Kenneth Edward Hart

A New Jersey author

Third Life (Part 2)

by

Edward Kenning sat quietly in his chair and waited for his show to be over. One of the advantages of his skin and headset was total recall. It gave you the ability to actually re-experience things that happened in MetaCafé. If it was a great experience, you could relive it a thousand times, if you wanted to. Each time would be just as vibrant in your mind; what you felt, what you saw, what you tasted, what you heard was all there; fresh as the first time. It could be a dangerous activity because you might not want to stop being there.
When the show was over, he took off his skin and headset. He was surprisingly fit. He stretched. His body relaxed back down from its of state mega-awareness. But she had not vanished from in back of his eyes. He was tempted to put his skin and headset back on, but he didn’t. His body wanted to run. His body wanted to shed the excess of sensation that Edward had allowed to build inside. He went into his private gym and ran on the no impact device that created the feeling that he was running on air, that he could fly. An hour later, he stopped to drink, shower and eat.
She would come back again, and he couldn’t wait. He knew her. They had melded. He could feel her inside of him. He could still feel her arms around his legs. He could still taste that orgasmic kiss. It was a blissful reverie, because he knew he would see her again. He felt the urge to return to her, even when he was alone. He wondered if the meld had transferred into her new body. He could not know unless he asked her, unless she was had maintained the meld.
The voice he had installed on his communication device was hers. She didn’t know it. It was a little secret that he kept to himself. Her voice said, “We have a high priority message with attachment from Beyond Multiple Lives.”

Edward sat back down to watch and read and listen. Her voice began to read to him. “As we have discussed previously, the interspecies injection research is continuing and we are reaching out to you to ascertain your level of continued interest.”
Edward smiled. It was a dimpled smile that showed the experienced lines on his face. The message continued in her voice. “Our challenges are currently two-fold. Injection into a creature in captivity has proven to create a mental depression. Release into an uncontrolled environment is still considered too dangerous to the client. We have yet to meet the challenges of consciousness degradation.”
This was the migration process that translated interspecies injection into a form that humans could understand. After some of the first tests, recipients exhibited a reluctance to return to human form. This phenomenon was named migratory disfunction.
The message continued. Quite cheerfully, Roselynne’s voice said, “You qualify for acceptance into the program. You have reached and exceeded the minimum length of stay in your current body. We need to hear from you within the next twelve months in order to maintain your level of interested recipient.
He had applied for the program after she left her second life. Now she was back in his life, but for how long?
Dolphins lived an average of forty years. They were still atop the ocean’s food chain, if you didn’t count people. It was the species that Edward was considering.
He laughed as he pictured himself telling Roselynne that he was considering becoming a dolphin.
Roselynne had not removed her skin and headset. She was reexperiencing her old body and memories from her second life. Did she like her second life body more than her current one? That might be. He loved everything about that body, except for the illnesses that accompanied it. She had felt both betrayed and redeemed by it. She had met him in it. She had fallen in love with him in it. He worshipped it in a way that she knew was unlikely to ever be found again.
She slipped out of her skin and felt that stiffness. In her new body, she could run again and not be winded and not feel weakened by the exertion. She remembered when he had her run wearing a stimulation girdle. Running and orgasming simultaneously had been one of the most intense sexual experiences of her life. While she was running and being stimulated, he was whispering in her ear.
The next day, her chirpy British voice announced that there was a call from Lew.
“Hi,” she said with a genuine smile.
“Would you like to go for a walk?” asked Lew.
The walk had become a sort of code for him saying that he wanted to see her. That he needed her. It was exciting. Roselynne looked down at the sweat stains on her shirt. She had gotten up early and gone for another run. “I just need about 30 minutes to get cleaned up,” said Roselynne.
“I’ll see you then,” said Lew.
Before she showered, she packed her skin and headset back neatly into her closet. She felt a pang as she closed the closet door. She looked over at Laurie. “We’re all going out,” she said.
Laurie wagged her tail and was excited. Roselynne smiled and said, “I’m excited too.”
Two days later, Roselynne was back in her skin and headset. She wandered in an hour before his show was supposed to begin. Ed was there as she knew he would be. He was alone. Roselynne smiled. He wasn’t always alone. He was recording his backup tape introductions. The songs, themselves, could just be slotted in, but his audience expected him to produce a theme.
She used to help him produce themes for the shows. That was when she learned how he created extended metaphors as part of the musical themes of his shows. She loved metaphors because they kept opening up new possibilities; they kept surprising her.
“Hi,” said Roselynne.
Edward turned to her with a huge smile of delight on his face. She felt his smile ripple through her like liquid.
“Wow, hi”
“May I sit with you?” asked Roselynne. She knew that she could, and she also knew her asking thrilled him. It was who she was and why she did it.
Edward Kenning took his bag from off the chair next to him, the chair closest to him, and said, “I’m happy to see you.”
She walked over slowly, letting his eyes drink her in and then she sat, hands folded, looking at his DJ board, sitting up straight, their knees almost touching.
Edward said, “You really look well in your body. Do you feel good about it? Have there been any problems?”
When he spoke, she raised her eyes to his. For a second, she bathed in the shared gaze. “Thank you, E.” It was her pet name for him. “Everything is fine. No injection problems so far. But there were none at this point last time either. So, just keeping my fingers crossed, I guess, and enjoying while I can.”
“Good,” he grinned and then he said, “That’s great.”
“How are you?” she said.
“Oh, you know me, crazy as always.”
“You aren’t crazy,” she said softly, feeling that tenderness that he aroused in her again.
“OK,” he almost blushed for her in his self-deprecating way. “Profoundly different,” he laughed. “Will you accept that?”
Roselynne thought, that made sense. He was really different. A kind of different that reached deep in her and grew.
“I’ve been thinking about dolphins.”
“Dolphins?” said Roselynne. She felt herself grinning. “Why have you been thinking about dolphins?”
He met her eyes. Current was open between them. “I’m thinking of becoming one.”
Roselynne’s mouth dropped open. She didn’t even swim and he was thinking of becoming a dolphin? Even in 2059, it was an absurd idea. She even almost giggled as she heard herself say, “Why would you want to become a dolphin?”
Edward laughed with her. There was delight in his eyes at her reaction to the possibility. He knew what she was feeling. “When you got this new body, Lynne, did you keep your meld with me.?”
“I did,” said Roselynne. “I told you about your voice last time.”
“The voice is only part of it,” said Edward softly.
Roselynne felt tears. “I know.”
Then he did what he did. He pivoted back. He wanted to make her smile. “Dolphins are highly intelligent, social and polygamous. They have sex for the passion and magic of it.”
Roselynne laughed. “Of course, you would love that!”
“And they form unique bonds that transcend their pod socialization.”
His face was serious now and she felt very close to him. Roselynne said, “I would be sad if you became a dolphin. I would never see you.”
“I’m not at all sure that I am going to do it. I’m really not. It’s a radical decision. But Lynne?” he paused. “There is a new meld. A stronger one. You could visit and be there with me anytime you wanted. I don’t know what it would be like. I don’t know if I would be the same, but I believe that I would still want you there with me, or at least able to visit when you wanted.”
Roselynne felt overwhelmed. That was impossible. Then she had a thought that started in her brain and made its way to her eyes. He noticed its flicker and said, “What is it?”
“Would it go both ways?”
Edward nodded. “Yes, of course. Actually, it might be lifesaver for my humanity. I hadn’t thought of that.”
“What do you mean?” she didn’t quite understand.
“If doing this became too much, visiting you, for me, would be like time in a safe harbor.”
Roselynne laughed hard. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

