Chapter 11: Recuperation

Death is nothing but a continuation of life. The completion of life, the surrendering of a human body but the heart and soul live forever they do not die.” - Mother Teresa


The lonely sound of a freight train, far away. Zeremaya shivered, pleased. There were tracks leading from main city to main city here, but no roads. Maybe in areas where some great civilization had risen and fallen there might be some, but here nothing but crushed grass on a long prairie walk.

She looked to Zash, and then to Karl, touched him to take on a full charge of his magic and then turned heel and walked back to the vardo she was staying in before the visit to the city. Ulaanaa would be there. She would need nursing care, and she could see that Zash was not with her.

Zere’maya had met up with her briefly. Ulaanaa had had the repair surgery and was on a lot of pain medication, and still groggy. The gypsies had her in a suspension “cocoon” hammock and every few hours the weights needed to be moved around since Ulaanaa herself could not roll over on her own. As grueling as a procedure like this would be on a world roughly at 1900s level medical understanding this was a big improvement over thanking God for Chloroform and doing the operation herself, on a woman who hated her.

She checked Ulaanaa’s suspension system. There was a simple pendulum gently rocking her back and forth while at the same time imperceptibly slowly spinning her around as if she had been on a spit over a fire. A draining sandbag was gradually tipping her from flat to upright – between the change in angle and the regular motion pressure sores were unlikely. Ulaana was being given the pain relief medication, then would be switched over to the caravan’s supplies. Zere’maya laid a hand on Ulaanaa’s exposed feet, guiding Karl’s magic into her deliberately. Zere’maya could see the hammock also changing, taking on a newer form. She was no better at controlling the seepover than she had been before her long sleep, but it did seem that some of her own physical ailments had benefited by Zash’s stasis spell.

In the quiet of the vardo she could hear the low rumble of the passing train. There was no sound in all the worlds to impersonate a steam engine.

Zeremaya had had work in worlds far more technically advanced than her birth world, and almost any world anywhere was more magically advanced, but here was one of a society's sweet spots -- before cars, before radio, but with high speed transport. Everything in this world was just beginning to move just a little bit faster.

Today, if she was not on mission, she would be drinking good, strong coffee in the morning sunlight, warming her feet on the slate tiles of her kitchen, tucked underground in a cozy niche, in her burrow under the light of the great gas giant planet, never named, that her moon-world circled, with Ora, the other settled world, a green star in her sky, with her double suns visible in the evening, only when her home was turned away from the planet the two little worlds circled.

Once apon a time she had been worried, almost, with the idea of being so close to a sun that wasn't exactly a sun, that was far too small to be a proper star, and orbited like a planet does, but that gave off light and heat like a sun does. She even had tried to name it, just for her own thinking's sake. Nothing had stuck. There was no word for "a sky with a luminious planet in it" or particular reason to have a name for "a sky with a single, large moon" had been for people she had grown up with. "The sky" had "the planet" with "the suns" and that was all there was to it. She had read but didn't understand back then that her world with its one large moon and one close sun was really very special, very rare out there among the solar systems.

This world was such a rare world, Zeremaya thought contentedly, the first like it she had been on since leaving her own world. It also was just "the world" but she had heard that the people here were Goddess worshippers, with a great mother goddess and temples seeming much like what the women of her time had hoped for. There seemed to be at least a normal share of non-paradisical, ordinary quarrelsome human behavior, but she hoped to see a real temple with real priestesses for herself. She would need to, anyhow, to figure out how her mission here had gone so wrong.

Zeremaya was fairly sure she had missed her mark, wasn't able to communicate with anyone of the people who had sent her here but she hoped perhaps the educated in magic here would be willing to join with her and help her repair any damage done (if any) and set the matter right.

The final approach to the biggest city on the planet was as it would be in any of a thousand worlds. First, a few scattered farms, here and there. Follow the beaten path, come up. Stop the caravan obligingly for any passers-by, hope that they spread the word. Stop again to sharpen a few knives, buy food, share news of the outside.

