Sagramanda, a Novel of Near-Future India

*9*

Getting around the hotel was no more difficult than entering it. All one had to do, Jena reflected, was dress appropriately and act as if you owned the place. Here, her sun-darkened skin was assumed to be the product of long hours spent whiling away the afternoons at luxurious beach resorts, instead of simply surviving from day to day beneath the burning tropical heat like everyone else in Sagramanda.

She had discarded her modified sari in favor of an outfit that would not have drawn a frown in Montmarte or Lyon, or for that matter New York or Zurich. Handsome photophobic skirt and blouse, credible shoes, long narrow shoulder bag, passable fake pearl necklace and ear rings comprised the kind of elegant yet casual travel gear any sensible European woman would choose to wear during a visit to India. The tall, traditionally uniformed, magnificently mustachioed Bengali doorman was quick to offer the usual salute and open the heavy glass door for her without asking to see any kind of identification.

Striding through the open, multistory lobby, she kept her gaze for ward and purposeful. She was not attractive enough to draw lengthy stares. Not in this five-star hotel, a favorite of visiting film stars and other notables. The indifference suited her purposes perfectly. Though she acted as if she owned the place, she had never been here before. It was important, when she was in a hotel mood, never to visit any hotel more than once. In a city the size of Sagramanda, that was not a problem.

High overhead, virtuals of scenes from the Ramayana and Mahabharata played out silently on the slightly concave ceiling. Glancing up, she caught a glimpse of Hanuman the Monkey God triumphing over the demon-king Ravana, as he did every hour on the hour. It was an impressive display, made all the more so by the fact that she couldn't spot the projectors.

The mongoose that confronted her stood up on its hind legs and inquired politely if there was anything she needed. It was a deft mechanical, and a clever change from the usual miniature elephant. Hotels of this class were always looking for any edge over the competition. Indicating that she was fine, she thanked the device and found her way out back.

The poolside bar was comfortably cool thanks to the invisible air curtain that kept the outdoor facility at half the chill of the main lobby. Choosing a chair by one of the small, elevated, mushroom-shaped tables, she ordered a drink and settled down to study the pool itself. It was a trilevel job, the two upper levels connected to the lower by transparent waterslides and waterfalls. Both of the upper pools were fashioned of transparent acrylic, so that swimmers could look out at the world beyond while those seated nearby or swimming in the main pool below could watch the upper-level swimmers cavort. Rainforest vegetation abounded, giving the setting the appearance of some movie-set jungle paradise. Miniature versions of the air screen that sealed off the bar area ensured that the vegetation was not doused with lethally chlorinated pool water.

That portion of the pool area not facing the hotel was enclosed by a two-story-high fence topped with electrified wire and a silent laser alarm beam. On the other side of the fence was a service alley that was the some time home of perhaps a thousand people. Clapboard lean-tos and empty shipping boxes served as shelters for those who had taken up residence in the narrow lane; at least, they did so until a particularly wide delivery truck or utilities vehicle needed to make use of the passage. Then people would scatter frantically in all directions as their transitory residences were smashed to pieces or crushed flat, whereupon they would wordlessly set themselves to the laborious task of rebuilding them anew. Occasion ally a ripe coconut, or mango, or papaya would fall into the alley from one of the branches of the decorative landscaping that overhung the security wall, whereupon a small war over its possession would ensue.

The residents of the hotel, of course, never had any contact with the residents of the alley, and the hotel's indomitable security staff ensured it stayed that way.

None of the alley's citizens would have dreamed, or had the means, to bluff their way inside the hotel. For Jena it was easy. Any decently dressed European, especially a single woman, who entered the hotel was assumed either to be staying there, or visiting a guest, or meeting someone on business. It could be said that the latter was the case for her. It was just that she had not yet chosen someone to meet.

She sat for an hour; nursing her drink, then another. Watching, waiting, appraising, calculating. A middle-aged Italian couple sat down at the table next to her and exchanged polite greetings in broken English. She chatted with them while they ordered, waited until a plate of satay arrived at their mushroom table, watched as the individual thermotropic skewers cooked the chunks of pork and chicken from within, did not bother them as they ate, and decided against asking to see their room so she could compare it with her own. Despite his age, the man was a bit too big, a shade too physically competent-looking. Jena did not buy trouble. The couple departed smiling, utterly unaware how near they had come to participating in an after noon of sudden death and dismemberment.

