Descending Road - DETECTION II by Dana W. Paxson

DETECTION II

1562 4D

Arlen, wearing a live-face mask and a dancer’s black bodysuit, descended in the lift to Poly Town. He wanted to stop in a barhole for the street music and the singing, and a little of the Poly Town drug mix.

Once in a while an alien or two would stop at ConNexus, his favorite place, and he would try out a few new drugs on them. They seemed impervious to biochemical assault; in fact, the evidence from Turiosten was that they controlled biochemistry within the host’s body, perfectly and exquisitely. Once in a long time, he would find something that unsettled them, but the effects were unpredictable.

He was saving the music of the anth for Indrio when they made love – it would be a tremendous gift to her. When he got back to his chambers, he’d call her, and then they would take the mystical voyage together.

He shouldered past a knot of Darko Hejj streetboys and slipped into ConNexus. His mask, the animated face of Arcus herself, guaranteed his anonymity, and warned others that this man was not to be toyed with. The streetboys would leave him alone.

The barhole music enveloped him; the beat seized him. There was nothing like this in the upper levels of the City. The dancers knotted, splayed, entwined in the shadows and the barred light, humping and jolting to the arrogant rhythm. Here sexual intercourse in the midst of dance was accepted, and four pairs were deeply, though discreetly, engaged. Arlen smiled. It all whetted his appetite.

One couple, lightly-clothed, silhouetted in the shadows, seemed utterly rapt. The man, lithe and athletic, was far shorter than the tall and powerful woman, but she leaned back as he climbed her, and gave him entry; they clutched tightly. Arlen‘s smile vanished.

The woman’s scalp was bare, her small ears tucked close against her head, her muscular body lush and ripe. A thin metal neck-chain flashed in a stripe of light that passed across her face during one pumping twist.

It was Indrio.

Arlen, near-blind with rage, sat stunned. As the two dancers released each other and walked arm in arm to a distant corner, he pulled out a comm and said into it, “I want two men with me. Now. Follow my signal.”

He rose and walked to the table where Indrio and the man sat. “Indrio,” he said over the music.

She knew his voice. “Oh! Arlen! Your mask!” Her eyes widened, but she stood and touched his shoulder. “This is Tariall. We just became friends.”

“I see that,” Arlen said.

“You are the Arlen, of ArCorp? I’m honored,” Tariall said, standing up. The top of his head reached to the top of Arlen‘s shoulder. “I work for you as a writer, and I write poetry on the side. I didn’t realize Indrio knew anyone so–“

“Is something wrong?” Indrio asked Arlen.

His head had been bowed; he raised it. “No, I’m just thinking.” This young woman had no idea he owned her. It was as if she felt utterly free to do whatever she wished. Why had it never occurred to him to lay out for her the limits of what she could do? His heart felt gripped with pain.

But Tariall knew better. He had to.

“Come with me, you two,” Arlen said jovially, a hand on a shoulder of each, “I’d like to show you some special entertainment.”

Story List	SURPRISE ME	Author Page
USER SURVEY	PUZZLE ME	MAKE ELM MARK

HOVER Lucida Bright BARE	HOVER Lucida Bright FULL	HOVER Palatino Linotype BARE
HOVER Palatino Linotype FULL	HOVER Times New Roman BARE	HOVER Times New Roman FULL
PAD Arial BARE	PAD Arial FULL	PAD Lucida Bright BARE
PAD Lucida Bright FULL	PAD Times New Roman BARE	PAD Times New Roman FULL


	DETECTION II 1562 4D Arlen, wearing a live-face mask and a dancer’s black bodysuit, descended in the lift to Poly Town. He wanted to stop in a barhole for the street music and the singing, and a little of the Poly Town drug mix. Once in a while an alien or two would stop at ConNexus, his favorite place, and he would try out a few new drugs on them. They seemed impervious to biochemical assault; in fact, the evidence from Turiosten was that they controlled biochemistry within the host’s body, perfectly and exquisitely. Once in a long time, he would find something that unsettled them, but the effects were unpredictable. He was saving the music of the anth for Indrio when they made love – it would be a tremendous gift to her. When he got back to his chambers, he’d call her, and then they would take the mystical voyage together. He shouldered past a knot of Darko Hejj streetboys and slipped into ConNexus. His mask, the animated face of Arcus herself, guaranteed his anonymity, and warned others that this man was not to be toyed with. The streetboys would leave him alone. The barhole music enveloped him; the beat seized him. There was nothing like this in the upper levels of the City. The dancers knotted, splayed, entwined in the shadows and the barred light, humping and jolting to the arrogant rhythm. Here sexual intercourse in the midst of dance was accepted, and four pairs were deeply, though discreetly, engaged. Arlen smiled. It all whetted his appetite. One couple, lightly-clothed, silhouetted in the shadows, seemed utterly rapt. The man, lithe and athletic, was far shorter than the tall and powerful woman, but she leaned back as he climbed her, and gave him entry; they clutched tightly. Arlen‘s smile vanished. The woman’s scalp was bare, her small ears tucked close against her head, her muscular body lush and ripe. A thin metal neck-chain flashed in a stripe of light that passed across her face during one pumping twist. It was Indrio. Arlen, near-blind with rage, sat stunned. As the two dancers released each other and walked arm in arm to a distant corner, he pulled out a comm and said into it, “I want two men with me. Now. Follow my signal.” He rose and walked to the table where Indrio and the man sat. “Indrio,” he said over the music. She knew his voice. “Oh! Arlen! Your mask!” Her eyes widened, but she stood and touched his shoulder. “This is Tariall. We just became friends.” “I see that,” Arlen said. “You are the Arlen, of ArCorp? I’m honored,” Tariall said, standing up. The top of his head reached to the top of Arlen‘s shoulder. “I work for you as a writer, and I write poetry on the side. I didn’t realize Indrio knew anyone so–“ “Is something wrong?” Indrio asked Arlen. His head had been bowed; he raised it. “No, I’m just thinking.” This young woman had no idea he owned her. It was as if she felt utterly free to do whatever she wished. Why had it never occurred to him to lay out for her the limits of what she could do? His heart felt gripped with pain. But Tariall knew better. He had to. “Come with me, you two,” Arlen said jovially, a hand on a shoulder of each, “I’d like to show you some special entertainment.”