Null–A Three

CHAPTER 32

“I really don’t know,” said Queen Mother Strala. “This whole matter of the Gosseyn bodies is too strange for me.”

They were sitting in a fabulously furnished room in the palace of the Dzan planet Zero, in Galaxy One. It was day outside; and he had arrived after completing all his actions—except he had not taken away the English speaking ability of the Dzanians when he returned to them their knowledge of their own language.

Sitting there, facing the beautiful Strala, Gosseyn Three calmly acknowledged that her statement was correct. Weird it was.

She sat there, in a golden chair across from the upholstered sofa to which she had motioned him. Her eyes had a faraway expression; and, finally, as evidence that she had been thinking, she looked at him again, and said:

“As I understand it, your alter ego will remain in the Milky Way galaxy; and you will stay here.” She sounded suddenly distracted to him: “Are you still, uh, connected to your alter ego?”

“Moment by moment I’m aware of him out there, and I can get his thoughts, or what he’s doing, if I concentrate on him.”

“At two million light-years.”

“Distance has no meaning in a nothingness universe.” She said, “He will take care of things there, in your home universe?”

It was an unfortunate wording. It evoked a thalamic reaction. It was as if he had left his home town, and home country; and would never see them again.

Recovery took moments only. The truth was—he reminded himself—he was not a man who had ever had a country. He had grown to adulthood inside a space capsule, and had no planet of his own, and no relatives in the usual meaning.

Gosseyn gulped—and recovered, as the woman, who was now staring off to one side, said, “I’ll have to think about all this.”

Gosseyn could only gaze at her pityingly. He was not qualified to evaluate the ways of women; but the fact that it was she who had once made a proposal of total intimacy to him, gave him control of this moment—so it seemed—in view of what else he knew.

He said, gently, “My dear, there’s no escape for you. You’re my lady from now on; my future wife, with ail that implies. You’re destined to be with me for all the rest of my life.”

The eyes in the perfect face were staring at him. “I suppose,” she said, almost stiffly, “there must be some explanation for such a positive approach. My own feeling is, you had your chance—and rejected it—forever.” She finished her thought: “Rejected it in a way that I can never forgive.”

Gosseyn drew a deep breath. “I have to point out to you that you’re a mother.”

“Enin’s mother,” she nodded. She seemed puzzled. “Does he know I’m here?”

“No.”

“Call him.”

A pause. Her eyes appraised him. Abruptly, she stood up, and walked over to a door, from which tiny, significant sounds had been coming during their entire conversation.

She paused in the open doorway, and called out, “Enin, can you come in here for a moment?”

Enin’s voice sounded, muffled but clear enough: “Ah, gee, mom—let me have this one shot… Got him!” Jubilant scream. Then: “Okay, now I can come for a minute.”

The woman turned to her chair, and sat down without a word. She seemed suddenly tense, and she did not look around. And then, although Gosseyn had also kept his eyes averted—there was, first, a sound of footsteps, and then a boyish squeal of total joy.

Fortunately, he turned in time. Because bare instants later he had a twelve-year-old in his lap, whose arms reached up and grabbed him around his neck.

There were many words, including: “Mr. Gosseyn, Mr. Gosseyn, where have you been? Oh, mother, mother, it’s Mr. Gosseyn!”

It took a while.

Gosseyn gazed benignly down at the excited boy. “Any problems,” he asked, “with the, uh, suck-ups?”

“Nope. I called a meeting when I got back aboard the ship, and another one here on this planet, where the government is; and I told ’em what you and I discussed.”

“… If there are any problems, a committee will review each one—that discussion?” Gosseyn asked.

“Yep.” The impish face grinned. “Not just me making up my mind like my dad used to, and burning anybody who didn’t like it.”

“—If,” thought Gosseyn, as he heard those words spoken by a boy, who had inherited one of the largest empires ever to exist anywhere, “there is such a thing as a great moment in history, this has got to be it…” The very heart of a system of absolute power modified to include democratic procedures.

Once more, impulsively, Enin reached up with both arms and hugged him. He said, “Boy, it’s sure going to be great to have you around. It’s going to be forever now, isn’t it?”

“That decision is entirely up to your mother,” said Gosseyn. He turned toward the stiff looking beauty sitting in the chair across the room. “Will I be staying?” he asked in his most innocent sounding tone of voice.

A moment later, a somewhat resigned voice said, “You go and play, dear, while Mr. Gosseyn and I discuss his future.”

Gosseyn picked up Enin and carried him to the doorway from which he had emerged a short time earlier. As he put the boy down, he glanced into the second room; and he was not surprised to observe that a video game had been interrupted. The screen was brightly lit.

Gosseyn said, “I hope you’re playing the General Semantics games also.”

A pause, a grin, and then: “There’s a good possibility that I am playing those games about as often as, I believe, you would approve of; you being you and I being me.”

Gosseyn was straightening. “Well, son,” he said, “your mother and I have a few things to talk about; so you and I will get together later.”

“Oh, boy, you bet.”

He stood, then, watching the boy race off; and then, he turned, walked over, and stood in front of the woman.

“Naturally,” he said, “I am aware that you have received another offer.”

“Yes?” She was staring off to one side.

“You have your own interests to pursue,” he continued. “A woman doesn’t have to remain a mother-oriented individual all her life.”

He waited, then, not looking directly at her. There was a pause; then: “I have been listening to your conversations with Enin, and—”

Another pause. “Yes?” said Gosseyn.

“They make a certain amount of sense,” said the woman. “Your philosophy—” she hesitated—“General Semantics. I can see that, because of what you’ve taught him, Enin has become a more stable, normal person. As for myself—” Another pause, then: “I finally looked myself over as a woman in relation to the royal environment, with its numerous individuals vying for power and position, and others very honest and sincere, and protective; and I can see that in such an environment what you evaluated when I first proposed to you, was correct.”

She was still staring off to one side. Then: “There is now another aspect we can take into account. Many of the top leaders are aware of the role you played in bringing us back here. They respect you.”

She smiled suddenly, as if her own reasoning had brought a sudden inner release. “So I think conditions have changed. What do you think?”

He said simply, “I hope you realize that I’m the only father he’ll ever accept.”

With that, without a word, the silken, beautiful female being stood up, and, without a word, came over and, exactly as a mother should, whether trained in General Semantics or not, put her arms around him. The kiss he gave her was accepted in a way that telegraphed adequate acceptance.

When she drew back, she said, “I think we’d better go into my bedroom and close and lock the door. I don’t think we should wait until the marriage ceremony.” It was a triumph of one level of reality over another—

Gosseyn deduced, as he followed her across that beautiful room into a fantastical elegant bedroom.

He directed his thought at his alter ego: “Mr. Gosseyn Two, turn your attention somewhere else!”

The reply, on one level of reality, came from a distance of two million light-years. But, in relation to the reality to which his extra-brain related, was as close as the inside of his head.

The meaning was: “You both have all my best wishes… brother!”