In the Company of Mind

by Steven Piziks

CHAPTER TWO

then

A limo hummed into the driveway, setting off the electronic warning Meredeth had programmed into the house computer. Hurriedly she lit the candles on the table and stood back to survey her handiwork. Everything had to be perfect, partly because she wanted it to be and partly because she knew Jonathan would expect nothing less.

It hadn’t been easy to get everything that way. Meredeth wanted to arrange everything herself, for one thing, and for another, the dining room was better suited for entertaining fifty or sixty people, not hosting an intimate dinner for two. To compensate, Meredeth had chosen a tablecloth in warm blue and put comfortable cushions on the chairs. The aromaducts were set for a hint of woodsmoke. She had used the best china, set out her mother’s silver, and put on a brand new dress, emerald green and cut low, but not too low—just as Jonathan liked it. A small cart in the kitchen awaited Meredeth’s command to wheel silently into the dining room, and a silver bucket on the table held an ice-cold bottle of champagne. The servants had strict orders to stay out of the way.

Jonathan’s chauffeur would be opening the limo door for him about now. Meredeth patted her short strawberry-blond hair and surveyed the room with a critical eye. It was too bright. You could hardly tell there were candles burning.

"Chloe," she said, "dim the lights."

"Please specify desired level of illumination," answered the computer.

"Chloe, set the lights to one-third current setting."

The lights obediently dimmed. Meredeth rubbed her bare arms and shivered. Was it too cool in the house?

"Chloe, what is the temperature in the dining room?"

"Seventy degrees Fahrenheit."

Meredeth did some quick math. That was about twenty-one degrees Celsius. She smiled to herself and shook her head. The Blackstone mansion might be located just outside of Dover, England, but Jonathan was still an American through and through. Even the house computer wasn’t allowed to use metric.

She paced about the room, high heels clicking like claws on the marble floor. Was seventy degrees warm enough? It was a chilly spring day outside and Jonathan would probably want heat.

"Chloe, increase temperature to seventy-three—no, make that seventy-two degrees." It wouldn’t do to have it too warm, either.

"Mr. Blackstone has entered the house," Chloe said.

Meredeth’s heart beat faster and she forced herself to stand still. "Chloe, did you tell Jonathan that I’m waiting for him in the dining room?"

"Affirmative."

Meredeth waited next to the table, trying not to fidget. "Hello, honey," she murmured. "Have a nice day at work? I have some news for you."

She shook her head and tried again. "Jonathan, dear. I have to tell you—you’re going to be a father."

No. "Jonathan! We’re having a baby!" Now there was a winner. "Jonathan, I’m going to have a baby." Worse—it sounded like he was excluded. "Jonathan, would you like some champagne? Thank you, none for me. Have to watch out for the baby."

It occurred to her that Jonathan should have arrived by now. The dining room wasn’t all that far away from the front door.

"Chloe," she said, "where is Jonathan?"

"Mr. Blackstone is in the master bedroom."

Ah. Probably changing clothes, she decided. "Chloe, activate intercom to Mr. Blackstone."

"Activated."

"Jonathan?" she asked.

"What?"

His flat tone made her nervous again. It was a strange feeling. She used to look forward to seeing him. Now he made her nervous. When had that started?

"I—how was your day?"

"Fine."

"Are you coming down to the dining room?" Meredeth noticed her mouth was dry. "I have—I mean, I’ve made dinner for us. It’s curried shrimp. Your favorite."

"You made it? Did the cook get sick?"

"No. I just wanted to do something special tonight."

Silence.

"Jonathan?"

"I’m not all that hungry. It was a long day and I was planning to soak in the jacuzzi."

Meredeth’s shoulders slumped. Then she perked up, remembering that Jonathan loved champagne in the jacuzzi. If she hurried, she could probably make it to the pool area, change into a suit, and be waiting for him. That would show him how adaptable she was. And the food cart would keep dinner hot for at least an hour in case he got hungry.

Meredeth picked up the house remote and tapped the intercom’s mute button. "Chloe, fill the jacuzzi," she said. "Temperature setting three." She released the button and raised her voice. "Why don’t I meet you at the pool, then?"

"Fine," Jonathan replied. "Chloe, deactivate intercom."

"Deactivated."

Smiling to herself, Meredeth snatched the champagne bottle from the bucket, kicked off her high heels, and set off at a dead run.

