CHAPTER 10
When we emerged from the shadow of bureaucracy into the streets of South Town, I took a deep breath. Though it had not been many days since we visited Taruandula, and not that long since we had left Keinolt, I felt as though I had finally reached a source of oxygen. I couldn’t gulp in enough of the moist, fresh, clean air. It seemed to me to be flavored with subtle perfumes like lilacs, spices and a smack of sea breeze. I spread out my hands and let them ride the gentle wind flowing around me, letting them symbolize the pleasure I felt and the nourishment I took from the atmosphere.
“Fragrant air,” Redius said. Uctus sounded abrupt and terse in Human Standard, but I spoke his native language fluently, so I realized how many-layered was that simple phrase in his tongue.
“All of those things,” I said. I threw my head back and turned, letting the welcome warmth of the sun caress my face.
“Absorb these sensations,” Madame Deirdre said. “Remember then for later. You will want to add them to your vocabulary of movement. Assign a symbolic stance to each one that expresses it clearly to your audience.”
I nodded and tried to fix the impression in my mind of each scent in the air. Did they make me feel happy, exhilarated, excited, nostalgic?
“Can you feel nostalgia for something you have never known?” I asked. “How could I express that?”
“Oh, yes,” Madame Deirdre said. “As thus.” She lifted her chin slightly, tentatively. She extended her hand, fingers out, then drew it toward her, the percussion side of her palm in the lead, as if scooping something toward her. I felt a magnetic pull in the gesture, as if she was willing it to come to her. Suddenly, as if of its own will, the hand retreated. The stricken look on Deirdre’s face as it flitted away wrenched my heart.
“Good!” Redius said, appreciatively. “Crushing.”
“That’s it exactly,” I said, full of admiration as always for her skill. “Madame, it will take a lifetime to equal what you do so casually. I must practice that.”
The hand ceased to retreat, and instead fluttered lightly downward in a circular acknowledgement of my compliment. Deirdre bowed after it, her hand brushing her shoe.
“I am flattered, my lord, but you’re learning. Keep at it. Your movements should be your own, not merely copied from me. Although bodies are limited by their structure to a given number of motions, there are myriad ways into which those can be combined.”
I had ordered a vehicle from a service there in Nerk that had promised spaciousness and elegance as well as an expert and knowledgeable driver. All comforts were to be laid on, including refreshments and some of the best wines from a local vineyard. Although Nell and several of my cousins had arranged outings that would last several days, I had scuppered my own plans to accommodate my assignment from Parsons. Instead, I intended to return every evening to the Jaunter.
As we waited for our transport, I attempted to imitate Madame Deirdre’s expression of longing. I had always thought of Keinolt as my home, but Counterweight resonated with me. What if humankind had been living in the wrong place all these centuries? I tried to evince my sense of seeking belonging in a place I had never been before. My shoulders collapsed inward as my hands drew toward my heart, trying to place Counterweight into my soul. I bowed my head over it. I almost wept from the longing. This could be our long-lost home!
Some passersby glanced at me uncomfortably, and hurried their steps to get away from me as quickly as they could, but others, overcome by curiosity, stopped to watch.
I ran around the circle, absorbing their expressions. Some were sympathetic, others impatient, a few scornful. All of those were valid impressions of this stranger in their midst. With my movements, I implored them to take me in, to allow me to stay, to become one of their own. If this was Earth, I could not leave without feeling I would be permitted to return and lay my bones in the birthplace of my ancestors. For this last thought, I pretended to delve into the soil, digging my own far-future grave, and threw my heart into the void that yawned at my feet.
Redius watched me as long as he could, but he started hissing uncontrollably. A few of my audience tittered. Some wore uncomfortable looks, as if wondering how they should respond. Redius’s jaw dropped open, and his hisses became louder. I ceased my gyrating and set my hands on my hips.
“I’m not moving you at all, am I?” I inquired, allowing my peevish mood to overcome my feelings of longing.
“Nowhere!” he exclaimed, and burst out in another fit of hisses. The circle of humans caught it, and laughed out loud.
