The Persistence of Memories - A Novel of the Mendaihu Universe by Jon Chaisson Page A

—”
    “You, my Dearest, have thousands of people
coming to your defense,” she said, poking at her shoulder. “They’ll
jump in if you need the help. Besides, you'll have me by your side.
I may be petite, but I can kick their ass. Or yours, for that
matter.”
    “Let's go before I change my mind,” she
smiled. She held the door open for Amna to pass through first,
watching her move by as she did so. Her friend's frame was indeed
small, and looked frail, hiding the fact that she was actually one
of the strongest girls she knew. She really could kick her
butt if pressed.
     
    The walk down Gannon Street proved to be a
quiet affair as they entered various clothing and media shops, Amna
doing much of the buying. Denni bought little, an Ancient Celtic
music disc for Caren and an ambient spacer disc for herself. She
let herself admit that going outside to meet the world wasn’t
nearly as dangerous or as overwhelming as she’d been fearing. It
really felt good to be surrounded by people in the flesh rather
than just in spirit.
    She watched everyone as they passed by. Just
a furtive glance as she looked around. She saw older couples on
their way to do their daily shopping, young men and women flitting
from one shop to the next on their midmorning break, parents with
young children walking in that stuttering distracted way as they
took in everything around them. Some acknowledged her presence and
smiled, nodding quickly as they passed. Not one of them stopped,
groveling at her feet, waiting to be blessed. That she was in their
midst was apparently enough. It was life as normal as it could
possibly be here in Bridgetown. Life went on regardless.
    It was a glorious peace she hadn’t
expected.
    Are you doing okay? Amna asked.
    “Better,” Denni answered aloud. If they were
to talk at all, she preferred to speak normally. “I’ll admit I
thought I’d be mobbed.”
    “Fesh piann,” Amna sang, waving a finger at
her.
    “You know what I mean,” she said. “I guess I
was afraid of their reaction if they found out who I was — who I am . Studied indifference. That’s what my sis calls it. Like
they know I'm there, but they respect my privacy.”
    “Of course they do. They see the duality,
Den. They understand it. They see You…” she said, grasping her
shoulders. “…and they see you. ” A finger poked at her chest,
right above her heart.
    She shook her head, staring at her friend.
“Amzi, how do you know all of this stuff?”
    Amna shrugged indifferently. She shifted the
shopping bags from her left to her right hand and narrowed the gap
between them, an unconscious movement. Denni knew it was
deliberate, but she didn't know why. She then slowed her pace,
looking up as if debating which store to go to next, but saying
nothing.
    Denni frowned at her. “Amzi?”
    Amna shook her head quick, coming back to the
present. “What? Oh…sorry,” she said distractedly. “Was just
thinking of....” she trailed off and frowned, and stopped
completely. Her eyes were dark and unfocused. A few seconds later
it passed, and she was back to normal. “Sorry, distracted. You
hungry yet?”
    “Getting there,” she said, but hunger was the
least of her worries. Did something just happen? “There's a Ryan's
right down the street,” she gestured. Amna nodded quickly, moved
the bags back to her left hand, and smiled as if nothing had
happened at all.
     
    The back kitchen suddenly erupted in whoops
of laughter and cheers, startling every patron in the otherwise
quiet restaurant. Moments later a tall, jovial Mannaki man with a
loud voice and an infectious laugh burst through the doors,
carrying a large platter, and a collapsible stand under his arm. He
sang a joyful tune in local Mannaki as he approached their table,
his eyes set on Denni. In one quick balletic and well-practiced
movement, he dropped the stand in front of their booth, placed a
wide and overfull platter down on it, and stood straight at
attention, a wide smile