The Emperor of Everything

Nisa watched for several seconds, before she understood that the holotank was showing her a scene from the night before, when she and Ruiz had made love on the barge. She watched, trying to decide how she felt. Part of her was outraged — she had regarded those moments as private, as belonging only to her and Ruiz. But her body remembered the sweetness, and reacted. She felt her heart thump a little more strongly, felt desire simmer to life. She was compelled to admire the grace with which Ruiz touched her; there was nothing awkward in his movements — nor in hers, as if the intensity of the act had somehow lifted them beyond the inevitable small clumsinesses of lesser passions.

When the recording ended and the woman reappeared, Nisa felt a sharp stab of loss, which must have shown on her face.

“No, don’t worry,” said Repenthe. “Our tradition is that seekers must rest alone on their first night in Deepheart, so you cannot go to him. But all will be well. I feel it strongly, Nisa. Two such lovers will surely find a place in Deepheart.”

Nisa could think of nothing to say. She was pulled between anger and embarrassment — and distracted by remembered lust. She wondered if there was any way to make the woman go away, even though she should probably be formulating questions.

As if she had read Nisa’s mind, Repenthe smiled and said, “Sleep now; then call me when you need me.”

Ruiz rested uneasily, and woke to the smell of breakfast wafting from the autochef.

He ate slowly. He was buttering a last muffin when the holotank chimed.

The woman was tall and slender; her face had a delicate strength that made her beautiful despite the irregularity of her features. “Hello, Ruiz Aw,” she said, as if they were old acquaintances.

“Hello. Who are you?” asked Ruiz.

She laughed, showing charmingly crooked teeth. “Don’t you recognize me? I’m Hemerthe, of course.”

Abruptly, Ruiz seized the memory connected to Deepheart, dragged it struggling to the surface of his mind. Now he knew where they were, and what the dwellers here wanted of them. It could, he thought, be worse.

“Ah,” she said. “You do know of us.”

“Yes, I think so.”

“Good, good. Then you won’t come to judgment in ignorance.”

Ruiz seemed to be losing the thread again. “Judgment?”

“Follow the mech when it comes for you,” said Hemerthe, and dissolved.

The mech paused at the next door. When it slid back, Nisa stepped out. She saw Ruiz and rushed to him.

“A strange place,” she whispered, holding tight.

“True,” he said, smoothing his hand over her glossy hair.

Dolmaero joined them, then Molnekh and Flomel.

“How was your night, Guildmaster?” asked Ruiz.

“Tolerable.” Dolmaero seemed pale and uncertain; Ruiz again wondered about his health.

“The food was excellent,” said Molnekh, grinning.

Flomel had regained some of his former assurance; he said nothing, but Ruiz could see that his hatreds had lost none of their virulence.

They followed the mech through more featureless corridors.

Dolmaero paced along at Ruiz’s side. “What have you learned, Ruiz Aw?” he asked.

“A bit. I remembered a little about this place, Deepheart, and those who dwell here. They call themselves the Sharers.”

Dolmaero pursed his lips. “High-sounding… but indefinite. What do others call them?”

Ruiz smiled. “Several things… but most commonly, they’re known as the Fuckheads.”

“Indelicate,” said Dolmaero. “What does it mean — in this context?”

“Yes, what does that mean, Ruiz?” Nisa gave him a little shake.

Ruiz considered how best to explain. “Well… these are folk who have deified sexual adventure. It’s hard to explain briefly, but they claim to believe that the highest human purpose is to give and receive sexual pleasure. All their laws and institutions are aimed at promoting this belief.”

Nisa shrugged. “I’ve known people like that. What’s different about these Fuckheads?” Her expression seemed to say that she saw nothing so dreadful in such a belief.

Ruiz was a little taken aback, but he persevered in his explanation. “They go to great lengths to promote the diversity of their experiences — they believe that human beings are designed to take the greatest pleasure with new lovers, so they contrive ways to maximize the novelty of their couplings.”

“They still don’t seem so unusual,” said Nisa.

Dolmaero looked faintly repulsed. “Then they do not form permanent bonds? They spend every night with a different lover?”

“Oh, it’s stranger than that,” Ruiz said.

They looked puzzled.

“They spend every night with a new lover — and also in a new body.”

“How can that be?” asked Dolmaero.

“They have the means to switch personalities from body to body — as easily as you’d change your clothes. It greatly increases the sexual variety available to them. But they’re always looking for new recruits, because…” Ruiz hesitated. How much should he tell them? “They never die — their minds live as long as they care to, so they must find new lovers somewhere, so as to avoid excessive repetition. Eternity’s long.”