Beyond the Veil of Stars by Robert Reed

Author:Robert Reed
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781626814684
Publisher: Diversion Books
Published: 2014-11-17T16:00:00+00:00

They camped that first night among dunes. The sunset was long, the broad western sky shot full of nameless shades of red. There weren’t as many stars tonight, he mentioned; and Porsche said that the day’s dusts would settle, letting more starlight through by morning. She helped him make ready for sleep, giving him pointers on how and where to bury his mind, leaving its mouth and nostrils able to breathe. A big round lump wouldn’t lose much heat overnight; bodies would. She made him bury five of his bodies in the soft dust, sharing warmth, and the sixth body would sit on top of the mind, exposed and watchful. The rest of him would sleep, one set of eyes able to detect motions and warn him. “Rest,” Porsche warned him. “You’ll need it.” Except he wasn’t tired in the right way, unable to relax enough even to pretend sleep.

“Where do the Breaks go?” he wondered aloud.

“Who knows? They’re deeper and steeper all the time.”

Possibilities occurred to him, no way to test them. The exposed body looked skyward, feeling the mind inhale and exhale every so often. “Where were you when the Change happened?”

“On a basketball court,” she answered, her exposed body adding, “Outdoors.”

“Where was that?”

“A suburb of Dallas,” she said.

“I saw it happen,” he confessed. “You?”

“Oh, sure.” As if nothing was more unremarkable. “My boyfriend and I had beaten some local kids, three of them, and we were taking a break, sitting off the slab, out from under its lights. I was looking up when it happened. Pow.”

Cornell had assumed a special status, but it didn’t exist. He breathed with every mouth, then exhaled. The mind’s anus made the dust bubble for a moment. He asked, “Were you scared?”

She glanced over at him, then said, “Somewhat.”

Except he didn’t think so. Somehow he knew she was saying what he expected to hear. And he looked at the dusty stars, remembering how he had felt fear and excitement and an effervescent amazement.

“How’d it happen for you?”

He told the story. At first he used the short form—the one designed for cocktail parties and one-night affairs—but Porsche asked questions, demanding elaborations. She asked about everyone’s reactions. He had the impression that she had memorized his files, and she seemed intrigued by his description of Dad holding court over the neighborhood. When he realized he had been talking for more than an hour, his body was becoming chill. “Change bodies every so often,” she advised. “Till you get used to our nights.”

Our nights.

Then she said, “See? More stars all the time.”

It was true. He stared at the radiant sky, one body down and a warm one up to replace it. Would he dream? He’d forgotten to ask if dreams were natural. But his mind drifted into something like sleep, shallower but restful nonetheless. In one dream he saw himself back home, sitting in the street…six bodies sitting with legs crossed, their dark faces raised. Each one was tiny, the size of a sewer rat. Yet he didn’t feel small or out of place.

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