about that."
She tried to hide the smile behind her hand.
Ravindra fixed her with a stare. "Morgan." His tone held a hint of warning. Explain or else.
"I asked around to find out what 'naff' meant. It's their word for a homosexual. I told you about them."
Prasad spluttered with laughter as Ravindra's lips curled in affronted disgust. "Sorry, Admiral, you're not my type," he said.
Ravindra grinned, shaking his head. "I'm most pleased to hear that."
"I know you won't want to cut your coti off, but tuck your hair into your collar or something." Morgan handed Tullamarran her bowl. "And don't forget your contact lenses."
An hour later, an autocab deposited them in front of a gate between crumbling stone walls, incongruous in the centre of the city. Office blocks rose into the murk on all sides, dwarfing the building behind the walls. Ravindra ran a hand over the wall's surface, then shook off the dust. "I expect it's this foul atmosphere eating into the stone."
The gates had been painted black, but the blistered paint and rust stains told a tale of decay. Beyond the gates, the cathedral almost glowed, smooth, white stone fashioned into curved shards that opened out like the petals of a flower. A stone path, flanked on each side by trickling water flowing along ducts, led straight from the gates to the cathedral's entrance. The ground staff must face a losing battle to keep the water clean, the once-white stone was stained brown. Even so, the gardens extending from the path to the Cathedral walls were a green oasis in this wasteland of a city.
A guard stood at the entrance beside a force barrier, his weapon prominent. "You have to pay," Morgan said, pointing at the reader. "Seems nothing's free here."
Ravindra shrugged, and presented his data stick. The dispenser spat out two sets of goggles. Taking one, he raised his eyebrows at Morgan.
"It knows I don't need goggles," she said. "You put them on, and you hear a commentary as you walk through the cathedral."
The admiral handed the second pair to Prasad, who hooked the earpieces over his ears. "Seems being without an implant is a distinct disadvantage in this society," he remarked.
Walking toward the doorway labeled 'start tour here', Morgan said, "Not everywhere."
She stepped through into a dimly-lit hall containing a variety of audio-visual displays illustrating the cathedral's history. Over there, the first Patriarch of the Church of Nikat explained what he wanted of his church, a representation of man opening up to the rays of the sun, surrendering to the requirements of nature. Further along, architect Livio Quanrass explained his vision. Prasad and Ravindra strolled through, the goggles perched on their noses.
Morgan ambled along, kicking her figurative heels. All of these displays were on the data stick they'd bought at the museum. They wouldn't see anything new here, she was sure. The trail led through a door that opened on creaky hinges as they approached. Beyond, the central heart of the cathedral glowed in a soft, golden light. Massive pillars curved from the edges of the circular space, to meet around a giant lens high above. Mirroring the pattern in the vault, a tiled pattern resembling stylized sun rays led outward from a circular, raised dais set directly beneath the lens.
"Catches the sunlight," Ravindra said, gazing up.
"Runs the whole building. It's a solar collector," Morgan said.
"No seating," Prasad said. His goggles dangled in his hand.
"You bring your own mat, apparently." Morgan gestured at three people sitting cross-legged near the dais, their hands resting on their knees, eyes closed.
One of the figures stirred and rose to its feet. A man or a woman? Morgan wasn't sure. The shapeless robe hid any clues the body would have provided. Grey hair, parted in the middle, hung below the shoulders. A web of wrinkles surrounded faded hazel eyes. Someone who had taken the option of ageing gracefully—rare in a technological society. Smiling, the
She tried to hide the smile behind her hand.
Ravindra fixed her with a stare. "Morgan." His tone held a hint of warning. Explain or else.
"I asked around to find out what 'naff' meant. It's their word for a homosexual. I told you about them."
Prasad spluttered with laughter as Ravindra's lips curled in affronted disgust. "Sorry, Admiral, you're not my type," he said.
Ravindra grinned, shaking his head. "I'm most pleased to hear that."
"I know you won't want to cut your coti off, but tuck your hair into your collar or something." Morgan handed Tullamarran her bowl. "And don't forget your contact lenses."
An hour later, an autocab deposited them in front of a gate between crumbling stone walls, incongruous in the centre of the city. Office blocks rose into the murk on all sides, dwarfing the building behind the walls. Ravindra ran a hand over the wall's surface, then shook off the dust. "I expect it's this foul atmosphere eating into the stone."
The gates had been painted black, but the blistered paint and rust stains told a tale of decay. Beyond the gates, the cathedral almost glowed, smooth, white stone fashioned into curved shards that opened out like the petals of a flower. A stone path, flanked on each side by trickling water flowing along ducts, led straight from the gates to the cathedral's entrance. The ground staff must face a losing battle to keep the water clean, the once-white stone was stained brown. Even so, the gardens extending from the path to the Cathedral walls were a green oasis in this wasteland of a city.
A guard stood at the entrance beside a force barrier, his weapon prominent. "You have to pay," Morgan said, pointing at the reader. "Seems nothing's free here."
Ravindra shrugged, and presented his data stick. The dispenser spat out two sets of goggles. Taking one, he raised his eyebrows at Morgan.
"It knows I don't need goggles," she said. "You put them on, and you hear a commentary as you walk through the cathedral."
The admiral handed the second pair to Prasad, who hooked the earpieces over his ears. "Seems being without an implant is a distinct disadvantage in this society," he remarked.
Walking toward the doorway labeled 'start tour here', Morgan said, "Not everywhere."
She stepped through into a dimly-lit hall containing a variety of audio-visual displays illustrating the cathedral's history. Over there, the first Patriarch of the Church of Nikat explained what he wanted of his church, a representation of man opening up to the rays of the sun, surrendering to the requirements of nature. Further along, architect Livio Quanrass explained his vision. Prasad and Ravindra strolled through, the goggles perched on their noses.
Morgan ambled along, kicking her figurative heels. All of these displays were on the data stick they'd bought at the museum. They wouldn't see anything new here, she was sure. The trail led through a door that opened on creaky hinges as they approached. Beyond, the central heart of the cathedral glowed in a soft, golden light. Massive pillars curved from the edges of the circular space, to meet around a giant lens high above. Mirroring the pattern in the vault, a tiled pattern resembling stylized sun rays led outward from a circular, raised dais set directly beneath the lens.
"Catches the sunlight," Ravindra said, gazing up.
"Runs the whole building. It's a solar collector," Morgan said.
"No seating," Prasad said. His goggles dangled in his hand.
"You bring your own mat, apparently." Morgan gestured at three people sitting cross-legged near the dais, their hands resting on their knees, eyes closed.
One of the figures stirred and rose to its feet. A man or a woman? Morgan wasn't sure. The shapeless robe hid any clues the body would have provided. Grey hair, parted in the middle, hung below the shoulders. A web of wrinkles surrounded faded hazel eyes. Someone who had taken the option of ageing gracefully—rare in a technological society. Smiling, the
Similar Books
The Silenced Majority: Stories of Uprisings, Occupations, Resistance, and Hope
Amy Goodman, Denis Moynihan
