AE in the Irish Theosophist | Page 6

hell
and back. Or at least Riley's version of hell. I slipped ever downward to
the thermal my former Id had identified as the prime upwell spot,
trusting my instincts to bring the airship as far down into the depths as
had ever been done.
We floated through a sea of diamond specks before we smacked the
heart of the upwell and rode the thermal. It was like straddling a rocket
straight back up. It spit us out high enough that we coasted into the
nearest aerostat city with several hundred feet of altitude to spare.
We landed covered in diamond dust.

#

Several weeks later I'm standing near the great foam pillars of the
courthouse. Suzie spots me waiting for her to come out, stops, then
walks over. A green and red police droid follows two steps behind her.
"Hello, Vincent."

She doesn't seem too surprised to see me. We've faced each other in
court for the past week . But all that's over. The best psychiatrists,
lawyers, journalists, and judges have all pored over our plights. I'm
acquitted of murder, but my implants have been torn from me so that
there is no danger of my Id getting free again.
And I had to cover court costs. My starship was confiscated and
auctioned off. The Riley government took its share of the court costs,
Air Guard rescue fee, taxes, and handed me the rest.
"I never felt like I got to finish things," I say. "Or properly apologize."
She shakes her head sadly.
"And even if you do, so what? You're going to leave on your spaceship
for any number of years while I wither away here again? You're
wasting your time if you think there's anything to rescue with us."
"I sold it," I tell her. "I don't have a ship anymore." She starts walking
away from the courthouse. The droid and I follow her.
"I would like to give you the money back, with interest." It's almost
everything I have left.
"And then what are you going to do here, on Riley?"
"Buy an airship, offer some very hair-raising tours of this world.
Famous tours that spacers will come to try from all over." It feels like
something I'll be good at, the pit of my stomach agrees with this. Deep
down, I've always liked airships.
We walk together a little further before she stops. "You don't just get
forgiveness like that," she says. "It just doesn't happen like that."
Her sentence involved guided therapy and personality adjustment. That
and a twenty-four hour police droid for a year until the therapy kicked
in fully.
I reach over and grab her hand, softly, and place a diamond in it.

"A memento," I explain. "It was lodged in one of the spars when I got
back."
She pockets it and suddenly laughs. It is a symbolic thing for me.
Important. I want to try and undo some of the damage. I'm not sure how
to take the laughter.
"Okay Vincent. I'm drugged up out of my mind right now, and it makes
some sort of warped sense. At the very least," she smiles, "I'm no
longer interested in killing you."
"Thank you," I say. It's a start.
We part.
I walk down a plastic city street, looking up at the great city guywires
that lead to the superstructures of pressurized gas that hold us up.
I wonder how hard it would be to get an entire city down to the
diamond sea far below my feet?

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