She barely made it. The door to the men’s changing room opened just as she was settling next to a large jacuzzi with the bottle of champagne. The tiles were deliciously warm, contrasting with the ice-cold champagne bottle, and the room was already steamy and humid. Jonathan Blackstone strode into the room clad in a fluffy green robe.

Meredeth smiled up at him. She had to be the luckiest woman alive—in love with and married to a man like Jonathan Blackstone. Not only was he wealthy, he was handsome. That deep red hair, those boyish brown eyes, the engaging smile, his wonderful body, smooth and sleekly muscled. And he loved her, too, and now she was carrying his baby.

Jonathan nodded to Meredeth, then wordlessly shrugged out of his robe—he was nude underneath—and slipped into the jacuzzi with a splash and a sigh.

"God, what a day," he muttered.

Meredeth swallowed her disappointment at his casual attitude—the bathing suit was very revealing and Meredeth knew she had a knockout body. And hard exercise, not bodysculpt, kept it that way. But she put a sympathetic look on her face and slid around behind Jonathan so she could sit on the lip of the jacuzzi and massage the stiff, knotted muscles of his shoulders. He was tense. The baby could wait. She let one foot dangle in the hot, soothing water.

"Have some champagne," she said soothingly, "and tell me about it."

Jonathan gulped a swallow from the glass Meredeth offered. "First of all, Dr. Mtang threatened to quit if we didn’t give him another raise and put another spouse on the benefit program—for free." He took another deep draft. "The bastard knows the phase drive project would collapse without him. I had to give it to him."

Meredeth clucked her tongue and kept rubbing his shoulders. Jonathan’s skin was warm and damp. "How many spouses does that make?"

"Five," Jonathan spat. "Three wives and two husbands. And then, just when the labs thought they had generated a stable phase field, they found out it only works if the generator remains in one spot. Useless!"

"They’ll solve the problem," Meredeth said, still massaging, though her fingers were starting to ache. "They just need more time."

Jonathan snorted and set the champagne glass on the tile with a clink. Then he fell silent. Meredeth kept massaging.

Why am I so nervous? she thought. Come on, it’s easy. You’ve been rehearsing all day. All right, on three. Ready? One . . . two . . .

"And then," Jonathan said unexpectedly, "one of my assistants misplaced the—"

"Jonathan, I’m pregnant," she blurted.

Jonathan jerked himself out of her hands and spun to face her. Water splashed and swirled around him. "What did you say?"

She smiled and self-consciously put a hand on her stomach. "I’m going to have a baby."

Silence. Jonathan backed away from the edge of the jacuzzi and stood up, dripping in the waist-deep water. His eyes were flashing and Meredeth was suddenly very unsure of herself.

"What do you mean, you’re pregnant?" he asked in a dangerous voice. "We’ve only been married two months. I told you we would have a baby in a couple more years. When I was ready. Jesus fucking Christ, Meredeth—how could you let this happen?"

Meredeth flushed. "Accidents still happen, Jonathan. Even with implants."

"Have you scheduled the abortion yet?"

"Abortion?" Meredeth got to her feet, almost shaking from sudden tension, though she couldn’t tell whether it was anger or fear. "What are you talking about? I don’t want an abortion. There’s no reason for it."

Jonathan’s jaw tightened. He started to reply, then apparently realized Meredeth had a height advantage on him. He climbed out of the jacuzzi, still naked, and stepped toward her. Meredeth forced herself not to step back. A chill went down her back.

"There’s a very good reason," he said, voice low. "I’m not ready for a son yet. We’ll have one when I say so, not before."

"How do you know it’s a son?" Meredeth’s voice shook. "It could be a daughter."

"I don’t care what it is," he snarled. "We aren’t having it."

"Jonathan, what’s wrong with you? This is your baby, too."

"I told you to call the doctor and schedule an abortion," Jonathan snapped almost in her face.

Meredeth straightened. "No," she said firmly.

The blow rocked her, sent her to her knees. Stunned, Meredeth looked up. Jonathan’s face was red and angry, not at all handsome. He drew his hand back and Meredeth tried to scramble away, but her body moved too slowly. A small part of her noticed Jonathan’s erection even as the second blow landed. Pain wracked her head and she lay dazed on the hard tile floor, dimly aware that Jonathan was sitting on top of her, his full weight crushing her chest until she could barely breathe.