Then it was time for his show to begin. Roselynne looked up and saw people coming in. “Time to work,” she said and squeezed the top of his knee softly.
“Are you staying?” he asked.
Roselynne smiled. “For a little while. I’m pretty tired.”
That night, Roselynne did something that she had not done since this new life began. She slept in her skin. There was no headset, but all of the sensations were there.
She drifted off into a dream. She was going up and down on a seesaw, but the person she was riding with kept changing. There was delight in the changes; there was confusion in the changes.
When she woke, she peeled off her skin and showered, quietly.
Reconciling this was going to be difficult. The easy choice was to run away or charge into one of what seemed to be her two options. She needed to learn more about melding.
When she and Edward had melded, she felt his strength first. She felt him when she forced herself to eat. She felt it when she forced herself to do the breathing exercises that he promised her over and over would work. Maybe that wasn’t when it first happened. Maybe it was when they spoke and his voice entered her. The way they could talk, maybe that was when. But the real hard maybe was that maybe it was when they fucked.
It was like they couldn’t stop doing that. It was like they wanted it more and more, each and every time it happened. It was when he started making her feel good about herself and her sexual desires. Roselynne felt herself flush. That’s when she’d first felt it.

Roselynne contacted Multiple Lives and asked for a few moments with someone who was expert in melding. Some hours later, a screen as large as one of her walls, that contained 3D capacity, was projected in front of her. She spoke to Dr. Abagail Whitesmith. She a smallish woman with soft red hair and an easy way. They each drank tea as they spoke.
Roselynne relaxed and said honestly, “I know that I wanted to be as close to him as I possibly could get when we melded. But we are at a crossroads now and I’m unsure about whether I want this meld removed, deepened, or somehow changed. It’s past time that I learn more about what this is inside of me.” She kind of smiled, she kind of laughed and looked sad all at once. She felt all of these things simultaneously.
Abagail gave a long moment for the impact of Roselynne’s words to settle in the air. A moment when a client sometimes added an additional thought, or a desire. Then she said, “Lets start with what melding is. It is a serious ritual, particularly in the Multiple Lives Program. Neural transmitters are synced. People experience each other on the level of synapse. A joining, like a wedding, but deeper. As that meld strengthened, parts of them flowed, like electricity, into each other. A meld is not a static implant of some kind. It grows. It weaves its way into the core of you.”
Roselynne was stunned. She almost stammered. “How can something like that be taken out of you?”
Dr. Whitesmith gave an inwardly reflective sigh and said, “It can’t but the memory of its source can. We can make it so that you no longer remember the source and will naturally incorporate what you’ve gained from the meld, and will likely keep gaining from it. But you’ll forget that person you melded with.”
Roselynne gasped, “Totally?”
“Yes.”
“Won’t that leave a hole in me?”
Abagail smiled softly. “You know the saying, ‘Nature abhors a vacuum.’?”
Roselynne nodded.
Dr. Whitesmith continued, “Something else will fill you. We don’t know exactly what, but we can trace it in retrospect.”
It took Roselynne a few minutes to speak. Several times she seemed about to, and then when she had no words, it passed.
“What are your feelings on, we call it erasure now instead of removal?” asked Abagail.
“My first thought is that I would bleed out,” said Roselynne. Her laugh held no mirth.
Dr. Whitesmith smiled warmly. “That won’t happen.”
“I don’t want him erased,” said Roselynn resolutely. “It sounds too cruel.” Then another though occurred. “Would he forget me too?”
“No,” said Abagail, “he would not.”
Now she was crying again, but she was British and grabbed hold of that mast. She stopped herself and asked. “What are the next generation of melds like?”
Abagail Whitesmith’s face lit up. She had been one of the pioneers in this field. “They allow for shared presence. They add that dimension. In your case, your meld is how old?”
“Seven years.”
“Your connections have grown passed the point where you would feel anything different. There might be added clarity. There would be shared presence.”
Roselynn nodded. The tears had dried on her face because she refused to wipe them. She flashed on E kissing them away.
“Is it possible to have a meld with more than one person?”
“It is, but those are group melds. You would have to include the person with whom you had already melded.” When Dr. Whitesmith talked about policy her intonation became more professional.
