15

To keep us together as a society, it is best to have an enemy. We are the in-group, and they are the out-group. No matter how you look at it, even from the opposite point of reference—theirs—the leadership of each side consolidates its power because of a threat from the other. Why, then, would either of us want to annihilate our sworn enemy? On a certain level it makes no sense, does it? We thrive because they thrive, and vice versa. It is a form of détente, in which we define each other’s existence. This presumes, however, that each side is sane.

—Chairman Rahma Popal, private observations

THE AUTHORIZED ECO-TOURISM flight was physically demanding, but Joss had anticipated that. After long days on the road and two weeks of recovery at home, he needed the exercise, and Kupi had said that she looked forward to it as well. Now she seemed less certain, as she wheezed and panted at the power station next to his, struggling to keep up with his level of exertion.

For both of them this was like a gym in the sky, with their legs turning high-gear-ratio bicycle cranks and their arms moving forward and back in a rowing motion. Their coordinated physical exertion caused the ornithopter’s articulated wings to flap and the craft to fly over treetops and lakes south of the Seattle Reservation for Humans.

On a sunny autumn morning they crossed over a small town, on the outskirts of which sat a structure that looked like a huge elm-tree seed, the characteristic architecture of a SciO Recharge Facility, or ReFac. This suggested that there were one or more Janus Machines nearby as well.

As Joss and Kupi flew over the broad Columbia River gorge, featuring spectacular canyon views, he realized that in one sense the two of them were utilizing a primitive means of propulsion. In another, though, it was a reasonably advanced example of low-carbon-footprint green technology, with ergonomic fittings and efficient gear ratios that transmitted energy equally to the wings and flapped them with the natural motions of a large, graceful bird, propelling the craft smoothly and rapidly through the sky, without the need for a polluting engine.

The pair didn’t have to operate flight controls; that part was automated, based on settings they made before taking off. Now they just needed to pedal and row long enough to get them where they wanted to go. Instruments in front of Joss showed the distance traveled, the speed, and where they were.

For several moments the two of them stopped exerting themselves at all, leaving the aircraft to glide on warm air currents, floating aimlessly over the chiseled landscape, maintaining elevation with backup systems. Joss looked at a navigation screen that named the mountains and other features in the region, but he glossed over them in his mind. Out here, names did not matter. The pair could slack off for twenty minutes at a time, relaxing and talking while the onboard systems kept the wings flapping, utilizing stored power generated by their efforts. Any longer than that, and the ornithopter’s automated systems would give them the option of resuming their efforts immediately, or flying them back to their home reservation on solar-reserve battery power.

Joss considered how to bring up the subject he’d wanted to discuss with Kupi, their increasingly awkward relationship. He couldn’t quite frame the words.

“It’s so quiet and peaceful up here,” Kupi said, interrupting his thoughts. “Don’t you ever wish you could get away from the J-Mac crew and just live in the wilderness?”

“You mean like those renegade forest people we’ve heard about?”

“Yes, it has a romantic sound, doesn’t it, a free and easy life? Logically, people shouldn’t be able to elude detection by the GSA government, because the authorities have such sophisticated scanning and search devices. But between you and me, Joss, there are renegades living in the woods anyway, using electronic scramblers and other methods to keep from being discovered. I have friends in touch with me by various means, so I know this is true.”

“Anarchists, presumably?”

“Some are, but others have been persecuted for their religious beliefs, because they follow Christianity, Judaism, Islam, and other banned religions. In the wilderness, they are free to worship as they please.”

“People are out there living the high life, eating berries, leaves, grub worms, and red ants?”

She made a face. “If I lived in the woods I’d rather fish and hunt. Just think of it, Joss, we could eat meat whenever we feel like it.”

“Yeah, as long as we can knock it off the hoof.”

Kupi stared out a side window. “No rules except one: survive. I like the sound of it.”

“You would, Kupi, being an anarchist. You say there are people out in the woods, hiding and living off the land. But what if there were so many anarchists out there that they needed to form rules in order to keep from bumping into each other and having problems? What if the anarchists found they needed—I hate to say it—some form of government, or just a police force?”

She smiled. “You seek to trap me with your logic, but you’re extrapolating too far, setting up a preposterous scenario. Yes, there are anarchists living in the woods at this very moment, beyond GSA control, but there are not so many that they would consider forming governmental or quasi-governmental entities. True anarchists would rather die first.”

“And are you a true anarchist?”

She reddened. “Perhaps not, but if I am not pure I am not alone in having flaws. There are, admittedly, certain attractive elements to the lives that you and I lead. I must admit that I get a major rush whenever I fire Black Thunder!”

“And when we run out of areas to split and greenform? What will you do then?”

“What any good anarchist would do. I’ll just fade to black.”

“Meaning?”

“I haven’t thought it through completely.”

“How about our relationship? Have you thought that through completely?”

Kupi swung out of her power station and leaned over Joss, kissing him on the neck and moving around to his mouth. “What’s to think about?” she asked.

“A lot,” he said. “Sometimes I think we’re too different to last.”

“Then live for today, my love.” She kissed him passionately.

He pulled away and looked at her, feeling his mounting desire, but trying to suppress it. “What about tomorrow?”

“We’re back to work tomorrow, Joss. You know that. We’re taking a train to the Berkeley Reservation, the glorious capital of Rahma’s counterculture revolution.”

“You know I’m talking about more than that; I’m talking about all of the tomorrows in our lives.”

“How romantic, and poetic. So, you want to talk about our relationship, eh? I thought that men were terrified of the ‘r’ word, but here you are bringing it up.”

“I just want to know where we stand.”

She smiled, and it struck him how much younger than forty-five she looked. In her early thirties like him, he thought, as she nuzzled against him and breathed hot air on his ear.

Trying to resist her advances, Joss said, “If you don’t want to talk, think about this. In seventeen minutes, the ship’s computer will demand that we resume our power output, or it will fly us back to the reservation.”

“It took us an hour to get here,” she said, unbuttoning her blouse and revealing her bra. As always, her underclothes were black.

“That was with us propelling the plane. Without us, the return speed could be faster.”

“Then we’d better hurry up,” she said, loosening his belt and pulling off his trousers and shoes.

He felt too weak to resist her, at least physically. Moment by moment, Joss found her animal nature consuming him, taking him over completely. And without another word, they tumbled onto the deck. Their lovemaking was better than ever before, feral and spontaneous.

Joss had not been able to find the right words, didn’t want to hurt her. But afterward, looking into her brown eyes and seeing the pain and sadness there, he realized that she understood what he’d been trying to say anyway. Their passion was only delaying the inevitable.