Soul Bound

1        Soul Bound

1.1      Finding her Feet

1.1.1    An Unexpected Reunion

1.1.1.6  Contact

That evening, as she locked up, for the first time in ages she didn’t feel half dead. At lunchtime Bahrudin and the other morning regulars had been so solicitous of her, she wondered what tales had grown in the telling. She’d praised Bahrudin’s coffee, management skills and the amount of money in the till to such effusive heights that his back had straightened several inches as she talked. By the time she’d finished, he would have agreed to single-handedly charge an entire army on her behalf. Instead, he promised that if she didn’t close down the kafana, he personally would open it up for her every morning, and the others chimed in that, upon their honour, there would be no disturbances or thefts from Kafana Sabanagic or its angel of a proprietress while they still had breath in their bodies.

Thinking like a Womble. It was almost a magic, all of its own.

She hummed as she got the crown out from under her bed and put it on.

“Nadine the First, Queen of Song!”

She liked the activation phrase now. It helped her mind shift between roles.

[Good evening my Queen. There is a pending connection request from Tomsk. Will you accept?]

“No, not yet. Enter orglife and construct a suitable meeting area. I don’t want him looking around my bedroom.”

The silver tracery washed over her view of reality, and then a new tracery of green lines superimposed itself on top of that, outlining the pillars and tables surrounding the public area and stage of her kafana where she’d carried out the calibration exercises last night.

“That will do. Accept connection.”

Half the green lines winked out, replaced by red lines which formed into moving 3D images, showing the interior of a feasting hall built of timber, with walls draped with furs and polished weaponry. The figure sitting at the table was unmistakably Alex, but he was dressed like a fantasy barbarian, in armour that mixed leathers with dark metal scales, and yet somehow seemed to leave much of his biceps and abdomen unprotected.

“Nadine! Wait and just watch for 2 minutes, we’re about to do another take.”

Five seconds later she put her hand to her mouth as he rolled over the table to avoid receiving a crossbow bolt in the back, then deflected two more using the drinking horn still held in his hand. Three enemy warriors burst into the hall, foaming at the mouth, and the following minutes were filled with battle screams, improbable improvised weapons, near misses and desperate gymnastic manoeuvres that took Alex from tabletop to rafters and finished with him tearing down a big cast iron ring holding a dozen torches that was suspended from the ceiling by standing on it and pushing down with his legs, muscles bulging.

“Cut!”

Alex casually vaulted back down, while assistants rushed onto the set, and the actors playing the enemies lay down. The assistants placed the ring carefully on top of the actors and started to apply fake blood. The star, dressed identically to Alex but nearly a head shorter, gave him a high five as they passed each other.

He sauntered out the door, into bright Californian sunlight, revealing the feasting hall to be just a set. He downed a bottle of water in one go, shook his head sending water drops flying, then turned to Nadine and swept her a low graceful bow.

“Nadine, Nadine, you’re looking amazing. Stupendous. Stunningly beautiful. A goddess!”

“Liar. I’m old, weary, and nearly bankrupt but too stubborn to admit that expert system run kafecs are defeating me. I thank you for your kind words, though. It is good to see you again. And what is all this?”

She waved her hands to indicate the scurrying surroundings.

“The last I knew, you had sworn off roofing and were working for Cirque du Soleil.”

Alex smiled. “I had to put my martial arts into use some time, else what a waste to learn them all.” He shrugged and continued:

“I do a bit of stunt doubling, a bit of fight choreography, and quite a lot of motion capture for gaming companies. I scripted the fight you just watched. Did you like it?”

He made puppy eyes at her, and she couldn’t resist laughing.

“I couldn’t take my eyes off it. You’re impossible. As always, and I love you.”

He glowed with the praise.

“Let me bring in the others…”

He waved a hand at something, and part of the scene wavered, to be replaced by Wellington and Alderney (the Womble alias that Heather had insisted upon, despite her coming from the Isle of Mull).

Wellington was wearing the same suit as the previous message, but was standing in the middle of a raked gravel Zen meditation garden. On closer inspection, the lines were arranged to form a 5 by 4 Lissajous figure.

Heather appeared to be using the back of a dolphin as a surfboard, just about keeping her balance upon it as it bobbed up and down amidst gentle bioluminescent waves, whooping at near catastrophes and waving her arms wildly.

“Nadine, you have to try this, they’re so cute, they squeak to each other. Wellington, can you design something to let me squeak back to them? Tomsk, what are you wearing, there’s no way that’s authentic, you’re on the set of Blood Slayer VIII, right? Tell the props guy he’s a phoney and that he should contact me the next time he wants some battle axes. Nadine, you owe me a dozen years of hugs, how dare you drop out of contact like that, I’m not letting you go ever again, and oh my god I’m so sorry about your father, let me come visit you and I’ll fab you a set of loud speakers that will shatter every window for 10 miles around, and that’s your kafana there behind you? It’s beautiful, I never knew, I imagined just a pokey hole in a bombed out concrete tower block. Alex, why are you just standing there, have you told her about the reunion yet, and …”