"You’ll obey," he hissed in her face, "because I’m your husband. You’re nothing without me, Meredeth. You and your pretentious trash family. You’re nothing."

Meredeth gasped and tried to squirm away, but he grabbed her wrist in one hand with grinding force.

"I didn’t tell you to get up," he snarled. "I’ll tell you when to get up after I show you what happens when you don’t obey." With the other hand he tore off her bikini bottom. Meredeth cried out and he slapped her again. "Shut up." He pushed her legs apart and shoved himself into her.

The pain was horrible. Meredeth heard herself begging him to stop, to let her go, but he ignored her and thrust all the harder, laughing at her, tormenting her.

And then it was over. Jonathan pulled on his robe and left without a word. After a long moment, Meredeth stirred and sat up. Her head ached and her groin burned. A wave of nausea suddenly swept her and she vomited into the jacuzzi. Then she huddled in a tiny ball on the floor, trembling uncontrollably.

She couldn’t comprehend what had just happened to her. It was simply impossible—her mind refused to accept it. When she had met Jonathan a year ago playing virtual reality games on the networks and he had asked to see her in person, Meredeth had been pleasantly surprised, then overwhelmed, to discover he was the fourth wealthiest man on the planet. Love, romance, and tenderness followed, and all from the perfect man. Her parents were overjoyed at the announcement of their engagement—at age twenty-three their little girl had Done Well. Married into a real, high-society family. And now this wonderful, perfect man had raped her. Beaten her and raped her. It couldn’t be.

It must be a mistake, she thought. Just a horrible mistake. I must have done something wrong. Maybe if I had told him gently about the baby, waited until the timing was right instead of blurting it out like an idiot. It must have scared him and he lashed out. It was my fault. He wasn’t ready and I should have realized it. It was my fault, not his.

The floor was growing cold. Meredeth sat up, grimacing at the sour taste in her mouth. A tear leaked from one eye and she wiped it away angrily. She wasn’t going to cry. It had been a mistake. There was no reason to cry. No reason.

A single, choked sound escaped her throat, and suddenly she was sobbing. There was no one to hear her. Eventually, the tears subsided and Meredeth got up to look at the mess in the jacuzzi.

Another thing that’s my fault, she thought. "Chloe, drain the jacuzzi, fill it, and drain it again. Chloe, tell one of the servants the jacuzzi needs to be cleaned."

"Acknowledged."

Meredeth limped into the women’s changing room and looked at herself in the mirror. A bruise was forming under her right eye and her nose was red and swollen from crying. She washed up, swallowed half a dozen painkillers from the dispensary and, not knowing what else to do, pulled her emerald dress back on and went upstairs to the dining room. Jonathan, dressed in slacks and a sweater, was seated at the table, eating.

"The curry sauce is a little spicy," he said as Meredeth sat down. "Otherwise this is pretty good. If you keep this up, you might be a half decent cook one day."

"Thank you," Meredeth almost whispered.

Jonathan continued making small talk, to which Meredeth gave dull, noncommittal answers. When at last the meal was over—Meredeth didn’t touch her plate—Jonathan got up and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. Meredeth managed not to flinch.

"I’ve got some reading to do before I turn in," he said. "It’s been a long day."

Meredeth nodded.

"Love you, darling." And he was gone. Meredeth sat and stared for a long time at her plate.

She couldn’t abort the baby. It was impossible. Even though she was only in her second month, it seemed to Meredeth that she could already feel the baby moving inside her, waiting to be born. To live. Jonathan could understand that, couldn’t he? He just needed a little time. A little time to get used to it. Once he could feel the baby moving inside her too, he would feel the same way she did.

But how could she buy that kind of time? Jonathan could force her to get an abortion, she was sure of that. In addition to the transportation corporations, ocean farms, power companies, and God knew what else, Jonathan owned a string of medical facilities and research hospitals that stretched across half a dozen countries. Scheduling an abortion—even an unwanted one—would be no problem for him.

A small inner voice yammered at her, pointing out that Jonathan had just beaten and raped her, but she ignored it. There were more important things to worry about. She had to save the baby so that Jonathan would have time to understand. Meredeth chewed thoughtfully on a thumbnail, a bit surprised at how calm she felt. When the idea came, she acted on it without hesitation.

"Chloe," she said, "set time to nineteen hundred."

"Function unavailable. Time may not be reset unless—"

"Chloe, Michaels back door eight six nine one. Chloe, set time to nineteen hundred."

