13

 ASSIGNMENTS – The TASC

Colony Coastline - Victoria Redbow

Penn State Reserve - Dr. Arthur Findley 

Colony Breadbasket - Elliot & Anna Sproul

            For a time there were no noticeable developments, but the not-so-noticeable developments were many.

            LANON LEFT THE BOARD MEETING and encountered a visibly shaken Brad in the lounge. "Mind if I join you?"

            "I wish you would."

            When Lanon was seated, soda and lime in hand, Brad confessed, "I watched the Board meeting from the Terminal."  He swirled the ice cubes in his glass for a moment, as if still questioning what he had just seen and heard with his own eyes and ears.  "Is that why Audley wanted you to be tested?"

            Lanon nodded.  "She was the first person I met.  My supervisors suggested I tell her who I was so I could get some help in the humanizing process.  Of course, she thought I was crazy and wanted me to be tested."

            "Did Doc Will figure you out?"

            "No.  In the end, though, I told him."

            Brad nodded, letting this information digest.  After he had absorbed it he said, "I hope you don't mind my asking, but it occurs to me you might know something about that black-out.  I'm assuming you didn't cause it."

            "I appreciate that," Lanon said.  "Sylvia thinks I did."

            “She didn't tell me what her hunch was, but I guess it was that you did cause it." He grinned. "She can be pretty persuasive."

            "I'm not worried,” Lanon grinned.  “ I'm sure Sylvia discussed her theory with Audley -- who can also be fairly persuasive, and I'm sure Audley would have discouraged such an idea.  But no, to answer your question, I wasn't responsible for the blackout.  It wasn't even related to a galactic explosion."

            "So what was it?  An energy drain like the IOF said?"

            "There are natural disasters in the universe, but disasters like the black-out are man-made, resulting from his misuse of the natural resources."

            "And they want me to subvert their irresponsibility into a natural disaster.”  Brad shook his head.  "That two-faced Lassater."

            "What’s a two-faced lasiter?"

            "A two-faced Lassater," Brad explained, “is the man who put me in charge of this ... investigation.”  He sneered.  “This farce!  The IOF is the government’s scapegoat.  They can’t afford to accept their responsibility in this.”

            "The IOF is not a government agency?"

            "No.  It’s partially funded by the government, but it’s independently set up.  The government took great interest in it at first, but the IOF told them things they didn't want to hear.  Too many things had to change.  Too many of their private interests would have to be abandoned or destroyed."

            "If the IOF's motives are sincere, maybe they’re just ahead of their time," Lanon suggested.

            "They are," Brad agreed, "in many respects, but as I think of it, they're a private interest, too, and far more dispensable than the big business of running a country."

            "They are not inherent Zooids, then, the IOF?"

            "’Fraid not.  Their work would appear to be altruistic, but in the long run, they're in it for the profit."

            "Another ideal undermined by self-interest."

            "Yes, and I almost can't blame them," Brad mused.  "People only want technology that will keep them entertained.”

            "I noticed that tendency on public television," Lanon said.  "And they have an almost obsessive interest in sex!"

            "Well, that's a viable interest!"  Brad grinned, swirled his ice cubes, and began to let himself relax.

            "What do you think of these Zooids, Brad?  Do you think they are a viable interest?"

            "Doc Will certainly thinks they are, but I really don't know much about them, except what he's told me, and then what I learned just now from watching the Board meeting."

            "My only reservation," Lanon confided, "is that they're only about 25 years old.  Those who were in it from the beginning are certainly committed to it, but I wonder if the Zooids will stay with it after their leaders are gone?"

            "To use one of Doc Will's favorite phrases, you mean you think they might ‘revert’?"

"Or, since Urthlings are such pleasure seekers, they might get bored."

            Brad laughed.  "What would you know about boredom?'

            "I read about it in one of Doc's books.  It said that some people cannot tolerate even relative perfection, that when things start going good, going right, they get uncomfortable, so they make a mess of things just to keep their life lively.  I think the term they used was 'crises junkies'."

            Brad shook his head.  "No, there's a difference here.   Boredom is not the same as stability.  What I got out of that meeting, Lanon, is that the JCP seems to exist to eliminate undue stress."

            "How do you mean?"

            "I don't know if you understand stress, but our culture is rampant with it.  In free enterprise, competition can be overbearing and capitalism can be like a disease.  Everyone wants something from you, whether it’s your money, your time, your creativity or your very soul.  And the system is very clever at getting what it wants.  It uses peer pressure, social status, manipulation, justification, taxation, you name it.  If they can’t seduce you into keeping up with the escalating standard of living, you’re shamed into it.  And it’s very easy to be discarded if you don’t measure up.

            “At one time such unremitting striving may have been necessary, but as a nation we've reached our goals of attainment.  How much does one person really need, after all?  Every push-button gadget, every toy, every material comfort, and still people either want more or else they have to fight like hell to hold on to what they've already got, because someone will want to take it away.  People are tired of the stress of trying to maintain even a simple life."

            After a thoughtful moment Lanon nodded his head.   "Materialism is what you're talking about."

            "Yes, and it appears that the JCP is not based on materialism, that their values have gone beyond what they can get to what they can do to make life more meaningful for each other."

            Lanon nodded.  "I appreciate your observation."

            Brad was flattered, and felt a sudden affection for Lanon.  It occurred to him that Lanon probably didn't have another mortal male friend in whom he could confide.  He decided to try to develop it.  "You know, Lanon, I want you to know I have no hard feelings about you and Audley."

            "That's very decent of you, Brad.  I appreciate that, too.  I’ve heard that jealousy is a very unpleasant emotion."

            "I’ll admit I had a pang or two of it in the beginning, but fortunately Sylvia took care of that for me."

            "Evidently you've taken care of some things for her, too.  She looks great!"

            Brad allowed a lascivious grin.  "She is great!"  When he saw that Lanon was not smiling, he said, "Aren’t you and Audley ... taking care of … you know.  Each other?"

            Lanon shook his head.

            Brad was incredulous.  "Are we talking about the same woman?"

            "I'm sure we are.  Why?"

            "Well, Audley loves sex!  And the Audley I knew was assertive about getting it!  I can't imagine her with cold feet!"

            "Cold feet?"

            Brad shook his head.  "It’s just a figure of speech."

            Lanon revealed, "Angus tells me she is confused about her feelings for me."

            "Well, hell, Lanon, can you blame her?  You aren't exactly the boy next door!"

            "But I am!  I’m just a guy from a neighboring constellation."

            "This constellation you come from," Brad ventured,  "is that what you mean when you talk about communicating with intelligent life in the universe?"

            "Zenton, yes, and others.  It's a big universe."

            "So is that what this TASC assignment is that Angus thinks I can do?"

            "Yes.  Is it something you could find interesting?"

"Work in my chosen field without a two-faced Lassater breathing down my neck?  Hell, yes, that's something I could get interested in."

            “Well, I can't say there isn't supervision.  It's just not like what you're used to.  Angus, for instance.  He's over me and he'd be over you, too."

            "Well, I like Angus.  He's a kick.”  Brad admitted, “His appearance was disconcerting at first, but as he said, I shouldn't let his appearance detract from his reality, and Angus is definitely real!  He’s a man’s man, you know what I mean?"  He slapped his knee for emphasis.  "I can't ever remember anyone being as open and honest about sex as Angus.  He's a real hoot.”

            To which Lanon confided, "I think Angus has got something going with Flora."

            Brad said, "You're kidding."

            Lanon now returned Brad's lascivious grin, and as the two men laughed together, Lanon began to understand and appreciate the human fascination for sex.  When their laughter subsided, Brad went on, "As for those beauties, Flora and Cybelle, well, my tastes run to something a little more substantial, if you know what I mean, but they're alright.  Angus and Flora, huh?  And it looks like Jesse has an eye for the other one.  What did they say they were here for?"

            "Flora studies physical life through vegetation and Cybelle is keeping her company."

            "Right.   So they're just visiting."

            "Well, so is Angus.  So am I for that matter."

            "Where’d I get the idea you'd be around for awhile?" Brad asked.

            "I think Audley would like for me to stay, but I don't know what they want me to do when this mission is ended.”

            "I guess it's kind of like being shipped overseas," Brad remarked off hand.

            "Pardon?"

            "Oh.  That’s a phrase from the war.  Getting shipped overseas, leaving your wife and family behind, lots of marriages were lost.  Shipwrecked."

            Lanon mused, "I can't help but wonder if those that were shipwrecked were built to withstand the storm."

            "I see what you're saying.  Well, good luck to you, however it turns out."

            "Thanks."

            After a long moment Brad asked, "Now are you going to tell me what my job is, or do I have to fill out a damned application?"

