Twins. They should have been nicer. They should have had at least some sympathy.
Well, they hadn’t been twins like him and Benjamin, had they? No, they were the sort of twins people thought were cute. Leering boys fantasized about them. Rich young men in expensive clothing courted them.
But Benjamin had taught the Morgenstein twins a lesson. Charles had tried to stop him, but there was no denying the justice in Benjamin’s plan.
Was there?
So pretty? So cute? Having fun being a pretty, rich twin, are you, Sylvie and Sophie? Well, welcome to our world, girls. It’s amazing what a motivated surgeon can do.
“You’re thinking of them, aren’t you?” Benjamin asked suddenly.
It would be silly to deny it. Charles said nothing.
“Remember how they cried when they woke up?” Benjamin asked.
Charles remembered. “None of that will be necessary now, Benjamin,” Charles said. “That was all left behind when the first Doll Ship went down. There will be women here who want us. Who will be honored—”
“That McLure girl,” Benjamin interrupted. “She heard our cries. It would be only justice if we heard hers.”
“None of that,” Charles repeated sharply. “These are our people aboard this ship. We must treat them well. You know that. They are one with us.”
The golf cart was driven by one of the ship’s crew. It wasn’t a long ride, but out here on a cold, pitching deck there was no chance that the Twins could manage the walk without falling.
They passed along the starboard side of the ship heading aft. They traveled to the second sphere. From the outside it was nothing but a giant white-painted beach ball, but Charles and Benjamin knew what was inside.
A set of metal steps ascended from the deck up to the catwalk that went along the tops of the domes. Pipes ran alongside, connecting the tanks for loading and unloading, for drawing away the boiled-off LNG that powered the ship’s engines.
A motorized chair lift ascended alongside the stairs. It was a specialized piece of equipment, a sort of cagelike metal bench that climbed—a bit like the first rise of a roller coaster, with an audible whir and clank.
It stayed level as they rose and afforded them a view of the wide, white-topped sea. Unfortunately the tarp cover wasn’t very effective at keeping out the rain, and they were fairly drenched by the time they reached the top.
Up there, at the top, two ship’s officers waited, wearing slickers, inured to the cold and wet, rolling easily with the swell.
Mr Armstrong, and Mr Armstrong,” the second mate, Dragoslav said. He offered both his hands to shake, and each took one, awkwardly.
Human touch.
The top of the dome was a cunningly concealed hatch raised by motors from within. A gust of warm air, smelling of human bodies and the singed smell of metal, rose as the lid came off.
Through the hatch then appeared a sort of elevator, though it was open and really little more than a bare-bones balcony. The Twins hobbled aboard it. Ling guided them but then stepped back: their grand arrival must be by themselves alone. It swayed a little under their feet, and when the ship hit a trough, Benjamin yelped out a curse.
The platform began to descend, running down the central pillar, down into Benjaminia.
They would appear to those below to be descending from the painted sky.
Charles could not see his brother’s face, but he sensed he was at last relaxing. The chafed skin that connected their faces was drawn tight by Benjamin’s growing grin.
The whole of it came into view as they slowly, majestically, descended from the sky. The platforms that ran around the inside of the sphere were bedecked with hand-made and thus authentic banners welcoming the Great Ones.
welcome to benjaminia!
you are home!
thanks you, charles and benjamin!
The English on that last one was a bit off, maybe, but it was a very international assortment of people. You could hear it in the odd inflections as voices rose up from below them, singing. Singing the official song of Benjaminia.
It was a perkier, more upbeat version of the old Beatles song, “Julia.”
All of what I say is magical. But I say it for I love you . . . Ben-ja-min.
There were people on each level waving Nexus Humanus flags and yelling their lungs out. It brought a tear to Charles’s eye. Men, women, young women, all looking at the Twins with acceptance. And more than acceptance: wonder, joy. Like teenagers gazing at rock stars.
Now Charles’s own smile broke out. “Hah,” he said. Then again, a chuckle. “Hah.”
He was looking at other people, face-to-face, albeit from a distance. Seeing them and being seen in return. Not cowed employees, not the hired AmericaStrong thugs whose tolerance and impassivity was bought with dollars and pounds and euros. Not the disdain of the twitchers, or the seething, barely concealed contempt of Burnofsky.
Here was true acceptance. Here was adoration.
Here was love.
They descended, and at last the platform was nearing the commons floor, where the bulk of Benjaminia’s happy residents waited, arms upraised, waving.
Charles searched each face, winked at some he recognized, raised a hand slightly to old friends. Or at least people who thought of themselves as old friends, though none of the villagers on this second Doll Ship had been here longer than two years, and in that time the Twins had been able to visit on only three occasions.
Then… a new face. A girl. Tall, but obviously young. Pretty. A beauty, even, maybe, though the freckles across her nose made him think of . . .