"Voiceprint and password verified. Back door open. Time set to nineteen hundred."

Meredeth smiled. There were advantages to programming the house computer yourself. Advantages like back doors that gave you root access. "Chloe, establish a link with NatNet, InfoNet, and WorldWeb."

"Link established."

"Chloe, relay a message to all major newspapers, magazines, VR networks, and everyone in our address database. Chloe, message begins. Jonathan and Meredeth Blackstone are pleased to announce that they will soon be parents. Mrs. Blackstone is due to deliver their first child on November ninth. She is in good health and her doctor expects no complications during the pregnancy. Chloe, message ends."

"Message uploaded."

"Chloe, disconnect link."

"Disconnected."

"Chloe, set time to—" Meredeth glanced at her watch "—twenty thirty-six. Chloe, close back door."

"Time set. Back door closed."

"There, you see, Baby?" Meredeth whispered. "Mama will take care of everything."

She called her parents on the vidphone so they wouldn’t be upset at hearing the news through a blanket announcement, though she had to leave the screen blank so she wouldn’t have to explain her bruised face. Fortunately vidphone etiquette forbade anyone asking why the picture was off. Geneva Michaels, of course, was absolutely ecstatic and wanted to come down from Islington right away, but Meredeth pleaded tiredness.

"Then you go to bed and rest, honey," Geneva said, "and I’ll be over first thing in the morning. After I check with your father, of course. This is so exciting! My baby—having a baby!" She signed off.

Jonathan was already asleep when Meredeth slipped quietly into bed. Her half of the blankets was still cold. Meredeth stared up at the darkness and rubbed her hands over her belly until she fell asleep.

In the morning, Meredeth was almost violently ill. Waves of nausea forced her to remain in her bathroom for almost half an hour. More time was spent in spraying makeup over the bruise on her face. When she finally made her way down to the breakfast nook, bright with its spring morning sunlight and smelling of coffee, Jonathan was already in a foul mood.

"What the hell did you do?" he snarled after the butler poured the coffee and withdrew. The smell almost made Meredeth sick again.

"What do you mean?" she asked, sitting down across from him.

"I checked my e-mail." Jonathan clenched and unclenched his fists. "It was jammed with messages. Just about everyone I know is congratulating us on the baby."

Meredeth put a hand to her mouth. "I’m sorry, darling—I forgot. When the doctor told me the news, I was so excited I made an announcement just before you got home."

Jonathan closed his eyes. "Why were you so stupid, Meredeth? Why? Jesus. You screw up the implants and get pregnant, now this."

"I didn’t get pregnant by myself, Jonathan," she said almost angrily.

He drew back his hand and Meredeth automatically drew back, anger forgotten. Her chair made a scraping sound on the floor.

"Don’t get smart with me," Jonathan growled. "Jesus, this fucks up everything."

"Do you want me to call the doctor and schedule—"

"Of course not!" Jonathan got up and started to pace. "Don’t you know how it would look if you got a medically unnecessary abortion after an official announcement was made and everyone knows you’re pregnant? I can’t afford that kind of scandal."

He halted and stared out the window. "You’re going to have the damn baby after all. And plan a party for next Friday evening. I wasn’t planning on making our first formal appearance as Mr. and Mrs. Blackstone for another month, but I guess we can’t wait now."

"All right," Meredeth replied, secretly glowing. She had bought all the time she needed. Even if Jonathan checked the time the announcement was made, Chloe would tell him the messages were sent out at seven o’clock—before he got home. And although the people who had received the announcement would show the accurate time, information often got jammed up in the net, especially at the big newspapers and VR networks. Meredeth doubted Jonathan would look that far anyway.

Jonathan would adjust. He loved her and he would love the baby when it came.

He finished his coffee in silence and left for work with a distracted look on his face. Meredeth smiled to herself and nibbled on a saltine cracker. She hated the flat, salty texture, but her mother swore by them. That and weak tea were all Meredeth could stomach for breakfast.

This proves that last night was a mistake, she thought. He didn’t even touch me this morning, even though he was angry.

Meredeth forced down another cracker. The nausea did seem to be fading. Maybe her mother had been right after all. Things were looking up.

"Chloe," Meredeth said happily, "tell all the servants I want to meet with them immediately. We have a party to plan."

"My dear Meredeth," gushed—what was her name? Susan? Susanna? "Congratulations on the baby. Absolutely marvelous little gathering you’ve thrown here. Your first?"