DR. BRADFORD SPENCER WAS OFFICIALLY HIRED on by the JCP to install the new program that would herald in the new era.  Jesse, Lanon and Angus briefed him in the Terminal on what to expect.

            "This channel won't be like any other system you've worked on before," Jesse advised him.  "We're not working a TASC here with the standard Transmit/Access modem."

            "There is no software for the Access we anticipate," Lanon explained.  "This Access will be from an outside source, so you’ll have to build this, essentially, to transmit and receive from a void."

            Brad nodded.  "So we're assuming, then, that the other end of the channel will have a Transmit/Receive that is compatible to ours?"

            "Exactly."

            "From how far away will the broadcasts come?" Brad asked.

            Lanon pondered a moment then suggested, "From a substation probably….   Figure within this solar system."

            "Then I should think in terms of a satellite receiver."

            "Exactly.  This channel will be operated by and through energy patterns,” Angus elaborated.  “The human voice will be changed into energy waves and sent through the program to a receiver stationed somewhere in the stratosphere.  From that point, another life force will send its energy waves back to the Terminal where the energy waves will again be translated into the human voice.  Both of these voices are to be recorded and will later be transcribed into the written word and archived for future generations."

            "So,” Brad acknowledged, “we will need a voice activated recording device.  What about a FAX?"

            "What's a FAX?" Lanon asked.

            "That's for transmitting documents."

            "No," Jesse said.  "And no keyboard, either.  This is strictly voice activated."

            Brad was confident he could devise the program.  He was confident also that, with the TASC, he could devise an answer for the blackout -- one that would pacify Lassater and absolve the IOF of any failure.  Boy genius here would come out smelling like a rose.

RETURNING FROM RENO with Sylvia, Audley reminded herself again to do it like she learned it in school.  Forget the emotionality and go for the academics.  She had resolved it in her mind that Lanon was a phenomenon, and his mission was important to the world at large but not to her personally.  She was incidental to him, in fact, except where her research would help him, and even that was none of her business.  Her business was to report her observations for publication in the Silent Majority for which she would receive payment.  It was a business deal.  Romance was not part of the bargain.

            Thus, while Sylvia napped, Audley wrapped herself in her perfunctory armor.  She culled her notes on the zooidal communication and transportation systems, calculating that a rough draft would let her new boss know how conscientiously she was approaching this assignment.  She got off the transport line, leaving Sylvia sound asleep in her seat, and went straight to Jesse’s office to present him with her draft, but he would not accept it.

            "I want you to hold onto all your notes until the end of the assignment, Audley.  Wait to compile your notes until after you've finished all the research.”

            "But why wait?" she asked, a bit miffed to be told how to do her job.

            "Because your emotional appeals will be developing while you're doing your research, even well after you’ve finished.  I want you to wait until you have really grasped what it is we are trying to tell the reader."

            She picked up her papers without comment and turned to leave.  Jesse stopped her at the door.  "Have you seen Lanon?" he asked.

            "No, not yet.  I just got back.  Why?"

            "Because he was wondering where you went – as were we all.  You didn't tell anyone where you were going."

            She bristled.  “I didn’t know I was expected to punch a clock.”

            “You aren’t,” Jesse assured her.   

            "I just wanted to get away for a few days," she said without apology.  “You said to take a trip on the Lines!”

            "I’m not reprimanding you, Audley.  Relax.  I just want to remind you that one of the elements of the zooidal philosophy is that you ask for help when you need it.  No one has to face life alone.  If there is something bothering you, talk to someone."

            "Nothing’s bothering me, Jesse," she lied.

            As she walked away, he called, "You won’t get the emotional appeals right if you don't put your heart into it!"

CROSSING THE DECK, Audley’s eyes were drawn to the intimate social cluster of Lanon and two women.  In spite of her resolve to remain emotionally detached, her first instinct was to be jealous and her first reaction was to be angry with herself for being jealous.  She braced herself as Lanon spotted her and came to greet her.  He was as attentive as he had been when she last saw him in the psychedelic rain. 

            "I'm glad to see you," he said, taking her hand.  "Come!  I want you to meet some friends of mine.”

            At once Audley recognized Flora, Dierdre’s sister, who approached her with psychic arms outstretched. "It is so good to see you again, little sister."

            Almost bashfully, Audley responded, "Hello, Flora." 

            Lanon was intrigued.  "You've already met?"

            Flora bowed her head slightly, deferring to Audley, who acknowledged, "In Guadix.  At Professor Vessey’s.”

            “Have you met Cybelle? Flora’s traveling companion, Cybelle?"

            Audley shook her head as Cybelle stood to survey her, attesting,  "How lovely!  Is this your helpmate, Lanon?"

            "Yes," he said, "this is Audley, the woman I’ve been telling you about."  She fought against her heart's flutter, as he went on to explain, "Flora came here on a gathering mission from the Constellation Uriah, which is next to Zenton, and Cybelle accompanied her.”

            Confirmed.  Two more supernals.  And gorgeous! How could she even hope that Lanon would rather be with her than with the likes of them!  His graciousness was surely just cordiality.  Her heart was so conflicted!        

            "Come," Flora said, sitting and patting the seat beside herself.  "Sit with us."

            Lanon relinquished her so she could sit down, which was good, for in truth, her knees were weak.  In deference to his innocence, his being so new, she determined to be brave.  She took a deep breath.  "Are you a botanist, too, Cybelle?" she asked in an attempt to be sociable.

            Cybelle wrinkled her nose.  "No.  I'm just along for the ride." 

            Something in Cybelle's tone struck Audley as being unfriendly.  It felt like a slap.

            Oblivious to her distress, Lanon said, "Audley, your father wanted to see you.  I’m going to go look for him while you visit with Cybelle and Flora."

            “Is anything wrong?” she asked, instantly anxious.           "Oh, no," he assured her.  "He was just wondering where you went.  He’s probably in the clinic.  I’ll go tell him you're back and that you’re fine." 

            Left alone with the females, Audley felt vulnerable.  Sitting next to these daughters of divinity whose beauty was like none on Urth, she felt like an ugly duckling.

            "Fear not," Flora said.  "We are your sisters."

            "I'm not afraid," she lied. 

            Cybelle and Flora exchanged glances.  After a moment Flora said, "You have been provided to teach Lanon the emotional aspects of being human.  How can he learn the full spectrum of human feelings if you won't share yours with him?"

            "I don't know what you mean," she balked.  "I’m just a reporter, helping him do research.  His emotions are not my problem."

            "What is your problem?" Cybelle asked. 

            Again, Audley felt as if Cybelle had upbraided her.   Flora came to the rescue.  "Cybelle,” she admonished.  “Be patient."

            In the long silence that followed, Audley collected her wits.  It was not a new experience for her to have conversations with Supernals, but she didn't feel at ease with Flora and Cybelle as she did with Lanon and Angus.  Her eyes connected with Flora’s as she recalled the evening they spent with Dierdre in Guadix, and how comfortable she felt then, and how much she did enjoy their company.  Determined to try again, she apologized. 

            "There is no need to apologize," Flora offered.  "You are experiencing something new.  Please, be at ease with us.  We only want to be companionable."

            "Thank you," Audley said, taking a deep breath and beginning again. "Are you from Uriah, too, Cybelle?" she asked.

            Cybelle's smile was more than courteous.  It was a gift of light.  "No," she said in a gentle voice.  "I am from a satellite world, much closer to your own Milky Way."

            It was their beauty, Audley concluded, that intimidated her.  Flora's yellow-gold hair, were it not for the tight curls, would have reached the floor, and Cybelle's hair, wrapped in a wondrous arrangement atop her head, was the color of copper.   They both gave off an aura of intoxicating energy.  She knew that these were the women she should talk to, if anyone, about her feelings for Lanon, but she side-stepped her opportunity by asking,  "Have you met Angus?"

            "Angus is Flora's mate," Cybelle said.

            "His soul mate?"  Audley exclaimed.

            "Yes," Flora allowed.  "We have had the good fortune of being together for a long time."

            "Well, you're a very lucky lady, if you don't mind my saying so, Flora.  Angus is very special."

            Flora smiled, while Cybelle dared to say, "Lanon is also very special."

            Audley looked at her hands in her lap. "Yes, he is."

            "I am confused," Cybelle persisted.  "I sense a reserve between you and Lanon.  Is that normal for your kind?"

            Audley was not accustomed to her most intimate secrets being on display.  She hedged, "I've only known him a short time."

"How long does it take an Urthling to know its own mate?" Cybelle asked in stupefaction.

            "Well, I was attracted to him right away," Audley admitted, then blurted, "it's just that, in our culture it's the man who makes the advances, and I don't think Lanon is emotionally developed enough, yet, to do that."

            "I see," Flora said.  She pondered a moment before delivering her response.  "It is only in primitive societies, Audley, where the man directs the relationship.  In the more evolved realms, it is the woman who makes the selection."

