Earth, 35th Century. You can cheat death by downloading your consciousness into a Virtual Universe, with thousands of imaginary worlds to choose from, and countless 'lives' to be 'lived.' But someone of vital importance to the Virtuaverse has been m...
I don't make a big deal about my Native heritage. I have the skin color, and the stereotypical nose. Truth is, those of us who are genuine half-breeds are in the minority. Most of us entered the vast bloodstream of humanity centuries ago.
Our old ones were essential in the healing of the Scorched Earth left in the wake of the Ka-boom. The Inuit, the Apache, the Sioux, the Navajo, the Cherokee – willingly travelled the globe sharing their wisdom and knowledge of agriculture and animal husbandry.
As they moved around, some chose to settle in Europe and Asia. Some chose to go to Mars, where they established native settlements. The Dromedaries have sent a few of their young every year since First Contact, to learn their wisdom and their way of life. Imagine that – the first intergalactic student exchange. I'm meandering again.
Sometimes, when I've been seriously injured, I have visions courtesy of Angwusnasomtaka Tumas, The Crow Mother. The drugs contribute to their weirdness, certainly. This one, though, was different. She was there, in her aged aspect, her feathery hair tinged a light grey on the edges. It was just the two of us, sitting under a tree whose branches spread across the night sky, holding galaxies and stars; and whose roots stretched far below us, feeding upon the river of light from constantly exploding supernovas.
"You know, grandma, I could really use a cold beer about now."
"No," she answers. "You need to finish healing, then hightail your big butt outta here. You have places to be, people to talk to, psychos to dispose of, a cyborg to raise, aliens to threaten, and whatever else lies in store for you to deal with."
"Is that all? What about this vision, huh?" I whine, "I didn't ask for this!"
"I didn't ask for your opinion, either!" We both chuckle at that one.
"You know, Coyote really wanted to take charge of this."
"He loves to mess with me, grandma."
"Don't I know it! Do not indulge his antics, boy. But if you can make him fall for you, it might be of use to you both. You're going to need all the good luck you can get to settle this mess you've gotten yourself into."
"I didn't ask for any of this!"
Crow Mother laughs, and in my own voice, says: "I'll take it." Which is exactly what I'd said to Helena. Hoisted with my own petard, I think.
"Okay, yes. I did ask for it."
Crow Mother plucks some feathers from her hair and starts braiding them. In her hands, they bend and twist, intertwine and link. She places the bracelet on my wrist, where it sinks into my flesh, becoming a tattoo.
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She whispers in my ear: "Just be yourself, boy. Question everything, No one and nothing may be what they seem. Look behind their motives, inside their souls, and recognize that what is truth to one is lies to another. And always try to discover what it is that each suspect really wants. And if you get stuck, remember that I am with you."
