Thou Shalt Not Kiss

XXVI: The Cooldown

"It would appear," Zoe says after she has gotten over her surprise, "that my male guardian is in a position to shed light on some of the mystery."

"Are you saying," Jezzy says incredulously, "you didn't know about this?"

"Yes," Riktor answers for Zoe. "This is only the second or third time she's seen these things."

"Is that what she told you?" Jezzy says. "Dragonpiss!"

Riktor is stunned by Jezzy's outburst.

"Tell me how to turn this gottdammerung thing off!"

Instead of speaking, Riktor reaches out to tap Back and then Dismiss. As soon as her control panel disappears, Jezzy stomps off.

"I apologize," Riktor tells Zoe. "She isn't usually like that."

"You don't need to. Truth often takes a heavy toll on the mind. I've been feeling its crushing effects myself. If you don't mind, I'd like to retire now to the accommodation you prepared for me."

"All right. But you're joining us for supper, aren't you?"

"I think you know, Riktor, that I only need a single shot of Manna to sustain myself for an entire day. Personally, I'm also wont to fast when I'm on Terra."

"But down here, we have a custom of holding a small gathering to..."

"I know all about your customs, Riktor. But judging by Jezzy's behavior, it's clear that Seraphim aren't as welcome here as you're letting on."

Riktor's of course disappointed that there won't be any Halo-Blinker kumbaya happening tonight, but at the same time he's relieved; relieved that Zoe hasn't caught on to his and Jezzy's fling.

"Jezzy's a complex individual," he says. "You shouldn't consider her actions as representative of the settlement."

"Be that as it may, it's wiser to keep a low profile. Besides, it wouldn't look good to feast for a night and then fight for scraps the very next day."

"All right. Point taken. Speaking of keeping a low profile, I had two types of accommodation in mind for you. The first is the best that we have here in Colony 7086 but the second is even better. And the mind-blowing revelation you shared with me today has clinched it."

"Aren't all bunkers identical? I won't stand receiving special treatment that you'd be depriving your fellow Terrans of."

"Oh but you will. Once you understand the nature of this particular accommodation."

Zoe raises an eyebrow.

Riktor leads her deeper into the warren of bunker units, all the way to his Sanctum. He watches her expression change from bewilderment to wonder. He savors the change just as he did her reaction when he confessed about witnessing little rapture.

"This..." she gasps. "This is the blind spot in my readings of your bunker. This is where you sometimes disappear into."

"Yes," he says proudly, beaming. "I call it the Anti-Judgment Canopy."

"What is it?" she asks, barely able to contain her excitement. "How does it work?"

"The method was discovered by Terran scientists Benjamin Frankenstein and Nicole Tesla. You probably learned from your readings on Terran history how the Seraphim burned a lot of books, many of them science tomes like those by Ptonicus, Galilee, Newton, Darwin and Turintes. We were able to preserve some of their knowledge through oral tradition."

Zoe can't find it in her to correct Riktor. As a matter of fact, there are vast archives on the Firmament, both paper and holo, that retain most of these intellectual achievements. Of course there are sections like Reserved and Giftschrank that you need special permits for, but passing a simple psychoanalysis test is usually enough to grant a Seraph access.

The bigger issue is the fact that Seraphim can sense the Manna energy flowing around them, and enjoy it. The Firmament, in its orbit around Terra, experiences a total of 16 sunrises and sunsets for every Terran day. In the middle of the 4th, 8th and 12th cycle, Seraphim stop whatever they're doing and face true starboard, which is where all the invisible Manna energy converges, in the Citadel of Eyes. They sing the Trisagion along with the Trisagion Choir who always perform live.

"It's made of copper mesh," Riktor continues explaining. "The technicalities are a little over my head but, basically, the copper protects against external energies, making any occupant invisible to the all-seeing eyes of the Grand Creator."

Zoe's eyes widen at the heretic idea.

"Go on, test it for yourself. The X-O Machina head is also in there."

She crawls into the low entrance. As soon as her head is in, her halo retracts her God armor into itself, even her geta clogs disappear even before her feet are in, leaving them bare. The halo isn't acting with its typical sentience though. Instead, it's the Anti-Judgment Canopy that's exerting an effect on the halo, making it retreat into a plain auric collar around her neck, as smooth as porcelain. Apart from this collar, Zoe is left wearing only her textile innerwear: a corset and a cotton chemise, both white.

She sits in seiza. Thus shorn of her God armor, she looks strikingly human. But because Seraphim are devoid of libido, she doesn't show as much self-consciousness or even awareness of nudity as Diva Featherstone did. Meanwhile, Riktor, who has followed right behind her and closed the door, makes an almost audible gulp. His visor has promptly gone inactive but, like all Blinkers, he's able to create a fairly accurate mental image of her through enhanced echolocation.

Zoe's eyes are busy taking in the contents of the Sanctum. She's like a Blinker kid in a legacy toy store. The contraband stuff arranged along the rim of the canopy is less a modest collection and more a brazen altar of lost-and-found decrepit things. Before she's tempted to reach for any of them, she reminds herself that she's been on this exact same path before. Old World Terrans are a dead-end, an ever doomed race, akin to a patch of sand maelstrom that would drag her down and smother her if she wasn't careful.

"Curious," she mutters. "Very curious. All my life there's been this non-stop barrage of noise, of data inside my head. And right now the quiet is deafening."

"Are you able to remove your halo?"

She runs her fingers along the smooth surface of the halo-turned-collar but she couldn't find any groove or button.

"No, I don't think so. A halo is genetically coded to every Seraph. We receive it on the day of our Confirmation."

He shuffles on his knees to in front of her and examines the collar himself. This close to her cleavage made prominent by the straight neckline of the corset, he finds it hard to breathe. He can see gold flecks in her big green eyes and smell the same heavenly smell he did when they kissed.

The collar appears inert, having retreated into itself, perfectly smooth and highly reflective. It reminds Riktor of a shell. He slips in the index finger of either hand and attempts to budge it apart with a little force. Zoe's right. It's immovable.

****

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