            Audley's eyes widened.  Sylvia had been right! 

            "By the female assuring the male of her attraction to him," Cybelle added, "he is given permission to pursue her."

            Flora explained, "In primitive societies, the strong overpower the weak, “but in the realm of advanced relationships -- in the development of soul mates -- both the male and the female have refined sensibilities.  In the mating process, respect must be shown to each other's soul. The wisdom of this advanced mating technique is that it is more gracious for the female, for she can now control the pace of the development of the partnership."

            "I don’t even know what a soul is," Audley complained, "and I don't know for sure what love is except that it scares me to death."

            "There is no death," Cybelle said simply.  "Life, and therefore love, is eternal."

            Flora nodded, giving confirmation to this truth.  "Recognition of this truth results in the growth of the soul."

            Audley blinked. "I don't think I'm ready for any of this.  I'm not emotionally courageous or sexually aggressive."

            Cybelle insisted, "It's not a question of aggression and it has nothing to do with courage.  It is simply a matter of allowing one to compliment the other."

            Flora, as maternal an entity as ever was, leaned in to Audley and spoke very softly.  "Tell your sisters what is really  standing between you and your mate."

            How adroitly they focused in on her very real fears!  With this invitation to intimacy, she confessed, "I’m afraid he’ll finish his mission and then leave me."

            Flora shook her head sadly.  "I have heard of this fear of abandonment.  It is sometimes experienced by creatures of animal origin, but I cannot understand such an emotion."

            Cybelle responded to Flora’s concern. "It has to be a result of their sense of isolation in the universe."  Turning to Audley, she said, "Have you not considered how less alone you would feel if the two of you were united?"

            Audley bristled.  "Of course, I have thought about it!  But I’ve also thought about how I would feel if he and I were united and then he left!  Lanon does me no good on Zenton!”  Tears welled up in her large green eyes.  “I'm a mortal, Cybelle, and I have to live my life on Urth like other women.  I would like to have a husband and maybe children.  I need someone to grow old with me.  I can't give myself to Lanon and then learn to live without him.  I'm not super human like you and Flora."

            Cybelle smiled and Flora persisted, "Even so, Audley, it would benefit your soul to know the love of the beloved."

            That word 'soul' again.  The concept was too lofty, too divine.  She didn't feel qualified to be Lanon's soul mate. 

            After a moment Cybelle said, "You seem to be convinced that he will leave you.  Have you no confidence that Lanon might feel as attracted to you as you are to him?"

            Audley shrugged.  "No," she admitted.  "I can't imagine what a man like Lanon would see in me."

            "But you are perfect!" Cybelle insisted.

            "Ha!" Audley remonstrated.  "Hardly!"

            "Why would you doubt your own perfection?" Flora asked.  The incredulous look on Audley’s face left no doubt that counsel was in order.  "Unless and until you recognize your degree of perfection, you cannot see your potential!”

            Audley’s mind went to Guadix, to Dierdre and Alexius telling her about perfection and potential.  She remembered the analogy of the phases of the moon, the promise and the fullness, and she remembered that sense of being drawn into something.

            Capturing Audley’s wandering attention, Cybelle said, "I assure you, it did not take long for me to let my intentions be known to Jesse Brothers!"

            Cybelle had set her cap on Jesse!  Audley’s eyes lit up with delight, thinking of Jesse with this divine creature.  Somehow, the awareness that another mortal and Supernal could have such affinity reopened her emotional veins.

            "It is a wonder, is it not," Flora mused aloud, "that throughout the universe females are so quick to understand each other?"

            "You aren't here, then, to help Lanon?"

            "No," Cybelle said.  "That's your job.”

            Again skirting her own issue, she dared to ask, "Just how far do your intentions toward Jesse go, Cybelle?"

            "I intend to be his mate, in every sense of the word."

            "You would stay here and have his children?"

            "Yes, of course.  If he wants children."

            "But how can you do that?” Audley balked.  “I mean, you're different!"

            Cybelle laughed and the sound chimed like a cymbalom solo.  "Of course we are different!  I am female; he is male.  That's the way it works!"

            "But … aren’t you worried that your children will be ...?"

            "What?  Mutants?”  Cybelle shrugged.  “You've met Dierdre.  Are her children peculiar in any way?"

            "Who?"

            "Dierdre!  Alexius’ mate.  She is a Supernal!"

            Audley was dumbstruck.  She sat with her mouth open wondering how long the universe had been playing such tricks on mortals.

            "It's a very large and varied universe we live in, my child," Flora said.  "There are many ways in which to mate and to produce.  There are more forms of life in the universe than you can count.  Angus and I, for instance, have produced 94 offspring.  Half of them are visible and half of them are invisible."

            Audley’s buoyant mood revealed itself in a joke.  "I guess the invisible ones take after their father."

            "I'm certain they do,” Flora agreed.  “They also emulate the qualities of their Mother."

            "It is certainly clear to me why Lanon has come,” Cybelle said, rising.  "This world is desperate for the open channel!  I can't imagine anyone being afraid to love!"

            “How long will you be here, Flora?” Audley asked.

            Flora stood, and the energy of her movement lifted Audley to her feet.  She explained, "I chose to come to this particular planet for my gathering mission this season because Angus is here and we are soon to celebrate our third anniversary.  I wanted to be with him for the occasion."

            "Your third anniversary.  Well, isn't that wonderful?” Audley mused romantically.  “Three years, huh?  Well, you're practically newlyweds!"

            "Three millennia, actually," Flora corrected.  "That's three thousand years."

            Audley gulped.  These females gave her a whole new perspective to the phrase 'happily ever after'.

ANGUS AND DOC WILL EMERGED from the elevator together, assuring Audley that the two mindal giants had overcome any barriers that might have been between them.  She approached her father and gave herself up to his embrace. 

            "Hi, Dad.  How are you?"

            "Never better," he averred, holding her hand.

            "You've met my lovely mate, I see," Angus said.

            "Yes," Audley gushed, "We've been having a very interesting conversation.  Girl talk.”

            “Women are hopeless romantics until we find our perfect mate,” Flora allowed.

            "Lanon said you wanted to see me.  Is everything okay?"

            He nodded.  "Just wanted to have a little father/daughter chat."  He turned to the group,  "Will you excuse us?"

            "Of course," Angus said for all of them.

            In the lobby lounge Doc Will fixed a drink for himself and his daughter, then led the way to a pool side table where he sat across from her, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

            "Well?" she said.  "What?"

            "What what?"

            "What did you want to chat about?"

            "I just wanted to visit with you, see how you've been, find out what you've been up to."

            "It's not like I've been in Reno for a month, Dad.  You're up to something."

            He shrugged.   "I'm always up to something.  How are you?"

            "I'm fine!"

            "No, I mean it, Audley.  A lot has happened in the last month.  Sylvia and Brad.  Lanon.  These others.  How are you taking all this?  And please don't give me any glib response."

            "Okay."  She swigged on the drink.  "I'm very happy for Brad and Sylvia."

            "And?"

            "And I adore Angus.  I'm also very impressed with Flora and Cybelle.  The chat we had was fascinating."

            "And Lanon?"

            "Why are you asking me all these questions?" she hedged.

            "I'll tell you in a minute." He rattled his ice cubes. "You were going to tell me about your feelings for Lanon."

            She grinned.  "Oh, was I?"  She lit a Spring.  "Okay.  I'll tell you.”  She snuffed out the cigarette unsmoked.  “When I was the only one who knew who he was, I felt very drawn to him, and I got very caught up in protecting him.  Then, when I went to Guadix and Professor Vessey told me the whole story, I ...” she shrugged.  “Have you heard the whole story?"

            He nodded.  "Jesse told me."  His voice was somber.

            "You believe it?"

            "Yup."

            "Me  too.  Which is probably why I had no problem accepting Angus.  And Flora and Cybelle."

            "Let's get back to your problem with Lanon."

            She launched.  "The problem is that I'm losing the battle to keep from falling in love with him.  He's doing everything he can to endear himself to me and my heart is scared to death of him."

            “This may seem like a strange question, coming from me, but why are you trying to keep from falling in love?"

            "Because Lanon will likely leave here when he's finished with his mission."

            Doc pulled on his drink and set the empty glass on the table. "Abandonment anxiety," he diagnosed.  "If I’d been afraid to fall in love with your mother, you wouldn’t’ve been born."

            "Yeah, but Dad, that's different.  You had every reason to believe that she would live another thirty or forty years!"

            "I incorrectly assumed that, yes.  I would have been better off if I thought she might leave any day.  That false assumption that she and I would grow old together was a mistake based on societal conditioning."

            "You're not going to get all scientific on me, are you?"

