Chapter 17: Unexpected Conjunction
Bianca pads lightly up the ellipsoid tunnel that pierces the heart of her gallery. A soft orange light highlights dimples and welts on the honeycombed walls: a mosaic of hexagonal cells, many with blurry forms darkly visible behind translucent membranes. Unoccupied cells, though sparse, shine like windows in a skyscraper at night.
The tunnel is alive, flexing and twisting from the movements of the countless Ascendants jostling like corpuscles through capillaries. Through the mob, Bianca spots her own empty cell and glides over to it, anxious to be alone, to meditate and perchance to dream.
Bianca slides in feet-first through a flaccid, spindle-shaped slit. Folds collapse and conform to her shape. She reclines on the stretchy membrane that spans its center like a hammock.
Before she can settle in and receive her cell’s consolation and nurturing and consolation, the membrane snaps shut and the cell shuttles rapidly away from the corridor, bumping and sliding through layer after layer, slithering past a queue of other cells waiting to mingle with their Mentors.
Bianca is alarmed, never having experienced such a rapid and unexpected transport. Panic-stricken at the unplanned encounter it portends, she scrambles for a way to explain why she has come back from Lethe so soon. Would it suffice to say she felt lost and confused and needed to collect herself?
Her cell’s emanations fill her soul with gentle warmth, the essence of clannish communion. But Bianca’s anxiety overrides its influence. She rubs her face nervously, a vestigial habit with no physical effect. She awaits the inevitable.
Bianca senses the proximity of Mother Ebbani's cell. Other cells already crowd around it, but none are yet locked into conjunction. They are waiting for her.
“Our daughter … close … yes,” Bianca feels her Mentor think, though the thoughts are muffled by the insulating effect of her membranes. Bianca feels a strong but indistinct mind reply.
Bianca sees something filamentous pull away from her Mentor's cell. It whips over to Bianca, lingers a moment, then retracts.
Bianca’s cell seals against Mother Ebbani's. Conjunction achieved, opacity becomes translucence and the petite shape of her fetally folded Mentor becomes visible.
“Mother Ebbani, that strand … was that our Primentor?”
“Yes, my child.”
“I was being discussed. I felt it.”
“I’ll be frank,” says Mother Ebbani. “She is losing patience. Luckily for you… she doesn’t yet grasp how far you are from resolving this situation. You have another chance to correct your errors, but you’re running out of time.”
“I tried to convince him but ... he is being stubborn. Even without Marco’s influence, I'm not sure this one would Ascend. I don’t know how to handle this.”
“Surely not by hiding in your cell.”
“But … I needed to think.”
“You need to think on your feet, child. A Guide should never flee simply because she encounters some resistance. You have tools. Use them.”
“Tools?”
“You know full well your resources.”
“I'd still rather rely on persuasion.”
Mother Ebbani shifts in her cell and sniffs. “We've seen where that has gotten you. If the situation deteriorates any further, others may be forced to intervene, and I have to warn you, it may not be gentle.”
“I assure you, there’ll be no need for force, Mother. Daniel is reachable. I can see it in his eyes. He just needs the right approach.”
“Remove the Unfettered One and you won't have to worry about a right or wrong approach. You will have only to reach out your hand. Marco is what’s dragging him down.”
“I don’t believe that to be the case Mother. This stubbornness, it comes from Daniel himself. He believes his death to be in error.”
“Don’t we all?” Mother Ebbani mutters.
Bianca tries to brush her hair back with her fingers. It doesn’t budge.
“You will find yourself….” Bianca leans in. Mother Ebbani speaks so softly, her words are barely perceptible above the background hum. “Assisted … next time you visit Daniel.”
“H-how do you mean? I … I don’t need assistance.”
“You obviously do. Your feelings for the Unfettered One get in your way.”
“Don’t hurt him! I can fetch Daniel. I can still turn him around. He’ll see his error once his stratum begins to shift.”
“We don’t have time, Bianca. You saw the Primentor visiting with me. Next time she won’t be so merciful … with any of us.”
“Mother, I … I plan on trying again, soon. But first I shall need some time to rest and to think.”
“No,” says Mother Ebbani. “No thinking. Now is the time for doing. Go back now. Our dear Primentor will soon be inquiring of this Daniel's progress. This I guarantee you.”
Membranes spiral in like a camera shutter.
“Mother Ebbani, wait! This assistance you mentioned. What—?”
But the membranes seal and darken. She is whisked back to her corridor, her cell wide open to the passing traffic, and no amount of willpower can force her cell to seal.