Eyes narrowing only slightly, she picked up her drink and walked over to another table.

"Hi. Mind if I join you? I hate drinking alone, and it doesn't look like the person I was supposed to meet here is going to show up."

She guessed the other woman to be about her own age, perhaps a year or two younger. With the Chinese it was sometimes difficult to tell. The woman wore an expensive sun-repellent wrap around a form-fitting swimsuit. Her black hair was cut short and fashionable. The only jewelry she wore was a single earring, so long that its tip brushed her clavicle. A waterfall of color played through it, controlled by the internal chip.

After studying Jena's face, the woman gestured courteously at an empty seat. "Why not?" Her English was excellent, and no surprise.

"I am Marie-Louise." Jean extended a hand, shook the other woman's. The grip was firm but not overbearing. "From French Guiana."

That piqued the other's curiosity. "Xinzhou Mai-ling. Everybody calls me May. French Guiana?" She eyed her visitor with obvious interest. "I have never met a person from that place. What do you do there?" She laughed lightly as she set the drink down. The steadily fizzing contents were blue, Jena noted. "What is there to do there?"

"Not very much, it is true. I work for Arianaspace."

"Shih?" This time interest mixed with surprise. "Are you an astronaut? Or as we say, a taikonaut?"

Jena laughed. Rapport had been established. "Nothing so exciting. I'm a technician. I am here for a conference." She did not say what kind of conference. Nor would she, unless she was pressed to elucidate, in which case she would have to elaborate further on things she had read on the Net while constructing her current cover.

Fortunately, May Xinzhou was not particularly interested in the details of her new European friend's profession. She was much more interested in the Frenchwoman herself. She was an executive for a major white goods manufacturer in Guangdong and was in Sagramanda exploring wholesaling possibilities. Jena could not help her there, but she could help relieve the ennui the other woman anticipated having to deal with until her next appointment, which was not until tomorrow morning.

"These Indians," she confided well into her fourth drink, "the men they are always so very surprised when they find out there is such a thing as female Chinese executive. Some of them cannot deal with it. Those who only want to talk figures and look at fiscal projections are no problem." She giggled. "You are staying here too?"

"Of course," Jena lied effortlessly as she sipped. "I'm trying to find a way to relax myself." She raised a hand and pointed to the far side of the pool where a dark stairway could be seen leading downward. "I understand this hotel has an excellent Ayurvedic facility. If you want, we could continue this conversation while really taking it easy."

The executive half turned on her stool. "I have heard about Ayurvedic massage, but I have never tried. Because I know nothing about it and would not know where to start."

"I know all about it," Jena assured her. She hopped off her stool, still holding her current drink. "Come on. I guarantee the experience will relax you completely."

"Hokay. It will be something to tell my friends back home."

As they walked toward the stairway, Jena frowned suddenly. "Merde -I must have left my access in my room, and I can't remember the code."

"No problem, no problem," her new acquaintance assured her. "I have mine with me." She smiled graciously. "I am on full expense account. Time to make use of some of it."

"Thanks," Jena said simply. "That's good of you."

The big male was hungry, but he was also confused, and uncertain. Days ago, he had made an easy kill south of the area he was now prowling. Liking the taste of the strange meat and hoping for more of the same, he had intended to return as soon as his stomach demanded refilling. But on his initial approach to the place he had sensed and heard unusual noises. Advancing with great caution through the cloud-heavy night, he had espied something unnatural moving through the brush not far from where he had made the kill. The creature patrolling the edge of the jungle marched on eight legs. It had only a single eye, curiously dead, that scanned its surroundings from the end of a thin neck. There was no visible mouth to worry about, certainly no teeth, but the tiger was wary nonetheless. The cylindrical, armored body emitted a steady hum so subtle that many animals would have been hard-pressed to detect it. Not the tiger. It sounded more like a buzzing, flying thing than anything else, but there was no evidence of wings. Most peculiar of all, the smell that emanated from it was a faint, thick stink the likes of which the tiger had not encountered before. Then there was the matter of the internal light that was visible for just an instant when one of the creature's rear legs flexed.