Meredeth smiled graciously for the hundredth time and nodded. The Blackstone mansion was packed with guests—well over three hundred of them—and it seemed like all of them had asked the same question. The ballroom floor whirled with glittering men and women dancing to the live music of a tastefully understated orchestra. Eight different buffets provided dishes from dozens of countries. Two of them served real meat. People roamed everywhere—the art gallery, the gardens, the swimming pools, the cliffs above the ocean—and the computer struggled mightily with the task of continually altering color and light in the vicinity of each guest to show his or her outfit to the best advantage.

Meredeth had very quickly discovered that hosting a party on this scale took more than giving orders to servants. There were temporary workers to hire, gardeners and caterers to supervise, decorations to coordinate, her wardrobe to choose. Eventually she had been forced to hire an etiquette and hosting specialist to steer her through the endless pitfalls of high society manners. Jonathan had seemed content to leave it all to her.

"Amazing," the woman continued, waving a nearly empty champagne glass. "Just amazing. For a first party, that is."

"Thank you," Meredeth said. And you’re a wonderful guest. For a first party, that is. "Will you excuse me? I really need to get some air." She politely elbowed her way through the crowd to a wide flagstone balcony overlooking the gardens. The salty spring air cooled her face and she inhaled deeply, ignoring the other people who had come out to look down at the lighted fountains and flower beds.

Behind her, she could still hear the orchestra music and all the people making dull, inane chatter at one another. She didn’t know any of them. They were all Jonathan’s friends. While making out the guest list, Meredeth had suddenly realized that she hadn’t seen any of her old friends in over a year. Not since she had started dating Jonathan. Her friends were strangers to her now, and none of them were at the party.

When did Jonathan become the center of my life? she thought. When did he take over?

A familiar voice wafted up from below and Meredeth leaned over the edge of the balcony. Jonathan, looking stunning in a simple black tuxedo, was talking to two women and a man. One of the women was the American senator Sharon Glesser, if Meredeth remembered correctly. The other two must be her wife and husband.

Meredeth waved until she caught Jonathan’s eye. He raised his glass and smiled at her. She smiled back, unable to help herself.

Well, what did her old friends matter? Meredeth would make new friends. Jonathan was the perfect husband. And she couldn’t have someone with more security, and that was important, too.

Don’t hook yourself to anyone that might drag you down into the gutter, her mother had always said. Security. Money. That’s what’s important, Meredeth, and don’t you forget it. Love won’t survive long without security.

Security she had. Meredeth would never have to worry about having enough money to keep up appearances. Jonathan made appearances. Unlike her parents, Meredeth would never have to worry whether her company would go under. Jonathan bought and sold entire corporations. He had even bought her father’s faltering programming firm, ensuring it would have a steady stream of clients and never go under. It was a wonderful gesture of goodwill toward her family, and Meredeth was proud of her husband’s generosity.

"Meredeth!"

Meredeth turned. Another woman was heading toward her. The woman had long black hair and looked to be in her early twenties, but that meant nothing anymore. Not with the bodysculpt techniques developed by Zhong and Whitman, Incorporated, a medical research corporation Jonathan owned. The techniques were prohibitively expensive, but that didn’t matter to most of Jonathan’s circle.

"Hello," Meredeth said, pasting another smile on her face. "I’m sorry, I don’t—"

"Melissa Long," she said, extending her hand. Meredeth shook it. It was limp and dry, like a rubber band. "Wonderful party. It must have taken so much to coordinate."

"Thank you."

Melissa took a sip of her drink. "And congratulations on the baby. When are you due?"

"November ninth."

"Lucky you. Eric and I have been trying for two years to have one that natural way, but we may be forced to go in vitro." She shuddered and took another sip. "But look at you—married only two months and already pregnant."

"I suppose we are lucky, at that," Meredeth replied, wondering what time it was, knowing it would be rude to glance at her watch.

"Be sure you take care of yourself," Melissa urged. "We wouldn’t want anything to make the baby . . . premature."

"Premature?" Meredeth echoed, confused. "No, the doctor said she didn’t expect any complications."

"Melissa," broke in someone else. A man, this time. Blond and also seemingly in his early twenties. "Here you are. I brought you another drink."

Melissa thanked him. "Meredeth, this is Gordie Sumter, my husband. Gordie, this is Meredeth Blackstone, our host."