Roselynne nodded.
“Is the more I can help you with today, Roselynne?”
“I can’t think of anything right now but can we talk again if I need to?”
“I’ve sent my contact information. Someone will always get back to you within a day on the chance that I am unavailable, but I am pretty available to my people.”
“Am I your people?”
Dr. Abagail Whitesmith smiled and said warmly, “I facilitated your initial meld.”
Roselynne said excitedly, “Then you know him?”
“Not really. I read the notes in your file after you called, and saw that I had done it.”
Roselynne seemed a little disappointed. “Thank you so much,” said Roselynne.
“There is one other question that I have?”
“Yes?” Abagail had closed her notepad.
“Is it possible to fall in love with someone you haven’t melded with?”
“People have been falling in love for a very long time, long before there were melds.”
“While the person is melded to someone else?” Roselynne was pressing.
“Love seems to find a way, doesn’t it?” said Abagail.
“I don’t know,” said Roselynne. That sounded like a saying on a greeting card.
Days went by. She spoke to Lew and he wasn’t snarky about it, but she felt that his attitude was questioning why Edward’s name was coming up again.
“I was wondering if you would talk to him,” said Roselynne.
“The bloke is comin’ back here?” asked Lew is his Scouse accent.
“I was hoping we could all talk,” said Roselynne feeling uneasy now. “Maybe we could go where he is?”
“To America?” he asked, with a definite lack of enthusiasm.
“To the Meta Cafe,” said Roselynne quietly. “I think the two of you would like each other.”
Lew shook his shaved head. “That’s his world, not mine.”
If she thought about it before she said it, she probably would not have, but she did. “It was my world too.”
He didn’t answer for a long time. “If he was here, I would meet him for you. Can’t say I am anxious to meet up with that particular American.”
Roselynne felt her temperature rising. There was his voice. “My greatest fear is that you try to be pleasing that you lose sight of what you really want.”
“That particular American is important to me,” she said. There was that strength again. That self-confidence.
Lew tried to be accommodating. “Couldn’t we do a regular call in the regular world?”
Roselynne smiled. He didn’t like Meta. She could understand that. Lots of people didn’t like it. But he was going to do it for her. It warmed her heart.
The call was fairly easy to arrange. She shot Edward a message and his response was almost immediate. It read: Just tell me when.
Lew ran his hand over the top of his almost perfectly smooth scalp. “I’d like to take a shower and shave, Rosey.”
She messaged back asking if they could do it in an hour. Edward’s answer was yes.
While Lew showered, Roselynne stood in front of her capture mirror. She was only wearing one of Lew’s t-shirts. That wouldn’t be fair. She changed into her jeans and one of her own shirts. She was nervous. It had been a long time she had seen Edward outside of Meta. She wondered if he had changed. She wondered if his hair was still halfway down his back.
In world, they had spent a huge amount of time naked. It the regular world, she had adopted Lew’s phrasing for it and other things. It came as the result of their time together. It was Lew’s influence on her. In the regular world, Edward was shy about showing his body, which was tall and lean.
Lew came out of her bathroom, dressed with his freshly shaved head glistening from the pure Aloe moisturizing agent that he used the three times a week that he shaved his head. She hoped his head didn’t glow from it during the call.
The natural place to sit was on her couch. She wondered about that. If she sat next to him on the couch, he would take her hand or put his arm around her. That wouldn’t be fair. She pulled her rocking chair next to the couch and sat in it. Lew sat on the part of the couch closest to her.
The call started to go through. Edward was nervous. He heard the facsimile of her voice say, “You have a call from Roselynne.”
Edward said, “Full screen.” In an instant there they were, sitting in her flat. He caught a glimpse of Laurie, curled up on her dog bed like a disinterested spectator. He saw the vase that he had bought for her on the mantle and next to it he recognized the covers of three of his books, standing up on an angle that leaned against the vase.
Roselynne saw that little had changed about his study. There was art everywhere. The furniture was classical an old. Edward was sitting in his fan-back Chippendale antique chair. Next to him was his guitar, upright in its holder. She was nervous. This could be very good or very bad. It was too late to change her mind now.
“Hello Lew, hi Roselynne.” Edward smiled. His hair was even longer. It spread out over his shoulders and hung down beyond them.
“Hi E,” said Roselynne.
