Tales of Three Worlds - 13. Fragment 13: Invitation

“What time are we supposed to be there?”

Harman searched his pack for the embossed and laminated card that had appeared three days earlier at their apartment’s mail center. It was extremely unusual for a single letter to arrive in any format other than electronic as physical copies were seldom needed, and could be printed in a matter of seconds when they were. Only packages were sent physically these days, so they’d had to pick it up in person rather than schedule a robo-carrier for it. It was an adventure for both as neither had been into the block’s lowest level before.

“It says ’14:30’…just over an hour from now,” he replied with a triumphant smile at having found the card at last. He anticipated Silver Eagle’s next question. “North Terrace, Spoke 1, Level 3R, Suite C. That’s a pretty exclusive area isn’t it?”

In the just over two years Harman had been in Tycho Deep, he’d come to know the layout, but Silver Eagle had been born there and knew the history as well. “Yes, it was the first luxury residential block in Tycho—possibly on all Luna. Until then, habitations were limited to sealed natural tunnels or caverns, or small-scale drilled and bored multi-family units. Earth’s wealthier families soon saw the benefits of lunar living in lower gravity, and so they built residences they felt suitable for their social status….”

Harman frowned, then gave his co-mate a puzzled raised eyebrow too. “Why would somebody over there want to see us...or don’t they live there anymore?”

Silver Eagle smiled and wrapped an arm around the redhead as they walked toward their apartment’s door. “Oh, many of those old families are still there, while others have been replaced by new ones. Tycho Deep and other cities prospered over the years, particularly while the Genetic Authority was consolidating their hold on Earth. They welcomed the ‘thals because we brought our technology with us, like the nano-bots and automated healthcare. They were among the most vocal supporters of closing immigration from Earth to keep the GA out.”

As the two navigated the public tunnels in their loping glide, Harman tried once more to get a grasp on why they were being invited to such an exclusive enclave. “Okay, I get that now—but who wants to see us? There wasn’t any name on the card, and the address is listed as ‘Private’.”

Silver Eagle let his jaw drop just a fraction to show his amusement at his co-mate’s pursuit of something neither of them knew. The public databases were extensive and updated regularly, but personal privacy was hard to break when someone wanted something kept out of the public’s eye. General information was available for most citizens, but addresses were unlisted unless released by the individual himself, just as comm-links were.

“’Private’ indicates it’s an individual rather than a corporation’s offices, but beyond that, your guess is as good as mine. The Top-Siders, as the first settlers were called, have always been a mysterious group; the hazards of long-term exposure to space environments weren’t as well known then, and with no real nano-technology, some genetic alterations crept in over the years…”

Harman stopped in his tracks. “What—surely those have all been corrected in the centuries since that time! The nano-bots can repair a lot of that, can’t they…or edit it out in the next generation?”

Now Silver Eagle’s mirth was plain for anyone passing by them in the wide corridor to see. At the moment, they were crossing one of the spokes that burrowed perpendicularly from the crater’s inner face deeper into the rim-wall, on their way to the next section of arc that circled the crater itself. “Did you miss the word ‘mysterious’? Technically, you’re right, but those old families consider some of those mutations as marks of status now, and would never have them removed unless it were medically necessary.”

Harman felt his stomach lurch for a moment, and looked around for a bench to sit on so he could regain his composure. This one was shaded by a dwarf orange tree whose blossoms were just beginning to open for the season. “Do I want to know what—no, forget that…tell me what sort of mutations you’re talking about so I’ll be prepared.”

Harman’s reaction surprised his companion more than he’d expected. The ‘thal had assumed that with the vast number of humans on Earth, and the Genetic Authority’s insistence on no nano-tech, that physical abnormalities would be a common sight…but apparently he had been wrong. Did the various governments hide them away in special crèches, or just eliminate them entirely? On Luna and Mars, those things were mostly screened out at conception, so few people thought about them at all.

“Forget about the things you may have seen in those old movies—no bug-eyed creatures with three arms or an extra head. The old families are all healthy stock, but some lighter-grav influences were kept like greater height, more gracile skeletal structures, and more delicate musculature. The only hindrances they have over ‘normal’ humans is their inability to live under Earth’s full gravity without mechanical aids, and then not for extended periods beyond six months or so.”

Harman swallowed, then cleared his throat. “Is that…all? That doesn’t sound too bad…” Then he remembered his great-uncle Ernst-Karl on Mars. “What about the people on Mars—are they similar?”