            "Yes, and what’s more, I’m going to encourage you to let yourself fall in love with that man from Zenton."

            She looked at him askance.  "This doesn't sound like you at all."

            "I know it doesn't, but I've changed some of my attitudes.  Supernals tend to influence people, you know."

            "I noticed.  How have you changed?"

            "I'll get to that in a minute."  The look on his face told Audley to brace herself. "He's sterile, Audley.  He can't give you children."

            "Yes, I know," Audley said calmly. "Sylvia told me."

            "How in the hell does she know?"

            Audley giggled.  “She snooped in your files."

            "She what?"

            "She had a theory that Lanon caused the black-out and to prove it, as Brad's Investigative Assistant, she got into your files.  The potassium convinced her she was right."

            He scowled.  "So what happened?"

            Audley shrugged.  "She fell in love with her boss and lost interest."

            "I'll take her over my knee," he growled.

            Audley chuckled.  "You'll have to wait until Brad is finished with it."

            "So that was the theory Brad was talking about."

            "She told me she didn’t tell Brad about her theory.” 

            "He just knew she had one, and he followed her around like a puppy dog while she did her snooping."

            "Well, she did what reporters do!  She did a bang-up job, Dad.”

            "What about your job? How's your research coming?”     "I've done about as much as I can do on the TASC.  Tomorrow Angus and I are going out into the field."

            "Do you have any time constraints to meet?"

            "Not really.  Jesse doesn't mind how I go about it, and he hasn't given me any deadlines.  Why?"

            "I was just wondering about the time frame here."

            "Time frame for what?"

            He stood up, thought better of it and sat down again.  "I'm making plans to leave, Audley."

            She shrugged.  "Okay.  I'm sure Martha will be glad to have you home."

            "No, I mean leave the planet.  Home Station.  Terrestrial escape."

            She paled.  "What do you mean you're ‘making plans’.  Are you ill?"

            "No, and that's the great part about it.  I feel better than I've felt in years.  I'm just going to go."

            "You can't just go, Dad!” she objected.  “Are you getting senile on me or something?"

            "I miss Sarah."

            "Well, so do I!"

            "No, you don't.  You don't even remember who she was.  But I do, and Lanon helped me realize that I miss her, and I've been away from her long enough!"

            "Dad, Mom is dead!"

            "No, she isn't.  She just went through the damned door!  And now I want to go through it.  That's why I was telling you that if you feel that strongly about Lanon, then go for it.  So what if he leaves next year or in ten years or even tomorrow?  If he's your mate, give it all you've got while you've got each other."

            "Oh, sure, so I can spend the rest of my life in mourning."

            "Well, you could do that if you wanted to, but it seems to me it would be a tremendous waste of time and energy that you could be putting to better use.”  He looked at her, fair and square.   “You could go first, you know.  Just because you're young and healthy doesn't mean you couldn't find yourself suddenly facing that door."

            "What door are you talking about?  Death's door?”

            He nodded and she shook her head.  “I haven't thought about it for myself."

            "Not consciously, maybe.  You're still very young.  But you're as vulnerable to conditioning as anyone.  Beware of that conditioning, daughter.  Anyway, I wanted to let you know what's up, just in case I leave while you're out researching colonies."

            "Listen, Dad, if it's that immanent, I'm not going!"

            "Of course you are.  You have to live your own life, Audley. You don't have to stand still while I live mine.  Incidentally, my Last Will and Testament is up to date and my attorney knows what I want done with most of my estate.  I'm leaving the house to Martha.  You don't need it.  Is there anything from the house that you want?"

            "Hell, I don't know!  I don't even know what's in that house, but I know I don't like this conversation, Dad.  I don't feel comfortable discussing what to do with your stuff when you leave.  Nobody knows for sure that you're even going anywhere."

            "I do know, and I'm telling you, so believe it."

            She had been forced to accept too many truths recently not to recognize the truth in his pronouncement, and while part of her accepted it, part of her resisted.

            He added, "There's one thing I'd like you to do for me."

            "What?" she sulked.

            "I've written volumes on the subjects of death and dying.”

            "Dad, this is morbid."

            "No, it isn't.  Listen.  It's all there.  It's 'The Ultimate Behavior Modification.'  I want it published, and I want you to see to it that it gets done right.  The notes are clear and in order.  I have only to add this last chapter and I will have made my contribution to the growth of this planet and my own immortality.  When it's in print, your trust fund will be released to you."

            "It's not bad enough I have to watch you die, I have to have a book published about it?"  She fought the tears by assuming the reporter’s calculating pose.

            "Yes, you do, just in case you haven't gotten the point.  And the point is, just so you remember, is that there is no death.  Life is eternal, and since life is eternal, love is eternal, too.  Got that?"  He stood up.

            "Yeah," she said.  Cybelle had said the same thing.  "So now I can go ahead and fall for Lanon and live happily ever after."

            "Right."

            She stood up.  "Dad, you've been working too hard.  You need a vacation."

            He looked down on her.  "You think I'm crazy, don't you?"

            "Yes, but everything is crazy these days.  I've gone through so many changes, I don't know what to think anymore."

            He took her by the shoulders.  "Then don't think, Audley.  Feel."

            She started to cry.  "Oh, Daddy, I don't want you to go."

            He held her.  "Just pretend I'm going on a long trip.  You'll see me again, and your mother.  I promise."

            "Are you sure?"

            "Yes.  Trust me."  He patted her and caressed her hair until she pulled back and sniffed.

            "Well, don't go until I come back and we can finish your book together."

            "We'll see."  He handed her a handkerchief.

            As she blew her nose she asked, "How long is eternity, daddy?"

            "I don't know," he said, "but whenever I try to imagine it, I get very tired.  So let's just enjoy one day at a time, alright?"

            "Alright."

            "Now go fix your face.  It's almost time for dinner."

THAT EVENING AT DINNER, Audley was amazed to see the relationship that had blossomed these past three days between Jesse and Cybelle.  She regarded their intimacy on one hand as refreshing and on the other hand as terrifying.  Lanon, too, was fascinated to observe the couple.  If he somehow felt left out, he didn't let on to Audley.

            Brad and Sylvia had become conspicuous by their absence.  It was only too obvious they were honeymooning in Brad's apartment, and if Audley felt any pangs of jealousy, it was only that she and Lanon weren't doing the same thing.

            Doc Will, having finally had the dreaded father/daughter chat, acted as though a huge weight had been lifted from his weary soul.  He flirted openly with Flora and Cybelle.  Between his and Angus' wit, everyone laughed so hard they were weak.  What was so funny, nobody could say, but they were certainly all in high spirits.  When they took their after dinner promenade, everyone was further delighted by the fact that every time Angus and Flora touched, phosphorescent sparks flew from them.

            Love was in the air this Day of the Child and love is contagious.  It even, temporarily, transcended the matter of sex. Audley was happy to walk arm in arm with Lanon and to share in the laughter and companionship of these other love-saturated souls.

            At the end of the evening, Lanon walked Audley to her door. As they lingered, he asked, "You're leaving again tomorrow?"

            She nodded.  "I have to get on with my assignment."  She withdrew her arm from his and leaned against her door, asking, "What can I do to help you while I'm out there?"

            "Just make your observations about the Zooid way of life, put them in the TASC for Jesse, and I'll interpret them for my report to Zenton."

            "You want my observations.  Okay."

            "In case I haven't told you," he said, "I want you to know how much I appreciate all the help you've given me already, Audley."

            She shrugged off the compliment.  "I haven't done anything!"

            "Yes, you have!” he insisted.  “Every single day I feel something new because of knowing you."

            Her heart was pounding so hard, she was afraid he would hear.  To cover her emotions, she said, "I talked to Cybelle and Flora today about us."

            "I was hoping you would talk to me about us."

            "I'm trying to!" she said.  Something new and different in her voice told him he was beginning to see the woman inside.  "I'm trying hard not to fall in love with you, Lanon," she said, "but everywhere I turn I'm being told to go ahead and allow it to happen."

            "You’ve never been in love before?" he asked.

            "No."  Her eyes met his.  "Have you?"

            "Not like this." He delighted to see the inner woman.  

            She lowered her eyes again, afraid she might faint.

            He remembered Angus’ words, that he must not disdain her frailties, he must respect her feelings, and he must have patience.  "Is falling in love a problem for you?"

            She nodded, not daring to speak.

            "But why?  Love is liberating and joyous!"

            "What do you know about love?" she protested.

            "I know about love!" he averred.  "It's making love that I know nothing about."

            "That's part of what I'm having a hard time with.”

            "So am I."  He grinned crookedly.

            She had to smile.

            "So," he said, "what is the problem?  Talk to me."

