*****
Stalling noted the car decelerate moments before it came to a gentle stop. At first, fearful of people perceiving him as a hypocrite, he balked at the idea of constructing a private rail between his office and home. The mission of Alterian Enterprises was to provide equal privileges and quality of life for every person on Antium. How could he flaunt such luxury when so many could not even begin to imagine such privilege?
But it was hard to argue with Antone's reasoning. Propwing, while taking only a few minutes longer, was a security risk just not worth taking anymore. He was relentless in his defense of the expense. "Too many of the Church's adversaries have died in accidents. The statistics are appalling.” He would remind Stalling of this reality with relentless frequency.
In the end, Stalling deferred to Antone the first of many major decisions he would place in the man's hands, recognizing his instinct as more than just being paranoid. Not to mention, the statistics of lethal accidents for those who opposed, open or discreet, any facet of the C.O.S. rule for the past century truly was staggering. They had never faced opposition like Stalling and none would deny his “accidental” death as an ideal solution to solve growing conflict.
The prospect of getting more out each day appeased the philanthropist in Stalling and helped him align the expense with his ultimate objective. He reminded himself daily, once they realized their mission, everyone could experience the same privilege if so desired.
Not until eight years ago, when he and Lorissa hit a major rough patch in their relationship, did he discover the true value in his ability to arrive at his home in sixty seconds. Stalling shivered at the memory, recalling how close he had come to pushing away the most important person in his life. Without Lorissa, none of it matters.
A soft hiss filled the air-compressed cabin accompanied by the assured hum of hydraulics as the car’s double doors parted. He walked down the short hallway, through another set of double doors and entered his home.
Built upon a granite cliff overlooking the Baltif Ocean, his home was comprised of three levels. The magnarail station was located in the east corner of the second level. With fifteen-foot high ceilings, the open space was tiered off into three living spaces that ascended east to west. Two masculine titanium columns demarcated each tier while dividing the glass paneled north wall into three equal sections.
Stalling walked over to the large hearth carved into the east wall and turned his back to the fire. As his backside warmed, he looked about the comfortable lower room and allowed the creature comforts to ease his mind. The light from the fire made the comfortable room inviting. A dimmed chandelier centered in the gourmet kitchen located in the far side of the upper west room added comfort and, presently, the only other source of light.
Denoted as "his room", Stalling had done little in the way of decorating the comfortable den. Lorissa knew what he liked better than he did himself. Sure, the mantle housed a few keepsakes he had collected from his travels over the years. The brass sculpture of two intertwined dragons, resting on the rustic coffee table centered in the room, was his favorite contribution. The debate if in battle to the death or the throws of deep passion, a topic of conversation with guests that never ceased to get old. The rest was all Lorissa: the elegant, handcrafted rugs, furniture, tables and antique lamps, a pleasing blend of brass, rich hardwood and supple leather accented by an array of burgundy, black and beige.
He fought the compulsion to head upstairs and find his wife. Granted, his time was limited. He had an hour, tops, before he had to get back and prepare. With all that had happened today, and all that had yet to occur, Stalling’s need for Lorissa had never been stronger. Still, he delayed for a few more minutes.
Honesty was the one component key to the success of his relationship with Lorissa. Honesty with each other was never hard. In fact, the indisputable trust in the other, experienced in their very first encounter, was the foundation they had built a beautiful and meaningful relationship upon for the past two decades. Honesty with himself, that was the substance determining the growth of their relationship. There was no hiding their true, innermost feelings from each other. It was when he stopped arguing with her innate ability to read his heart and instead embrace it, that their relationship truly began to evolve.
Stalling gazed upon the ocean, his thoughts lost within approaching waves reflected in the early moonlight. I know enough about myself to recognize this twisting stitch in my chest is the physical byproduct of not being honest. Lorissa will help me sound out rest.
Acknowledging that fact will have to suffice, Stalling concluded as he crossed the room. He went up the three steps separating the den from the middle room; the dining room more often than not doubled as a conference room. Turning toward the polished granite staircase carved into the middle of the southern wall, he walked parallel to the high back leather chairs placed along the long, mahogany table centered in the room.
Focused on finding Lorissa, he almost missed the small bucket filled with ice and an assortment of his favorite ales placed at the end of the table. He gauged by the beads of sweat around the bucket and ring of water at the bottom, it had been set out about an hour or so ago.
How did she know I would come home?
He had made the decision only moments ago, forcing a reluctant Antone to take a few minutes to recharge. "We won't be home this weekend and once we complete the final step in our mission, nothing will be the same. Marlene worries about you enough. Give her the peace of mind she needs. But more important, take a moment to remind yourself why you have made so many sacrifices over the years."
