Fallen Host by Lyda Morehouse

Author:Lyda Morehouse
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Religion, General, Science Fiction, American, Cybernetics, Fiction, Angels, Artificial Intelligence
ISBN: 9780451458797
Publisher: Roc
Published: 2002-01-01T17:00:00+00:00

“Find,” I said aloud, “Mai Kito, address.”

“Information unavailable,” the interface told me. “But, you can still enjoy the shrine for only—”

“Fuck that. Find me Mai.”

“There is a daily gathering of Four Horsemen fans at Yoyogi Park. Location and time of meeting available for a small fee, two yen.”

“Transfer funds,” I told it.

“Insufficient funds.”

“What?”

“You have tithed your earthly estate to the Breatharians.”

I laughed. “Of course, I did.”

The trouble with being a Trickster was that sometimes you got tricked. Luckily, I had more than one earthly alias. After a few seconds of haggling, I managed to convince the LINK that I had money, and it dutifully informed me where the other rabid Maizombies would be gathering.

I spent nearly six thousand yen on a holographic sweatshirt that showed an animated loop of a naked Mai plucking the cello. The camera angle was such that you could briefly see the swell of one breast. Just as you thought you might see a nipple, the camera panned back as the loop started over.

When I put it on, I was happy to note my external LINK connection picked up the promised “bonus track” of the Four Horsemen’s cello solo. I lay down on the grass not far from a knot of Germans on a beach blanket. I shut my eyes to listen to the music without distraction. The sound of the strings was as haunting as at the rave. The setting sun through the greenhouse glass warmed my face, and I felt myself drifting to sleep.

A radiant creature sang to me. It had iridescent wings like a peacock with a thousand human eyes. Each rustle of feathers brought the moans of souls. Its brilliance burned me, and I had to look away into the shadows.

Michael, I said, my voice sounding like it came from under water. Go away, I’m having a nice dream.

You have come to us, his voice sang, like mine once had, with the power and glory of God.

You wish to serve?

Always. My heart felt light, like I might be lifted once again. Slowly, I began to turn my head back toward the fiery countenance. Warmth crept into my soul, like the sun warming cold granite.

Water splashed my face, and tore me from Heaven. I woke with a start, and sat up to find myself still in Yoyogi Park. My sleepy consciousness registered a noise, a tick-tick-tick. Then water hit me in the chest—a hard stream of it. In a second, I was sputtering and soaked. The park’s sprinklers had activated. I joined the people scattering off the grass and onto the paved boulevard. I shook myself out, thankful that I’d thought to grab my bag.

I was staring down in disgust at my wet, ruined shirt when I heard a voice: ” ‘How you have fallen from Heaven, O morning star, son of the dawn! You have been cast down to the earth, you who once laid low the nations!’ ”

I turned to see Jibril smiling broadly, his white teeth bright against his ebony skin.

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