Silver Eagle stood up and held out a hand to pull the red-head to his feet. “We’ll be late if we don’t move on. You could look it up, but no—the Martians are pretty much the same as the lunatics here. Nanos went along from the start of real settlement, so you get only the normal drift that occurs from generation to generation via normal reproduction. The ‘thals, of course, have almost no anomalies thanks to the centuries of Triad oversight.”

“Lucky you,” Harman grinned as his eyes roamed over his co-mates strongly-muscled frame and light blond hair. As their friendship grew to something more than simple liking and common interests, both boys were more than happy that they also enjoyed one another’s physical attributes as well. To think I had to go off-planet to find the guy who’d be my perfect match, he mused.

Both boys had been pleased to receive the notice from the triad Board that their co-mate application had been approved. Neither was aware of the convoluted path that had been required for that to happen; Two Sapphire and Ernst-Karl had decided that the problems surrounding Harman’s genetic profile should remain out of the public record since it wasn’t relevant to his medical health or to establish his identity now that a full genome was available, though heavily edited for general consumption. Should he desire children in future, all the normal laboratory protocols would insure any such offspring would be healthy and genetically stable.

Harman had been thoroughly educated about ‘thal culture when he arrived at Tycho, but at the time he hadn’t given any thought to having children, particularly once he met Silver Eagle in one of his classes and realized he felt more drawn to the boy than he’d ever been to any female in his short life. The main reason he’d agreed to file the co-mate application had been for his blond ‘thal’s benefit rather than his own—most of his species wanted to sire children at some point once a suitable female co-mate was found, but Harman didn’t see such a need for himself…at least not in the foreseeable future.

As the pair got closer to this oldest section of Tycho Deep’s residential zones, they noticed a change in the way things were laid out: the corridors, rather than being entirely covered in modified grass, were centrally paved with a greenspace to either side that averaged ten feet in width, often highlighted by beds of flowers or bushes closest to the wall. The lighting remained Tycho’s Earth-equivalent of sunlight and kept to Luna’s universal clock to simulate dawn or dusk along with day or night. The radial corridor they’d been using ended at a blank wall with only a single corridor heading off to their right and the Rimwall’s face. Simultaneously, a chime went off in their commlinks.

NORTH TERRACE PERIMETER WARNING
Residential Access Restricted.
Entry Point Spoke One Level One Rotunda.
Please Have Your Papers Ready

“What the hell…” Harman blurted. This was his first time encountering both physical and auditory security warnings on Luna, though both had become increasingly common in those areas of Earth dominated by the Genetic Authority. Silver Eagle pointed down the narrower passage and grinned.

“Mysterious, huh?” They found themselves being directed both closer to the crater’s face and downward at a gentle slope, eventually coming out into the open air of a plaza to see a sign pointing left with the words ‘North Terrace Rotunda’ inlaid in gold-colored tiles six inches high. “Care to wager those are actual gold?” Silver Eagle asked quietly, though no one else was around to hear him. Harman just shook his head.

Tycho Deep’s spokes, currently thirty in number, were all of the same general appearance: rectangular openings for tunnels bored perpendicular to the Rim-face, thirty feet wide and the same in height. Over the centuries some attempt had been made to individualize them, though the names remained the same, as did a small exterior plaza and walkway that connected them all in a grand circle. North Terrace’s plaza held no cozy restaurants, no drink sellers or entertainers…instead it held formal planting beds and shaped topiaries interspersed with ancient statuary that would have been at home in gardens of ancient Rome. To highlight the effect, the spoke’s entry was flanked by Corinthian columns and a small fountain at the plaza’s center sprayed water from a dolphin’s mouth.

Similar to the other spokes, this one’s first level was mostly given over to shops, entertainment areas and services for the residents on the upper levels. Unlike the others, the ancient classical theme was continued and even reinforced by architectural details like half-columns at shop doors and corners, small fountained gardens where the main spoke and its’ radial arc walkways intersected, and the use of inset tiled signs rather than lighted or digital ones common elsewhere in the Three Worlds. Harman noticed a larger number of shops selling what he would call luxury goods like paintings, pottery and carvings, and even exotic spices he’d rarely seen even on Earth. He even saw a few fairly tall shoppers at a distance, but he couldn’t be sure if they were some of the ‘Top-Siders’ his co-mate had mentioned or not.

What neither boy saw were Neanderthals in any great number—a triad here, a single or couple there, but that was it. In most public areas of Tycho, they mixed freely with humans, and often outnumbered them two- or three-to-one…but not here in this bastion of the super-rich. When Harman questioned his mate about it with a raised eyebrow, Silver Eagle just gave his lop-sided grin and an exaggerated shrug.

