Sea of Silver Light

Renie could not hide a smile. He sounded like a schoolteacher.

Orlando stood, a strange mixture of barbarian grace and teenage awkwardness. "Have you decided on what you want to call yourself?" Sellars asked him.

"I think so."

"But he's already got a name!" It was clear Sam Fredericks had not known this was coming, whatever it was.

"It's not another name he needs," Sellars told her, "but a title. Whatever happens, the worlds of the network will need lots of supervision, especially at first as we bring them back online. I can't do it all. I considered Kunohara, but he has made it clear he does not wish such an active role. Also, I need to train someone for the long term, teach them some of my responsibilities, as a maintenance man if not as a god—especially if I hope to ride the sky-river-of-light someday, as our absent friends called it. So I need an . . . apprentice, I suppose. Orlando?"

"I think I want to be called . . . a ranger." Renie thought she saw a blush beneath the deep tan. "I plan to travel a lot, so it makes sense. And to kind of have responsibility for the place, too—like a forest ranger. And . . . and it has another meaning. From a favorite book of mine."

Sellars nodded. "An excellent choice. But may we at least dignify it with the little 'Head Ranger'?" He Smiled. "Considering that this network was largely the province of one astounding mind, that adds another layer of meaning, too." He turned to the table. "Let us vote. All in favor of Orlando Gardiner as the first Head Ranger of the Otherland network. . . ."

All the hands went up.

"Wow, Gardino," Sam Fredericks said in a loud stage-whisper. "Now you're Assistant God!"

"Yeah, and I never even got a high school education."

"Enough jokes, you two," Sellars said kindly. "I believe you have another meeting to attend?"

"Oh, yeah." Orlando's good cheer suddenly evaporated and he was pure nervous adolescent. "Yeah, we do." He and Sam stood up. "Mr. Ramsey, are you coming?"

"I'm ready," the lawyer told them.

"But we have come to no conclusion about the network itself," Martine protested. "Surely it is too important a question simply to abandon."

"It is indeed," Sellars said. "But we have days, perhaps even weeks, to make our decisions. Try to get Nandi Paradivash to come to the next meeting. Let's say in two days, shall we?"

Renie almost complained that two days was too soon, that some of them had to find jobs, but then she remembered. "About that money. . . ." she said.

Sellars shook his head, "There's no one to give it back to—I'm dead, remember? If you don't want it, I'm sure you can find a worthy cause that will accept a large donation." He seemed to enjoy her frustration. "And if you remind me, I'll arrange a better way for you to get online next time. You might want to consider getting a neuroca

By the time Sellars moved off, summoned by Hideki Kunohara for a private chat in one of the adjoining rooms, Orlando, Sam, and Catur Ramsey had already left and the others were all talking—all but Martine, who still sat apart as though she were a stranger at the gathering. Renie squeezed !Xabbu's hand before moving around the table toward her. Martine looked up, but it was impossible to glean anything about the woman's emotional state from her featureless sim.

"So does the money upset you, too?" Renie asked. I am grateful, I suppose, but it does seem a little highhanded. . . ."

Martine seemed surprised. "The money? No, Renie, I have scarcely thought of it. I was wealthy already, from my settlement, and . . . and I have few needs. I have already earmarked my share to go to children's charities. It seems appropriate."

"You can see now, can't you? Is it strange?"

"A bit." She sat motionless. "I will grow used to it. In time."

Renie searched for something to keep the conversation going. "There's something I've been thinking about. Emily. And Azador."

Martine nodded slowly. "That had occurred to me as well."

"I mean, if she was really a version of Ava—and Azador was really Jongleur. . . !"

The Frenchwoman could not show it with her face, but there was a sour tone in her voice. "It is stranger than incest, when you consider that Ava was a clone—and strangely accurate as well, when you consider the child she was meant to bear. I suppose it was a subconscious expression of Jongleur's ultimate vanity." She sighed. "It was all as haunted and ugly as the House of Atreus. But they are dead now. All of them . . . every one . . . dead."

"Oh, Martine, you seem so sad."

The featureless sim shrugged. "There is little in it worth talking about."

"And you seem very angry about Paul."

She did not reply immediately. On the other side of the table, Bo

"Paul Jonas was very unhappy . . . at the end," Martine finally said. "He was devastated to realize that he was a copy, as he put it. That he could never have the things he wanted most of all—that he was separated forever from the life he remembered. Yes, I am angry. He was a good, good man. He did not deserve that. Sellars had no right."

Renie thought that somehow, Martine felt the same kinds of things Paul had. "Sellars was doing his best. We all were."

"Yes, I know." The edge was gone and only listlessness remained. Renie almost missed the anger. "But I ca

Renie was trying to think of something reassuring to say until she noticed that the quality of Martine's silence had changed. Even without a facial expression to read, Renie could see a certain tension, an alertness in the woman's sim that hadn't been there before.

"I have been a fool," Martine said suddenly. "A selfish fool."

"What. . . ?"

"I'm sorry, Renie. I have no more time to talk. We will speak later, I promise." With that, she disappeared.

Troubled, Renie wandered back around the table.

"Javier is criticizing my appearance," Florimel a

"Chance not!" T4b said. The glyphs of light on his cheeks dimmed when he blushed. "Just saying that the patch looks chizz. She only did some other stuff, could be major scorchery."

"Like what?" Florimel gave him a severe look. "Buy my sim some gigantic breasts?"

Javier shook his head vigorously. "Didn't say that, me—not all unrespectful like that! Just meant you could get some sub-Ds. Like your initials, something. . . ." He trailed off and his own subdermals became even harder to see. "Oh. You molly-dupping me, huh?"

"If that means teasing, Javier, then yes." Florimel shared an amused glance with Renie. "But why are you so dressed up? I'm assuming that is what you really look like today. Such nice clothes just for old friends like us?"

He shrugged. "Got an interview, me."

"For a job?" Renie asked.

"Chance not. Tryin' to get back into school. AGAPA."

"Arizona General and Pastoral Academy," Mrs. Simpkins elaborated.

"Seen. It was Bo

"Tell them what you want to do, Javier," Mrs. Simpkins said.

He scowled, "Thought . . . thought after all the things happened, I might try to be . . . a minister, like. Youth minister, seen? Work with micros." His shoulders came up as if to protect him from a beating. He looked at Florimel out of the corner of his eye.

Renie and !Xabbu congratulated him, but he was waiting for something.

"Well," Florimel said after a moment. "I think that is a wonderful idea, Javier. I really do." Smiling, she leaned forward and carefully kissed him on his glowing cheek. "I hope your dream comes true."