Lew wasn’t saying anything. He nodded a hello. Roselynne looked at him and he said, “Nice to meet you,” in his clipped Scouse tones.
Edward grinned for them. “We aren’t going to divide her up like a conquered country, are we?”
Roselynne laughed. Lew smiled. He said, “that’s a Martin, right?”
Edward looked at his guitar, “Sure is. I can play something for you if you like.”
Lew was yet to play for Roselynne although he did tell her that he played guitar.
“Maybe another time,” said Roselynne. She did not think she could stand to hear Edward play and sing for her right now. She thought about all the nights when she was almost too sick to sit up that he had sang and played her to sleep.
Lew said, “What kind of music do you fancy?”
“Mostly things I’ve written,” said Edward. His knowledge of music was encyclopedic but now was not the time.
Roselynne thought music might be the key to get the talking. “E does music shows in the Meta Café.”
“Never been there,” said Lew.
“I have cut back. I’ve only been doing two shows a week, on Friday and Saturday nights, but that might change.”
Lew said, “I work on those nights.”
Edward nodded. There was an awkward silence. Roselynne tried to fill it.
“Have you been writing anything lately?”
Edward looked at her with those hazel green eyes and said, “Not since you left.”
The words came like a jolt.
Roselynne said, “You’ll get back to it when there is a story to be told.”
“We’ll see,” said Edward. “You’re a cook, right Lew?”
“Food is my game,” said Lew.
“E lives on fish,” said Roselynne giggling.
Lew said, “Eh, the mercury fucks it over here. We serve a fish and chips dish for the old timers, but not much else.”
Edward was older than Lew, although because of Multiple lives, age truly had become unimportant. This wasn’t a catastrophe but she had hoped for more. She didn’t know what she expected. She wanted to see how she felt, and how she felt was nervous and self-conscious.
Then her chirpy voice announced that there was a call waiting from her mum. Roselynne looked at the time. She had been too nervous to remember. This was the time for her mom’s regular call. “I have a call E, it’s from my mom. What should I do?”
Lew stiffened. The question had not been directed at him.
“You should talk to your mom,” said Edward. “Don’t let a call from your mother go unanswered. We can speak another time.”
And then he was gone. The screen went black and the logo of her mother’s call waiting appeared in the middle of the screen. Maybe she had accomplished nothing, but maybe this had been good.
He looked sad. He wasn’t writing. Why did she feel responsible?
After the call, there were weeks with no word. Roselynne and Lew put the question of Edward somewhere on a back burner. He didn’t ask a lot of questions and she really wasn’t excited about trying to explain their relationship. For Lew it was a story of her past, not something for him to concern himself about.
For Roselynne, it was something she really didn’t need to talk about with him anymore. She had assuaged her guilt at having him in her head. She never told Lew about the meld with Edward; he really didn’t need to know about that.
One day while she was rubbing Laurie’s belly on her bed, the chirpy voice announced, “You have a message from Edward.”
Roselynn froze, her hand on Laurie’s belly. After a few seconds Laurie began moving her fore-paws, urging Roselynne to continue with her rubbing. Roselynne got off the bed. She didn’t want to get a message from Edward in the bed she was now sharing with Lew.
Tentatively, she said, “Play message.”
It was a video message and there he was. He was on their island, a little place in the middle of nothing with sand, blue water, a palm tree and a fire.
“I’ve decided to enter the program for inter-species transfusion. They have arranged a trial period for me in Meta, so that I can decide if I wish to do a complete injection. So, I really won’t be able to message you but I have arranged to swim around this island with some regularity. I think I would get a message if you left it here.”
Roselynne did not leave a message. There wasn’t really much she could say. She asked herself what she could possibly say to him. Should she say watch out for nets and killer sharks? Briefly, she wondered what kind of dolphin he had become.
Roselynne and Lew were on a holiday at Cardigan Bay in Wales. He loved long walks and she loved them because he did. They were walking hand in hand when Lew said, “Look out there, dolphins!”
Roselynne stopped walking and stared at the pod of dolphins as they swam off the coast. She found herself walking towards the water, she was wearing a blue and yellow swimsuit. It was a one piece with a blue background and yellow flowers, which she thought showed off her curves.
Like magic, in the instant, Roselynne knew that she could swim. She splashed into the water without her old fears and said, “Thank you Edward.”