            She sighed.  "The problem is, Lanon, I want to know what's going to happen to us tomorrow, next week, next year.  I know we could go to bed, make love, have lots of fun and feel liberated and joyous today, but what's going to happen tomorrow?  I mean, what's to become of us when your mission is finished?  What's to become of you?"

            He said simply, "I don't know, Audley."

            "Then I'm not sure I want to get too close to you, Lanon." She looked up at him with her raw fear.  "I don't want to be left half a person.  If we became lovers and you left, I'd want to die!  I'd be miserable without you."

            "I can't guarantee anything!" he said, as gently as possible.  "I might stay.  You might come with me.  Or you might go first.  And if we were apart, it might only be for a little while.  There are so many possibilities, it just seems to me that, since we have each other, since we've been given to each other this way, we should treasure each moment that we do have together."  He lifted her face to him and held it in the palms of his hands.  "I don't know what might happen to us tomorrow.  But whatever it may be, I want you to know that I love you more than words can say."

            Whatever distrust, whatever cynicism, whatever fear or commitment anxiety she may have had, it dissolved with those three little words and before Lanon stood the inner woman swathed in her sensual, voluptuous, desirable, caressable body.

            Losing herself in the blue of his eyes, she asked, "How long is eternity?"

            "It's this moment," he whispered, and he pressed his lips to hers.  All her thoughts and emotions fell away and there was only the sensation of his lips on hers, his energy flowing through her and hers through him.  The universe hung in the balance of his becoming human and her becoming divine.  Then, as suddenly as it began, it was over, and she watched him cross the lawn into tomorrow.

ON 8-URANUS-25, AUDLEY SET OUT with a glow in her heart and Angus at her side. "I'm glad you're coming with me, Angus.  I thought maybe you'd changed your mind."

            "Why would I do that?" he objected.

            "You're celebrating your anniversary, aren't you?"

            "Indeed, I am!"  She felt his joyous lasciviousness.

            "Angus, you are a dirty old man," she chided.

            "I am no such thing!  I am quite young.  Where are we going?"

            "North, before the snow flies.  You might not feel the cold, but I do!"

            Before they got as far as Las Vegas, Angus handed her his hooded cloak. 

            "What are you doing, Angus?  I can't see you!"

            "That's the point.  It will be difficult enough for you to delve into these people's personal lives without my interference."

            "How will I know you're there?"

            "Ask.  I may be invisible, but I can still let my presence be known to you if you need me.  I'll be nearby.  Maybe I'll do some research of my own."

            In retrospect, she appreciated his decision.  Angus was a lot to have to try to explain and still maintain her credibility.  For the most part, he stayed away from her.  For all she knew, he might be cavorting around with Flora gathering wild flowers and sowing wild oats, but she never saw any sure sign of such activity.

COLONY COASTLINE, on the rugged Atlantic coast, is one of the colonies inhabited exclusively by Native American Indians. It had been arranged that Audley was to be met by and stay with Victoria Redbow, a widow and proud mother of seven sons and two daughters.  They were all grown, but she shared her life freely with them and her fourteen grand children.  It was not uncommon for the little ones to stay for days on end with Victoria. She spent most of her hours on these sunny, cold days near the fire in her stone cabin, creating corn maidens from clay, sculpting each kernel, each finger, as if it were a gift to the Great Spirit.

            The coastal nights were already bitter cold, and in the mornings the ocean air chilled Audley to the marrow, though the afternoons were warm.  When she was not with Victoria, she ventured out to visit with the red skinned Zooids as they worked in their lumberyard, or stone mill, or the fishing docks.  According to their ancient ways, the women and the men kept to their carefully delineated realms, and one did not cross over into the other, but often both men and women sang as they worked.  Their music was a haunting sound to Audley's ears; sometimes it made her feel happy, but sometimes it was painful to hear.

            One afternoon everything conspired to remind her of her father’s wish to leave this world, and the idea of being without him was more than she could bear.  She sought to grapple with yet another abandonment.  Mourning already, she wrapped Angus’ hooded cloak around her, to ward off the wet wind, and settled into a crevice in the rocks to cry, and this is where he found her.

            "Greetings, odd one," she heard him say.  He had taken to calling her 'odd one' when they were alone.

            "Look who's talking!” she shot back.  “At least I'm visible!"

            "Not really," he replied. "You look a burlap sack caught between a rock and a hard spot."

            She sniffed.  "I was thinking about Dad."  They listened to the waves crash on the craggy shore for a moment before she said, "He says he's getting ready to leave."

            "He told me the same thing," Angus allowed.

            "Really, Angus?  What did he say?"

            "Just that.  That he was preparing to leave.  When he first mentioned it, he was anxious about it, but since then he seems to have resolved it to his satisfaction."

            "Well, it's not resolved to my satisfaction," she complained.

            "Obviously!  But it's not up to you."

            "Maybe not but I still have to deal with it."

            "All you have to deal with is Audley."

            "That's plenty."

            She sensed him pat her hand and, although Angus, with his keen sense perception, did afford her some comfort, it was not easy to accept her father's decision.  It was so final!  She sat on the rocks huddled in Angus' cloak until the air turned too cold to ignore.  She was glad to return to the hogan to sit by the fire and listen to Victoria sing to her grandchildren while working with the clay.  That evening, after a warm supper and after the children had gone to bed, Victoria chose to tell Audley the story of her youngest son.

            "All my sons except the youngest, Amadon, were born to my first husband," she said.  "Amadon and his sister were born to my last husband.  Both my husbands are gone now.  So is Amadon.  He is one of the reasons this tribe is now a part of the Jural Colony Project."  Her voice was as haunting as the songs they sang.

            "My older sons are big and brawny.  They can be too boisterous and they love to have a good time.   They were taught by their father to believe that a man should be tough and loud and, as many do, they drank too much.

            "My second husband, Amadon's father, was different.  He was from a tribe farther north.  Like his father, Amadon was delicate and sensitive.  He had the temperament of an artist; he could sculpt like a master.  He was not tough or loud or brawny, and so his older brothers made fun of him.  To Amadon, his brothers were crude.  It depressed him to see that they would fight among themselves as to what food they would eat instead of being grateful that they had food to eat at all.  Life on the reservation was an unhappy life for my youngest son.

            "He left.  He went west where he hoped to make his way in the world of artists.  He attended a fine school and learned the ways of the western white man but Amadon could see how they, too, fought among themselves and played one against the other for power and position.  He was not happy in the white man's world either, and so he was a man without a country.

            "In time my son met and married a woman from a southwestern tribe and they had a child, a daughter.  His wife’s family would not accept him, and include him in their ways, and she would not leave her people.  For many years Amadon lived in the white man’s city outside the reservation, hoping to remain near his daughter so that as she grew up he could teach her the good ways of his tribe and the good ways of the white man.

            "The city grew.  There came to be racial tension and violence.  There came to be a group of men who attacked Indians for sport.  They were said to be a white supremist group.  Amadon died from the wounds they inflicted."

            Audley was not only moved by the story, she was moved by the dignity with which the woman held herself when she spoke of the life and the death of her youngest son.  All during the telling, Victoria’s fingers worked, carving out the kernels of the corn maiden.

            "His wife and daughter brought his body home, to be buried here with his own people," Victoria said.  "It was then that I met my daughter-in-law and my grand-daughter for the first time.  We talked about what had happened to him, not just in his dying, but in his living, as a man without a home, caught between two worlds and two values.  We wept together.

            "She was the one who told me about the Zooids, about one of the tribes out west that had become part of the Jural Colony Project, and how they preferred it to being, as she said, second class citizens in the white man's world.”   Her telling was interspersed with long silences. 

            “The Indian tribes, you know, cannot seem to come together. They fight to maintain their history and their culture and their ways. Their own language.  But they are being absorbed into the white man's world.  We are becoming a museum piece and a tourist attraction and not what we were meant to be.”  She paused to toss another log on the fire, watching the sparks rise and the flame settle.

            “My daughter-in-law and I went to see our Governor.  He did not like the idea at first, but he asked the tribe members to put it to a vote.  Many of us wanted to look into this Zooid way of life.  Jesse Brothers himself came to see us.  He came to a town counsel meeting and told us what it would mean to be a Colony. 

            “Some of us felt that he was one of us.  He was not interested in taking our land or our culture.  He was not trying to make us be someone we are not.  He did not expect us to take on his God.  Jesse Brothers told us we would be as one with other people who wanted the same thing as we did from this life: a place to raise our children and our crops. 

            “We have been Zooids now for eleven years and we have improved as a tribe.  Our Governor now has the Brothers to discuss the business.  We have wealth, and the white men Zooids respect us.

            "It is good," she said, "that Amadon gave us something when he left.  He said, 'I am a house divided’.”  Victoria Redbow sighed and put her work aside. “Now my grand-daughter can grow up to be part of a progressive world where she can learn from us and from the white men who are our brothers. We have not been taken to the cleaners."

