Hair Suite Page 5

  “Yes. I have one in mind.”

  The others looked at her.

  “Gena,” Quiti said. “I know you. I trust you. I believe in you. Would you do it?”

  Gena seemed about to faint. “You're serious?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “I—believe I would, if that is what you want. I have always envied your hair.” She took a breath. “But you know I have a problem that could complicate my involvement.”

  “It could also solve it,” Quiti said evenly. “You would become competent to take Idola back, if necessary, especially with her being another Chip.”

  Gena considered that. “I hope that never becomes necessary. But I'd take her, if I had to.”

  “Then let's set you up for the duo,” Quiti said. “The chip is easy; you simply put it in your ear and it does the rest, without discomfort. The hair is more complicated.”

  “Three years to grow six feet,” Gena agreed. “Do we have three years?”

  “We don't,” Levi said. “Indications are we may have a month, maybe less.”

  “Hair reproduces in more than one way,” Quiti said. “Roque, Tillo, and I did it the slow way, from seed. But the Hair advises me that there is also fissioning, the fast way.”

  “This is new to me,” Levi said.

  “Well, you're not of the Hair sphere. It is this way: donor and new host get close together, head to head, and each hair swells and splits lengthwise, one portion remaining on the original head, the other detaching, then anchoring on the new head. The process requires several hours, but the new host starts with fully mature hair, and will develop her powers in a few days as she acclimatizes and the hair fills out, rather than two years.”

  “Amazing,” Levi said. “You are to be the donor?”

  “Yes, I have the most mature hair.” She turned to Gina. “There are cautions. Adapting your body to hair alone will require much energy, and the same will be true for the chip. You will have to eat ravenously, and your body will process that nourishment efficiently, which means you'll spend half your time on the pot, literally. The others here will take care of us, of course, but there will be no physical privacy, and not much mental privacy either. But in a few days that should ease, and you will be a super woman.”

  “I'll do it,” Gena said gamely.

  Quiti glanced at the others. “Levi, Burn, you will be moving into the Hair Suite here, so you can take proper care of the three or four new hosts and acquaint them with the nuances of the chips. You will be training them so they don't have to flounder; you know exactly what the chips can do. You will also check the wormholes for further information on the Pod. Soon the new Chips will be able to assist in that, especially with your guidance.”

  “Of course,” Levi said.

  “Move your things in, the two of you. Give me a Chip; I will give it to Gena when the Hair tells me to.” Levi gave her a metal worm. It lay passively in her hand, pulsing faintly. “Tillo, bring Idola here and give her a Chip.” She glanced at Burn, who gave Tillo a Chip. “I leave things in your hands, as I will be busy,” she said to Tillo as the two Chip Monks departed. Then to Gena: “Come lie with me, friend.”

  Gena smiled, understanding. They went to Quiti's bedroom and took care of natural functions. Then Gena stripped naked and lay on the bed. Quiti joined her, not needing to strip, as her hair was her clothing. They clasped each other like lovers, and put their heads together.

  “This would be weird, if I didn't know better,” Gena said.

  “We're not lovers,” Quiti agreed. “Actually this is closer.”

  Gena laughed. “I suppose it is. It's hard to imagine becoming a super woman. The prospect makes me nervous.”

  “I'll be with you all the way.”

  “That comforts me.”

  Quiti's hair thickened and spread. Soon it wrapped them both in a cocoon. Now, the hair thought, and she put the chip to Gena's ear. It quickly disappeared. Then the hair rendered them both unconscious.

  Quiti had a flashback dream of her life when it had significantly changed, first when she was diagnosed with brain cancer and was pronounced terminal, then when she encountered the floating Hairball, helped it reach sunlight, and was rewarded with the seeding of a head of remarkable hair to remedy her baldness resulting from treatment. That had ushered in the most remarkable two years of her life, bringing her to the present.