Third Life

by

Third Life
Roselynn didn’t like looking in mirrors, even capture mirrors. There had been changes in her body and she did not think them flattering. But she was meeting Lew and she wanted to look her best for him. She stood there with a frown on her face as she assessed herself. She tugged at the fabric of her clothing. She wanted to get the hang of her shirt right. Then she turned and looked over her shoulder at her rear view. The jeans were tight fitting and accented the swell of her hips and the roundness of her bottom. The jeans held her firm.
A voice in her head said, “I always felt that a woman in a dress looked the most feminine.” She considered the voice. She heard it in her brain. She felt it in her heart. She couldn’t have it there right now. She squelched it.
“Not now,” she said to herself.
This was an important evening. It was a third evening date and it was going to result in the conversation. It had changed from the historical, third date expectations about sex. Now, it was a serious conversation about lives.
Roselynne clicked capture on the mirror and turned away from it. She waited the three seconds and then the mirror captured her image which it would only click away or store on her command. She studied it.
The voice again, “You have a beautiful ass.”
She smiled in spite of herself and then made that voice stop. She clicked the mirror and stood full-frontal and pushed her chest out. She forced herself to smile. It wasn’t her natural smile, the one that was often followed by giggling. It was a studied smile. She waited the three seconds and then examined the image, manipulating her facial muscles as she did.
Suppose he didn’t like this look? Suppose she should wear a dress. She asked for the time. A chippy British voice informed her that she had 85 minutes left on her timer. She could try the dress.
Seventy minutes later, after she tried the dress, discarded it and went back to the jeans, she applied her makeup. Just a hint of rouge to her cheeks, which she blended in and then some pale, pink lipstick that had a slight taste of tropical fruit that she knew he liked. She wanted him to enjoy the taste of her.
The chirpy voice said, “You have a call from Lew.”
“Hi,” she said sounding cheerful and not at all apprehensive.
“I should be coming by to collect you in about five minutes if you’ll be ready.”
She flushed, her cheeks became more pink. “Yes, I’ll be waiting.”
“Alright then,” he said.
“I’m excited,” she blurted.
She heard a soft laugh.
“I’m looking forward to tonight,” he answered.
He was preparing dinner. He was very good with food and that was impressive. Roselynne was not a great cook. She could bake but cooking was outside of her current interests. She always told herself that it was because cooking for one was no fun. She wondered if maybe that was going to change.
In 2059, immortality became possible but not for everyone. The world, that she hoped he also inhabited, was one that would allow a person to create a clone of himself or herself. They could age the clone and could inject into any point on the life continuum that they wished. It was the closest they would ever come to forever. It was almost like time travel. But the truth was that you could never go back, you could only go forward. It made it possible for a person to live many lives.
This was Roselynn’s third life. Her first had been a nightmare of mistakes and abuses. Although she wanted to forget it, there were scars. They weren’t on her body; they were inside of her. She hated them but could not rid herself of them.
Her second life had been better. There were times when she had thought that it was the only life that she ever wanted. There were times when she still felt that way, but she was ready for something new and there was no going back.
The voice again, “We are all in the same river but we need to flow with the currents. They will sweep us away if we don’t” Damn him! Why did he have to say such beautiful and impossible things.
That voice almost brought a tear to her eye but she made sure that didn’t happen. She didn’t want to ruin her makeup and what would Lew think if he saw that she had been crying. She did not want to bring her confusion to him. He was too nice for that. He didn’t deserve that. But how could she be honest and not tell him?
She told herself that he might have past lives too. She hoped that he was not a “one and doner.” Those people had resisted the notion multiple lives. They believed that God had given them one life and that it was an insult to their creator to want more. It was greedy.
Roselynne wondered if she was greedy. She didn’t want to be greedy, but she did want to be happy. Making this work was a way to happiness.
She waited. She heard his car approach and straightened herself one more time. Then she went outside to see Lew. She told herself she looked as good as she was going to look and then the voice.
“You are a beautiful woman inside and out. Any man would be lucky to have you. I am as lucky as I can be.”
It made her smile and then the smile vanished. She had to stop that voice. She did not know how. She did know how, but she was afraid to do it. There was a way to have it removed. Taken out of her. But that voice was a comfort. It gave her confidence. She wasn’t sure she could do this without that voice, and she wasn’t sure that she could do this with the voice. She felt stuck, but then she saw Lew and the smile that she had practiced in front of the mirror was now on her face. She could do this.
“You can do anything,” said the voice, but she didn’t listen.
Dinner was a surprise. She had expected he would cook, but he ordered take away Chinese. He said it was so they could both relax and talk.
Before she could work her way into the conversation Lew asked her right off, “Have you had other lives?”
She swallowed and flushed. It was gonna happen just like that?
