* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

                      SEX, LIES, AND NECROMANCY

                                  by

                    Daniel Parsons and Brandi Weed

                            Van Roy's Law:
        Honesty is the best policy - there's less competition.

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Paul was walking back to the apartment.  Now, he doubted that the
noise of an exercise bike would drown out the conversation he'd had
with Janie, but he was still very surprised to see one of the people
from the Town Council, accompanied by what had to be a bodyguard,
waving him down.  Gee, they're quick, he thought, and slowly did as he
was bid.
     "Hello?"
     The council member, a swarthy woman in her late 50's, beamed.
"No. 13!  It's so good to see you this afternoon, isn't it?"
     Paul smiled. "Of course it is.  A fine, fine day to be free in
our village, just breathing in that clean air of happiness."
     The air around the council woman turned 10 degrees cooler.  She'd
apparently detected a subtle note of sarcasm.  The bodyguard frowned
exactly the way that bodyguards are supposed to. "No. 13, it has come
to my attention that you have not sought out a means of employment."
     "I'm doing a magic show in the nursery tomorrow."
     "Oh, good!" The air warmed somewhat. "But we on the Town Council
have something else for you, a great need which we feel you will be
just the man to fill."
     Paul raised an eyebrow. "Maybe you'd like me to do a primer on
the religions of the world?"
     "Oh, no no no.  You have been recommended to us by no less a
personage than no. 2 himself, as the ideal replacement for no. 183 on
the food committee!"
     "Oh."
     "Though if you want to do a primer on the world's religions, you
can do that for Multicultural Day.  It's a little non-denominational
holiday we put on every summer here.  Though mind you, you cannot
advocate the establishment or worth of any one creed or belief system
during Multicultural Day festivities; it's a day to appreciate the
contributions made by other members of our great global village."
     Paul tried not to look disappointed. "And what exactly does the
food committee do?"
     "The committee's responsibilities are as follows: supervise the
maintenance and repair of our Village food preparation facilities,
receive and inspect production from the Village gardening committee,
oversee preparation of daily meals, and delivery of said meals.  And I
must tell you, you come highly recommended."
     "Please tell no. 2 I'm very grateful for his recommendation.
What about cleaning up?"
     "Oh, that's the sanitation committee.  You won't have anything to
do with that, it's unsanitary."
     "Hmmm, yes." Paul thought for a moment. "We get food from the
gardening committee?"
     "Yes, of course.  We are a self-sufficient community, and do not
have to import."
     That made no sense, Paul thought.  There were a few vegetable
gardens here and there, but nothing to feed a whole village.  Unless
they grew it underground, or outside the Village.
     "Ah, yes, I think I would like a position on the food committee.
I really do look forward to taking on the responsibility, and hope I
can live up to no. 2's recommendation."  He smiled, as sincerely as he
could.
     The council woman seemed to buy it. "Excellent!  The next meeting
is this Thursday, in the Town Hall annex, at 2 in the afternoon."
     "I'll be there, or be square."
     "What a charming little phrase.  Be seeing you!"