  Three hours had passed. Burn was there with food and drink provided by the supplementary Embassy staff. Quiti felt depleted in a way food could not entirely repair. Half her hair was gone! Not actually gone; she still had every thread of it. But they had fissioned, each hair becoming two, with the companion hair gone, and were lean. She could function well enough, but would not feel whole again until the hair filled out to its original state.

  That meant ravenous eating for several days. She separated from Gena, no longer cocooned with her, leaving the bed to her. Then she grabbed the food and wolfed it down. Burn was already bringing more.

  “Speedo and Desiree?” she asked Burn.

  “In her room, lying embraced,” Burn said. “The process is individual and internal for each, but they prefer to experience it together. Roque is watching them.” She flashed a smile. “A Hair safeguarding two forming Chips. I don't believe that has happened before.”

  Quiti nodded. “The onset of the Pod changes everything. The two were becoming a couple. Now they can be a couple squared. They will both be very pleased with that.” She paused a moment, assimilating. “Idola?”

  “Tillo fetched her. She took the chip. They are resting together.”

  Quiti finished the additional food. Burn brought more. “Let's get to know each other better,” Quiti said. “We do want to be friends.”

  “We do,” Burn agreed.

  “Roque telepathically shared what you showed him, but that's background. Now I'd like to know you personally.”

  “Yes.”

  Quiti glanced at Gena, lying still unconscious with her marvelous new head of hair wrapped around her like a cloak. “I wonder what she is dreaming. Her mind is a complicated blank as the hair and chip take hold and integrate.”

  “I wonder too,” Burn said. “Maybe she will let me touch her, when she is ready, so that I can read her experience.”

  “She may become our new leader, because of the powers she will have.”

  “I am trusting your knowledge of her, hoping that will be a good thing.”

  “I do believe in her,” Quiti said. “But it's still a gamble. Her life is complicated.” Then she headed for the pot, as her enhanced digestion was making it urgent. Her fissioned hair was lean and hungry.

  Burn smiled and went to fetch more food.

  C

  hapter 5

  Gena

  Gena was back in childhood, a slightly rebellious girl in a more than slightly conservative family. She tended to get in trouble for asking awkward questions about biblical literalisms, and for trying to be an independent tomboy instead of a dependent maiden. She dreamed of traveling, but knew that her likely destiny was to become a dutiful wife and mother to a good conservative young man. But she learned early to repress the expression of her wildest notions and to put on a semblance of meekness, to save her body from hidings.

  The moment she was eighteen, so that she could not be stopped, she moved out of her parents' house and into the motor home of a handsome rogue, living in sin. Soon they were traveling, going anywhere that his dubious job prospects encouraged.

  Her parents disowned her. She learned this from a public notice bearing her name.

  She was careful, but evidently not careful enough; two years later she found herself pregnant. She told her boyfriend, and he took it better than she had feared. It was an error that could be fixed. He knew a cheap abortionist.

  A what? Gena was not conservative like her family, but this much had rubbed off: no abortion. She would carry the baby and they would take care of it together. It might not hurt if they got married first.
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  He nodded soberly. Next morning he was gone without trace. She was alone in the motor home. It was underwater, which meant worth less than the remaining payments due on it. It would soon be reclaimed and she would be out on the street, literally. But for a few weeks, if she were lucky, she could still live in it.

  What to do? She knew she could not get and hold a job unless she lied about her pregnancy, but that was another bit of conservative lore that had rubbed off on her: she was not about to tell a lie. In any event, no job would last beyond the point she started to show.

  She was stuck for it. She swallowed her pride and wrote a letter to her parents, confessing that they had been right, and begging them to take her back at least while she carried the baby. She promised to be a good girl in all other respects, for the sake of the innocent baby. She hoped that would move them.

  The letter was returned to her, unopened, refused. She was simply no part of their existence. So they didn't even know about her pregnancy.

  Now what to do? She was not equipped to care for a baby or child, assuming she found a way to live and eat through the pregnancy.