Now, outside of the city, there would be excitement, and preparation for the next city. Zere’maya checked Ulaana’s vital signs carefully. She was able to reach into her pocket and use some of her equipment, taking careful notes as to how the healers here had tended to Ulaanaa’s injury. Nice job, she decided. If Ulaanaa can avoid infection at least one of the two fistulas should be healed, and they also had removed a good deal of the scarring.

Zeremaya wondered, briefly, if the people who repaired Ulaanaa were dragons, or something else she had never seen before walking around with a human face on, then let it drop. A woman came in to watch Ulaanaa, so she walked back out again.

She wasn’t tired – who would be after sleeping a week through – so she walked up to the main campground. A large group of children were practicing gymnastics. Several men were making music along the side. There was a slack rope set up, and one girl was practicing waking up the crowd, walking along the edges of an imaginary stage.

“Come on now, right up to the tape, you know we do better when you cheer us on – if you like what you see – clap for us! If you don’t like what you see – clap anyway! Yeah, we may turn it around if you go crazy, we’re like that, we’re kids, you know!”

Zere’maya laughed as the young girl pointed out acts that weren’t there, praised people’s performances then urged everyone to be “very very quiet, the performer needs his concentration.”

Of course, she didn’t get quiet. Next to her were four male contortionists forming rather amazing structures with their bodies, and looking in general like they had no bones on their bodies outside of their heads.

The young girl on the slackrope was contact juggling with a plate – first under her foot walking on the rope, then rolling it around her body, then roundoffing from the rope, gathering up the plate and making the rounds, thanking the invisible crowd for the wonders of her performance.

To the children this was like Halloween, only they were earning money for the whole tribe rather than collecting candy for themselves. Zere’maya smiled. Some of this – this she had done herself.

She looked over, trying to find Zash’s long, dark body. What was her skill? Sure enough, Zash was a senior member of the children’s troupe. She was practicing with a fire sphere, doing an elaborate contact juggle mixed with some contortion. She was being backed by Karl, who had two wands with streamers on them – standins for torches, Zere’maya knew. The lithe gypsy woman was easily head and shoulders taller than Karl, and she walked up his body, ducking between the “flaming” wands, stood on his head, slipped down his body – Karl could easily take any amount of punishment like this, so he would be an ideal stunting partner.

Their bodies wove together, and Zash picked up a pair of poi – clearly also standing in for flamers. The musicians saw Zere’maya watching, and walked up to Zash and Karl. The drums changed beats, and the two young people moved from experimentation to a deliberate fire dance. Zere’maya could see in her mind’s eye the stage over the baths, imagine how the couple would be reflected in the water, how the pattern of lights would bounce all over the insides of the cavern. This was what she had missed. Zere’maya would work hard to ensure that she did not miss such a performance again.

“I’d kill for a Krispy Kreme right about now.” She said out loud, and dealt with the twisting of her throat in even thinking about eating or drinking anything. Never mind that she was three hundred years from the nearest donut conveyer belt, she had to remain detached about the idea of eating or drinking until she was rescued or healed.

And ok, right, things had gotten a little out of hand with Karl. Enough so she knew that wasn’t what she wanted, and that Karl was falling in love with her. Or, more precisely, the idea of another magical being who was soft and female, and the breasts didn’t hurt. Oddly, the fact that she could hurt him seemed to be behind a good deal of the infatuation.

All right. Think it out. Zash wants Karl. Karl wants her, Zere’maya. Zere’maya wants to go home. Mother Faa wants Zash to marry someone with magical strength, like what she has. That would be Karl, except that he can’t do anything magical – he simply is magic.

She felt a brush against one leg and pulled out one of her tools. She could normally call out on it, she could work with it, she could play games on it. Zash at that moment was balancing a ball on her sternum, one foot on a slackrope. The Gypsies were very polite when hearing about the outside world but aside from the youngest children they weren’t interested. Not turned off, not holding themselves above – the subject was dry and nothing Zere’maya could say or do had made people even slightly interested. Karl and Zash helped her but at the first sign of freedom were glad to be off. There was not the slightest danger that anyone in the caravan would try to use her tools without her permission.

