CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Their papers signed, and legally married in a Church, Tom and Sloan entered Vera Cruz just as the day of the dead was beginning. Now this had been planned as part of an experiment to see if dominants could be brought into human society. If they succeeded, the dominants would have no reason to wipe out those they considered lesser, because they would have the same benefits as the rest of mankind.
Sloan found that, even though Tom spent his short childhood in Mexico, he knew little if anything of the traditional Spanish holidays. He watched with wonder at the festivities, recognizing little of the skull ornaments; the remnants of an ancient Aztec tradition now merged into Roman Catholicism.
"So," she said, "you were kept from learning of this Mexican holiday?" she asked.
"It was thought best for my training."
"Señor, señora, por favor." A woman in a red shawl held out some rosquete.
"¿Cúantos?" asked Sloan.
They agreed on a price. It was very reasonable The couple walked off towards an outdoor café where a mariachi band was playing.
"I guess you people never had a proper honeymoon," said Sloan.
"Our marriages were arranged to get the best union as possible" Tom said, looking at the bouquets of zenpasuchitl that seemed to sprawl from the hanging baskets especially put on the lamp posts for this occasion. "After the union, we go alone together. It's known as the Companionship. Since our parent Dominants arranged our matings, we have to learn to be united with each other. That is a pretty flower."
"Cempasuichil. That's the other name for it."
"That does not sound Spanish."
"Well actually the two main cultures before the Spanish conquest was the Aztecs and the Toltecs. Your ancestors are probably Spanish —in spite of your English name. Most likely you had no native blood in you, which is why the mutation or reversal mutation according to Walter's friend, Roger Carmichael stated." Sloan kissed him, well rather they both kissed at the same time. To her it was rather disconcerting, him knowing when she wanted to 'show affection' and both of their lips joining at the correct time. "Oh you're supposed to carry me over the threshold. It's a human marriage custom."
"We have a similar one. The first night of the Companionship we also drink some wine mixed with tea." He put her on the bed, and then went to the small kitchen where he came out with two cups shaped like long pipes in which he put a strange liquid.
"These look like smokestacks from a ship. Perhaps it is a memory of your ancestors coming to Oaxaca." She reached for him.
However Tom did not want to make love just yet because he had this look that had nothing to do with affection, but something deep inside. Sloan now could understand certain signs when a Dominant was worried, afraid, angry—signs indistinguishable from others, but which Tom taught her. The New Species live on a more level plain than us, their emotions not reaching our highs except in the case of anger, a natural release for a violent species and Tom's reaction mimicked that of guilt. .
Feeling rather uneasy, Tom tried to make intelligent conversation. "I fail to see how Walter's friend said a reverse mutation. Do you mean that your ancestors may have been like us?"
"Two or four thousand years ago. According to the history records, there were wizards who could do things and not just pretence." She paused. "It makes a wrinkle on the theory of evolution. Maybe what I believed all these years was wrong. Maybe all those destruction we heard about, the floods, the earthquakes, the disasters in Greek and Norse mythology were to wipe out certain people who were dominants.
"And," said Tom; "those who are innocent suffer. I will make sure that this does not happen again. I pledge my life to making our two cultures live in cooperation with each other."
Sloan noticed something in his expression, a feeling of sadness or regret. What was it? "Tom, when I mentioned Roger Carmichael, I got the idea that you were keeping something from me."
"You realize, Sloan, that when Walter's old boss tortured and drugged me, she released some of the hypnotic suggestions that Lewis put on me and I'm recalling more events from my past, bits of my childhood before my training. I suppose this would have come out gradually."
"Do you mean that Lewis knows much of his childhood now? It does happen to older men and women, more than recent events."
"Not like yours. We know the recent events clearly as our minds are higher than yours are. We don't want any sympathy with our victims so the Mentors hide any memory that might allow that to happen such as a mother with her child. When we have done a certain number of kills, then the memories return, but then we associate them with our own species. I believe the torture might have done it."
"How?"