  So she posted a free ad on the internet: FREE TO GOOD HOME: A BABY.

  And she got a response, apart from the usual jokes and condemnations. A newly married couple could not have children of their own, so hoped to adopt. They sent enough information so that she believed they were serious, and she responded in kind. They were prepared to provide food and shelter for her until she birthed the baby, which they would then adopt. There remained details to be worked out, but it looked like a good fit.

  So she spent her last dollars on food and gasoline, and drove to the other state where they lived. She met the couple, and liked them immediately, and they liked her. They were good people, as she once had been. She moved in with them, and they went through the formal adoption process. This turned out better than she had dared to hope: they did not want to separate her from her child, but to have her remain in her child's life. So it was to be an open adoption, the facts generally known. The baby would legally become theirs, but she would be recognized and have comprehensive visiting privileges, so that the child would know her.

  They were Sanford, an upright young man with an excellent office job, and Clyte, a lovely young woman who wore her hair in a low, loose brown bun that nevertheless became her. Her name meant “nymph” and her figure matched. But Clyte had a history that cast a shadow on the marriage. They made sure Gena knew this before committing, in fairness.

  It was this: Clyte was enamored of a former boyfriend, Merrill, who loved her back. But she was sterile, and his family wanted him to sire heirs, so opposed the relationship. Merrill needed his family's continued support to complete his education. So they had reluctantly broken up, still very much in love. Clyte had then in effect married the dull boy next door, Sanford, who also wanted a family but was more open about how to get it. He had always loved her, and was a fine man, but lacked Merrill's flair. He was the perfect backup husband, and Clyte did her best to be the perfect wife; they had a good if not spectacular relationship. But if Merrill ever came back into her life, “I don't think I could tell him no,” she said candidly. “So our marriage could break up, and it would be my fault. It's unlikely to happen; it's been two years, and Merrill is surely happy with a fertile woman, and maybe has her pregnant by now. But there it is. Your child could suffer a family breakup.”

  Gena was intensely sympathetic, because of her own romantic history, but appreciated the risk. She could have used a backup husband. Yet what were the chances? This couple was ideal in other respects. In fact Sanford was exactly the kind of man Gena herself should have married, that her parents would have approved of, who would never have deserted her the way her rogue boyfriend had. She had learned the hard way, and would not make that mistake again, now that it was too late. It was a calculated risk, but the risk was small. She decided to gamble on it.

  So she birthed the baby, a girl, whom they adopted and named Idola, meaning “lovely vision,” and Gena nursed her for six months, then moved out of their house. It was time, because she was finding Sanford too attractive, though he had never made even a hint of any move on her. That was part of what made him attractive: his steadfast loyalty to his wife. Gena remained in close touch, however, visiting the child often, who came to call her “Aunt Gena.” Too close, Gena feared; she needed to let the child bond completely with her adoptive parents. Also to get away from Sanford. So Gena got a job as a long haul truck driver that would take her back and forth across the country, separating her for weeks at a time.

  It didn't work. Years passed, and she still thought constantly about Idola, and Idola plainly missed her too. Their partings and reunions were blissfully tearful. Sanford and Clyte were supremely tolerant; they understood about difficult separations. Idola loved her natural mother, and loved her adoptive parents too. She would probably be completely happy only if they all lived together in the same house. Gena refused to entertain the idea; she had to remain the friend of the family, not in any way alienating Idola from her folks. Not being too close to Sanford. But it was difficult.

  Then Quiti came into her life. Gena was eating at a truck stop cafeteria when the girl walked in, shapely, green eyed, voluminous hair, and, it seemed, looking for Gena. She stopped by the table and said she needed to be hidden in the right setting, and would like to be a traveling companion. It was one weird pickup line, even for a woman looking for a woman. Gena dismissed her. “You'll be better off riding with a man.” For the men in the establishment were covertly eyeing her; any would be happy to give her a lift.