"How do you do?" Gordie said.

"We were just discussing Meredeth’s baby," Melissa told him. "You know—how lucky she and Jonathan are that Meredeth got pregnant so easily. So fast."

Meredeth flushed. "Yes, well—"

Melissa gave a light chuckle. The orchestra finished the current waltz and swung into a minuet amid light applause from the dancers. Below, Jonathan said something that made Senator Glesser laugh. Jonathan clapped a hand on her husband’s shoulder and they both joined in. The wife just shook her head.

"You know, Meredeth," Melissa said, "we were all sure that Jonathan was going to marry—what was her name, Gordie? The woman related to the Du Ponts?"

"Genine?" Gordie hazarded.

"That’s the one." Melissa leaned forward conspiratorially. "Everyone was sure those two would get engaged one day. Genine is so suited to high society. But you came along and snatched Jonathan right up. Have either of you considered taking another spouse? Someone like Genine would fit so well into your household."

Meredeth almost shook her head, confused at Melissa’s line of conversation. "Jonathan doesn’t really want another spouse," she said. "A bit anachronistic, but there it is." She spread her hands. "He doesn’t want me to work, either, even after six years in college and a degree in computers. I’m humoring him for the moment."

Melissa raised an eyebrow. "How did you say you met Jonathan?"

"I beat him at three straight games of Orbit on the VR network. It wasn’t difficult—I wrote the thing. At any rate, he asked to meet me in person. I had no idea who he really was until much later." Meredeth smiled. "It was quite a shock, you can imagine, when the man I was dating turned out to be the Jonathan Blackstone. I thought he was just using the name as a network pseudonym."

"I didn’t know Jonathan liked to VR," Gordie said. "We were fraternity brothers in college and he didn’t VR then."

"Really?" Meredeth said, surprised. "That’s odd. He was on all the time when I was finishing up my programming degree."

"No doubt," Melissa said. "Well, keep an eye on that baby. Wouldn’t want a seven-month preemie on our hands, would we? Come along, Gordie—I want to see if the Kangs are here."

Gordie threw Meredeth a wink and Meredeth stared at them as they sailed into the crowd. Why were they so concerned about the baby being premature? There was nothing to—

Meredeth gasped. The little bitch! she snarled to herself, suddenly furious. She thinks I got pregnant and forced Jonathan to marry me!

In the ballroom, the crowd swirled and swooped in a sickening pattern. Meredeth pursed her lips. How many of them were snickering up their sleeves? How many of those conversations were about her and the seven-month "preemie" everyone expected her to have? How many were scoffing about the lower-class tart who had sunk her hooks into a trillionaire?

The entire concept was ridiculous anyway. In the lower classes it didn’t matter who parented whom as long as the child was provided for. But among the upper classes—certainly Jonathan’s set—it did matter. After quick and easy in vitro technology became the standard, the wealthy, ever looking to stay one step ahead of mere commoners, quickly retreated to earlier parenting methods and attitudes.

A hot flush crept up Meredeth’s face and she was glad Jonathan had convinced her not to invite her parents on the grounds that they’d feel out of place.

Those harpies would have them for supper, she thought.

"Meredeth!" came yet another voice that dragged her back to the party. "Congratulations on the baby. Smashing party tonight. Is it your first?"

"Yes," Meredeth said mechanically. "Thank you."

The party dragged on and Meredeth moved through the people, glass in her hand, smile on her face, but the excitement and luster were gone. Everywhere Meredeth turned, she saw false smiles and hidden jealousy. Conversations seemed to end when she drew near, only to begin again when she moved away. Music rose and fell like water in a wave pool. Jonathan was nowhere to be seen. Inane chatter and silly laughter pressed around her, stifling her, until she was sure she would scream.

And then it ended. At some unspoken signal, people began to leave. Not all at once, but in a steady stream, until Meredeth was saying good-bye to the last guests. Some were staying overnight, of course, but the servants would take care of them. Luckily, it was not fashion for the host to greet the overnighters in the morning.

Exhausted, Meredeth stripped off her gown and fell into bed, barely noticing that Jonathan wasn’t in it.

Meredeth lay in her hospital bed, feeling dazed and wrung out. Her left leg was in a cast and her face was puffy and tender. She felt no pain. An IV was plugged into her hand and some instrument she couldn’t see beeped in a regular pattern.