            After a while Audley asked if the Zooids ever came to visit the reservation and Victoria replied firmly, "We are no longer a reservation.  We are a Colony. 

            “Yes, they come here," she answered, "not to see us as a tourist attraction, but to see us as we are.  They see what we see.  We have good fish.  We have good merchandise.  We are a good people.  Sometimes they come on their vacation to share our way of life.  Sometimes they come to work in the lumberyard or the stone mill or on the docks.  We, too, go to the other colonies and learn other ways.  We are Indian, yes, but we are humankind first.  We are Zooids."

THAT NIGHT, IN THE TERMINAL, when Lanon read her notes, he gleaned two important messages.  One, that Audley was psychically preparing herself for her father's departure; and two, that mortals felt a keen attachment to each other, an attachment that death irrevocably severed.  He talked with his peers in Zenton until dawn, trying to understand the human emotion of "loss".

CYBELLE ADAPTED AT ONCE to zooidal philosophies and way of life.  From the first day, she wanted to know everything there was to know about Jesse Brothers and his work.  She stayed in the guestroom provided for her, she wore the attire of the colonists.  She spent every unoccupied moment with Jesse, and Jesse had no objection.  Indeed, he found the riches she brought to their union invaluable.

THE WOMEN’S COMMITTEE for the Design and Beautification of the Portal got underway at once.  The females worked well together, each able to learn from the other.  Averring that the sun was too severe for their delicate complexions, Cybelle and Flora left before dawn each day to gather flowers, returning with renderings of temples and gardens from all over the globe.  During the afternoons, they  pored over design specifications in Jesse's office, sometimes until dinner.  Often Erica would avail herself to participate in the screening of the plans.

            On more than one occasion, the women drove out to the site to reflect on how a particular structure would impact on the desert horizon.  On one such outing, accompanied by Jesse and Lanon, they were surprised to see a crew of surveyors.  Since the workers were not Zooids, Jesse wanted to ask them for an explanation, but Cybelle laid her hand on his arm and asked him to wait for a moment and to observe.  It was soon evident that tons of sand was being leveled, yet there were no machines in sight.  The workers were using invisible equipment. 

            Flora identified them as helpers from an architectural sphere. "It is possible they will need your help in terms of your temporal materials."  They interpreted their energy into a language they could both understand, then conferred across the sands, Flora translating to Jesse that they would indeed need a suitable material and which, fortuitously, could be created from the Styrofoam Samuel was amassing.

            On their return to Gateway, Jesse instructed Samuel, via the TASC, to accept all the Styrofoam they could collect and have it transported to the Gateway subterranean level right away.  Production of battery packs ceased; production of stereo-steel began. 

            As the Zooids created the steel-hard, paper-thin sheets of stereo-steel, John’s engineering expertise was tested.  The distance was so slight between Gateway and the Portal, it was hoped an above ground conveyance could be devised, rather than the underground Transport Line.  John introduced an idea he had formulated years ago, of a magnetic tram, and given permission to proceed.

            Volunteer workers from the architectural sphere and the Women's Committee for the Design and Beautification of the Portal created the new edifice together.  An octagon gazebo style was selected for its long-distance visual appeal, but it was hardly delicate.  In the center of the massive eight-sided hall, wide stairs led up to a circular elevated dais.  Overhead, an opening allowed for a spacious view of the sky. 

            The periphery of the interior featured glass-enclosed botanical gardens, aviaries, and fountains and cushioned marble benches, focused toward the center. Flora selected and imported plants, then tested them for the new climatic conditions and soil adaptations.  Cybelle chose birds for both their beauty and their song.  James' engineering skills  enabled the mysteries of the fountains. And all this work was reviewed and approved by Rebecca's critical aesthetic eye.

DOC WILL RELISHED HIS TASC.   As the architectural work crew, unconcerned about the zooidal production schedule, gathered their stereo-steel and applied it to the developing structure, Doc Will gathered and garnered every fragment of information submitted on the questionnaires which had begun coming in from the Elders concerning their views on death and dying. 

            By the time all 700 Elders had responded, two had already died, and of the other 698 Zooids, 18 believed that at death the body and all else ceased, that death was the end, that there was no afterlife and they wouldn't want it even if it was an option.  The remaining 680 Zooids believed in some kind of hereafter, but the speculations on the nature of the hereafter varied with each response.

            The majority of Elders didn't have time to think about dying.  Busy living, they felt their application would be premature.  Nearly 200 applications for the Portal did come in and Doc Will was not surprised to see that all of the pox victims had made application.  Nor was he surprised to see that most of the applicants were Elders who had already lost a spouse to death or who were in inordinately frail health.  He found it particularly touching that three Elder couples asked if they could apply to go through the Portal together.

ANGUS AND AUDLEY PASSED through security clearance together at Penn State Reserve.  It was her idea, actually, to go to PSR.  Colony Coastline had put her in a serious mood and, with a Fest coming up soon, she wanted to get all the serious business over with.

            "Be sure and stay with me all the time, Angus," she said. "Pat my hand once in awhile or say something so I'll know you're there."

            "Oh, I wouldn't miss this!” he enthused.  “You see, when I visit a lowly planet like this one, I always feel like I'm ‘doing time’.  So I'm very interested in seeing how the Zooids manage this."

            "Really, Angus?  Do you feel imprisoned on Urth?"

            "Of course!  Any limitation is like a prison.  Ask your host about it.  See what he has to say."

AFTER BEING ADMITTED at the front gate, and after telling Angus about her earlier visit to PSR with Lanon – even before she knew his name -- she was met by Rosa Brothers, Phillip's wife.  Audley could see that Rosa was the kind of woman who took everything in her stride, for she had not removed her apron when she came out to greet her guest.  After leading Audley into her kitchen, she resumed dicing celery and explained, "Phillip will be back soon.  He's down at South Field monitoring new guests.”  Handing Audley a potato peeler, she grinned crookedly and said,  "Jesse told us you were nervous about this part of your assignment."

            Audley nodded and picked up a potato.  "Silly of me, huh?"

            "No," Rosa allowed, "I don't think so.  I know where you come from.  My daughter lives Outside, and she's always telling me about what goes on out there -- that people live in constant fear of one thing or another, especially in the bigger cities -- so I can understand why you'd have anxiety.  It's just that you don't need to be anxious in PSR.  I can tell you that, but you'll have to learn it yourself in your own way.”

            “I’m sure,” Audley said, not sure at all.

            Rosa continued, “In the meanwhile, you’ll rest easier knowing that a lock has been put on your door and, of course, you have your TASC."

            “Of course.”  And Angus, she thought.

            When Phillip returned, they sat down to dinner and, as husbands will do, he told Rosa about his day at work, giving the impression that it was just another day at the office.  He did not go into the details of PSR's methodology, but in the middle of his recitation said, “I'm going to have Findlay take you around." 

            Rosa nodded and handed her husband the mashed potatoes.

            "Who's Findlay?" Audley asked cautiously.  "One of the prisoners?"

            Phillip’s big voice fairly bellowed.  "Prisoners?  We don't have prisoners at PSR.  We have guests, we have residents and we have tenants, but we don't have prisoners.  Anyway, Findlay isn't any of those.  He's what you'd call 'on the payroll'."

            “You mean like Barrister?”

            "You'll like Findlay," Rosa assured her.  "He's a nice man."

            "Dr. Arthur Findlay.  Doctor of Education, Criminology and Psychology.  Been with us, what?  A long time.  Pass the bread."

            After dinner Audley insisted on helping Rosa with the dishes, partly to hear Phillip discuss South Field's new recruits and partly to avoid going to her room.  When it was time for her to turn in, Rosa packed a wedge of elderberry pie into a container and walked her to her room, which, like her room at Gateway, was equipped only with the barest of necessities.

            "Angus?" she said, locking the door behind her.  "Are you with me?"

            "I'm right here," he said. 

            She dove into the pie as Angus asked, "Is she a good cook?"

            "Oh, yes!  You want some?”  She held her fork up in the air but of course he refused it.  “If these Zooids are going to keep feeding me so well, I'm going to have to start exercising."

            "You start tomorrow.  Findlay likes to ride a bicycle."

            "How do you know that?"  She rummaged in her purse and found her toothbrush.

            "I read his bio in the TASC."

            "What else does it say?"  She asked, brushing her teeth.

            "Not much.  He worked with your father on the tests for the initial candidates of PSR.  He has quite a few published major works in the field of Criminal Psychiatry."

            "Don't peek while I get undressed," she admonished.

            "Hey!  Aren’t you the one who called me a dirty old man?"

            "Well, keep your hands to yourself."   She stripped, slid in, and pulled the covers up under her chin, then turned off the light, asking,  "How old is this Findlay fellow?"