Anything never encountered before was to be regarded with great suspicion. Given the creature's much smaller size, younger, bolder males and females might have decided to attack first, taste second, and evaluate later. Not the big male. He had not reached his present mature age and size from acting impetuously. From his hiding place in the thick underbrush, he pierced the night with vision six times sharper than that of a human as he watched the strange being trundle down its chosen path. It made no move either to enter the jungle proper or drift toward the well-kept dwellings beyond. The single-mindedness of purpose it exhibited was impressive.

Silently, the tiger tracked it for a while longer. Once, he shifted his place of concealment to follow the thing, maintaining the distance between them. To see a quarter ton of tiger moving in absolute silence through the jungle on footpads big enough to completely blot out a man's face is something to remember-or to terrify, depending on the thrust of the cat's movements and one's proximity to it. The eight-legged creature did not react to being stalked. Nor did it pause to drink, or to browse, or to try and catch something to eat.

Suspicious, the big male retreated, backing up until he was well out of sight of the odd being and then turning to retreat into deeper, darker jungle. He did not trust what he did not know, especially the eerie smell. Hungry as he was, the big cat would look elsewhere for tonight's twenty kilos of meat. He would have been even more wary had he been able to read and understand the markings on the creature's side, one of which said in both subdued English and Sanskrit script:

Only one attendant was on duty in the facility. Jena studiously examined the three-dimensional artwork on the wall while her new executive friend checked them in. In response to the attendant's query as to whether they required a live masseuse, the Frenchwoman replied in the negative, without turning her head to face the attendant. When she and May entered their assigned cubicle, Jena was confident that the bored employee had not managed so much as a glimpse of her face. As befitted a hotel of this class, the subterranean room was intimate and welcoming. Responding to her room flasher, a soothing male voice husked as they passed through an open portal into the sanctum, "Welcome, Mai-ling Xinzhou and guest." Jena tensed slightly. But as hoped, since she was clearly with the Chinese executive and already inside the hotel grounds, the facility's subsidiary security system did not feel compelled to ask her for additional identification.

There were four private grottos and no human attendants. That was the nice thing about exclusive places like the hotel, Jena reflected. Management respected the privacy of its guests above all else. Even better, none of the other cubicles were presently occupied.

"Preferences?" inquired Mai-ling. "Please remember that I am new to this." Jena noted that not everything the executive said rang true. But then, she had already figured as much. The mix of anticipation and mild excitement in the other woman's voice was unmistakable.

"It doesn't matter." Jena touched the "Open" button on the nearest cubicle. "I'm sure they're all identical. Private and soundproofed."

With a soft whoosh of air, a door decorated with Ayurvedic symbols drew aside to reveal a small room. Virtuals of forest scenery-lush trees and rippling springs, blossoming flowers, lullabying songbirds - immediately added depth and dimension to the surroundings. Over head, a curved ceiling was filled with fluffy white clouds backlit by gentle sunshine. The musical equivalent of falling water, the trembling tones of a sitar filled the chamber in concert with the dulcet crooning of the oboe-like shehnai. Standing between two raised, padded platforms, the delighted Mai-ling smiled like a schoolgirl who had just unexpectedly been presented with a new dress. "I am relaxed already, and I believe we have not even started, yes?"

Nodding, Jena reached for the tab under her left arm that would disengage her outfit. "Get undressed and lie down on one of the tables. I'll take the other one."

As the visiting businesswoman complied, Jena carefully folded and set her own attire aside. By the time both women were completely naked, their cubicle had pumped enough perfume into the room for it to smell like an ancient harem. The carefully compiled blend of fragrances scented their nude bodies with droplets of warm mist.

A bit awkwardly, Mai-ling climbed onto one platform and lay down on her stomach. "Like this?"

Reclining supplely on the other platform, Jena gestured approvingly. "Stretch your arms out in front of you. Like this." While demon strating, she began to search impatiently for an activation control. It was not necessary. The room was simply taking its time, allowing them to get comfortable before treatment commenced.