While the dynamics of their respective relationships were different, the advice he gave Antone was just as applicable to him. Stalling's purpose came into focus the moment Lorissa entered his life. Her impact on his life was a menagerie of intangibles that Stalling stopped trying to label and compartmentalize a long time ago. Their connection spanned countless lifetimes, the details behind the role each played for the other long forgotten and immaterial to the present. What matters, Stalling thought while gazing at the glistening bucket, is the growth of that connection.
He grabbed a bottle, twisted the cap off, and took a long swig. Never one to imbibe, drawn more to quality over quantity, the protein shake the only meal that afternoon, Stalling’s edge dulled as the cold beverage slid down his throat and coated his empty gut. Feeling the weight of the world a little less, Stalling went up the steps in search of Lorissa.
Stalling entered the greenhouse and searched for her along the main path dividing the rectangular structure. Stifled by the pervasive humidity, he shed his light sweater as he walked down the wide path, looking left to right at each intersecting sub path. Halfway down the acre long enclosure, he paused and peered at the double doors located at the end of the path. He wondered if his industrious wife would be out in the arboretum this late in the evening.
Wiping his brow, moist with fresh perspiration, he tried not to worry about the potential of losing what little time he had searching for Lorissa in the small forest. A place she fondly reminded him was an arboretum full of Antium's rarest species of tree, bush and plant. The sudden appreciation for the dramatic change in climate within the greenhouse helped to ease his concerns. It had been a long winter. Spring was late in coming and Stalling, his demanding schedule reaching new heights over the past four months, had neglected his need to be one with nature for too long.
The tropical temperatures generated by the greenhouse stirred his somatic senses, giving rise to lethargic pleasures. Combined with a flux of alien aromas invading his nostrils, along with the strong ale sitting on his empty stomach, Stalling enjoyed the high for what it was.
The sound of pottery shattering against the fine graveled flooring of the greenhouse, followed by a "Damn it!" come from his far left just ahead. He Trotted up to the next intersection and looked down the narrow path, finding Lorissa at the far end. Her back to him, she squatted on one leg with the other extended to the side
as she shoveled top soil with both hands into a small cart.
Stalling started down the path in haste. As he did so, he watched his wife work, neither concealing nor announcing his approach. Sweat stained her white tank top, spanning the width of her shoulders, tapering down to the small of her back. Snug, cut just above the thigh, khaki shorts smeared with a myriad of dirt shades, accentuated toned legs, shaped by countless hours of similar labor. She had salvaged what top soil she could from the broken pot splayed in multiple pieces along the path at her feet. As she stood up and wiped her forehead with the back of her worn glove, she turned to study a set of tall plants to her left.
Elation at seeing the soft contours of Lorissa’s profile quickly replaced the disappointment in losing his ideal vantage of her attractive backside. Smooth, tawny skin of her exposed chest glistened with sweat. Unruly, shoulder length, brunette curls and bangs extended past almond shaped, hazel eyes and cropped a long oval face with sharp cheeks and petite nose. Stalling's breath snagged in his throat at the sight of her pearl white teeth delicately biting a plump lower lip. The image brought forth, with vivid detail, the memory of their first encounter.
Over twenty years later and I am more attracted to her now than I was then.
He sighed with delight, louder than he had intended, breaking her concentration on the plants. She turned at the sound, placed fists on hips with a dainty stomp of her right work-boot. "How long have you been there?" she asked with a mock pout.
"Long enough to see you have been hard at work today," he replied with his own mock disdain.
She smiled, studying him for a moment. She reads me like an open book, Stalling thought as the intelligent stare probed his heart.
"Come help me pot this," she said, grasping the tall branches of one of the plants near its top. Stalling walked over without question and put his arms around the earthy root ball.
"On three...one, two, three!" Heavier than he anticipated, his under shirt was more brown than white by the time they lifted the plant and placed it in the large, clay pot next to her cart.
"Thank you honey," she said with a satisfied smile, placing gloved hands on his chest and planting a quick but wet kiss on his lips.
"Based off your messages earlier in the day, I wasn't sure if you would make it home today," she said, turning back to the plant. She began to shovel the recently recovered top soil in the cart on top of newly potted bush.
"I made the time," he said, upset by the irritation etched in his voice.
If there was one person who was more driven or passionate about their work than Stalling—and arguably more successful—it was Lorissa. The trait made her both irresistible and insanely frustrating. Lorissa was the world's most renowned botanist. Her research over the past quarter century, cured dozens of deadly diseases and discovered several renewable natural resources. The demand for an internship at Alterian Labs grew by the minute. Everyday, a constant flurry of activity occurred in and around the greenhouse, arboretum and adjacent lab.