My pride was hurt, but it retreated against the tide of an upwelling of humor at my own situation. I began to move my hand in imitation of Deirdre’s motion of nostalgia, and caught a glimpse of myself in a nearby window. I saw how ridiculous I must have appeared. After that, I couldn’t hold back the merriment. Everything struck me as funny. My movements made me laugh. The expressions on the faces of the passersby only tickled me further. Redius’s reactions fed into the flames and left me shaking helplessly. I repeated the movement, but every time, it got funnier and funnier. By the time the car arrived, we were leaning on one another’s shoulders, erupting like raucous volcanoes.
Madame Deirdre grabbed us each by an arm as she would any unruly junior pupils. My circle of onlookers broke into spontaneous applause and cheers. I bowed to them gratefully as my teacher shoved us both toward the huge open-topped vehicle, shaking her head. I assisted the lady up the very tall steps against the side, though she was so limber that she seemed to extend her legs an extra half-meter each to ascend the vertical escarpment.
“It’s the atmosphere,” she said, making me and Redius sit down on upholstered bench seats at opposite sides of the wide car, away from one another. “Very high oxygen levels. It can make one giddy.”
“I think it was rather a success,” I said, waving out of the carriage to the few who were still looking my way.
“Not to my mind,” Deirdre said, fixing me firmly in her gaze. “The aim of interpretive dance is to take in your impressions, and express them to others in a deliberate fashion. That was most haphazard. While spontaneity can absolutely play a part in dance, it is best to have perfected your steps and motions so that they can be performed well. Until you know what you are doing, it’s a mistake to extemporize.”
I lowered my eyes, crestfallen. “I apologize, madame,” I said. Deirdre chuckled.
“It was very funny, though.”
“Greetings, visitors! I am Billimun,” the driver said, leaning down from the rococo swivel chair in the pilot’s position at the rear of the car. He was a big, hearty man with coarse black hair and beard, and hands the size of my head. “Welcome to humanity’s oldest home! Lord Thomas, Madame Deirdre, Mr. Redius, welcome.”
I recovered my wits. Madame Deirdre did not know the true reason for our outing, though it would become evident once we rendezvoused with our guests. But the day was young, and we had the time to enjoy ourselves before that moment came.
“I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Billimun,” I said. “You came very highly recommended.”
He beamed, showing enormous white teeth between mustache and beard.
“Nice to hear! I hope you’ll fill out the survey on your seat-arm screens after the tour’s over. I live or die by good reviews.”
“Happy to,” Redius said.
“Now, did I understand from your last message, Lord Thomas, that you want pictorial and video records of your trip? You don’t want to take images of your own?”
“Alas, no,” I said. “Due to a small … incident … befalling my viewpad, I had to leave it behind.”
“What about your friends?” Billimun asked, glancing at the others. “Everybody’s got a viewpad or a pocket secretary these days.”
“The same happened to their devices, I regret to say,” I said. “We are in your hands.”
“Well!” the driver said, heartily, flicking several controls. A number of lenses and spy-eyes rose around us. “Let me set up full capture. You’ll get the file sent to your Infogrid address at the conclusion of today’s tour. Now, where would you like to start?”
“I am a student of symbolic dance,” I informed him. “I have seen digitavid documentaries of Counterweight.” I outlined the places that I wanted to see. “And I have heard marvelous things of the Whispering Ravines nature reserve. I’d like to go there and spend some time gathering impressions from the circulating winds.”
“It’s a beautiful place,” the driver agreed, though he looked dubious about the dance. “I’ve plotted out a great route that will take us to all those destinations, ending at the Ravines in time to watch sunset over the Grand Crevasse. Would you like me to tell you about the places as we go, or would you prefer a canned narrative? I’ve got a couple hundred audio lectures in the memory banks of my car, from travel writers, teachers, important people from our history, previous visitors, celebrities, artificial intelligences, though those are kind of dry—I’ve got them all. What would you like?”
“I’d prefer it from you, please!” I said, embracing the feeling of enthusiasm that rose within me. I spread my hands and expanded them out to the extent my arms would reach. “Show us everything!”
“Then hold on, sir,” Billimun said, cheerfully. A force-field canopy closed over our heads, and the car zipped into the wide blue sky. “We’re off!”