“This is public space with no restrictions at all, but you know my people by now—we’re mostly informal and social, and we find the atmosphere of North Terrace too unwelcoming for us to spend much time here. We’ll shop here by commlink, or attend concerts, but we’d rather spend time in the parks or restaurants in the other neighborhoods.”

“Seems like the well-to-do are about the same everywhere,” Harman grumbled under his breath, but Silver Eagle still caught the words.

“It’s not like Earth, Harm…at least not any more. When the first settlements began, it took lots of capital for their establishment, some came from public and governmental sources, and from private individuals or corporations. Luna’s resources were difficult to extract, and profits were slow to accumulate—it took money to live on Luna, so even a miner who worked hard to make enough to survive at a moderate Earth level would have been considered wealthy by previous centuries’ standards. Many of the Top-Siders sank most of their Earth wealth into our building projects, and found themselves having to almost start from scratch here. Then too, there wasn’t much need for large amounts of money as there was little to spend it on beyond the basics of food, water, air and shelter….”

Harman gestured to the opulent shops and architecture around them. “What about all this, then? The apartments of our friends aren’t stuffed with all this extravagant clutter….I presume they can’t afford these trinkets?”

Silver Eagle stopped to give his co-mate a long look, then pulled him in for a loose hug. “Come on, let’s see what we can buy.” He led them into a shop with displays of various goods: ceramic ware, carved figurines and even a selection of tableware. He picked up a small bowl that looked like an antique Chinese piece to Harman’s untrained eye. ‘Take a good look at it,” the ‘thal said in a hushed tone to fit the store’s genteel atmosphere created with indirect lighting and soft instrumental music.

Harman had seen pictures on the education channels from his school outside Denver, and even a piece or two in the museum there, but he had no real idea what he should be looking for now. It felt like a fine ceramic, and the colors seemed right, but other than that he was stumped. He shrugged and was about to hand it back when he remembered something about maker’s marks on the bottom of original antiques. He turned this one over, but all he saw were the letters ‘Cl.C.A.G’.

“That’s the code for the Clavius Center Artists Guild, one of the oldest studios on Luna. Everything in these shops is produced right here—until Sky-Hook was built the cost to move things out of Earth’s gravity well was prohibitive, so only basic industrial machinery came up relatively undeterred. If we couldn’t make it ourselves, we did without until we could.

“Our friends don’t have this sort of stuff because they don’t care for it, not because they can’t afford it. Unlike Earth, where managers seem to make the most money, on Mars and Luna your work’s usefulness determines your compensation…maintenance and agriculture positions are vital to survival, so those fields earn a high wage, while a bureaucrat is paid less.”

Walking farther along the spoke, they came to a large circular and domed area, obviously the ‘Rotunda’ even without the carved letters proclaiming its name. Another fountain was in the room’s center, and columns supported five galleries that gave access to more levels overhead, leaving the center clear all the way up to the dome two hundred feet above. A flight of steps rose upward to either side of the main entry, filling the area between the wall and columns. Silver Eagle led an awe-struck Harman toward the right-hand stairs.

Please Show Papers For Access
Upper Levels For Residents And Guests Only

The boys were puzzled until Harman pointed to a glowing area on the wall next to the lowest step. “Papers? Could they mean the invitation?” At his boyfriend’s shrug, Harman pulled the sheet from his pack and handed it to the ‘thal. The blond held it up to the glowing plate experimentally, then they both waited.

A green circle appeared on the wall and began blinking. As they set foot on the stairs, the dot began to move also, leading the way upward. They had seen something similar in other parts of Tycho Deep, but hadn’t expected such a guide here where technology seemed to be minimal. They’d expected a voice-guide in their implants, or maybe even a robot, but not a bit of holo-tech like this. They ascended two levels and down a wide side corridor like those they’d been in before with planting areas to either side of the central path. The Roman influence was less obvious here, and every door they passed at long intervals seemed to be decorated in a different motif. The light stopped beside a large double-door. There was no identifying name evident, but ‘Suite C’ was embossed on each door.

Inside the apartment, eyes examined them from a hidden camera, then turned to the comm-screen beside her antique desk. The man at the other end of the connection was on the other side of Luna, but he’d be observing the next events regardless.

“You have any last minute changes, Matthias?” she asked in a matronly tone.

“No, Magrithe, proceed as planned….”