Steps thudded in the hall outside and Roman raced in, wild-eyed. “The computer housing—is it all right?” Without waiting for an answer, he shoved Kafka aside, scrambling madly for the computer. “Ellie! I’m here, Ellie, I’m here!”
Kafka went to him. “Where’s the Astronomer?”
“Fuck him,” Roman said and pushed Kafka away. “Fuck him and fuck all of you!” Another howl shook the building and they both fell against the computer together. One of the panels came off in Roman’s hands, exposing part of the computer’s circuitry.
“Holy shit!” said the boy. “Gross me out!”
Even in the bad light, Jane could see the circuitry pulsing, could see the texture of the boards and the moistness there, the living flesh mixed with the hard, dead machinery. Or had the flesh itself hardened?—Jane put a hand over her eyes, feeling sick.
“Water Lily!”
Kafka’s warning came just as she felt the hands on her from behind. They spun her around and she was staring into the tombstone gaze of Demise. She put her hands on his shoulders, and for one absurd moment it was as though they were embracing.
“Are you afraid to die?” he asked her.
In such extremity, she did not find his question out of place. “Yes,” she said simply.
Something in his face changed and his grip loosened slowly.
“Water Lily!” Kafka cried again, his voice filled with despair. But she remained standing, remained alive, putting one hand on Demise’s gaunt face. He recoiled from her touch.
“It hurts, doesn’t it?”
“Everything hurts,” he said roughly, and shoved her away from him. She sprawled on the floor near Kafka’s machine and started to get up again just as a thick, stained-glass window exploded inward, spraying the room with multicolored shards. She covered her head with both arms, diving for the floor; a long flame roared across the room, scorching wood and stone. She heard someone scream. There was a rustling sound as Kafka crawled across the floor to her and tried to urge her closer to the machine.
“The only thing,” he panted. Another howl shook them like an earthquake. “… TIAMAT … protect … need your help for TIAMAT’s—”
He was torn away from her; she heard him shriek at the contact. Then someone pulled her to her feet and she saw Kafka fall backward from a kick to the head.
“Nooooo!” she screamed. “Don’t hurt him, don’t!—” She had seen those russet eyes a thousand times, most recently tonight. Her mouth worked but she couldn’t make a sound. The russet eyes crinkled with a quick smile before they thrust her to one side.
“Stand back, honey, I don’t want to mix you up with the french fries.” He turned and began to point at Kafka and the Shakti device and the boy, who had turned back into a dinosaur, a stegosaurus this time, and was all too obviously in the line of fire. Jane fought for her voice and the right words and came up with possibly the only thing that could have stopped him from making one big cinder of them all.
“J.J., don’t!”
Jumpin’ Jack Flash turned back to her, his mouth dropping open with surprise.
A moment later, he was even more surprised to see that she was covered with water.
Fortunato had been running in and out of every room and gallery and alcove he could find, searching for aces or anyone else, the faggot from space hot on his heels. So far, they’d only found some clown crawling around on a stone floor with blood running out his ears. The space faggot had wanted to stop and examine him but Fortunato had fixed that. This wasn’t the clinic at noon, he’d said, and had dragged the space faggot away by the fancy collar of his faggot coat—faggot, yeah, sure, man, let’s talk faggot, call your man Crowley a faggot, and while we’re at it, how was it you raised that boy from the dead, speaking of faggots—he shut the flow of thoughts off firmly as he ran down a narrow hall.
“Fortunato—where—what are you—trying to do?” huffed Tachyon.
“I feel him,” Fortunato said over his shoulder.
“Feel who?”
“He did Eileen. And Balsam. And a lot of others—” he staggered as the Howler gave another one of those long, horrible screams. Tachyon stumbled into him and the two of them nearly fell. “Shit, I wish he’d shut the fuck up,” Fortunato muttered. He stopped suddenly and grabbed Tachyon by his faggot coat-front. “Listen, you stand back. He’s all mine, understand that?”
Tachyon looked up at Fortunato’s swollen forehead, his dark, angry eyes. Then he pried Fortunato’s hands off himself. “I’ve never seen you like this before.”
