himself. 'Anyway, trust me, they need us as much as we need them.'
We passed uneventfully through the barrier and continued down a long, gentle grade to the sea.
At one point in the drive, Sandoval asked, 'Would you like to see where we're going?' When I gave a tentative nod, he directed me to a small window up in the vehicle's turret, resting his hand on my waist as I looked.
Out across the ice was another dome. A lone bubble, dimly glowing in the moonlight.
'You know, Lulu,' he said, 'without Agent X to bring us together, we might never have met.' Then he kissed me.
As we pulled up to the dome, men helped us out of the truck and hustled us inside. We passed through a drumlike revolving door, then a large antechamber full of parkas and boots, and finally a heavy flap bleeding warm air. I could hear music. Our escorts parted the curtain, and my mouth fell open at the sight that greeted us.
It was green. Live green grass as far as the eye could see, an achingly sweet-smelling park with sweet music filling the air and banks of stadium lights making the place look like a concert on a summer night. It was a concert. A silvery voice sang the refrain from a mellow Beatles song.
'That's a lotta sod,' said Sandoval, enjoying my reaction.
Rising like a monument from a flowered mound in the center of the grass was the submarine's fairwater, its dive planes hung with bunting, and four musicians dressed in Sgt. Pepper regalia atop the starboard wing. It was the Blackpudlians. Their lurid purple and yellow stage lights shone hotly on the spectators below, turning them into violet cutouts limned in gold. The turf at the base of the mound was incised with a deep, emerald-lit hole-a bottomless spring with porcelain sides, cut as cleanly as if with a cookie cutter. Surrounding the pool and fanning out across the lawn in all directions was a crowd of exquisitely dressed men-and women. Beautiful young women… just like me.
Tuxedoed waiters with trays of cocktails circulated through the crowd, eager to please, and as one of them approached us with champagne, I noticed it was Dr. Langhorne.
'Jim! How nice to see you!' she said, not sounding at all sincere. 'Care for something cold?'
'Why thank you, Alice. I just might do that.' He picked up a glass.
'And your little friend?'
'She can speak for herself. Lulu, you two have met, haven't you?'
I nodded, unsure why Dr. Langhorne was so angry.
'Sure, we've met,' she said. 'We're just a couple of soul sisters, aren't we?'
Turning serious, Sandoval leaned toward her, and asked, 'Everybody ready?'
'All is in readiness, sire.' She gave a mocking curtsy.
'It better be. It's all or nothing now.'
'You've always been able to trust me.' Without offering me champagne, she smiled poisonously, and said, 'Well, I'll be trotting along. If you two need anything, just give me a ring.'
Sandoval smiled sheepishly, and said, 'Already have, thanks.' When she was gone, he said, 'Phew, she's in rare form tonight.'
'What's the matter?'
'She's my ex-wife.' Seeing my dismay, he laughed, 'Don't worry about it.'
As we approached the fringes of the crowd, and people began turning to acknowledge Sandoval, I had another unpleasant shock.
'Oh shit,' I said under my breath.
The beautifully made-up girls that I had been so happy to see were entirely made-up. That is, they were not girls at all, but gleaming-coiffed boys. The boys from the submarine-my boys.
'Yep, a lotta sod,' Sandoval repeated.
They wobbled on their sinking heels and miserably marked my approach, some arm in arm with their brazen guardians… as indeed I was myself. I recognized Rick and Henry and Sal, Sasha and Derrick, Andy and John, Dexter, Todd, Dan, Freddy, Bryce, Tony, Aram, Kyle, Gen, Lucas, Chuck, Nate, Bill, as well as all the dozens of others whose names I had never properly memorized. Recognized them in spite of the blond falls and rubber boobs and killer clothes and expertly applied foundation and lipstick and eyeliner I knew so well: They had Miss Riggs written all over them, every one.
Their dates, the Moguls, smirked with joshing camaraderie, some more serious, more sneering, or more envious than others, but all completely in the game. This was their world.
It was as if a drain in my spine had become unplugged, and all my strength leaked out. I could barely stand. Sandoval felt me lean on him and took it for affection, giving me a squeeze. A scream welled up, and I forced it back, shuddering, admonishing myself to be as strong as the boys. But in my mind I screamed: We should have died! Why didn't we all just die? I wanted to just start running, run free until someone put a dot on me and blew me to bits, but the solemn faces of the boys, weirdly savage in that Kabuki makeup, held me back. They smoldered with the harsh desire to live, and I was shamed by their hideous perseverance.
Sandoval whispered to me, 'Now, Lulu, I know you'll be extremely sensitive to these men's feelings. They want to feel that their companions are every bit as feminine as you.'
I made an involuntary grunt of disgust.
'I understand,' he said. 'It's like a comedy, isn't it? But unless you'd embarrass these men, you should be totally respectful. Otherwise, they might take it out on your friends.'
'What does that mean?'
'It means, most of these men are not homosexual. This is a big compromise for them. If they are humiliated, who do you think is going to suffer for it?'
'Why don't they just stop doing it, then?'
Sandoval chuckled, kissing the top of my head. 'My innocent.'
I stood back demurely, wanting to retch as Sandoval was enveloped by his backslapping peers. The dolled- up boys and I regarded each other amid the swells with an all-knowing blankness, not saying a word.
More champagne came by on a cart, as well as iced caviar and oysters, and I accepted some-not only to appear calm, but because it was too good to pass up. The boys regarded me with loathing as I ate these delicacies. Apparently that was where they drew the line.
I began to notice that all the waitstaff were doctors from the research compound, including Dr. Stevens and even Rudy, who was standing off on his own next to a large pet carrier emblazoned RUFF RIDER. Their eagerness to please reminded me of teachers during Open House. In some way they were on trial tonight and were doing everything they could to make a favorable impression.
No one spoke to me, but Sandoval was congratulated again and again on his 'coup'-the right to throw this party and get all these VIPs under one roof. Apparently it was an unprecedented feat of influence. The snide tone of these compliments suggested that he had forfeited a lot for the privilege… perhaps too much.
'You're a romantic, James,' said an olive-skinned man with several chins erupting from his cravat. 'A bloody dreamer! The extraordinary concessions you have made and the expectations you have raised-it's shocking to a conservative man like me. It's like the risk you take by claiming this little one.' He gestured at me as if I was a pet. 'You have two women when others have none-it shows a lack of delicacy. Ah! But what can one do? You lead with your heart.'
'Not my head, eh, Ibn?'
'I hope not. It is your recklessness that is keeping the other egos in check. You are the lion tamer, James. They are afraid to cross you. But if you fail to impress them tonight, it will be every man for himself. Very bad.'
'That sounds like an ultimatum.'
'I said 'if.' But it sends a confusing signal when tremendous capital is expended for no apparent tactical advantage.' The fat man indicated the spectacle around us. 'It smacks of desperation.'
'Then I've confused you.'
'Not at all! As a descendant of Shah Jahan, I admire great passion… as well as great folly. But either way, use plenty of raw force to back it up, yes?'
'I'll try to remember that.'
We reached the pool. It seemed hazardous to me, that deep well in the ice, the Arctic Ocean depths right