  Quiti was undismayed. “Let me show you a trick.”

  Suddenly there was a fire blazing in the middle of the table. But it wasn't real; no one else saw it, and it had no heat. It was a mental projection.

  That got her attention. This was no ordinary woman. They introduced each other and talked. Their acquaintance quickly solidified. Gena touched Quiti's vibrant hair, then kissed it—and it kissed her back, and somehow eased her fixation on her daughter. Now she could visit Idola, enjoy being with her, but also be satisfied to exist apart from her. That hair was magic!

  Actually that was only the beginning of the hair's power. She learned that Quiti had helped an alien hairball, who had returned the favor by planting the hair on her head. It was as yet not fully grown, being only six inches long, but in time it would make Quiti into a virtual super-woman. It enabled her to breathe under water, it had cured her brain cancer, rendered her into a genius, gave her the telepathic picture projection talent, and even enabled her to float, and finally to fly, spreading out like an umbrella. It also became her clothing, emulating whatever outfit she chose to wear. When men tried to molest the two of them, the telepathic hair reached into the men's minds and made the women seem to grow wings and fangs, like vampires, and they scared the men away. Later scaring became unnecessary; Quiti could become physically invulnerable. Gena was there to see Quiti discovering the growing hair's amazing properties.

  Oh, to have hair like that! But Gena suppressed her envy, satisfied just to be Quiti's friend. She had excellent friends, and now the maturity to avoid even the temptation to abuse their kindness.

  In due course Quiti met Idola. The girl was shy at first; then she touched the hair, and became an instant devotee. That was the way it was, with the hair. Quiti became Auntie Quiti.

  But in time the authorities got wind of Quiti's abilities, and closed in. Gena helped her escape the trap, though it meant parting company with her for some time, knowing that Gena herself was now being watched in the hope that she would lead them to Quiti. Gena hated that, but was glad to help. Later, Quiti, now with her full hair and powers, visited, and brought another hair suit, her adopted son Tillo, who promptly became an item with Idola. It was a bit weird, but good. Later yet Gena rejoined Quiti, who had pulled off an amazing coup, becoming part of her embassy staff.

  Which brought them to the present. Gena had envied Quiti's
hair. Now she had it herself. Half of it, at least, though that would soon be whole. Plus a chip. What did it mean? She felt the developing power of the two alien sources, compatibly remaking her mind and body. What was she becoming?

  But she had a more immediate problem: Idola's family. Her daughter's situation was in peril. She needed to find out exactly what was happening and decide how to deal with it.

  She marshaled Hair and Chip. “We must travel,” she told them. It was too soon for her to fly or perform other feats she knew Quiti could do; she needed more time. But her mature hair could accomplish some of them.

  She rose from the bed, naked, and wrapped her six foot long tress around herself in the manner of a cloak. She became invisible. She walked out of the room and the embassy, without the others realizing. Outside she formed the hair into the semblance of a simple print dress. This sort of thing was easy for the hair to do. She stood by the street, surrounded by an aura of unnoticeability, and watched the traffic. She would hail a passing cab. Not this one. Not that one. But the third one, yes; the hair approved it. The vehicle slowed to a stop beside her.

  Oops—she had no wallet, no money. What to do? She would have to improvise. She had kept her body lean and fit, exercising regularly, and at age 32 remained a handsome woman. Hair and Chip would enhance that, in due course, but what she had now would suffice for this purpose.

  The cab door opened. She closed it and got in the front seat, next to the driver. “I do not have money at the moment, but I do have this,” she said, making her hair cloak go translucent, showing off her torso. “Drive me where I need to go, awaiting payment until arrival, and you may feel this.” She took his right hand, passed it through the curtain of hair, and put it to her left breast. “Can you drive one handed?”

  “Yeah, on Auto,” he said. That meant the cab would largely drive itself, probably more safely than he would do it.