“I have,” she said.
The voice again. It said, “Your turn.”
She hesitated. Her stomach flipped.
Her voice was smaller than she wanted, “Have you?”
Now it was his turn to hesitate. He said, “I hope to.”
Roselynne felt more confusion. He was young enough to want children. The law was that multi-lifers were not allowed to have children unless they had them in their first life. It was because of chromosomal degradation. The chromosomes were intact, but they did not pass on intact eggs and sperm. What was that going to mean?
Roselynn nodded. She wanted to ask the next question but she didn’t know how to phrase it. It was personal. She was always unsure about asking for personal information.
Lew studied her. Her medium length brown hair covered her face because she kept her head tilted slightly forward. But her face was a pretty one. Her body seemed so sensual when she moved. She was not stiff or jerky in her motions. He watched her take another long swallow of wine and noticed that she was drinking more than she was eating. He wondered if she liked to drink.
Roselynn heard the voice again. This time it said, “You only get to know the things that you are brave enough to ask.”
She listened that time. The voice was right. She felt that it usually was, but sometimes it was too difficult. She looked up and found eyes. They were kind eyes. He would understand her question.
Roselynn said, “Are you accepted?”
By the New Lives laws, he had to be accepted and the Commission was very choosy about new members. There was no way for them to approve everyone who wanted to enter the program. The birth rate had dropped. The Commission was dedicated to not having a negative birthrate. That meant that some people had to keep having babies.
“My application is still pending,” said Lew. “It has been for the last year.”
Roselynn wasn’t able to have children. She had developed a medical condition that could have been life threatening without the removal of her ability to reproduce. She had decided that she did not wish to store eggs for future use when she had the surgery. That condition and her artistic nature had smoothed the way for her. The Commission had categories of people who they thought would be best for the Multiple Lives Program. Artists were held in high esteem.
Then Lew said, “I already have two children.”
Roselynne smiled her natural smile, the one that brightened her face and seemed to create a glow that exuded warmth and interest. “Please tell me about them,” she said.
Lew explained that he had been married in a conventional relationship. He said that his children were living with his ex with whom he was on amicable terms. His ex had moved on and was with another partner. “They are 7 and 9 years old,” said Lew. “A boy named Zeke and a girl named Holly.”
She watched his face and looked for clues as he spoke about them. His eyes stayed kind but he was a little stingy with details. She was hoping that he would go on speaking. It would remove the necessity of her talking. She liked to listen more than she liked to talk. That was true with men anyway. With other women, she could be chatty and silly and gossip. She didn’t do that much around men. At least not all men. She listened for the voice, but this time it was silent. That was unnerving. She drank more wine.
Lew reached across the table for her hand. “Does that disturb you?”
His hands were larger than hers. Everyone’s hands were larger than hers, and she felt a rush at the feeling of physical contact with him.
There was the voice, “He’s arousing you.”
Roselynne wasn’t sure that she was ready to be aroused. She poured another glass of wine and drank what was more of a gulp than a swallow.
She wished that he had ordered chicken, but he hadn’t asked her what she would like. He had just ordered for them both. She liked that. It made her feel spoken for. She saw his eyes gaze downward to her breasts, and instinctively, she straightened so that he would like what he saw. Then the feeling of arousal again. She drank more wine.
The rest of the night was a blur. Roselynne got dizzy and then she got sick. Lew let her sleep it off in a spare room at his house. She woke mortified and sure that she had screwed everything up. She kept apologizing to him for ruining an important night. But then he said something that warmed her like the summer sun.
“If you were that nervous maybe you weren’t ready for the experience.”
That was something the voice from her other life would have said. It was comforting and unsettling at the same time.
There were guidelines that were supposed to be followed by participants in the Multiple Lives program. Each life could be as long as a forty-year commitment, but extenuating circumstances could change that. That had happened with her first life. That was what caused her to enter the program. Usually, a person as young as she had been was not eligible.
She came from a religious family. At first, they had not been supportive of her decision, but their love for her was stronger than their beliefs. They came to accept their differences in approach. It ceased to be important when they saw how much more at ease Roselynne had become in her body.
The River Mersey flows into the Irish Sea. Roselynne and Lew walked along the sand dunes at Crosby Beach. Physically and emotionally their relationship was deepening. They had simply detoured around the rest of the conversation and talked about what was happening at the moment. The talk was easy and felt good. She had to look up at him as they walked and she liked that.
Lew said, “How does it feel to have other lives?”
Roselynne considered. She still wasn’t sure how much she could share. How much she was able to share… “It was awful, it is wonderful. It is complicated.” Internally, she gasped. She had used the present tense. Maybe he wouldn’t pick up on it. But she did.