Jonathan sat next to her, holding her hand with a proper mixture of tender concern and husbandly worry. His brown eyes never left her face. His hand was dry and cold.

Also in the room was Dr. Gales, a plump woman with close-set eyes. She took a deep breath and leaned over the bed. "Meredeth, I’m sorry. We couldn’t save the baby."

Meredeth stared blankly ahead, barely hearing the words. It was like Dr. Gales was talking to someone else.

"Meredeth?" Dr. Gales said. "Did you understand me? You lost the baby."

Meredeth shook her head. Everything was out-of-focus, not quite there. She remembered walking down the first floor corridor with Jonathan, reaching the top of the staircase. A rough shove, and suddenly she was falling. Pain thumped with every jar and jolt as she tumbled down the stairs like a rag doll.

Jonathan patted her hand and she looked at him. His face was pale, his hair was a disheveled red mess. It looked like the blood she had seen leaking from between her legs when she had finally stopped falling.

"I’m sorry darling," Jonathan whispered. "I’m so sorry."

"My baby. Where’s my baby?" Meredeth asked, turning to Dr. Gales. "Where’s my baby?"

"She died, Meredeth," Dr. Gales said quietly. "Before you got to hospital."

"A girl," Meredeth said, half to herself. "I knew it was a girl. I was going to name her Jessica."

"Could we have some time, please, Doctor?" Jonathan asked.

"Of course." Dr. Gales left the room, closing the door behind her.

Jonathan stroked Meredeth’s hand almost possessively. "How are you feeling, Merry? Is there any pain?"

Meredeth looked at him. The emotional numbness was beginning to wear off. Her baby was dead, and Jonathan had killed her. Meredeth wanted to cry and scream. She wanted to rip and punch at Jonathan’s face. And she wanted to cower in fear.

Leave him! shrieked an inner voice. He beat you and raped you and murdered your baby. Get out! Hide! Run!

Run where? Jonathan was holding tightly to her hand, and she knew now he would never let go. He was one of the richest, most powerful people on earth. What would happen if she left him?

He would find her, of course. And he could kill her if he wanted to. She didn’t have the resources to hide from him.

But that would cause a huge scandal. And Jonathan had money and barristers and solicitors—things Meredeth simply didn’t possess. If the case went to trial, Jonathan’s barrister would make her look like the money-grubber everyone was already sure she was. They would point out the extremely high odds against a woman with an implant getting pregnant by accident. They would say she got pregnant on purpose to force him into marriage, and now that the baby was gone, Jonathan wasn’t worth anything to her, so she wanted out—with a healthy settlement.

No one would believe Meredeth. She had no witnesses, no evidence, nothing. Just another little bitch trying to climb the social ladder.

"It’s all right, Merry," Jonathan soothed. "We’ll have another baby. And this one will be perfect." He gave a gentle smile, and Meredeth shivered. What was it that Gordie Sumter had said? That Jonathan had never been much for VR? Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen him play a single game since they got married. What if the games had been nothing but a way to meet her? To stalk her?

"We’ll go to France," Jonathan continued. "My people checked your genetic record before we got married, and they said you’re the perfect match for me. The doctors at my research facility can combine the best of my genes with the best of yours, and we’ll have the perfect son. Handsome, intelligent, everything you could want. Don’t you worry. Everything will be under control."

Under control. Meredeth looked at Jonathan’s face and suddenly realized why Jonathan had married her. Why he had purposefully tracked her through the VR net and piqued her interest. Why he had broken into her personal medical records. Meredeth could be controlled. Her middle-class family had no connections, no power. Even her father’s business—

Her father’s business. Jonathan owned it. If she left him, he would bankrupt it without a second thought. Jonathan had won before Meredeth even knew anyone was playing a game.

Emotions rose up behind Meredeth’s eyes, and she ruthlessly squashed them. Emotions had gotten her into this. She had let Jonathan sweep her away, dazzling her with money and attention. She had let herself get attached to the baby, and that had been a mistake. She wouldn’t give in to emotion now.

Meredeth inhaled and let the antiseptic smell of the hospital wash away her feelings. This was a time to be cold and uncaring. Cold uncaring people didn’t get hurt.

And she would get him. It might take months or years, but she would make Jonathan pay for this. Meredeth would find a way.

Copyright © 1997 by Steven Piziks

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• In the Company of Mind Chapter One
• In the Company of Mind Chapter Three

 

Baen Books 06/30/99