Dream Drive Ch. 05

"Ah. I'm...not sure what to make of that."

"It's like I said." Jackson sighed. "This magic is changing us in unpredictable ways. I'm sorry, Chaki. You can doze off, though, if you just relax. But...look on the bright side. You have a lot more time on your hands, if you want it. It's given me plenty of time to practice with the spear."

"Maybe I'll join you," she said, "if it persists."

She seemed to think a moment. Suddenly, the coals of the bond glowed white, as if about to catch fire. Jackson whipped his head at her, thinking something was wrong.

Her eyes were as heated as the bond. "You know," she said, "come to think of it, not needing to sleep, barely needing to rest at all...it gives a woman quite a bit of spare time."

"Yeah," Jackson said, keeping his tone cautious. "I guess it might."

"Plenty of time for practicing." Chaki's footsteps closed the gap between them as they moved forward along the caravan. Her hand twined under his arm. "With spears."

"...what kind of spears are we talking about?"

"The kind with a strong shaft."

"I thought we were taking it slow."

"Slow...emotionally," she said. "But not physically, surely?"

"I've created a monster," Jackson muttered.

"I think it was more like you discovered the monster already inside of me," Chaki said. "If I can't get to you with words, I'll just seduce you into marriage."

"Uh..."

"It's a good technique. That's how Shaka caught her husband."

Jackson had the strangest image of himself dressed in a tiger suit and sitting in the middle of a cage. A Chaki dressed in a safari outfit snapped a lock shut over the cage door. She unrolled a whip from her sleeve.

"Catch?" Jackson asked.

"Mm-hmm." Chaki's hand slipped down over his waist. She rubbed in little circles where his thigh met his torso. She pressed into his side, leaning her body into him as they continued to walk forward. "So, you've gotten better with the spear, thanks to Shakhan, yes? Will you show me how to use it?"

"...maybe."

"Aww...just maybe?" Chaki grinned. "Maybe you need more convincing."

"Chaki, you're coming on a little bit –"

"Dirty?" Her words fell into his ear. "Sexy? Hot?"

"Uh..." The reptile portion of Jackson's brain bit at his frontal lobe as Chaki's breasts squeezed around his arm. "Yeah. Those. Words."

"I like that you like this," she said. "You're best when you focus on one thing. That should be me. I want you to think about these things when you think about our relationship. Think about all you'd give up," she said. Her tone got more serious. "You just have to show a little faith in me, a little trust. You know you can trust me." And then her voice morphed back into the seductress. "And then you'll be able to make me squeal all the dirty, nasty things you want."

Her hand whispered across the front of his pants, brushing his erection. Jackson swallowed. Damn. She does learn fast.

Before he could rally a response, Chaki left his arm and stood straight. His left side felt chill without her body heat. She trotted along, head high. "But, if you insist on taking it slow, then..."

Jackson adjusted his belt, trying to compensate for his hard-on. He felt the duel frustrations of discomfort and dissatisfaction. "That was not nice."

"You shouldn't have raised your voice to me."

"...fair enough."

"And now that little reminder will sit there for a time," she said. "I'm glad you taught me so much, Jackson. It's easy to pull you around."

"You're enjoying yourself, aren't you?"

"A bit," she said. "But you know...there's something else in the bond, inside the steel and the rust."

Jackson frowned. "What?"

"Molten iron," she said. "Lava, sitting in you like a furnace. I like it. I think you ought to use it more."

"So you're going to taunt me intentionally?"

"Oh yes," Chaki said. "I'll drag it out, and then...I'll be punished for being such a tease. Don't you like that idea? I do."

Jackson's erection told him that he liked that idea very much, but, after raising such hell with her just a few days ago, he couldn't admit it. It felt a little too close to the patches of rust. So he said nothing.

Chaki's gaze lingered on him a little while longer, and then she made her way back toward Palla.

****
When the sun dropped below the horizon, and the sky turned pink, Yukutan called a halt to their trek. Camp was assembled with the ease of those who spent a lifetime practicing. Tipis blossomed out of the prairie like flowers of wood and leather.

Chaki helped her mother and Palla set up their own tipi and water the horses. After a brief meal, she joined Jackson in attending to Shaka's tent.