Lew didn’t seem to hear anything unusual. Most people wouldn’t, but that voice had taught her to pay attention to every word. She was almost disappointed that he didn’t notice.

They held hands and laughed as Roselynne’s little pup Laurie wagged her tail. She ran to the water until it touched her paws and then romped back, as if to them about the experience. On the fourth or fifth try, Laurie got brave and plunged in. Roselynne felt an automatic pang of worry. She didn’t swim. She watched hard and hoped Laurie was better at it.

“The other lives stay with you. You don’t forget them. It is almost like you are still living them but you aren’t.”

Along the beach there was a song playing from a small radio. She knew the song. It was called, Love Knows. She couldn’t stop the tear. This was crazy. She was happy. What was she crying about?
When a multi-lifer moved to a new life, it was often a preference to change the people from the former life. Earlier, those who had chosen to return as children realized that they found the loss of control destabilizing. It caused emotional issues. Most now settled on twenty-five as the point at which they wished to restart everything.

While she did not want anything at all as a memory from life number one, she still decided to keep those memories. She told herself it was so that she did not make the same mistakes again.

Richard had been brutal with her. He had convinced her that she was nothing, isolated her from her family and friends. He took delight in watching her suffer and struggle to please, which he never allowed her to think that she did. Those had been the worst five years of her lives. Then he kicked her to the curb, ruined her finances and left. She had to crawl home like a wounded animal. It frightened her about the world. It frightened her deeply. She saw herself crying shaking and screaming and each she saw it; it was like it was happening all over again.

That was when she started reading more about multiple lives. She was sure that she would never qualify. She had no opinion of herself of any value. Sure, she could draw a little and she loved designing little pieces of art. She did not see that they had much value. She even felt guilty about spending her time making them. Then she got sick and had a hysterectomy.

Her therapist was the first person to tell her about her opportunities for multiple lives. While she was recovering in the hospital, she was given the necessary tests and interviews. To her astonishment, she was accepted.

She explained all of this to Lew who sat there serious and attentive. His face darkened when she talked about what Richard had done to her. She felt his body coil and muscles tighten. It was a very strong male reaction and it thrilled her.

“That’s a sad story,” said Lew. “I don’t know how anyone could get satisfaction from treating you that way.”

Roselynne bit hard on her lip to keep from saying anything. Then she said vaguely, “He was mean inside in his heart.”

“What was your second life like?” asked Lew.

Roselynne felt an instant hot flush rush through her. “Can we talk about that another time?” she asked. “I think I have been in the sun long enough.”

They held hands as they walked along the shore. The sand dunes led to the sea. For a while, she stared at out the sea and what was across it. Then she looked up at Lew and smiled. They kissed. She molded her body to his. She held her mouth open in a small O and invited his tongue. They were excited to get back to her flat as fast as possible. Laurie now accepted when she was being locked out of the bedroom. She curled up on the couch and waited. The love making was tender and sweet.

Afterwards they ate food that he had prepared and stored in her refrigerator while they were out. While he readied the food he said, “Now would be a good time to tell me about life number two.”

She smiled and said, “If you really want to hear, I will.”

Lew shaved a carrot and said, “I really want to hear.”

“It started out great, but then those fears that I hadn’t eliminated were still really strong. Stronger than I expected them to be. I was afraid. I had a subsistence income that was sort of guaranteed by Multiple Lives, but it was barely enough to get by. I just couldn’t bring myself to go out without being apprehensive and a bit frightened. I went into MetaCafe.”

MetaCafe was the current iteration of what used to be known as virtual reality. Now they were almost indistinguishable. There was taste, tactile sensation, and smell along with sight and sound and an avatar which was incredibly lifelike.

“I met a man there. I found him attractive, intimidating, and handsome. He is smart and a really creative person. We bonded in a very special way and then I got slammed by a long-term side effect of injection that is rare. My blood stopped recognizing itself as being mine.
I was very sick. I needed a lot of transfusions and eventually stem cell therapy.”

Lew interrupted. “I thought that a terminal illness was a reason for another life? I thought that was guaranteed.”

“It is,” said Roselynne. “But the definition of terminal has become very bureaucratic. They really require that you stay for at least ten years, like it or not.”

“I didn’t realize that was the way it was,” said Lew. His face showed doubt.

“This man stayed with me the entire time. He became a huge part of my world and my life. He helped me. He helped me so much!”

Roselynne felt her lip begin to quiver. Images, that were not images of where she was, were firing in her mind with the speed of a pulsar. She felt herself shake. She managed composure.

Roselynne said, “I’m sorry. I just got carried away by one of those runaway trams that can roar through your mind.”

Lew asked, “Did you ever meet this man for real?”

Roselynne involuntarily looked askance a moment and wanted to say that it was very real each time they met, but his voice again. “Don’t expect other people to understand.”

“He came to England and I couldn’t manage it.”

“He came to England to meet you and you said yes and then, no?” Lew was drawn in by the story.

“That’s pretty much what happened,” said Roselynne. Then she added, “He was doing other things here as well.”
And now it was time for Lew to leave for work. They kissed. He said a sweet goodbye to Laurie.

Roselynne worried about what she had said and about what she hadn’t said. Everything that she told him was true. She had just left out quite a few important details.

In the back of Roselynne’s closet, she found the things that she had decided to keep from her second life. She stared at her box of toys with fondness. They had been so important. Then she found her Metaskin. It was a thin form fitting layer that almost became a second skin. Once it was on, you could barely feel it. She put on her head set and did something that she had debated doing since her third life began. She entered the place that had mostly been her world for the ten years that she had to keep her former body.