Now a different male voice greeted them. "Welcome, guests, to the ashtahvaidyan Ayurvedic experience. Please lie back and relax while your specific composition and body types are scanned in preparation for the receiving of treatment. Be so kind as to keep your eyes closed until the brief period of preparation is complete."

Both women shut their eyes as a laser spent half a minute scanning each of them from head to toe. When that process was complete, the inner portions of both platforms sank less than a centimeter into their receptacles, except for the dense foam pillowlike portions that sup ported their heads.

"Please relax while your beds are filled with a light application of the appropriate massage oil," the voice told them. Jena felt the familiar warm glow of precisely blended liquid filling the basin in which she lay. Moments later they were instructed to turn over onto their backs, then back onto their stomachs once again.

Giggling drifted across to her from the other table. "I feel like duck in a wok," the delighted executive told her new friend. "I warn you -if I see vegetables being added, I am going to get out!"

Jena made herself smile. "Just relax. Let the oil penetrate your skin."

"The special blend that has been prepared for you," the room voice murmured, "contains a typical Ayurvedic mix of sesame oil, extract of sweet flag, round zedory, beech, nightshade, Uraria lagopoids, deodar pine, fennel, sandalwood oil, eaglewood, valerian, costus, cardamom, musk root, country mallow, and winter cherry. It is designed to relax and invigorate your specific body types."

"Definitely sounds like it would go good with duck," Mai-ling commented, but this time without laughing. She was beginning to loosen up as the lightly warmed oils penetrated and soothed her skin.

"Ayurveda is one of the oldest systems of medicine in the world," the comforting voice assured her. "It is designed to work on both the physical and mental levels."

"I do not know yet about the physical," the executive sighed, "but mentally I am definitely starting to unwind."

"Just let go," the voice urged her, "while I work on your marmas." A soft thrumming filled the room, not loud enough to drown out the soothing music.

"My what?" Through her rising torpor, the naked businesswoman managed to sound slightly alarmed.

"Marmas," Jena explained as the humming grew nearer and more personal, "are energy points within the body. They respond to physical manipulation. Massage." She allowed herself to relax, too. It would be foolish to waste the opportunity.

The humming sound originated with the motors that lowered long rectangular shapes from the ceiling. Only slightly smaller than the bed-platforms directly below, each was densely covered with hundreds of synthetic rubberoid fingers, each of which could be individually pro grammed. Mai-ling let out a small "Oh" of surprise as the prewarmed, rounded tips of the full-body massager above her made contact with her bare, oil-slick skin. With a precision no human masseuse could match, the fingers contracted until the upper platform was perfectly molded to her body from the back of her head to her upthrust heels, as if she were a priceless porcelain doll being measured for form-fitting shipping foam.

The synthetic fingers began to move; rubbing, pressing, manipulating, working the oil into her muscles and joints, relieving stress, gently but firmly pushing and stretching, relying on the intimate details that had been recorded by the scanning laser.

"Heavenly!" the executive sighed.

"Much more effective than its human counterparts," Jena agreed. "It's like having a dozen specialists work on you simultaneously instead of just one tired and maybe bored masseur. In addition to freeing you from stress and tension, Ayurvedic massage is supposed to be able to cure rheumatism, sciatica, bursitis, and many other ailments of the joints and muscles."

Arching her body, she pushed firmly upward with her back and buttocks. As she did so, the platform containing the massaging synthetic fingers automatically retreated, allowing her to swing her legs off the platform and sit up. Head turned the other way, by now completely at ease and half asleep, the drowsy visitor from Guangdong took no notice of the other woman's silent and deliberate movements.

Prowling restlessly northward, the big cat cut through the forest in a wide arc, not approaching the edge of the jungle again until it was several kilometers from the place where it had encountered the TC device. Once more it found itself confronting a professionally maintained greensward fronting a jumble of multistory dwellings. These expensive townhomes were only two and three stories high, with open space separating every cross-shaped quad of housing. Their inhabitants paid a premium for considerable interior space and a location on the border of the world-renowned reserve.