The spirit guide hadn't bothered to start a fire; it was a warm night. A sticky moisture that promised rain hung in the air. They sat cross-legged within the dark confines, Jackson doing the work of explaining where they were going.

"I see," Shaka said. "When will you return?"

"It'll probably take at least a few hours," Jackson said. "Maybe more. I need some serious computer time."

"I'll leave it to you," Shaka said. "I trust..." Shaka's gaze flicked to Chaki, then settled back on Jackson. "...that nothing untoward will occur while you are alone?"

Chaki looked away and began to study the tipi's ventilation flaps very carefully.

"Give me a little credit, Shaka," Jackson said.

"You're telling me to make a loan to the man that can't remember a single rune and breaks the bows of his friends. Of course."

"Why do you wound me so?" Jackson said.

Shaka snorted. "Go. I shall work on Hanta's shield until your return."

Shaka leaned over to open her trunk, and withdrew a wooden ring that had a strip of leather pulled tight around its sides, creating a sort of drum. A pattern was already stitched on the front – several runes of great physical and spiritual protection. Chaki recognized that the sentences were only partially completed, but even this early it was something to admire. Shaka set up runes like everyone else set up their tents.

"Thank you for doing that, Shaka," Jackson said. "I appreciate it."

"Why I indulge you, Jackson, is a mystery," she said, "though I suppose you did save my life."

"How much is that worth, exactly?"

"Not that much."

Jackson made a face. "How about an essence crystal?"

"No."

"Come on. I know you've got a few stashed back there."

"I'm already teaching you magic and helping you make up your debt to Hanta."

"Please?"

"Stop pestering me."

Chaki wondered at their banter. It was true that she herself had been more casual with Shaka, lately; but then, she had come into womanhood and grown more independent. It was natural for her to move from being Shaka's student to being her equal as her skills leveled out with the spirit guide's experience.

But Jackson – he was informal. Too informal. One didn't joke around with the spirit guide. You listened to the spirit guide, nodded your head, and followed her instructions exactly. When she asked for something, people competed to obey to earn her approval. She was revered; she was their direct connection to Shakhan, Mother Earth, and their very livelihood. She was the force that kept the tribe in balance with the world and in the good graces of the One-Above. She was the power that kept demons at arm's length; she sensed and ended problems of the spirit before they could take root.

But while Jackson, as Tatanka Ska, was a member of the Windseekers, he was still very much a stranger. He did not appreciate the social nuances of Chaki's people. And yet, for that very reason, his bluntness carried an honest, refreshing sort of informality that seemed to bash aside the rigid habits that no one else wanted to break.

Shaka was not shy about correcting those she deemed had overstepped their bounds. She was sharp with Boonta; she could be incisive with Drana. Shaka had very high expectations of Chaki; when she was younger, she had been wacked into shape almost every day. Shaka had even criticized Malaki's behavior straight to Malaki's mother – in relative privacy, yes, but with a brutal directness.

Despite all this, she did not correct Jackson. It was not to spare his feelings; of that, Chaki was sure. The reason she let him slide was an enigma.

Jackson gave a long, drawn-out sigh. "Well...if you say so. I guess I'll survive the trials of the Tower of Babel somehow."

Shaka rolled her eyes. "I long for the day when your whining vanishes from my ears."

"Ouch. That was cold."

"Next time," Shaka said, "don't run around behind my back. And memorize your runes, for the sake of Shakhan."

"I don't know," Jackson said. "I'm kinda getting used to the cane. It's good exercise for you, right? Gotta work those biceps."

"What upon Mother Earth is a bicep?"

"This muscle," Jackson said. "Here, see?" He flexed his arm. For a moment, he stared at the muscle, frowning.

Shaka missed his expression. "So my continual punishment of your fingers is in fact a method for me to train my arm strength. How generous of you to avoid studying on my behalf. Such a twisted explanation of poor behavior I have not heard in all my years. Make improvements, or I shall teach you no more."

"Hey, come on!"

"I'm serious, Jackson," Shaka said. "You are incredibly intelligent. I expect more from you. I expected more from you yesterday. Now hop to it."

Chaki could see the debate inside Jackson's head just by watching his face. It was the small things – his eyes moving as he thought, his nose twitching in annoyance. But at the end of it, his answer was simple. "Yes, Shaka."