"I survived by imagining it happening to someone else, imagining them going through the pain, and dying. It had the same effect as if I actually put burning wires against their skin and that broke the hypnotic suggestion. The drugs just relaxed my brain, but the pain did the rest. I remember that Roderick and Lewis having a conversation. I was about four at the time. They talked about their founders. I did not know what they meant, but I suppose it was our human ancestors. I'd hate if someone brings them up, the murders. It would no doubt kill any sort of coming together of both our kind."
It was going to be a long struggle. Sloan knew what the answer was and yet she had to ask the question. "So are they still alive?"
"No. Lewis was born at the end of your Second World War. He's one of the oldest as is Roderick. When he was around twelve years old, they killed their ancestors. One was Alfred Carmichael. He used to work for an organization, your Great Britain MI-5. Roderick shot him.
Sloan almost paled in horror and yet she could see that had Tom not spied on the two Councilors, she would never know and yet she suspected that something happened, but not that soon. She knew they would have killed their parents, but possibly when they were about twenty and it would have been a battle, not someone sneaking behind them.
Something must have triggered it and after the honeymoon, she would find out from Roderick what it was or from Paul since he probably helped in the massacre. "It could have been something one of them said, perhaps a clue."
"Do you mean an unforgivable insult?" asked Tom. "We have certain customs that cannot be brooked. For instance, when we mate, we show affection together. The male holds the female's head just so." He put his hand against her neck, cradling it softly. "And then he strokes her face just so." His palm caressed her check and with his other hand, he unbuttoned her blouse, removed her brassiere and then pulled down her skirt, cradling her flesh in his strong arms.
Sloan did not have to remove his slacks. He wriggled out of them, leaving the shirt, slacks, socks, and briefs at the foot of the bed. Love-making was wonderful, he was gentle, and yet she felt he was being kind just for her. She signaled to him that she was not unbreakable and then the love- making increased to a fever pitch, the bed rocking, her moving on top of him, he moving on top of her, the perspiration, the sweat, the sheets falling to the floor as they consummated their love. And then exhausted, they fell asleep in each other's arms.
Their papers signed, and legally married in a Church, Tom and Sloan entered Vera Cruz just as the day of the dead was beginning. Now this had been planned as part of an experiment to see if dominants could be brought into human society. If they succeeded, the dominants would have no reason to wipe out those they considered lesser, because they would have the same benefits as the rest of mankind.
Sloan found that, even though Tom spent his short childhood in Mexico, he knew little if anything of the traditional Spanish holidays. He watched with wonder at the festivities, recognizing little of the skull ornaments; the remnants of an ancient Aztec tradition now merged into Roman Catholicism.
"So," she said, "you were kept from learning of this Mexican holiday?" she asked.
"It was thought best for my training."
"Señor, señora, por favor." A woman in a red shawl held out some rosquete.
"¿Cúantos?" asked Sloan.
They agreed on a price. It was very reasonable The couple walked off towards an outdoor café where a mariachi band was playing.
"I guess you people never had a proper honeymoon," said Sloan.
"Our marriages were arranged to get the best union as possible" Tom said, looking at the bouquets of zenpasuchitl that seemed to sprawl from the hanging baskets especially put on the lamp posts for this occasion. "After the union, we go alone together. It's known as the Companionship. Since our parent Dominants arranged our matings, we have to learn to be united with each other. That is a pretty flower."
"Cempasuichil. That's the other name for it."
"That does not sound Spanish."
"Well actually the two main cultures before the Spanish conquest was the Aztecs and the Toltecs. Your ancestors are probably Spanish —in spite of your English name. Most likely you had no native blood in you, which is why the mutation or reversal mutation according to Walter's friend, Roger Carmichael stated." Sloan kissed him, well rather they both kissed at the same time. To her it was rather disconcerting, him knowing when she wanted to 'show affection' and both of their lips joining at the correct time. "Oh you're supposed to carry me over the threshold. It's a human marriage custom."
"We have a similar one. The first night of the Companionship we also drink some wine mixed with tea." He put her on the bed, and then went to the small kitchen where he came out with two cups shaped like long pipes in which he put a strange liquid.
