a mess! What happened?”

“Burgess had a reaction, and I had to stay to tide him through. Nona went instead.”

He nodded. “That must have been a beautiful wedding.”

“It was. Seqiro showed me. I saw Nona marry Darius.”

“That was nice of her, considering her unfamiliarity with the ritual.”

“Yeah, sure.” Colene hoped the irony came through.

“Fortunately Texas is one of the states which allows marriage by proxy.”

She stared at him. “Proxy!”

He laughed. “You sound as if you thought she could marry him—when all the papers were in your name. It was your marriage, of course, throughout. She was merely your stand-in. An actress, really, going through the motions so that the ceremony could be accomplished with appropriate flair. I’m sure she was a picture to remember! Still, I can appreciate your disappointment at not being there yourself.”

“I missed my own wedding!” Colene breathed.

“For the most generous reason: to help your alien friend. You’re a great girl, Colene.”

Colene was awed by the realization. She knew about proxy marriage. She must have known that that was what she was really asking Nona to do. And Nona had known, too. That was why she had agreed. And why Colene’s parents had gone along with it. It was the only way to have the wedding performed on schedule, without sacrificing Burgess. Colene had known—yet hidden that knowledge from herself. She really was a creature of dolor!

“Now let’s see about Burgess. I got your message. I was amazed; I thought you were sending all the way from Texas. Then I realized that you would have been using Seqiro to boost your signal. So I brought refined products: calcium supplement, magnesium supplement. One of them should do it.”

Boosted by Seqiro. Probably that had been the case. Even at the extreme of his range, Seqiro was so much more powerful than she was that he could amplify her thought, especially when it was narrowly focused.

Amos held two packages. “Your call, Colene. Which one first?”

She was still dazed by the revelation of her marriage. “What do they do?”

“In simplistic terms, which may not be properly applicable to Burgess, calcium is the stuff which makes our bones and teeth, while magnesium hardens them.”

“Calcium is more common?”

“Yes. Except in something like dolomite.”

“So maybe it’s the rarer element he’s missing. Try that.”

“Done.” He opened the magnesium and took out a tiny amount, which he set in a Petri dish he had brought. He put a hand on a contact point. “Burgess, this is another try. We hope it’s the right one. Take it cautiously.” He set it down by the floater’s trunk.

The trunk touched it. Burgess sucked in the powder. “Now we wait,” Amos said. “If he has an adverse reaction, we’ll give him the other, quickly, because that’s likely to be the right one. With more of the right one, he should be better able to handle the wrong one.”

“Yeah.”

“A penny for your thoughts, Colene.”

“I’m married. I really am married. To Darius.”

“You really are, Colene. I realize that it doesn’t seem like it at the moment, considering what you were doing during the ceremony. But that will pass. I wish you a long and happy relationship, wherever you may be. You deserve it.”

“No, I don’t. I’m depressive. I’m unclean.”

“Damn it, Colene, you aren’t! You’re thinking of that rape, and it’s just not so. It was those boys who—you know, something strange happened yesterday. It was in the paper this morning. Four boys turned themselves in for rape. Was that you?”

“Darius and Seqiro did it.” She smiled. “Not the rape. The mind. They made the boys confess. They’d done it to other girls, so it will be one of those other cases that comes to court. But we’re responsible.”

“I’m glad to hear it. So any lingering problem you had with that can be ameliorated. You were a victim, and despite the attitude of too many ignoramuses, it is not a crime to be a victim. So enjoy your marriage, Colene; you have earned it.”

“Yeah, maybe,” she said, cheering.

“And there was something else. Very strange.”

“The Sin Eater,” she agreed. “Darius and Seqiro gave everyone in that slum the same feelings Raff has. To show them what it’s like.”

His mouth pursed appreciatively. “That should teach them manners!”

“We wanted to make Raff happy, but there was no way. So we made it even. And Darius even got back at the punks who beat him up, by setting them against the Chain Gang.”

“Your friends are amazing!”

“Yeah,” she agreed, pleased. “They’re great. All of them. Including Burgess, here.”

Amos got up. “I have other business to attend to. But do let me know how this works out.”

“The wedding night?”

“The medication, you little tease! I want to know that this most remarkable of creatures is well again. It has been the experience of my life, knowing him. Knowing all of you.”

“Don’t you want to be the first to kiss the bride?”

“Colene, you sneak-kissed me twice, and I’m a married man. The school will think I’m putting a move on—” He broke off. “That’s all of the ceremony you can have, isn’t it? You sacrificed the rest. Yes, I’ll kiss you, Colene. But don’t tell. Others would never understand.”

“Others don’t matter.”

He got down beside her and kissed her lightly on the mouth. She felt the tenderness in his mind. He understood so well, and he was genuinely happy for her. It was wonderful.

“Thanks, Amos,” she said faintly.

“You’re welcome, Mrs. Darius.”

She laughed. The universe was looking brighter. She could make it as Mrs. Darius. She would succeed in marriage—or die trying. Ha-ha.

“You will be reconsidering your status, in much the way paleontologists reconsidered the Burgess Shale, and perhaps coming to similarly momentous revelations. I wish you the best on the Virtual Mode, Colene.”

“I think I have the best already, Amos. I’m glad we stopped by here. It was good to see you, and to get other things settled.” That was the understatement of the month.

Then Burgess stirred.

“Oops—it’s a seizure,” Amos said.

Colene clapped both hands on contact points. “No it isn’t!” she cried gladly. “He’s recovering! I can feel the strength surging through.”

Yes, that was what he needed. They had found the elixir of his health.

“That was Burgess talking,” she said. She squeezed the points. “Oh, airfoot, it was worth it! You’re cured!”

Burgess sucked in air, smoothly. Colene let go, and he blasted air out below, lifting smoothly from the ground for the first time since coming to Earth. Then he settled, tired.

He needed more magnesium.

They put more out for him, not too much, lest he overdose. He took it in, and rested, waiting for it to be digested.

“It was worth it,” Amos echoed, watching. “There should be enough magnesium in that jar to hold him for years. If you ever stop by here again, be sure to look me up.” Then he left Colene to her reconsideration of her status.