It was like trying to settle gypsies back home – if there was illness or social disruption of some other sort – maybe for a time. But at the first opportunity they would unsettle and go.

Zere’maya couldn’t make even a wild prediction on what the caravan could do if Karl ever did learn how to be a dragon except – the core lifestyle would not change. If there were gypsies who used spacecraft their children were probably rolling balls from one arm to the other, too.

It was also true what she had perceived as a child – the children earned the bulk of the income, the women the lion’s share of the rest. There was plenty of internal work in their society for Romany men to do, and disinclination to interact with the Georgio world – here as now. Then as now – children enjoyed and were proud to bring money home. Then as now – children love to hear applause and praise.

There was no place for gypsy children for school – as such. They were learning all the time. The adults could speak and read several languages each – when and how they learned Zere’maya found was an individual answer. Most looked at her as if she’d asked how they had learned to see, or taste things. Truthfully, Zere’maya had to tell them that she didn’t remember when she had learned to read, either.

Those who didn’t look at her with surprise (and maybe a tinge of pity) told her of learning one on one at an older age, but learn they had. Moreover, they that could actually used their skills. It was a different world than that she remembered as a child on Earth. She sighed, and dropped her device back into her pocket.

Mother Faa came walking up to her, interrupting her musings.

“We have need for some replacement items before the next show. We’d like you to ride along ahead and shop for us. We’ll give you money. You will then be able to look at the next town and see for yourself without identifying yourself as one of us, so much.”

Zere’maya scowled at her. “Yes, thank you. Unfortunately your message comes at a bad place in my internal conversation.” Mother Faa laughed.

“I was afraid it might. You won’t have to bathe to go into the next city, it’s not a medical facility. Also not so fancy. But I think you’ll have a better understanding of why I was so cautious by the time you’ve finished our errand.”

Zere’maya gave a long, sonorous groan. “This is just like touring when I was a child. We rarely talked about what city, or what wonders – they all rather blended together, just seemed like different versions of the same city. I would wake up not knowing what state I was in, and then, I wouldn’t even think about that for days on end. I was home because my people were here, it didn’t make any difference at all if this was New Orleans, or Crooked Creek, Kentucky, Seattle or Denver. What did matter was when we’d get to the next gathering of several caravans – the fairs. Are we close to a fair, Mother Faa?” she asked.

“It really doesn’t matter, we’d still have to sleep you at this point. You’re very different, and your talent can’t buy you your liberty.” Said Mother Faa.

“Eventually I’ll have to. I know I’ve – well, as they’d said on Earth, I screwed the pooch – I think that I’ve done something – don’t know what – that has gone permanently wrong. The children on this caravan know about offworlders but Zash is the only one who has even a tiny amount of interest. Karl wonders if the dragons out there can help him, sometimes. I don’t know if the local people, the main community knows about off-worlders, mostly because the people on the caravan don’t have any interest in the subject of main society. A little bit of distaste, a whole lot of boredom. I don’t imagine other caravans would be different? Why would I have to sleep through a Fair?”

“There are other offworlders among us, but you are the only human offworlder I’ve ever heard of.” Said Mother Faa.

“It’s true. Most of the worlds out there – are completely different than this world. Most of the civilizations are made up of creatures that live either breathing water or supported by water. The interplanetary space ships I’ve been on all had to keep me in a tank, in life support. I’ve been among people who live in ammonia seas – they use ammonia where we are built with water. Nearest I can describe my best friend is an octopus who lives in an ammonia ocean. I’ve been among water-living beings whose space ships are big water tanks, with guest accommodations built for an air-living person. The nearest thing to a human being is a gilled life form that probably started our myths about mermaids – but you’d have to have been at sea a long time to see one as a human female. There are quite a few shapeshifting beings, but humans are about the only species who could survive a world with no oceans whatsoever.” Zere’maya laughed.