            “73,” Angus replied.

            "Lord."  She turned the light back on, remembering she didn't have a travel alarm clock.  The Menu on the TASC, however, provided for a wake-up call, so she pressed 1/W and went back to bed.  In the dark she whispered, "Good night, Angus."

            His voice came to her from across the room.  "Sleep well, odd one."

FOR THE NEXT SEVERAL DAYS Audley and Findlay, tailed by an invisible Angus, scoured the vast acreage of Penn State Reserve.

            One day was not enough to learn all there was to know about South Field, the ugly and imposing concrete and steel high-security Phase I of PSR's rehabilitation program.  It was at South Field that the new "guests" were photographed with the kinetic camera, the device that photographed emotional reactions.  Here the guests spent months identifying their weaknesses and establishing their strengths in a sort of psychotherapy aimed at resolving their angers, resentments, guilts and prejudices.  Here they learned to pick up after themselves, attended classes, and learn a trade.   No guest was allowed to leave South Field with a chip on his shoulder or without at least a high school education or without a sense of rightful self-esteem, no matter how long it took.

            Nor was one day enough to see all of the intricacies of PSR's Phase II, West Hill, the two high-rise towers of Alpha and Omega that overlooked the Reserve.  At West Hill, a minimum-security facility, the "tenants" continued their education in fields ranging from Accounting to Zoology.  The tenants of Alpha and Omega earned their keep, managed their checkbooks, paid rent, bought their own clothing and meals, and learned to invest in their future.  In Phase II, the men were entitled to conjugal visits while they continued their therapeutic group sessions, refined their social skills, developed arts and crafts, engaged in theater arts, established the symphony orchestra and developed physical fitness.

            And one day was not enough to appreciate Red River, Phase III of Penn State Reserve, the model town comprised of PSR's "residents," those who had graduated from both South Field and West Hill.  The post office, bank, library, restaurants, retail shops and churches were all maintained by the residents.  Without restriction they were encouraged to visit their families who lived at Midway, a colony close by which was established for wives, mothers, sweethearts and children of the men in PSR.  At Red River, they learned how to work out their differences and live harmoniously in a community setting.  Red River prepared its citizenry for the day they graduated from PSR as trustworthy, responsible, and contributing members of the human race.

            Life at the Reserve was a model of beauty, industry and order.  In all the time she went with Findlay among the men of PSR, Audley had not been sexually harassed, no one gave her any looks she would not have invited, and there were neither catcalls nor obscene gestures.  Her week there was mentally stimulating and visually lovely.  Each day the maple and elm trees turned more and more vivid red, gold and orange.  From South Field to West Hill to Red River, the men were readying for the Fest of Fruition.  As Rosa had promised, she forgot she was in a prison and began to feel safe.

            One day as she and Findlay were pedaling their bikes across the expansive grounds, Audley remembered Angus’ admonition and asked Findlay about prisons of the mind.

            "Oh, yes,” Findlay replied.  “Prison is a state of mind.  And that’s what our work is here at PSR: human liberation.”

             At his suggestion they got off and walked the bikes so they could talk better.

            "Most of our guests come from the prison of poverty, a state of want and need.  Some of them come from the prison of plenty, where they were given everything they needed and so had never developed empathy for those who go hungry or have to work for a car or a pair of shoes. Prisons of knowledge can make you feel intellectually superior, while prisons of ignorance trap all mankind.  Racism, sexism, nationalism -- these are all prisons of the mind and they’re not unique to penal institutions.  Even on the Outside, there are prisoners of greed who can't be happy with enough but must always have more.  There are sick, addictive personalities who can never get enough alcohol or drugs or sex or food; all these cravings for external substances are to alleviate the prison of dissociation."

            "I suppose you could even be imprisoned by good stuff," she thought aloud.

            "Oh, yes!" he agreed.  "Good ideas, for example.  We can become imprisoned by our own concepts, perceptions or ambitions!"

            "Or relationships," Audley suggested.

            "Absolutely.  So, you see, there's no reason to fear a place like PSR.  This is a declared rehabilitation center; it's apparent that the prison exists.  Consider all those seemingly successful and normal people outside who are busy influencing each other with their own individual prison mentality."

            She thought of Sylvia's prison of Jennifer and Brad's prison of Sam.

            "But I think the darkest prison is the prison of fear," Dr. Findlay said. “Fear is a crime committed by men the world over.  Many of the things these men here have done was caused by fear of failure, fear of not being accepted.”

            "Women, too, have prisons of fear," she acknowledged.

            "Of course!  Fear of rejection, fear of abandonment."

            That was the diagnosis her father had recently given her.

            "But the worst of the fears," he concluded, "is the fear of love.  That fear denies us the ability to accept our vulnerability and to trust life.  It steals from us the joy of doing for others."

            No wonder Angus had asked her to discuss prisons of the mind!  Findlay was talking about Lanon's reason for being here and, more to the point, her own most insidious innermost fears.

            "These days everyone wants to qualify his or her love," Findlay went on. “They say, 'I'll love you IF ....  I'll give this much IF ....  I'll trust you BUT ....  And it turns out to be not love at all, but some kind of bartering.  Even worse than that, it's some kind of cowardice."

            "You admit that it takes courage to love," she said, looking for someone to justify her fear of loving.

            "Love IS courage," he said.  "Without love there is no courage, no trust, no faith, no belief, no life.  Without love there is nothing.  Without love you are imprisoned."

            "Would you consider love as the ability to know fulfillment and anticipation at the same time?"

            "Of course.  It's accepting this moment for all it's worth, and expecting the next moment to be as good or even better."

            She said, "I have a friend who says that he feels imprisoned on Urth."

            "He is, in a way.  We're all imprisoned here in our mortality, in our bodies.  Obviously we couldn't live this life without being confined in our skin, but even with the limitations of our existence here, there is freedom if we know our individual prison well enough to make it sacred.

            “How do we do that?” she asked.

            “Through love.  Love of life, love of others.  Dress up life,  feed it, play it some music, associate it with others, and when the time comes to leave this one behind, you will know you have at least lived a life that was made safe and free by loving."

SYLVIA EXPERIENCED ORIENTATION with 54 other prospective Zooids.  They were housed together on the third floor of the Gateway spire.  Classes and tests were scheduled all day, every day, for the entire 21 days.  The new recruits ate in one of the dining rooms on the first floor and had no contact with anyone except Nathaniel Brothers and his Zooidal Aides.

            During this three weeks Sylvia learned the basic structure and disciplines of zooidal life as well as the basic freedoms.  She appreciated their calendar, made up of 13 months of 28 days each, since it was easier for women to keep track of their menstrual cycle. 

            She liked the idea of the first week of free time every production month plus a one-month vacation every year.  But she did not like the fact that Zooids did not put much time and energy into enhancing their appearance.  She figured that if she were accepted as a Zooid, she would have to go outside regularly in order to have her nails manicured, or her hair done professionally.  As far as she could ascertain, Zooids only wore make-up or jewelry during Fests.

            She didn't mind that Zooids had no rites or rituals until she learned that this restriction included marriage ceremonies.  Marriage in the colonies, in fact, was very unlike marriage on the Outside.  Zooid men and women who committed themselves to each other declared a state of Union.  If they found themselves diverging, they declared their union Dissolved.  No merging or dividing of assets occurred in the case of Union or Dissolve.

            Women in Union did not wear wedding rings to set them apart from their single sisters.  Female offspring assumed the surnames of the mother while male offspring assumed the surnames of the father, and it was not uncommon for both the man and woman in Union to change their surnames to Brothers when anticipating a child. 

            Union schools were mandatory for all Zooids, even for those who were already married.  These schools taught the joys and rigors of partnership.  Parenting schools were also mandatory, ideally before procreation.  No child went without ample parental guidance, often from the entire community.  All colonies were active in family counseling situations.

            Relocation from one colony to another was a way of life.  An independent Zooid, one not a party to Union, colonized with other independent Zooids.  Once married, the couple colonized with other couples in Union.  Families colonized with other families.  Seven families comprised a cluster, a voting bloc. 

            Zooids did not own their own homes nor did they pay rent or hold a mortgage.  They paid for neither utilities nor insurance.  Although they lived in their own personal space and could amass certain personal effects, there was no ownership including private vehicles, but, even so, everything necessary for a comfortable, healthy, efficient life was provided, including education and health care.

            After a study of the structure of Zooid family life, Sylvia was introduced to zooidal philosophies.  At first she scoffed at the Zooids' idealism, not believing it possible for an entire society to act altruistically.  But when at last she set aside the long-ingrained influences of her father's newspaper and her husband's law practice, she began to see things as she herself would prefer to see them.  She then began to grasp what it would mean to be a Zooid and she wanted to be a part of it.