“Yeah, well, you ain’t seen shit yet,” Fortunato growled, and kept going, with the space faggot tagging after him.
For several long moments, it seemed as though nobody knew what to do. Roman had gotten to his feet and was shielding the exposed computer with his body. Kafka had scuttled over to the Shakti machine; the little stegosaurus was looking from side to side. Even Jumpin’ Jack Flash seemed to be frozen, looking from Jane to the strange machine and Kafka, to Roman and back to Jane.
Then he turned away from her and time started again and he was stretching an arm out toward Kafka’s machine.
“Not him,” Jane said desperately, and reached for him just as Demise said, almost too soft to hear, “Hey. You.”
Before Jumpin’ Jack Flash could react, the stegosaurus twinkled to the form of a naked boy and then to a tyrannosaur, and launched himself across the room to bury his teeth in Demise’s thigh. Demise screamed and fell backward, wrestling with the tyrannosaur. Kafka started to shout; there was a swirl of light, a glimmering, and the Astronomer was standing in the middle of the room. His head was something out of a nightmare now—he had a strange curved snout, rectangular ears, and slanting eyes, but Jane knew it was the Astronomer. She heard Kafka say “The god Setekh!” with either fear or relief. The Astronomer smiled at Jane and she saw blood smeared on his teeth and lips. No wheelchair now; he seemed to be filled with vitality and strength. As though to confirm her thoughts, he suddenly rose five feet in the air.
Jumpin’ Jack Flash took a step back, lifted both hands, and then looked puzzled. The Astronomer wagged a finger at him as though he were a naughty child, and turned his attention to Demise, who was still rolling around on the floor with the tyrannosaur. A moment later, the tyrannosaur was a naked boy again.
“Aw, shit!” the boy yelled, and squirmed out of Demise’s grasp, fighting to get to the door. Just as he reached it, a tall black man with a bulging forehead appeared at the threshold. Jane gasped, not at his appearance but at the sense of power around him; she could feel the unreleased forces charging the air.
“I’ve sensed you,” said the Astronomer, “stirring around the edges, here and there.”
“More than stirring, motherfucker.” The man drew himself up so that he seemed even taller, and reached out toward the Astronomer as though to embrace him. The Astronomer descended slightly, still smiling.
“I would enjoy putting you through your paces.…” said the Astronomer, and suddenly drew back, floating across the room to Kafka’s machine. He twisted his fists sharply upward. The tall man staggered forward several steps, stopped, and braced himself with his feet wide apart.
“Don’t be coy, Fortunato. Come closer.” The pull on Fortunato seemed to grow stronger. Jumpin’ Jack Flash looked at Jane.
“If you know any other tricks besides drowning yourself, honey,” he said in a low voice, “you better use them.”
Another man suddenly appeared in the doorway. Jane had just enough time to notice the improbable red hair and the flashy clothing before there was even more red, a whole body’s worth of red, knocking the man over. The two forms rolled over and over on the floor, Red fighting to pin the smaller man. Then Kim Toy was there, pulling at her husband, telling him to forget it, just forget it and let’s get out of here.
Near Kafka’s machine, the Astronomer and Fortunato were still balanced against each other. Jane had the feeling the Astronomer was gaining slightly. The strain on Fort
unato’s face intensified with the strange glow around him and now horns projected from his bulging forehead. In response, the Astronomer’s body was assuming an animal shape, like a greyhound, with a huge forked tail rising up like something poisonous. Her fear began to crescendo and there was no one to hold onto, no one who offered shelter or comfort or escape.
The boy-dinosaur, thin and long-tailed now, whipped back into the room and landed on Red, knocking him off the man in fancy dress. Kim Toy jumped back and then a fourth person was confusing things, throwing himself on Kim Toy. With a shock, Jane saw it was Judas. Blood was trickling from his ears but he seemed not to notice as he knelt on Kim Toy’s legs, pinned her chest with one hand, and then, absurdly, began to undo his pants.