                             *     *     *

     Dinner, as it so happened, was an attempt at something French;
beans and mushrooms in wine sauce.  Rarely did a meal miss the
presence of meat more.  After unenthusiastically finishing it, Janie
went to Angel's door to see if she was in.
     "Come in!" Angel's voice answered.
     But there was no one to be seen when Janie walked in, just the
sound of water running somewhere.  "Come back here, Janie."
     Most perplexed, Janie went back to the bathroom.  The lights were
all off, and Angel was sitting in the shower stall, with the sink
running. "Angel, why are you sitting in the shower with your clothes
on?"
     "I am speaking with Ardrin."
     Janie peered inside; Ardrin was slouched in the stall with her.
"Ardrin, why are you sitting in Angel's shower with your clothes on?"
     "Shut up," he explained.
     "This is the one place in the flat I haven't been able to find a
camera.  And keep your voice low."
     "Oh, I get it."  Janie squeezed in and sat down. "Bring Paul in
and we could play sardines."
     "Let's leave him out of it for the moment.  First, Janie, did you
eat all of your dinner?"
     "Yeah, wasn't it awful?"
     "I wouldn't know, they stopped sending food when I was declared
disharmonious.  I was hoping you had some left over."
     "Oh.  Is that why the lights aren't working either?"
     "Probably.  And it will doubtless get very cold at night, so any
spare blankets you might have would be appreciated."
     "At least they left your water on." Ardrin said.
     "It's probably drugged.  Now, Ardrin's found out something very
interesting."
     "Oh?  Do tell."
     "I got a job as a groundskeeper," he began. "Today, I got to
sweep the beach."
     "Sweep the beach?"
     "Yes, Janie," Angel broke in. "Sweep all the detritus away and
plane the sand down neatly and cleanly.  Isn't that ridiculous?"
     "Indeed.  Anyway, go on?"
     "As I was sweeping, I found this."  He brought out the can, with
its strings and gears inside. "I don't know what it does, but I think
it's important."
     Janie looked at the can. "What is it?  Where was it?"
     "It was buried in the sand by the lighthouse," Angel broke in
again.  "Perhaps there are so many underground wires and structures
here, you can't find buried objects with a metal detector.  That may
be a very good thing to know for the future."
     "Thanks, Angel.  As for what it is, I dunno.  I figured you're
the techie, you might have some ideas."
     The can was grimy and gritty, and its contents held together by
wishes and hopes more than any of the ratty pieces of string.  After
looking at it a moment, Janie shrugged. "I haven't the faintest idea.
It's just some pieces of clockwork and string.  There's no battery, or
transmitters, or anything."
     "So, what might it be?" Angel asked.
     "I haven't a clue.  Maybe somebody went mad and tried to build a
radio out of anything they had."
     Ardrin nodded. "I don't think it's anything.  But I found
something else too."  He pulled the coin out of his pocket and held it
up. "It looks like gold."
     "It looks like a Spanish doubloon, Ardrin.  Where was that?"
     "On the beach, under some caves."
     Janie looked at Angel. "Pirate treasure?"
     "Don't be so melodramatic.  I'm sure our keepers have explored
those caves very thoroughly, and a chest of 'pieces of eight' would
not escape their notice."
     "Then how did it get there?"
     "It could have been planted.  We have no way of knowing whether
or not it's genuine."
     Ardrin frowned. "It's real gold.  And why the fuck would they
plant gold coins when they could do something else cheaper?"
     "Gold isn't that expensive, compared to running this place.  We
don't know what the limits on their budget are."
     "It's still a rather strange thing to plant, Angel.  But if we
assume it's genuine, that means we're somewhere in the Caribbean.  The
climate's right for it."
     "Not necessarily, Janie.  We could be in Spain, or Morocco, or
just about anywhere in South America.  The Spaniards traveled quite
extensively in the 17th century.  But there's more reason to doubt
we're in the new world.  Judging by the altitude of the north star,
we're at about 35 degrees north latitude.  That puts us well north of
South America and the Caribbean."
     "Are you sure?  It's awfully balmy to be that far north."
     "As sure as can be without instruments."
     "So that would put us where?" Ardrin asked.
     "The coast of Spain, I believe; I'm not too keen on my world
geography."
     "That's funny; I just met a Spaniard today.  Oh, I should tell
you about what Paul told me today too."
     Angel and Ardrin listened. "I was on a stair master in the gym,
when Paul came by, and I asked him where he was on those days where he
was missing.  Turns out he tried to walk out of the Village."
     "Oh, that was clever," Angel opined.
     "Anyway, he went into the hills, but didn't see any fences or
guards.  But as he went walking, there was a roaring sound, and...
this is going to sound crazy, but a huge white ball came bouncing out
of the bushes."
     "What?!" Ardrin said.
     "He said it was a big, white, roaring ball of jelly-like stuff.
Damndest thing."
     "It certainly does.  What did this big jelly belly do?"
     "It rolled onto him and smothered him.  I guess he couldn't
outrun it.  Thing is, I was outside that day, and heard the roaring,
and when I asked someone what it was, they said it was Rover."
      Ardrin still looked incredulous. "A big bouncing jelly ball.
Security."
     Janie shrugged. "That's what he said."
     "I think I'd keel over laughing before it got me."
     "I bet it's not that funny when it's after you.  What happened
afterwards?"
     "He didn't get a chance to tell me.  But after he'd left, I found
this big Spaniard who doesn't speak much English, and played Kosho
with him."
     "Kosho?"
     "Daft game here," Janie explained. "You bounce on trampolines and
try to knock the other guy into a pool."
     "Sounds strange."
     "Yeah, but the fact that this Spanish guy didn't know much
English tells you he was new here."
     "Janie, it takes a long time to learn a language.  He may have
been here for months.  Long enough to have learned about Kosho,
certainly.  I don't think we should try to make contact with him."
     "I didn't think we should, but if he's Spanish..."
     "Janie, there are a large number of Indian people here, as well
as Russians, Americans, Africans of various stripes, and many others.
I don't think we could ever tell where we are by the population."
     This silenced Janie, who sat and stared at the shower drain in
evident frustration. "We need more information."
     Ardrin smirked. "You won't get it."
     "By hook or by crook, we will," Angel said, with narrowed eyes.
     It was a tense little laugh, but probably the first real laugh
any of them had had since arrival.  "Gee," Janie said, "I wonder how
long it'll take them to haul us all in for electroshock?"
     "I'd give them about a day.  All I know is, tomorrow I'm going
back to the town council and find out how I can get re-harmonized, or
whatever they call it."
     "Giving up on it?" Ardrin raised an eyebrow.
     "Not at all.  But sitting around without power or food isn't
accomplishing anything.  Just so it doesn't involve being nice to any
of those sodding bastards."
     "Just smile and lie, Angel.  Smile and lie."
     "I'll do my best.  Now, Janie... do you have any food at all in
your flat?"
     "Oh, I've got some cheese and biscuits, and milk to drink."
     "That sounds absolutely scrumptious.  Would you mind?"
     "Not at all."
     A late dinner was had, with many crude, coarse, politically
incorrect jokes flying around the table.  Angel didn't seem to mind in
the least any more, and even made a few herself.  Janie, of course,
had a formidable battery of Yiddish jokes (Angel now knew why you
never ask what other parts of the matzoh are used in soup), and even
Ardrin's hopelessly sexist collection garnered a lot of laughs.
     After curfew had rung, and they'd retired to their rooms to be
shut in for the night, the sound of a helicopter landing was heard
from the concrete slab on the far side of the chess lawn.  Out of
their windows, they could see it was a big helicopter, probably of a
military make, but there were no visible insignia.  A few boxes were
unloaded, and then what looked like a person on a stretcher.  Whoever
it was didn't seem to be moving.


Daniel Parsons                                             Brandi Weed
                   Questions or comments to parsons@indigo.ucdavis.edu
        Available for ftp from ftp.cs.pdx.edu, in /pub/frp/stories/SLN