In this wealthier, more developed neighborhood, a barrier of charged cables the height of several men separated landscaping from jungle. Other special wires had been laid below the surface, carrying current underground to repel anything smart or active enough to try digging beneath the fence. A meter off the ground, the steady, subdued beam of a blue sensor laser was flanked by two of the softly buzzing cables. Anything living that made contact with them would receive a jolt powerful enough to discourage even a determined elephant or rhino, of which there were many living in the preserve. Anything that also broke the beam of the sensor would trigger an alert plus a swift response from the privately maintained ranger stations that were situated at intervals along the border with the reserve. A sloping, dry moat designed to keep children away from the fence paralleled the barrier on its north-south run. Evenly spaced warning signs provided the same function for adults.

Neither Ritu, in her stone-washed green jeans and sun-repellent matching blouse, or Vinod in his trendy one-piece pseudo-chamois relaxer, gave any thought to their surroundings as they ran, hand in hand, toward the fence line. Both from comparatively well-off families, each with a year left at university, she attractive and he handsome, they cavorted with the air of those in their early twenties who were convinced they were immortal and destined for Great Things.

"We shouldn't be doing this," she giggled nervously but expectantly as she looked back toward the receding shape of her parent's quad.

"I know." Vinod squeezed her hand a little tighter as he led her on. "Isn't that why we are doing it?"

They shared the delicious, knowing smile of those tempting the forbidden as he guided her toward the place he had found. Here and there, large natural conglomerations of gray granite had been left standing among the lawns, flowers, and decorative bushes by the quad's builders. The natural rock piles provided places for children to play, older juveniles to scramble and fight, and adults to sit quietly. The two university students intended to use the outcropping Vinod had chosen to sit, but not quietly. And truth be told, to do something other than sit.

They were alone, which was the idea. Vinod's flashlight illuminated the way. They were hurrying across grass, well away from the nearest winding, paved walking path.

A little out of breath, he slowed as they neared the stone outcrop. The beam of his flashlight played across the rocks. Though the waxing slim sliver of moon was hidden behind clouds and not visible tonight, the whitened, ghostly aspect of the raw granite was suitably lunar.

"Come on," he urged her. In the dim light, his teeth were whiter than the rocks.

"What?" Uncertain, she gestured with a nod of her head. "Up there?"

"Why not?" He grinned challengingly. "Afraid of heights?"

"Hardly," she shot back. "It just does not look very… comforting."

"You can lay your head on my lap," he told her.

"Yes, you would like that, wouldn't you?" After a moment to let the tease sink in, she matched his grin with one of her own. "All right. But mind your hands on the way up."

He started toward the nearest slope. "On the way up, I promise. After that…" A multitude of possible interpretations were left dangling in the air. Significantly, she did not bother to swat them away.

It was an easy climb. Children made it. But at this hour of the night there were no children about, nor any others their own age. It was midweek, after all, and people had to get up in the morning to go to work, or to class. Not even the warning lights of a nocturnal jogger utilizing the nearest paved path materialized to interrupt the solitude they sought. Somewhere deep in the woods on the other side of the security fence, a brilliantly blued lilac-breasted roller warbled in con fusion. A diurnal bird, it was not normally active this late at night.

"I can't thank you enough for this suggestion." Gently cupped between upper and lower platforms, body massaged by hundreds of tenderly, precisely programmed synthetic fingertips, the visiting businesswoman's voice had dropped to a completely contented whisper. "How long should we stay like this? Is the treatment timed, or can we stay as long as we wish?"

"I believe such automated systems charge by the half hour. It should be charged automatically to your room." Slipping, literally, off the plat form, Jena made her way to the open closet where she had placed her clothes. The room's subdued light glistened off the oil on her skin.

"Have to stay for an hour, then," Mai-ling murmured. "Remember, it's all on expense account."

Jena did not reply. Instead, she took out and unsealed the long carrying bag she had brought with her and reached inside. The steel of the sword that she extracted had been polished to a mirror-bright shine. Its presence did not alarm the room's programming. Nor would a hotel of this class think of installing security cameras in so exclusive a venue, lest a single outraged guest sue for invasion of privacy.

The tip of the sword hanging from her clenched right fist nearly scraped the floor as the naked Jena quietly approached the occupied bed-platform. Through the perfumed mist that filled the massage chamber, the gleaming, oiled, nude body of the visiting female executive was visible as a pale streak between the upper massage platform and the lower basin. Chinese egg roll, the expatriate Frenchwoman thought, without a flicker of a smile.

