Schismatrix plus by Bruce Sterling Page B
Authors: Bruce Sterling
Tags: Fiction, General, Science-Fiction, adventure, Fantasy, Science Fiction - General, Fiction - Science Fiction, Space Opera, Short Stories, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Science fiction; American, Anthologies (non-poetry), Fiction anthologies & collections
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meekness had peeled off like a layer of cosmetics. Her dark eyes shocked him. They were full of frank, carnivorous desire. He knew at once that she was feigning nothing, because her look was beyond pretense. It was not human.
Without knowing it, he rose to one knee, his eyes still locked with hers. "Yes," he said. His voice was hoarse. "It will work, I swear it to you." The floor was cold under his hand. He realized that, without any decision on his part, he had begun to move toward her, half crawling.
She looked at him in lust and wonder. "Tell me what you are, darling. Tell me really."
"I'm what you are," Lindsay said. "Shaper's work." He forced himself to stop moving. His arms began to tremble.
"I want to tell you what they did to me," the girl said. "Let me tell you what I am."
Lindsay nodded once. His mouth was dry with sick excitement.
"All right," he said. "Tell me, Kitsune."
"They gave me to the surgeons," she said. "They took my womb out, and they put in brain tissue. Grafts from the pleasure center, darling. I'm wired to the ass and the spine and the throat, and it's better than being God. When I'm hot, I sweat perfume. I'm cleaner than a fresh needle, and nothing leaves my body that you can't drink like wine or eat like candy. And they left me bright, so that I would know what submission was. Do you know what submission is, darling?"
"No," Lindsay said harshly. "But I know what it means not to care about dying."
"We're not like the others," she said. "They put us past the limits. And now we can do anything we like to them, can't we?"
Her laugh sent a shuddering thrill through him. She leaped with balletic grace over her deck of keyboards.
She kicked the old woman's shoulder with one bare foot, and the yarite fell over with a crunch. Her wig ripped free with a shredding of tape. Beneath it, Lindsay glimpsed her threadbare skull, riddled with cranial plugs. He stared. "Your keyboards," he said.
"She's my front," Kitsune said. "That's what my life is. Fronts and fronts and fronts. Only the pleasure is real. The pleasure of control." Lindsay licked his dry lips.
"Give me what's real," she said.
She undid her obi sash. Her kimono was printed in a design of irises and violets. The skin beneath it was like a dying man's dream of skin.
"Come here," she said. "Put your mouth on my mouth." Lindsay scrambled forward and threw his arms around her. She slipped her warm tongue deep into his mouth. It tasted of spice.
It was narcotic. The glands of her mouth oozed drugs.
They sprawled on the floor in front of the old woman's half-lidded eyes. She slipped her arms inside his loose kimono. "Shaper," she said, "I want your genetics. All over me."
Her warm hand caressed his groin. He did what she said.
THE MARE TRANQULLITATIS PEOPLE'S CIRCUMLUNAR ZAIBATSU: 16-1-'16
Lindsay lay on his back on the floor of Ryumin's dome, his long fingers pressed to the sides of his head. His left hand had two glittering impact rubies set in gold bands. He wore a shimmering black kimono with a faint pattern of irises set in the weave. His hakama trousers were of the modern cut.
The right sleeve of his kimono held the fictitious corporate emblem of Kabuki Intrasolar: a stylized white mask striped across the eyes and cheeks with flaring bands of black and red. His sleeves had fallen back as he clutched his head and revealed an injection bruise on his forearm. He was on vasopressin.
He dictated into a microphone. "All right," he said. "Scene Three: Amijima. Jihei says: No matter how far we walk, there'll never be a place marked for suicides. Let us kill ourselves here.
"Then Koharu: Yes, that's true. One place is as good as another to die. But I've been thinking. If they find our dead bodies together, people will say that Koharu and Jihei committed a lovers' suicide. I can imagine how your wife will resent and envy me. So you should kill me here, then choose another spot, far away, for yourself.
"Then Jihei says—" Lindsay fell
Without knowing it, he rose to one knee, his eyes still locked with hers. "Yes," he said. His voice was hoarse. "It will work, I swear it to you." The floor was cold under his hand. He realized that, without any decision on his part, he had begun to move toward her, half crawling.
She looked at him in lust and wonder. "Tell me what you are, darling. Tell me really."
"I'm what you are," Lindsay said. "Shaper's work." He forced himself to stop moving. His arms began to tremble.
"I want to tell you what they did to me," the girl said. "Let me tell you what I am."
Lindsay nodded once. His mouth was dry with sick excitement.
"All right," he said. "Tell me, Kitsune."
"They gave me to the surgeons," she said. "They took my womb out, and they put in brain tissue. Grafts from the pleasure center, darling. I'm wired to the ass and the spine and the throat, and it's better than being God. When I'm hot, I sweat perfume. I'm cleaner than a fresh needle, and nothing leaves my body that you can't drink like wine or eat like candy. And they left me bright, so that I would know what submission was. Do you know what submission is, darling?"
"No," Lindsay said harshly. "But I know what it means not to care about dying."
"We're not like the others," she said. "They put us past the limits. And now we can do anything we like to them, can't we?"
Her laugh sent a shuddering thrill through him. She leaped with balletic grace over her deck of keyboards.
She kicked the old woman's shoulder with one bare foot, and the yarite fell over with a crunch. Her wig ripped free with a shredding of tape. Beneath it, Lindsay glimpsed her threadbare skull, riddled with cranial plugs. He stared. "Your keyboards," he said.
"She's my front," Kitsune said. "That's what my life is. Fronts and fronts and fronts. Only the pleasure is real. The pleasure of control." Lindsay licked his dry lips.
"Give me what's real," she said.
She undid her obi sash. Her kimono was printed in a design of irises and violets. The skin beneath it was like a dying man's dream of skin.
"Come here," she said. "Put your mouth on my mouth." Lindsay scrambled forward and threw his arms around her. She slipped her warm tongue deep into his mouth. It tasted of spice.
It was narcotic. The glands of her mouth oozed drugs.
They sprawled on the floor in front of the old woman's half-lidded eyes. She slipped her arms inside his loose kimono. "Shaper," she said, "I want your genetics. All over me."
Her warm hand caressed his groin. He did what she said.
THE MARE TRANQULLITATIS PEOPLE'S CIRCUMLUNAR ZAIBATSU: 16-1-'16
Lindsay lay on his back on the floor of Ryumin's dome, his long fingers pressed to the sides of his head. His left hand had two glittering impact rubies set in gold bands. He wore a shimmering black kimono with a faint pattern of irises set in the weave. His hakama trousers were of the modern cut.
The right sleeve of his kimono held the fictitious corporate emblem of Kabuki Intrasolar: a stylized white mask striped across the eyes and cheeks with flaring bands of black and red. His sleeves had fallen back as he clutched his head and revealed an injection bruise on his forearm. He was on vasopressin.
He dictated into a microphone. "All right," he said. "Scene Three: Amijima. Jihei says: No matter how far we walk, there'll never be a place marked for suicides. Let us kill ourselves here.
"Then Koharu: Yes, that's true. One place is as good as another to die. But I've been thinking. If they find our dead bodies together, people will say that Koharu and Jihei committed a lovers' suicide. I can imagine how your wife will resent and envy me. So you should kill me here, then choose another spot, far away, for yourself.
"Then Jihei says—" Lindsay fell
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