Jane shook her head incredulously. It was some weird vision of hell, the Astronomer, Roman, that obscene computer, Kafka, the Shakti machine, the dinosaur and Red and the black man and his horns and the other man—Tachyon, she recognized him now, he seemed to be dazed—and Jumpin’ Jack Flash, unable to do a thing, and that sleazy scumbag who had brought her here—whom she had allowed to bring her here, she corrected herself, like somebody’s dog on a short leash—the scumbag trying to rape Kim Toy in the middle of a fight for all their lives.
All this ran through her mind in a second and the power gathered itself effortlessly and poured out of her.
This time Judas was the only one who was oblivious to what she was doing. He never knew, even when it hit him, that all she had meant to do was blind him by drawing a flood of tears to his eyes, but the power had been building up without proper release for too long and she was too scared and too strong in her fear. He never knew, even as he raised up. Then he was not, and in his place was a form made of powder that hung briefly in the air for an impossible moment before it disintegrated. Wetness splattered the walls, the floor, and Kim Toy.
Jane tried to scream but only a faint sighing came out. Everything stopped; even the struggle between the Astronomer and Fortunato seemed to diminish slightly. Then Jumpin’ Jack Flash yelled, “Don’t anybody move or she’ll do it again!”
Jane burst into tears.
The whole room burst into tears; suddenly there was a rainstorm in the room, water spraying from every direction. Jumpin’ Jack Flash flung himself out the window and hung suspended in midair. “Drown ’em or turn it off!” he shouted.
And then it was turned off, with a gesture from the Astronomer. He favored Jane with another hideous smile. “Do it again. For me.”
She felt herself being turned by an invisible hand and power gathered itself within her again, aiming itself for the black man, Fortunato—
Who was no longer there but behind the Astronomer, standing over Kafka’s Shakti machine with both arms raised—
And Kafka hollered, “NO!” and the word echoed in Jane’s mind as the power flew from her against her will, deflected at the final moment with her last shred of strength, so that it bypassed everyone, even the Astronomer, and hit the computer just as the Shakti machine collapsed with a sound too much like a human scream.
The force from Fortunato struck the machine again and there was another scream, this time very human, as the computer’s awful living circuitry crumpled to powder that flowed over Roman’s arms and chest.
Fortunato turned to the Astronomer, reaching out for him. The animal form melted away, leaving the Astronomer human again and very small. He wavered in the air for a moment and the light around him began to dim.
“Fool,” he whispered, but the whisper penetrated the whole room and everyone in it. “Stupid blind nigger fool.” He looked around at all of them. “You will all die screaming.”
And then, like smoke, he vanished.
“Wait! Wait, goddamn you!” Demise struggled to his feet, clutching his already-healing leg. “You promised me, goddamn you, you promised me!” Underneath his enraged shrieks, Roman’s sobs made a bizarre counterpoint.
Jane felt her knees start to give. She had nothing left. Even with her power, she had no more strength. Tachyon was beside her, holding her up. “Come,” he said gently, pulling her toward the door. She felt something flow over the incipient hysteria in her mind, as comforting as a warm blanket. Half in trance, she let him take her out of the room. With another part of her mind, she heard Kafka call to her, and distantly, she was sad that she could not answer him.
From the shelter of a stand of trees, she watched the last of what became known as the Great Cloisters Raid. Occasionally she caught a glimpse of Peregrine swooping around the tower or flying rings around the Turtle’s shell, sometimes accompanied by a graceful, if rather small (to her eyes), pteranodon. Columns of fire shot up into the night, exploding through rooftops, scorching stone. Vainly, she searched for a glimpse of Kafka or Demise in the groups of people—Masons, she thought, shaking her head at the absurdity, Masons—gathered neatly up and removed from harm by the Turtle’s power.
“In the end, I tried to take care of someone. I tried to take care of the little boy,” she murmured, uncaring if Tachyon beside her knew what she was talking about or not. But he did. She could feel his presence sorting through her thoughts, touching her memories of Debbie and Sal and how Judas had found her. And wherever he touched, he left the warmth of comfort and understanding.
