her ears in histrionic denial of his words. He continued, regardless.
"For two years we worked together on joint projects."
He described their work, how they planned to construct Primitivist crystals and holograms, synthesized from their unique harmonic perspective, the like of which the world had never seen before. With their creations they hoped to storm the insular sensibilities of the critics, who favoured the clinical minimalist work of Augmented and Altered artists. Their aim was to bring humanism back to art.
"It was ironic that your conception came at the very height of our creativity..." Wellard continued, with a trace of sarcasm.
"We planned great things for you. We would educate you ourselves, and in time you would join us in a Primitivist triumvirate. We found a remote colony world, set up a studio and awaited the joyous day.
"You know the rest."
"I know I'm a disappointment to you, father."
"I never really recovered after your mother's death – but I did regain my senses sufficiently to know what I wanted for you. I trained you in all the artistic techniques... You had a fine future ahead of you."
"Some would say that I still have."
"As a telenaut !" He almost spat the word. "Did I tell you that your mother detested Augmented humans?"
"Often-"
"She considered their mechanisation a denial of human sensibilities. I agreed with her, and still do."
Wellard claimed that since her Augmentation she had become heartless – more, soulless. He told her that she had thoughts for no one but herself.
Abbie rejoined with the line that she had grown up so much under his influence that it was inevitable she assumed his selfishness. She cried that she had to make her own decisions, even if those decisions were the result of mere defiance.
Wellard crossed the patio and paused before her. "I don't want you to accept this latest commission." He was trembling with emotion.
She stared at him. "My life is my own!"
"But think of the danger."
Abbie, through Zoe's eyes, saw the empty meat-tray on the table.
Wellard reached out and cupped her tear-streaked cheek. "I love you too much to lose you, Zoe."
His other hand stroked her hair, and the light of helplessness in his eyes told Abbie that he was no longer acting, that he was back on the patio of his studio, fifteen years ago, with his daughter in his arms.
"You're so much like your mother, Zoe."
He broke away and stared into the darkened sea.
Beyond the patio, Abbie could hear the surge and splash of the leviathan as it whiplashed from the ocean. She stared at Wellard as he cried out in self-disgust.
"Zoe!" His eyes pleaded with her to follow through the business of the script. He stood beside the rail, directly above the ocean and the thrashing leviathan, awaiting the gesture from his re-animated daughter that would avenge his treatment of her and bring about the end of his guilt.
~
This was where the re-enactment diverged from Wellard's scenario.
Abbie said, "You don't deserve to die!"
Behind Wellard, the shark-thing leapt and snapped.
"I forgive you – can you hear me?" Abbie cried. "You're forgiven!"
Wellard stared past his daughter's eyes and addressed Abbie. "How can you forgive me? You have no idea what happened! Push me!"
"I know," Abbie said. "You attacked me, beat me until I was half-conscious and then raped me, calling me all the while by my mother's name. You almost killed me – perhaps maybe you intended to, to avenge my birth. That's why I left-"
He shook his head. "Abbie? How can you know this? Who are you?"
Abbie gathered herself. "I'm your daughter – Zoe!" she cried, and all the hurt and frustration she had suppressed for years now overwhelmed her. "When I left that night I vowed to avenge you. I thought at first that I would accept the commission, to spite you – and I hoped that I'd be killed. Then I had a better idea. I bought a somatic simulation from an Augmented mart in Cairo, had myself downloaded and my emptied body returned
"For two years we worked together on joint projects."
He described their work, how they planned to construct Primitivist crystals and holograms, synthesized from their unique harmonic perspective, the like of which the world had never seen before. With their creations they hoped to storm the insular sensibilities of the critics, who favoured the clinical minimalist work of Augmented and Altered artists. Their aim was to bring humanism back to art.
"It was ironic that your conception came at the very height of our creativity..." Wellard continued, with a trace of sarcasm.
"We planned great things for you. We would educate you ourselves, and in time you would join us in a Primitivist triumvirate. We found a remote colony world, set up a studio and awaited the joyous day.
"You know the rest."
"I know I'm a disappointment to you, father."
"I never really recovered after your mother's death – but I did regain my senses sufficiently to know what I wanted for you. I trained you in all the artistic techniques... You had a fine future ahead of you."
"Some would say that I still have."
"As a telenaut !" He almost spat the word. "Did I tell you that your mother detested Augmented humans?"
"Often-"
"She considered their mechanisation a denial of human sensibilities. I agreed with her, and still do."
Wellard claimed that since her Augmentation she had become heartless – more, soulless. He told her that she had thoughts for no one but herself.
Abbie rejoined with the line that she had grown up so much under his influence that it was inevitable she assumed his selfishness. She cried that she had to make her own decisions, even if those decisions were the result of mere defiance.
Wellard crossed the patio and paused before her. "I don't want you to accept this latest commission." He was trembling with emotion.
She stared at him. "My life is my own!"
"But think of the danger."
Abbie, through Zoe's eyes, saw the empty meat-tray on the table.
Wellard reached out and cupped her tear-streaked cheek. "I love you too much to lose you, Zoe."
His other hand stroked her hair, and the light of helplessness in his eyes told Abbie that he was no longer acting, that he was back on the patio of his studio, fifteen years ago, with his daughter in his arms.
"You're so much like your mother, Zoe."
He broke away and stared into the darkened sea.
Beyond the patio, Abbie could hear the surge and splash of the leviathan as it whiplashed from the ocean. She stared at Wellard as he cried out in self-disgust.
"Zoe!" His eyes pleaded with her to follow through the business of the script. He stood beside the rail, directly above the ocean and the thrashing leviathan, awaiting the gesture from his re-animated daughter that would avenge his treatment of her and bring about the end of his guilt.
~
This was where the re-enactment diverged from Wellard's scenario.
Abbie said, "You don't deserve to die!"
Behind Wellard, the shark-thing leapt and snapped.
"I forgive you – can you hear me?" Abbie cried. "You're forgiven!"
Wellard stared past his daughter's eyes and addressed Abbie. "How can you forgive me? You have no idea what happened! Push me!"
"I know," Abbie said. "You attacked me, beat me until I was half-conscious and then raped me, calling me all the while by my mother's name. You almost killed me – perhaps maybe you intended to, to avenge my birth. That's why I left-"
He shook his head. "Abbie? How can you know this? Who are you?"
Abbie gathered herself. "I'm your daughter – Zoe!" she cried, and all the hurt and frustration she had suppressed for years now overwhelmed her. "When I left that night I vowed to avenge you. I thought at first that I would accept the commission, to spite you – and I hoped that I'd be killed. Then I had a better idea. I bought a somatic simulation from an Augmented mart in Cairo, had myself downloaded and my emptied body returned
Similar Books