She knew where to find him. It was Saturday night and he would be playing music for other people. She went into the club and there he was. He wasn’t standing in back of his music table, which she found unusual. He always stood, but tonight he was sitting. Quietly, and from the corner she opened a private speaking line. She waited until a new song started and said simply, “Hi.”
The response was almost instant. His voice was soft, “Hi, beautiful flower.”

She waited, unsure of what to say. Then, he said, “This is a surprise I did not expect to see you. How are you? Is everything ok?”

She stammered. “I just missed you. I need to talk to you.”

He laid in the recorded tape he used when he wanted the show to continue, but needed to concentrate on something else. It would run an hour of songs that he had prepared for the occasion. Most of the patrons there would never know the difference between his live work and this live to tape that he regularly produced as a back-up.
“Come sit with me,” he said.

When she got closer, she found herself dropping to her knees and hugging his legs. “I missed you.”

“You don’t ever have to miss me,” he said. “I made it so you could always find me if you needed to.”
“How do I do this?” Roselynne said. “How do I get this new man to love me the way that you do?”

She told him about Lew, but she could not bring herself to let go of his legs until he took her arms away and sat her on his lap. She could feel the warmth of him on her skin. She inhaled his scent. The sound of his voice was doing what it always did.

She asked, “If I brought him here, would you talk to him?”

“If that’s what you really want,” he said.

“I don’t know what I really want,” she said. “I want him but I am so confused and I hear your voice in my head all the time. Would you talk to him for me?”

They had this talk so many times as he prepared her for her third life. She knew that he hated seeing her go. They both knew that she should. She needed this new life and now she was ready for it.

He kissed her. It was a long slow kiss that started out tender and then became deeply passionate. She felt it all through her skin like electricity. She had wanted to feel it again and then out of nowhere, it happened. An orgasm that was both sweet and so ferociously strong that it vibrated her entire being.

He felt it as the spasm came in waves. Its aftershocks run through her body from just that single kiss. Then he stood her up, flattened his palm and slapped her bottom with a sting that was followed by that warmth that she missed, that she craved.
“You could teach him,” said Roselynne aware that she was asking him to do something that would be very difficult for him.

He smiled. “I think you should teach him.”

“I can’t. No one understands me the way that you do.”

“You can. You can do anything.”

“Can I please keep coming to see you?”

She could not see the tears in his eyes. “Roselynne, there is absolutely no one in this world that I would rather see.”

Astrology

by

Astrology

The alignment of stars is a perception from a perspective
Like horizons at sea
Capped beyond my knowing influence
Mementos of light’s reflection mingling with metaphor
Condiments of preservation

Patterns

by

Patterns
I see patterns in my faith. During my life, I ‘ve had faith in the existence of God. I’ve dismissed the existence of God. I’ve believed in the gods and I’ve forsaken the gods. I’ve believed in people and then discovered their frailties and inconsistencies. I’ve had faith in places. I’ve had faith in teaching. I have also learned that those faiths too are ephemeral. I notice my patterns of acceptance and rejection. It did not seem possible to have faith in myself without some kind of aid. Standing alone would require the inconceivable attainment of viewing myself as my own leader, my own true north. In the vast expanse of life that seems inconceivable.
Cynicism is a faith in irony. The belief that outcomes are always twisted. A temporary surety that leaves a void which rebels against the rule of giving up. That was my farewell to cynicism.
When the stars were so far away, we invented stories about their patterns in the night sky. When technology brought us closer, we perceived an endless array of repeating patterns, and gave names to the types of universes. We only see what we are able to understand. The patterns are reflections of us; what we are capable of perceiving. They are almost mirrors.
Awareness searches for connection. It needs a ratification of purpose. Does this come from its temporary nature? Is it because I cannot perceive the world without me?
Cave paintings weren’t made by me but I feel their search. I’ve seen the geometry of the pyramids, almost like beacons. I’ve stepped into a room and instantly become different. I’ve believed this from the distance of time. World views are looking glasses into us. All those expressions forming the patterns of who we are, of our migrations and hibernations.
I had this dream that I was in London but had become separated and could not remember where I needed to go. I tried to describe where I needed to be. I solicited directions. I walked in widening circles. Each time someone said, “Do you mean The Tower of London, or Buckingham Palace, or Trafalgar Square,” I realized that was not the place at all. It didn’t sound right and I had this feeling that I would recognize it as soon as I heard it. In some ways, that describes my patterns of faith. Would I recognize my destination?
Sometimes we find joy in the discovery or creation of patterns because it brings insight. Appreciating the beauty of a braid and knowing how to make one are very different experiences. It is not unlike appreciating music and making it. Writing a story and reading one. Viewing a painting and painting. They are different forms of the same magic.
Belief in magic opens a door to the possibility of eternity. It is not exactly a magic trick that is dependent on slight of hand. It is more than the making of sausage. It is closer to what brings grace into a dance. It can be the instant of harmony. In those moments, existence seems smiling and beneficent. Is that more than just a pattern that is the reflection of me?

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