Sebastian of Mars (24 page)

I tried mightily, but felt nothing. It was
like I myself was not attached to myself.

“No,” my tinny voice answered, and some of my
frustration must have been communicated because Newton immediately
answered:

“That is all right. All of this will take
time.”

I was silent, brooding.

“I have good news for you,” Newton said, and
I heard in his voice genuine warmth. I wondered what the news might
be.

He continued: “Charlotte is with kit. She’s
going to have a litter.”

Charlotte! Newton’s instructions be damned, I
could not help myself:

“Hurrah! That’s wonderful! My beautiful
Queen! Is she here?”

I went on and on like this, with Newton
trying to quiet me, until he suddenly said, “Oh, dear.”

I heard Thomas’s voice question in alarm:
“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing that can’t be fixed,” Newton replied
quickly. Then to me: “I’m afraid we must cut this short, Sebastian.
We will talk again before too long. Have courage.”

Have courage? But already I felt myself
fading away, the circle of animation around my mind, which was
already denied my body, shrinking and shrinking to a tiny dot which
then went . . .

Out.

A
gain, it was like I
was not there, and then there.

But this time, there was more of me. I could
feel my right paw twitch, as if a current had been put through it,
and also my left thigh down to the knee was warm. I knew instantly
that this was a good thing, because Newton said, “Ah!” with evident
satisfaction.

“Yes,” I said, to tease him.

His laugh – hard enough to draw from him in
normal times – was long and full.

“I see you are with us!” he said.

“Yes.”

“And ready to obey this time? No outbursts of
unalloyed joy?”

I remembered my wonderful wife Charlotte, and
that she was with litter.

“Yes!” I said, restraining myself from the
happiness that flooded through me.

Through
me – yes, it felt as if there
was definitely more of me now, as if the tiny circle of being had
begun to open out from my head to encompass my body.

“Can you feel your right paw now?” Newton
inquired.

“Yes,” I said, moving my fingers, though I
could not lift it to examine it. My body still felt like lead – but
warm lead.

The silhouette – there was only Newton’s,
this time – moved to one side, then back. I could see the arms and
hands moving over something tall and boxy.

“Are you stimulating me by machine?” I
asked.

“Only yes or no, please, Sebastian. It is for
your own good. And to answer you this once: yes.”

“Ah.”

“Let’s continue . .
.”

T
hese sessions went
on, it seemed, forever. I could not really tell how much time was
passing, because at the end of each period of stimulation Newton
would hit a button, or throw a switch, and I was gone, dreamless,
back to whatever place he had dredged me from. When I inquired was
happening to me he deferred my questions, and when I demanded as
his King that he answer me he became remote and business-like.

But progress was made, though ever so slowly.
Though I still could not raise my paws to my face or see any part
of my body, feelings eventually spread from my thighs to both my
legs, one at a time, and from my paws to my arms (strange that this
would happen in a reverse way from what one would think) and
shoulders and finally my neck and face. Pretty soon I was
grimacing, and smacking my lips, which made me realize that I was
not now, nor had ever been in this condition, the least bit
hungry.

When I asked about this, Newton demurred.

And though I could work my mouth, my voice, I
knew, still did not emanate from my throat but independently. This
was merely bothersome in the beginning, when I felt nothing at all,
but now it was downright frightening.

When I asked Newton about this, he tried to
demure again, but I persisted, and worked myself up into such a
panic that he cut the session short and made me go away.

When I came back, after heaven knew how many
days or weeks, his voice held a different tone than I had ever
detected in it: watchful, careful, gentle, and frightened.

“This is a big day for you, Sebastian,” he
said. He sounded as though he was dipping his toe into an ocean
that he must now plunge into.

“No more yes and no?”

He almost chuckled – but not quite. “Correct.
Today we are where we are.”

“Explain that, Newton.” One thing I noticed
with a start was that my voice now issued from my mouth, and not .
. . elsewhere.

“I am whole?”

“In a sense.

“Are we going to speak in riddles?” I said,
impatient. “I can do that all day, and be just as frustrated.”

“No, we aren’t going to speak in riddles. But
we must speak in . . . well, the way things are.”

“Another riddle!”

“Not really.”

Another silhouette had moved up to stand
beside Newton, and I cried heartily, “Hello, Thomas!”

Newton said, “It is not Thomas.”

“Then who?”

“You shall see. But first this, and no more
riddles, I promise. You are . . . different than you were,
Sebastian.”

I was filled with terror and elation at the
same time.

“What do you mean?”

“Just that. You are not like before, when
your body was flesh and bone. To save you at all, certain
procedures had to be undertaken. Your . . . body as you knew it is
no more.”

“What am I?” I cried.

“Do not panic. You are not a monster, or a
machine. Much, almost all, of what you were before – your essence,
if you will – is intact in this . . . new entity.”

Entity! Visions of an alien being holding my
mind in its body rose into my head, and I began to breathe
heavily.

“Sebastian! Listen to me! You look
essentially as you did before. Only your body has been . . .
changed.”

“Show me!” I demanded.

“Soon enough. But first you must speak with
One.”

Newton’s silhouette moved aside, and One’s
was there, before me.

“Sebastian,” her soothing voice said.

“Yes! What has happened to me, One!”

“Listen to me. Only this,” she said, and my
terror abated for a moment, before it returned in full force.

Somewhere there rose a whirring sound, and
the blue canopy began to move aside. Its edge moved over me like
the moving line of a horizon, replacing soft blue light with
another blue light, of One herself.

The canopy opened completely, and the whirr
snicked off, leaving silence.

“Sebastian,” One said, reaching a hand out.
Behind her I saw Thomas and Quiff, drawing back, their eyes
wide.

“I’m so frightened!” I cried.

“Don’t be,” One said, and as my own paw
reached out to touch her own, I saw that my fingers, my paw, my arm
were as blue as hers.

“One!”

She held my paw in one like my own, and
leaned down closer so that her face became visible, the blue haze
melting away to begin to reveal her gently smiling visage.

Our blue halos merged, and her features came
into sudden sharp relief, as if the focuser of a telescope had been
tuned to perfection.

I cried out.

It was a face I would have known anywhere,
even in another life.

“Mother!” I said.