"You have a beautiful body," she murmured, barely audible above the tinkling, seductive strains of sitar and shehnai.

"Umm." Mai-ling started to turn her head to face her newfound friend. "How do I get this to let me turn over?"

"Just turn," Jena told her softly. "The unit's sensors will detect your movement and respond accordingly."

"Okay." The other woman started to roll onto her back. "You know, this setup is wonderful, but sometimes there's no substitute for the human touch."

"Believe me, I know," a somber-voiced Jena admitted without hesitation.

The look of expectation and anticipation on the businesswoman's face hardly had time to turn to horror as the sword descended.

Vinod helped Ritu to the crest. The rock outcropping fell off more sharply on the other side. From this vantage point they were able to look directly over the reserve's underbrush and into its trees. He amused him self by switching the flashlight off and then suddenly shining it into the branches. Once, the beam picked out a family of macaques moving through the canopy. Other than that, the forest was asleep.

"When we get married…" he began as they sat down and in one single, smooth motion slipped his right arm around her waist.

"Just a moment, Vinod." Her voice slowed him, but she made no move to push his arm away. "We are not even engaged yet. I want a modern marriage, yes. Nothing arranged. But I am not sure I am ready for it yet. There is the matter of finishing my degree, and-"

Leaning close, he tenderly kissed her shoulder. She resolutely continued not to pull away. "There are such things as married students, Ritu. We would not be the first such couple in history." Continuing to touch her lightly, his lips slowly ascended, climbing toward her neck. Sitting atop the outcropping enveloped in tropical night, she shivered slightly.

"Vinod, this isn't right."

"Odd," he murmured as his lips reached her cheek. "It feels so very right."

She had no more words for when he began to kiss her. Besides, it was difficult to speak with two tongues in your mouth. A sound, how ever, made her draw back sharply.

"What?" Vinod was simultaneously alarmed and surprised. "What did I do?"

She was not looking at him. She was staring intently over the fence, into the forest. Her words were whispered. "I heard something."

He relaxed. Whatever it was that had startled her, the important thing was that he was not responsible. He moved to resume where they had left off. "Macaques. Monkeys. The wind."

"Maybe-no, there it is again." Leaning away from him, she squinted as she tried to see deeper into the trees. "Let me have your flashlight."

Grumbling to himself, he removed the thumb-sized device from his breast pocket. "Monkeys," he repeated, but without much enthusiasm. Usually it was his younger brother who ruined such moments. Frustrated, he followed the beam of light as she moved it around. He tried to sound understanding. "I don't see what-"

He never did see. In a demonstration of incredible power and unrivaled agility, the tiger exploded out of the tree it had climbed opposite the outcropping. It cleared the top of the fence and landed, roaring, as much on top of the wide-eyed Vinod as it did on bare rock. Ritu screamed and fell to one side. Her boyfriend had time to do neither. As she rolled and scrambled down the rocks, she heard above the blood-chilling snarling a momentary quick, sharp sound like the snap ping of a broomstick. Far behind her, the first lights were coming on in the nearest townhouse quad.

Lying on the grass at the bottom of the outcropping, she found herself staring upward, openmouthed. Even in the dim light she was able to make out the massive shape of the tiger. It held something limp in its jaws. If she had not known it was Vinod, she would not have been able to tell, because the face was completely obscured by blood. His head hung downward at a perfect right angle from his neck. The sound she had heard had been the tiger's jaws snapping his spine. She was too terrified to scream. Only once, when she thought the tiger looked down at her, did she come close.

Then it turned and, with the dead student clamped tightly in its mouth, leaped almost disdainfully back over the fence, landing this time not in a treetop but on the ground. As she stared half paralyzed and dead silent, it trotted off into the bush calmly carrying its kill in its jaws. She sat like that, unmoving, wide-open eyes locked on the silent jungle, until the residential complex's first concerned residents reached her and one put a tentative hand on her shoulder. The same shoulder that Vinod had so recently kissed. The human touch helped greatly. It allowed her to start screaming again.