The Howler let loose with another one of those awful wails, but it was a short one.
She might have cried, except she seemed to have no tears left for the time being.
A little later, familiar voices brought her back to awareness. Jumpin’ Jack Flash was there with the boy-dinosaur, who had chosen another odd form she didn’t know. (“Iguanodon,” Tachyon whispered to her. “Look appreciative.” And, somehow, she did.) Fortunato emerged from an entrance that flickered with dying fire; he stepped over glowing fragments and found his way to them, looking even more tired than Jane felt.
“Lost them,” he said to Tachyon. “The cockroach, the death freak, the other one. That red guy and his woman. Got away, unless the Turtle’s picked them up.” He jerked his chin at Jane. “What’s her story?”
She looked past him to the burning Cloisters, pulled herself together, felt for the power. There was a surprising amount still left, enough for what she wanted to do.
Water splashed down on the worst of the flames, helping a little, not much. There was an arsonist around when you needed one after all, she thought, glancing at Jumpin’ Jack Flash.
“Don’t waste your energy,” he said, and as though to back him up, she heard the sound of fire engines approaching.
“I was born in a fire station,” she said. “My mother didn’t get to the hospital in time.”
“Fascinating,” he said, “but I’ve got to leave pretty soon.” He looked at Tachyon. “I, uh, I would like to know how you knew—uh, why you called me J.J.”
She shrugged. “J.J. Jumpin’ Jack. It was faster to say.” She managed a tiny smile. “That’s all. We’ve never met before. Honest.”
Relief was large on his face. “Ah. Well, listen, sometime soon we could get acquainted and—”
“Sixty minutes,” Tachyon said. “I’d say you’re just about out of time. What we could call the Cinderella factor. When someone trips.”
Jumpin’ Jack Flash gave him a dirty look before he lifted into the air. A halo of flame ignited itself around him as he roared off into the darkness.
Jane stared after him for a moment and then looked down sadly. “I almost hurt him back there. I did hurt someone—I…”
Tachyon put his arms around her. “Lean on me. It’s all right.”
Gently, she removed his arms from her. “Thank you. But I’m done leaning.” Okay, Sal?
She turned back to the burning Cloisters and continued to pour water on the worst of the flames.
Curled up in an alleyway, Demise shuddered. His leg was bad enough that it wasn’t completely healed yet, but it would heal; he knew it the way he knew how much he hated the Astronomer for abandoning him, for ever pulling him in with his promises a
nd favors in the first place. TIAMAT, hell. He’d get that twisted-up old fuck before TIAMAT ever got here and that was a promise. He’d put that old fuck through a dance he’d take to hell with him.
He drifted in semidelirium. Not far away, but unknown to him, Kafka watched the destruction of the Cloisters. When the water poured down into the flames from thin air he turned away, willing the cold deadness of hatred to stay in him.
Mr. Koyama’s Comet
by Walter Jon Williams
Part One: March 1983
IN JUNE OF 1981 a third-generation Mitsubishi executive, Koyama Eido, took his retirement amid the extravagant praise and well-earned respect of his peers and underlings. He got extravagantly drunk, paid off his mistress, and the very next day put into operation a plan he had been working on for almost forty years. He moved with his wife to a house he had built on the island of Shikoku. The house was in rugged terrain on the southern part of the island and was difficult to access; it cost Mr. Koyama an extraordinary amount of money to get the telephone and utilities put in; and the house was built in an unusual style, with a flat roof that would not weather well—but to Mr. Koyama none of that mattered. What mattered was that the house was so remote there was little light pollution, that it looked east to the Pacific and southwest to the Bungo Channel, and that the seeing was better over water.
In a hutch built on his flat roof, Mr. Koyama installed a fourteen-inch reflective telescope that he had built with his own hands. During good weather he would trundle this out onto the platform and gaze into the sky, at stars and planets and distant galaxies, and he would take careful, studied photographs of them that he would develop in his darkroom and later hang on his walls. But simply watching the sky wasn’t quite enough: Mr. Koyama wanted more. He wanted something up there to bear his name.