"These look like smokestacks from a ship. Perhaps it is a memory of your ancestors coming to Oaxaca." She reached for him.
However Tom did not want to make love just yet because he had this look that had nothing to do with affection, but something deep inside. Sloan now could understand certain signs when a Dominant was worried, afraid, angry—signs indistinguishable from others, but which Tom taught her. The New Species live on a more level plain than us, their emotions not reaching our highs except in the case of anger, a natural release for a violent species and Tom's reaction mimicked that of guilt. .
Feeling rather uneasy, Tom tried to make intelligent conversation. "I fail to see how Walter's friend said a reverse mutation. Do you mean that your ancestors may have been like us?"
"Two or four thousand years ago. According to the history records, there were wizards who could do things and not just pretence." She paused. "It makes a wrinkle on the theory of evolution. Maybe what I believed all these years was wrong. Maybe all those destruction we heard about, the floods, the earthquakes, the disasters in Greek and Norse mythology were to wipe out certain people who were dominants.
"And," said Tom; "those who are innocent suffer. I will make sure that this does not happen again. I pledge my life to making our two cultures live in cooperation with each other."
Sloan noticed something in his expression, a feeling of sadness or regret. What was it? "Tom, when I mentioned Roger Carmichael, I got the idea that you were keeping something from me."
"You realize, Sloan, that when Walter's old boss tortured and drugged me, she released some of the hypnotic suggestions that Lewis put on me and I'm recalling more events from my past, bits of my childhood before my training. I suppose this would have come out gradually."
"Do you mean that Lewis knows much of his childhood now? It does happen to older men and women, more than recent events."
"Not like yours. We know the recent events clearly as our minds are higher than yours are. We don't want any sympathy with our victims so the Mentors hide any memory that might allow that to happen such as a mother with her child. When we have done a certain number of kills, then the memories return, but then we associate them with our own species. I believe the torture might have done it."
"How?"
"I survived by imagining it happening to someone else, imagining them going through the pain, and dying. It had the same effect as if I actually put burning wires against their skin and that broke the hypnotic suggestion. The drugs just relaxed my brain, but the pain did the rest. I remember that Roderick and Lewis having a conversation. I was about four at the time. They talked about their founders. I did not know what they meant, but I suppose it was our human ancestors. I'd hate if someone brings them up, the murders. It would no doubt kill any sort of coming together of both our kind."
It was going to be a long struggle. Sloan knew what the answer was and yet she had to ask the question. "So are they still alive?"
"No. Lewis was born at the end of your Second World War. He's one of the oldest as is Roderick. When he was around twelve years old, they killed their ancestors. One was Alfred Carmichael. He used to work for an organization, your Great Britain MI-5. Roderick shot him.
Sloan almost paled in horror and yet she could see that had Tom not spied on the two Councilors, she would never know and yet she suspected that something happened, but not that soon. She knew they would have killed their parents, but possibly when they were about twenty and it would have been a battle, not someone sneaking behind them.
Something must have triggered it and after the honeymoon, she would find out from Roderick what it was or from Paul since he probably helped in the massacre. "It could have been something one of them said, perhaps a clue."
"Do you mean an unforgivable insult?" asked Tom. "We have certain customs that cannot be brooked. For instance, when we mate, we show affection together. The male holds the female's head just so." He put his hand against her neck, cradling it softly. "And then he strokes her face just so." His palm caressed her check and with his other hand, he unbuttoned her blouse, removed her brassiere and then pulled down her skirt, cradling her flesh in his strong arms.
Sloan did not have to remove his slacks. He wriggled out of them, leaving the shirt, slacks, socks, and briefs at the foot of the bed. Love-making was wonderful, he was gentle, and yet she felt he was being kind just for her. She signaled to him that she was not unbreakable and then the love- making increased to a fever pitch, the bed rocking, her moving on top of him, he moving on top of her, the perspiration, the sweat, the sheets falling to the floor as they consummated their love. And then exhausted, they fell asleep in each other's arms.