"You're improving already," she said. "Now, leave me to Hanta's shield. Your trip is of importance, yes?"

Jackson nodded. "We'll be back soon. Game Menu."

Chaki finally understood why he kept saying that strange phrase. The game within Jackson's magic appeared before him at that command, the wood-colored panels backed with blue writing. He used a finger to manipulate the screens, then hit a button that said 'log out'.

The world went black. Chaki lingered in the darkness. Her arms and legs felt numb; they barely felt at all. She tried to ask for Jackson – but she wasn't sure if her lips moved. She couldn't hear her own voice.

And then the darkness was gone, and she was lying on something hard.

Chaki climbed to her feet. She was in an enclosed space; a room. The walls were the color of pale leather, and the floor seemed made of cut wooden boards. There was a strange sort of rectangle that was filled with more rectangles. It took her a moment to think of what they were – books, stacked on shelves. Jackson had described this to her.

What struck her about the space was the smell – or rather, the lack thereof. She drew a breath through her nose. No dew, no grass, no dirt, no leather, no horseflesh, no sweat. It was almost sharp in her nostrils, the sense of absolutely purified nothing.

Her gaze turned. There was a sort of platform set into the walls, and on top of it was a blinking flashing thing that seemed made out of metal and wood. It had various colorful parts that were all connected by thick strings. A panel filled with bright light sat open. A word on the front of it had the characters g-o-o-g-l-e.

The gift of language that the bond with Jackson granted her was an odd thing. She could recognize that the word was a word, and she simply knew that the word was made of letters from an alphabet. But it was as if her brain could only comprehend these things as ideas. She couldn't have written the alphabet if she tried. She could break down and comprehend, but not create.

"Welcome to my home. I guess."

Chaki turned. Jackson was lying on what looked like a raised square of blankets and clothes. He had a red helmet tucked under his head – though it was nothing like any helmet Chaki had ever seen; it was bright red, and had a reflective shine. He was wearing strange clothes – a short white shirt, with the sleeves cut high on his arms, and baggy blue pants.

"It's an odd place," Chaki said. "Is that where you sleep?"

"Yeah."

She pointed. "What's a gogg-lay?"

"Google," Jackson said. "It's a way to search the internet for specific information."

"Of course," Chaki said. "You did say it was big. So, is this long contraption your computer?"

"You got it."

"I imagined it bigger, somehow."

"Usually they're smaller than this. Mine's a heavy-duty version. And still under construction, technically." Jackson got up from his bed and sat down at the seat in front of the bright panel. A light shined, and something floated in midair in front of him – a series of buttons that held the characters of the alphabet, along with other symbols and numerals. His fingers flew across the pad. "I'll just be a second. Just need to confirm where we're going."

Chaki nodded. "Jackson."

"Hmm?"

"Is there something wrong with your arm?"

Jackson looked over his shoulder. "...what makes you say that?"

"When you explained what a bicep was, you had this strange look on your face."

"...yeah." Jackson looked at his lap. "The passive statistics are...changing me," he said. "It's not a big difference. But it's there."

"What do you mean?"

Jackson turned slightly in the chair. "It's bigger. Not by much, but my muscles have grown. I probably wouldn't have noticed it, but I never had much of a bicep."

"It only makes sense," Chaki said. "Isn't it a good thing, besides?"

Jackson mulled it over for a moment. His nose twitched. "I guess. Just...disconcerting." He turned back to his device.

Chaki continued her inspection of his living space. There was a strange opening cut into the wall, a portal that gave her a glimpse of a set of a grey color that was different from the room. "What is that?"

"Window," Jackson said. "It's made of glass, a material that you can see through. That's the next building over."

Chaki walked up to the window and reached out with her hand. Her fingers smacked something solid where there should be only air. Closer inspection revealed the hint of light reflecting off the invisible material. "That's incredible. Is it magic?"

"No," Jackson mumbled. Chaki glanced up at his half-answer. He was bent over his computer, involved in his buttons and screens. They were flashing and changing at an alarming pace. He didn't seem fazed by the speed; his took it all in with an even, almost bored gaze.