Her success has also helped, indirectly at least, at keeping the C.O.S. at bay. Driven by the desire to end all human suffering, Alterian Labs had remained a non-profit since its inception. The revolving door of interns, while thoroughly screened by Antone's department, were invariably future servants of the church or employees of one of its many owned businesses. The work published out of Alterian Labs was free to the world to use and apply as they saw fit. And thanks in large part to A.E.’s Auranet, vast entrainment library and link visor, the innovations of Alterian Labs reached everyone, not just the Drakarlean elite.
"I don't recognize this species," Stalling commented in attempt to pop the pregnant pause. "Working on another cure with this one?"
"Actually, no. This is a Rynbios Shrub. It thrives in a small coastal belt, no wider than ten to fifteen miles, off the southern cape of Matenoise."
"Interesting," Stalling said, looking up and down the plant with feigned interest. Trying to change the world as we know it, the climax of which is only hours away. Doesn't she know I have bigger concerns on my mind than the origins of some bush!
She continued with her soil transplant, showing no outward detection of Stalling's false interest in her improvised lecture. "It accounts for half the surface area of the region and 80% of the plant varieties. This one," nodding to the potted bush as she stepped back and brushed her hands on her shorts, "is a vibrant species that grows in the western region."
"So what makes it so special," Stalling inquired with a hint of genuine interest.
"Well, for one thing, a new intern of mine—who happens to hail from the region—has created a phenotype of this particular species that is capable of growing in ninety percent of the world."
"To what end," Stalling asked, seeing no obvious fruit baring characteristics.
"Its inherent value is found in the unique plasticity of its strong branches. With the proper engineering and biochemistry applied, these pliable branches could be manipulated to perform many of the functions now used by lumber or even stone and steel."
"Like the foundation and walls of a house," Stalling surmised.
"Exactly. You should see the "hut" a group of my interns have created on the outskirts or our arboretum. It’s very habitable," she said with a satisfied smile, admiring her husband's deductive skills.
She stepped to him, absently flicking a piece of leaf and dried-up stem from his shirt before gently placing her hands on his chest. "None of which would have been possible, at least in this lifetime, if it were not for Stalling Alterian."
"Oh really. And how is that so," he asked, placing his hands on her hips, giddy by the sudden gift of her attention.
"My intern is a sixty-eight year old retired gardener. She dreamed of one day living out her final years in a home constructed from the living organisms she tended to for the bulk of her adult life. Within a year of her retirement, thanks to your inventions, she empowered herself with the knowledge that has enabled her dream to be realized. Your dream, Stalling Alterian, helps realize the dreams of others every day."
Lorissa's grateful smile evaporated the remnants of the stitch twisting in Stalling's chest. Yes, his greatest desire was to evolve man's ability to dream, to have no limits on the collective imagination. But, he realized by the thump of his heart and tingling sensation rushing through his body as Lorissa pressed closer, he would have done it all for her.
Fulfilling her dream fulfills my own.
"What's on your mind," she asked, sinking her head into his chest and wrapping her arms around his waist.
"It doesn't seem to matter anymore," he replied, holding her closer.
"I sense a deep-seated fear in you," she said, continuing to probe his heart. "What has the unflappable Stalling so scared?"
Stalling, gently resting his chin on her thick curls, inhaled her scent deep into his lungs and released the long breath out his nostrils. "I fear the far reaching collateral damage that may be caused by my mistakes, the least of which the death of our dear friend Muzar."
"Muzar chose to die long ago. You provided him a chance to right his soul and he gratefully took it," she replied. "We all knew, especially Muzar, that his return to us would change everything."
"But what if I was wrong, what if I altered that which should never be influenced by man?" Stalling asked with a quiver in his voice.
"Questions you have asked from the beginning, the answers to which we all agreed to honor when if they were revealed. Have you been provided the answers?"
"No," he replied. "But I sense they are fast approaching."
"Then let us deal with them when they do," she answered with contagious optimism. "This is not the time to second guess all the good that has come from Muzar's sacrifice, nor doubt the continued benevolence of his return. Not now, when you are so close."
"It will be a glorious age," Stalling sobbed, the tears freely flowing down his face now.
"Yes, it will indeed," Lorissa said with certainty.
T
hey stayed locked in each other’s arms for several silent minutes. About the time Stalling started to become aware of the sensual moisture forming between their bodies, Lorissa leaned back with a seductive smile.
"You’re filthy," she said. "It just will not do sending you back in this state. Do still have time for a shower?" Without waiting for his reply, she locked her fingers with his and led him back home.