Holy Fire by Bruce Sterling

Author:Bruce Sterling
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Science Fiction, Gerontology, Fiction, Social Science, General
ISBN: 9780553099584
Publisher: Spectra
Published: 1996-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

When she woke in the morning there was no sign of Emil. The room reeked of blood. She’d bled all over the sheets. She crawled out of bed, stuffed a makeshift pad into her underwear, put on a robe, and made herself a pain tincture. She drank it, she stripped the sheets, she turned over the stained mattress, and then collapsed into bed exhausted.

Around noon there was a knock on the door. “Go away,” she moaned.

A key rattled in the lock and the door opened. It was Paul.

“Oh it’s you,” she blurted. “Ciao Paul.”

“Good afternoon. May I come in?” Paul stepped into the studio. “I see that you’re alive. That’s excellent news. Are you ill?”

“No. Yes. No. How can I put this delicately? I’m not at my feminine best.”

“And that’s all? That’s it? Well.” Paul smiled briefly. “I understand.”

“Where is Emil?”

“Yes,” Paul hedged. “Let’s discuss that, shall we? Your name is Maya, am I right? We met very briefly at last month’s session at the Tête. Your friend was the couturiere who got very tight and had the shoving match with Niko.”

“I’m sorry to hear about that.”

“Have you eaten?” said Paul, slinging his backpack onto the floor beside the kiln. He smoothed his dark hair back with both hands. “I haven’t eaten today. Let me make us something. This kitchen seems nicely stocked. How about a goulash?”

“Oh goodness no.”

“A little kasha. Something very light and restorative.” Paul began running water. “How long have you known our good friend Emil?”

“I’ve been living with him ever since that night at the Tête.”

“Three weeks with Emil! You’re a brave woman.”

“I’m not the first.”

“You’ve made changes here,” Paul said, gazing alertly about the studio. “I admire your sense of devotion. Emil requires a lot of looking after. He called me this morning. Very agitated. I took the express from Stuttgart.”

“I see.” She found the bedspread and pulled it up over her knees. “He said you were close friends. He always speaks very highly of you.”

“Does he? That’s touching. Of course, it was natural of Emil to call me. I have my net-address tattooed onto his forearm.”

She blinked. “I never noticed any such tattoo.”

“It’s rather subtle. The tattoo only becomes visible on his skin when he is very upset.”

“Was Emil very upset this morning?”

Paul sifted yellow powder into a saucepan. “He woke me this morning and told me that a strange woman was dying in his bed. Dying, or possibly dead. An incubus. A golem. He was very confused.”

“Where is he now?”

“He’s relaxing, he’s having a sauna. Schwartz is looking after him. I’ll have to call them now. Just a moment.” Paul undipped the netlink from his collar and began speaking in Deutsch as he delicately stirred the pan. Paul was soothing, then funny, then authoritative, then lightly satirical. When Paul had restored sense and order to the universe, he clipped the phone back to his shirt collar.

“You should keep your fluids up,” he said. “How about a nice mineralka? With maybe two hundred micrograms targeted enkephalin and a bit of diuretic and relaxant.

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