“But how does that make a middle-aged young grandmother a threat to a Fair?” she asked.

“All those different people, from different worlds, all in one place – all with the exception of you were here to expand, explore. Wouldn’t the first thought you had with a sentient machine be how to get back to your world?” said Mother Faa.

“I’d want it to be ‘what was the threat to this world’ but I see your point.” Said Zere’maya. “I really do have to see the next town, find out what kind of mainstream culture I’m dealing with here.”

“That you do, and no one here really cares enough about them to have found out for you.” Said Mother Faa.

“Would the farmer here – Apriliya I think it is – would she know?” asked Zere’maya.

“Apriliya is a native of this world. She doesn’t know what she knows, ‘ask a fish to study water’. She knows we’re Gypsies, and she likes having us here. She is sympathetic to our ways. Her daughters have even traveled with us, briefly, to go from place to place. She’s smart enough to pick up our speech, but when she’s overheard us talking about otherworldly issues she thinks of us as superstitious, or as telling a story.” Said Mother Faa.

“Here’s the problem.” Said Zere’maya. “Ordinary visitors to a town aren’t explorers, either. They already have some idea of what they will find. I don’t want to go into town like a tourist. Tourists pour themselves in, take samples, fill empty areas. I’ve been under cover in other worlds for many ordinary lifetimes, and what I learned early is that space is something; it’s not a gap waiting to be filled. Nine times out of ten I’m here because someone is going to try to fill an empty space, because someone’s young enough or has hubris enough to think every corner of existence has to be shaped, filled, manipulated. People need to learn to be comfortable with empty spaces. Resist the urge to fill up every unfilled spot. Learn to tolerate and then to enjoy the void.”

“You aren’t like one of your Star Trek characters, are you?” asked Mother Faa.

“No. No, I’m really not.” Said Zere’maya. She laughed, rueful. “You know what? Me and Jaqueline, we’d love to be here together. Our daughter, too. Jaqueline, she’d be having a wonderful time, she’d get along getter with all of you than I do. She’s thrived out in the universe. I miss her so.”

“What would you be doing if you all were among us?” Asked Mother Faa. “Assuming that your Rhree wasn’t dead, you weren’t ill, and there was no mission. How would you use your time on our world?”

“That’s easy. Me and Jaqueline, we think in TV, early, cable TV and movies. That was our growing up time. We’d work hard, live your life, then come out on the hill here and imagine if we were a TV show – who would play us in the TV show about our lives. Jauqueline loves Gina Torres. My daughter loves JoJo. I bounce around a bit. I’d want to be played be someone who was good at comedy. America Ferrera could do it, I’d rather have her play my daughter though. It’s always hardest to pick out who should play yourself. I think I’d cast Brandy as Zash, and Karl? I don’t know, he’s more of a cartoon character. Something Foglio would dream up. Sweet on the outside, dangerous as hell on the inside, meaning well and brooding – maybe a young Gene Kelly?”

“And me?” asked Mother Faa. “Margaret Cho. Definitely.” Said Zere’maya. Mother Faa burst out laughing.

“So – you know Cho?” asked Zere’maya.

“Oh yes! And I’d cast you as Christina Ricci. Everyone would see that movie, just to see those two actresses play off of each other.”

“Oh yes, that would work. Gina would be up here, and I would be down here.” Zere’maya gestured with her hands. “We’d give Christina a curly wig and we’d be like the Eye Girls!”

The two women laughed, and Zere’maya mentioned actresses and actors, finally giving up when Mother Faa knew several Zere’maya didn’t know.

Zere’maya puzzled, “All right then – you have no tech to speak of and you’re a trashy TV fan. How? And when? The road doesn’t allow for time to sit down and boob out.”

“If you are with us long enough you can come with us to the Mountain, where we spend the coldest three months of the year. There’s all the tech you’d want there. But you have to understand the most of the people, to understand why we don’t just teach what we know to all of them. And why we don’t always use fancy tech – there’s more than you think. Keep on looking.”