the entrance. "Why can't you breathe the air?"
"A lot of reasons. Too much carbon dioxide. Too little oxygen. All the scale dust in it." He seemed distracted, either tired or depressed. "The irradiation from your sun is lower than the human standard. That means it doesn't give Balumil as much light. The extra carbon dioxide helps keeps the temperature up." He touched the mask on his face. "This concentrates oxygen and filters out CO2. It also filters out impurities that gives gamma humanoids a severe form of asthma. Fatal, in fact, if we breathe it too long."
"Gamma humanoid?"
"Like me." He pressed his palm against his chest. "I can tolerate the air here for a short time, but some people can't bear it even for a few seconds."
"It doesn't bother me at all."
Vyrl smiled. "You're a theta." He took off his mask and dropped it on the console. "Your lungs have filters that mine lack. Your people's hemoglobin was redesigned and your circulatory system responds to different partial pressures of oxygen and carbon dioxide." He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "This world is almost uninhabitable for those of us without your modifications, especially during winter and summer. That's why your ancestors wore space suits."
"Space suits?"
"You know those pictures of ancient stagmen in full-body diskmail?" When she nodded, he said,
"Those are space suits."
She poked her finger into the shimmer curtain. "And this?"
"It's an airlock. It surrounds the cave." He paused. "I'm not sure how to describe it in a way that would make sense to you."
"Tell me in your own words then. I like to hear them." Now that she knew he wasn't mocking her ignorance, she found a beauty in his words, the promise of knowledge and wonders.
"The curtain is a membrane," he said. "A modified lipid bilayer." He tapped the platform. "This applies an electric potential to it. There are enzymes in the membrane, like keys, but so tiny you can't see them. They fit certain receptor molecules. Certain locks. Different potentials activate different keys. When a key opens a lock, it changes the permeability of the membrane." He paused, lines of fatigue deep on his face.
"Are you all right?" Kamoj asked.
"Yes. Fine." He stood up. "Right now the membrane won't let air pass, but water can diffuse through it just fine. The generator recycles our air, so we don't suffocate. It also seeds the air with nanomeds that take dust out of the air."
Kamoj thought of the firepuff fly that had stuck to the shimmer in her chamber last night. "The curtain lets us pass through it."
"On this setting, yes. We're easily strong enough to push through it. Your body becomes part of the interface, keeping the seal." He pressed the heels of his hands against his temples. "A picoweb within the membrane remembers its original form, so after you pass, the curtain returns to normal."
"Vyrl, are you sure you are all right?"
"It's just a headache." He pulled a bottle out of his cloak and unscrewed the top. Then he drank deeply, tilting his head back as he swallowed.
Watching him, Kamoj felt a sense of helplessness. Her only experience with anyone who drank this much was Korl Plowsbane. Would Vyrl become that way, decimated and dulled, with no family or friends, only the bottle he loved above all else? She had no idea what to do. She had seen how angry he became if Dazza even mentioned it.
He walked across the cave, his boots scuffing up swirls of iridescent dust. The generator hummed, making its nano-meds to carry the dust out of the air, so it wouldn't kill her husband.
Vyrl turned to her. "That day at the river-you have no idea. I was so close to going after you.
Just one bodyguard you had, to my four stagmen." He raised his hand, palm up. "'But no,' I thought. 'Do you want her to hate you? What of honor? Decency? All that.' So I courted you. Or I thought I courted you." He took another swallow of rum. Lowering the bottle, he spoke with self-disgust. "Seems I raped
"A lot of reasons. Too much carbon dioxide. Too little oxygen. All the scale dust in it." He seemed distracted, either tired or depressed. "The irradiation from your sun is lower than the human standard. That means it doesn't give Balumil as much light. The extra carbon dioxide helps keeps the temperature up." He touched the mask on his face. "This concentrates oxygen and filters out CO2. It also filters out impurities that gives gamma humanoids a severe form of asthma. Fatal, in fact, if we breathe it too long."
"Gamma humanoid?"
"Like me." He pressed his palm against his chest. "I can tolerate the air here for a short time, but some people can't bear it even for a few seconds."
"It doesn't bother me at all."
Vyrl smiled. "You're a theta." He took off his mask and dropped it on the console. "Your lungs have filters that mine lack. Your people's hemoglobin was redesigned and your circulatory system responds to different partial pressures of oxygen and carbon dioxide." He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "This world is almost uninhabitable for those of us without your modifications, especially during winter and summer. That's why your ancestors wore space suits."
"Space suits?"
"You know those pictures of ancient stagmen in full-body diskmail?" When she nodded, he said,
"Those are space suits."
She poked her finger into the shimmer curtain. "And this?"
"It's an airlock. It surrounds the cave." He paused. "I'm not sure how to describe it in a way that would make sense to you."
"Tell me in your own words then. I like to hear them." Now that she knew he wasn't mocking her ignorance, she found a beauty in his words, the promise of knowledge and wonders.
"The curtain is a membrane," he said. "A modified lipid bilayer." He tapped the platform. "This applies an electric potential to it. There are enzymes in the membrane, like keys, but so tiny you can't see them. They fit certain receptor molecules. Certain locks. Different potentials activate different keys. When a key opens a lock, it changes the permeability of the membrane." He paused, lines of fatigue deep on his face.
"Are you all right?" Kamoj asked.
"Yes. Fine." He stood up. "Right now the membrane won't let air pass, but water can diffuse through it just fine. The generator recycles our air, so we don't suffocate. It also seeds the air with nanomeds that take dust out of the air."
Kamoj thought of the firepuff fly that had stuck to the shimmer in her chamber last night. "The curtain lets us pass through it."
"On this setting, yes. We're easily strong enough to push through it. Your body becomes part of the interface, keeping the seal." He pressed the heels of his hands against his temples. "A picoweb within the membrane remembers its original form, so after you pass, the curtain returns to normal."
"Vyrl, are you sure you are all right?"
"It's just a headache." He pulled a bottle out of his cloak and unscrewed the top. Then he drank deeply, tilting his head back as he swallowed.
Watching him, Kamoj felt a sense of helplessness. Her only experience with anyone who drank this much was Korl Plowsbane. Would Vyrl become that way, decimated and dulled, with no family or friends, only the bottle he loved above all else? She had no idea what to do. She had seen how angry he became if Dazza even mentioned it.
He walked across the cave, his boots scuffing up swirls of iridescent dust. The generator hummed, making its nano-meds to carry the dust out of the air, so it wouldn't kill her husband.
Vyrl turned to her. "That day at the river-you have no idea. I was so close to going after you.
Just one bodyguard you had, to my four stagmen." He raised his hand, palm up. "'But no,' I thought. 'Do you want her to hate you? What of honor? Decency? All that.' So I courted you. Or I thought I courted you." He took another swallow of rum. Lowering the bottle, he spoke with self-disgust. "Seems I raped
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