            Mid way through the second week Sylvia had some physical tests done.  Although she had missed her period, she hadn't given it a second thought, chalking it up to stress and all the changes she had been going through.  It came as a total shock to her to learn that she was pregnant.  She now had some real soul-searching to do regarding her relationship with Brad.  Did he want to be a Zooid or did he just want this job?  Did he really love her or was he simply killing time for the next six months?

            Regardless, Sylvia was in excellent physical health. The child would be born on or about 8-MARS-26 or May 24, depending on which calendar she used.  As a pregnant woman, what kind of work would she be given to do?  Would she be assigned to a singles unit?  Would she be asked to give up the child until she had attended the union and parenting classes?  She and Brad had indeed gone too fast.  Did he even want a child?  She was astounded to realize how much she did!

            In fact, during the third and final week of Orientation Sylvia started to learn a lot of things about herself that made her feel good.  After all the years of playing the role of a dumb blonde, albeit a beautiful and slyly capable blonde, she was emerging as a person of independence, capable of making shrewd decisions, a fair witness who could see all sides of a given situation, a person with deep empathies.  Although she could follow if necessary, she could also be a leader, a source of boundless energy and contagious enthusiasm. With guidance, even her few character liabilities would become assets.

            On 28-URANUS-25, Sylvia Chandler Watergate was ushered into the ranks of Zooid and assigned to Colony Midway.

ANNA AND ELLIOT SPROUL, joint overseers of Colony Breadbasket, took Audley under their wing as though she were a family member who had been away from home too long.  Anna, who put Audley in mind of a plump Martha, set her up in one of the many cabins clustered not far from the main farmhouse.  There, on her TASC, she brought herself and Lanon up to date before donning a denim jumpsuit and enthusiastically assuming the role of farmer. 

            Although harvest was in, there was still much work to be done.  She drove the tractor one fine late autumn day as other farmhands lifted bales of fresh hay onto the wagon to be brought in to be stored in the lofts.  In the barn she helped pitch the ensilage down from the high silo, her nose feasting on the sweet, yeasty fragrance.  With other women and men, she shoveled manure from the trenches, filled water troughs and measured out oats and hay for the cows.  In the early dawn she went with women and children to feed chickens and gather eggs.  In the evenings she helped in the kitchens, peeling potatoes, stirring stews, grinding coffee beans and sneaking bits of cookie dough to little children.

            Angus loved the agricultural colony!  He rode with Audley on the tractor, sneezed in the silo, and shooed the chickens. One evening, as they strolled together in the orchard under the stars, he confessed that he was "peculiarly tetched by chlorophyll" which, in part, justified why he had been "seen running naked through the wheat field."

            "No wonder you married Flora," Audley laughed.  "If you like greens that much, she can provide you with a steady supply!"

            "Oh, Flora and I aren't married," he said.

            "What?"  Her sense of propriety was offended. “Was that a lie about a third anniversary?”

            Angus giggled at her expected reaction.  "We are bound, we are united, we are one, but we never had a ceremony."

            "Well, that's too bad," she lamented, knowing he was playing with her.  "I guess that means your 97 children are bastards!"

            "They are no such thing!  They are entirely legitimate!" he insisted. 

            "What kind of children do you think Lanon and I would have if he could have children?"

            "Perfect children, of course, but why do you say 'if'?"

            She quoted her father's documentation verbatim.  "No sperm count."

            Angus blew off her concern.  "That's just a standard universe precaution!” he insisted.  “If Lanon decides to stay, that can be reversed.  Matter of fact, I think Flora has the herbal antidote.  Shall I tell her to slip him some in his iced tea?"

            "Don't you dare!" she squealed, finding Angus' outlook, as usual, refreshingly candid and encouraging.

ACE REPORTER Audley Blackstone had changed her approach in her nose for news.  She discovered that people would tell her what she should know without the static and impersonal interview.  She had been working like a farmhand at Breadbasket for many days and nights when finally the Sprouls opened up and told her what she needed to know.

            "We would have lost the farm," Elliot told her, "Had it not been for the JCP.  It was one of those that were about to go to the government for back taxes and a high interest loan.  Samuel Brothers came to see me and proposed the idea of buying it outright, debts and all.  Anna and I were dumbstruck by the Zooids' plan, but we weren't the only ones to take advantage of their offer and none of us regret it.

            "The JCP bought us out then contracted with Anna and I to stay on as caretakers of this, Breadbasket, the new agricultural colony.  That enabled us to keep the land, which had been Anna's great-great-grandfather’s.  It also enabled us to have help on the farm such as we'd never been able to afford.  Now we can do what we've wanted to do all along, and that is to work the land.  Live on it.  We're a simple people and we crave this simple life."

            "It might be simple," Anna joined in, her knitting needles clicking, "but it's not easy! It's a hard life, as you’ve seen.  Up before daybreak year in, year out, all kinds of weather, taking care of sick animals, birthings, mending the outbuildings...."

            "What about the weather?" Ace Reporter asked.  "Blight and floods and early frosts have been known to wipe out a whole crop. How do you manage that?"

            "For one thing," Elliot said, "we don't put everything into one crop, and now that we're part of the colonies, we have the resources to have greenhouses.  We construct canopies over a lot of the crops and we bring water in on the transport lines and feed it through the irrigation system, even in the driest weather.  We don't have to depend entirely on Mother Nature anymore.  We depend on help from other Zooids.  And in exchange, we provide them with food."

            Anna added, "Not all of them.  There are other agricultural colonies, too, and there are colonies that give us meat and fowl. We get fish from the fisheries.  PSR is a good producer.”

            "Matter of fact," Elliot continued, "if you'll notice, the Zooids don't waste much.  We grow food or herbs or even flowers almost everywhere.  With the sun and the rain free, and with people who enjoy nurturing the Urth, there's hardly any excuse not to plant a seed here and there.  And did you know the Zooids have a seed plant, too, so there's just no excuse for not working the land."

            "Working the land," Anna said maternally, "is good for the soul.  My eldest daughter and I shelled peas the day her first child was born; we shelled peas and waited as the pains got closer.  And after the last war on the Outside, my sister's boy came into the colonies and stayed with us for two years, making peace with himself for what he had done and what he had been made to go through.  He hoed the fields night and day in good weather, then hoed the greenhouse beds night and day in winter, until finally he was ready to go on."

            "Sometimes," Elliot said, "the residents of an industrial community like to spend a season in an agricultural community so they can be sure they've got things in perspective.  A lot of the new Zooids come here first, just to get rid of the vibrations and poisons they've picked up from years and years of city living.  Like Anna says, there's a lot of therapy in agriculture.”

            "Quite a few of the men who come out of PSR bring their families to an agricultural colony," Anna said.

            Elliot followed up.  "Yeah, there's not so much stress out here working one-on-one with the soil."

            Anna laughed.  "The most stressful thing in my life is trying to get everyone to the table before the food gets cold.  We don't go hungry here, but we also don't pay much attention to the clock.  We put out meals when it's ready, and sometimes folks are off looking at the sunset or letting the dogs take them for a walk."

            "I think," Elliot pondered aloud, "that one of the reasons the JCP works is because Zooids are natural people.  We eat natural food, we don't use any chemicals on our crops for bug control, we aren't afraid to let our feelings show.  We laugh, we cry, we keep things simple.  And we keep things small enough so it doesn't overwhelm us, you know?  Those big cities out there, all noisy and full of fumes and crime, that's no good.  You don't find any crowding going on in a colony, no matter what kind it is.  We all like to have a little elbow room."

            "And peace and quiet!" Anna complained.  "Would you just listen to that ruckus?"  Somewhere under the old stately farm house a nest of crickets chirped to beat the band.

LANON REVIEWED Audley's impressions of the Sproul's way of life and began to reflect on the relationship humanity had with the soil.  The next day he went with Flora on a gathering mission to garner her wisdom about growing things.  With her counsel he was easily able to remember how the many gardens of Zenton provided its inhabitants with satisfactions akin to nourishment and comfort.

            But his reflections on "prisons of the mind" stayed with him.  He did not want to report about PSR to Home Station until he had settled in his own mind the concept of imprisonment.  It was a concept unique to mortals, to those imprisoned in the flesh, and Lanon did not feel at all imprisoned.  He loved his body.  He was still fascinated by his limbs and hair and cells and the involuntary actions of breathing, sweating and blinking.

            This mind, too, limited as it was compared to the mind he used on Zenton,  was something he was intrigued by, so his considering the prisons of the mind was a way for him to further understand the mortal he was becoming. 

            At last he recognized that by continuing to refer to Zenton as his origin and his destiny, he was imprisoning himself in isolation from Audley and the rest of the human race.  He realized that, in order for him to truly know whether the Zooids had attained the requisite level of existence, his self-imposed prison of uniqueness would have to be torn down.