Chaki moved to the bookshelf. She read a few of the titles. A Brief History of Time: 100th Anniversary Edition. Where the Red Fern Grows. Neuromancer. 1000 Video Games To Play Before You Die. And then there was one that really sent her mind reeling: Principles of Optical Systems Engineering: The Bridge to Fully Realized Quantum Computing. And another freakishly incomprehensible title: Mechanical Prosthetics and Augmentations: The Leading Edge of Transhumanism.

She wondered about the History of Time. How could time itself have a history? She drew the book from the shelf. Its companions flopped over into the empty space left behind, shattering the neatly-packed row. She threw a worried look over her shoulder – disturbing the nothing-neatness of Jackson's most personal space seemed like some sort of violation.

She needn't have bothered. He was still hunched over his device, concentrating with as much focus as when he'd practiced with the spear. He's rather cute when he does that.

She perused the contents. There was a section titled Original Introduction by Carl Sagan. It seemed as good a place to start as any. She noted that he had two names, like Jackson. It seemed it really was their convention to name people like that.

She flipped the pages with thumb and forefinger to the right spot and set to reading.

Within a few paragraphs, Chaki felt overwhelmed. He asked enormous, mind-bending questions, one after the other, like shots from bows thumping into the skin of a bison. What is the smallest thing that exists? Can time flow backwards? How could the orderly modern world be formed at all from the chaos of an unformed beginning? Why is there a world at all?

Despite that wonder, Chaki was instinctively compelled. It was as if, as the man posed each question, she was a child, longing to hear the answer. It was such a strange feeling, holding this leather-tied packet of razor-thin wooden strips, sucking in information from runes written not for magic, but to communicate to another person.

She read on, and she came to the end of the introduction. Her eyes widened as she took in the words.

This is also a book about God...or perhaps the absence of God. The word God fills these pages. Hawking embarks on a quest to answer Einstein's famous question about whether God had any choice in creating the universe. Hawking is attempting, as he explicitly states, to understand the mind of God. And this makes all the more unexpected the conclusion of the effort, at least so far: a universe with no edge in space, no beginning or end in time, and nothing for a Creator to do.

Chaki reeled back from the pages. He was implying so many things at once her brain had to take them in turns. The nature of the universe was the nature of God; its very nature seemed to point out that God had no place in the universe. Science is the attempt of man to understand the mind of God, and thus far, it had come up rather short.

But within the clinically faithless words, Chaki recognized something. This Carl Sagan was a man that was absolutely unsure if there was a God or not. There was a modesty to the way he phrased himself, how he couched never in absolutes, but in compromises. He hinted the universe and God and science were as spiritual and sacred as could possibly be – but that there simply wasn't proof of anything.

Chaki moved into the first section written by the main author, Stephen Hawking. And there she found something even more astounding. Within three paragraphs, he mentioned the North Star – the title of her bond with Jackson. Her title.

He discussed how men of earlier times postulated that the Earth was round. They had several arguments; one of these was that the North Star – which lay over the pole of the rotating Earth, as Jackson said – appeared lower in the sky in southern regions than in northern regions. This made sense only if the observers were in fact standing on the surface of a sphere, and as they traveled down along it, the star thereby seemed to dip lower and lower to the horizon.

Men had used simple observations to discern the nature of the Mother Earth. It was so obvious, but so incredible. Her people had no North Star, no Polaris, so perhaps they had an excuse - but still, she found herself wondering why the People-Under-The-Mountain did not ask these questions.

The answer came to her quickly. The Windseekers were well off, for the time being, but the prairie was not always so forgiving, especially in winter. When survival rested on the killing of bison before winter, one simply lacked the time to wonder about such things.

Chaki felt a strange swell of pride. This was the foundation of all of Jackson's knowledge; all the knowledge of his people. She was named after this – something that was clearly of great importance to him. He'd gone on for hours about science. He'd chosen this name for her knowing all of this.

Chaki had been worried since his outburst. She tried to cover this up with confidence, with womanliness. She had tried to distract him. She might have been a little successful, but the core of him was not so easily swayed. Jackson was comforted after she had decided to persist in her affections, for the time being, but he did not fully believe that he was any different because of that. He thought so little of himself that it was scary. She had begun to fear that he would push her away in some sort of self-sacrificial foolishness.