Ride the Bull

"Let's meet by the bull," she said.

I tried not to scowl and she smacked me lightly with the magazine that she had rolled and unrolled throughout our virtual chat.

"Hey! You. It's not that bad," she said.

I said nothing, but she laughed at the expression on my face.

"Don't you like visiting the big cities?" she asked and I wondered how we could have known each other for so long and understand each other so little. My barking laugh ended in a sigh and I looked up at the clear night sky. The stars blinked back steadily and I ran a hand through my chin length hair. Perhaps I should shave before the first date. No, the stubble can stay, I thought.

"Next time, I choose," I growled and her crooked smile was worth everything.

"You'll change your mind," she said and she spread the magazine like a fan so that she could cool her face, "I know the city. I'll show you the subways, the abandoned museums, the fountains. All of the best spots. I'll be your guide. The best guide in the whole world."

"Fine," I said and our fingertips touched briefly.

"I can't wait to do this for real," she whispered and I was caught for a moment by her serious, dark eyes. The promises we made each other when they connected.

I didn't sleep well that night. I tried to persuade myself it was the ailing tent. The wind had been strong enough to pull up several of the pegs and the flapping fabric had smacked against itself for hours. Even as I repositioned the satellite I knew that it had been more than the wind and rain that had been on my mind.

It had been years since I had seen another person. Really seen, truly touched. I had lived alone on this remote, northern island for most of my life. In the winter, weeks could go by without sunlight.

I crowbarred open the cover above my bunker and scrambled down the dark, narrow steps. I hadn't been here for so long that the bottles in my small, defiant cellar were covered in a carpet of dust. It stung my eyes as I swept it away. The Chianti, a fine, independent vintage remained rich and velvet as I swilled it around my mouth. By the time I reached the moon-gate, my tongue was so dry that it caught on my teeth.

A little dizzy, mostly through the elation of what was about to happen, but also because of the empty bottle of wine in my cellar, I punched in the code and gateway address and then pressed my thumb gently on the smooth stone. The gate, a full circle, started to hum. I waited for a moment with my eyes closed, thinking of the man I wanted to be when I stepped out into El Pamplona Nuevo. I thought of the woman who was waiting for me there.

A lifetime of possibilities stretched before me. I roared into the night. A primal sound that surprised me as much as it confirmed my humanity.

My voice shattered as the warmth of the translation process took effect. Soon my body would be in static sleep and I would be stepping out into a living avatar, in bright sunlight, on the other side of the earth. I sent Elena a quick message. See you soon!

I knew something was wrong as soon I stepped onto the cobbled pavement. The stones were cold when they should have been warm. The air was cloudy and burnt. Motes of broken glass and dust swirled in the air.

I wandered alone through deserted streets, realising that this new body was probably now my only one. How long could even The Cured last in stasis?

I cursed myself for my greed, for my stupidity and silently apologised for everything that I had abandoned. All that was now surely dead on the Isle that I had been lonely steward of.

The only thing that kept me going, was the crazed hope that whatever glitch had kept my new body from being spun had held hers back too. Somewhere in this lost city, my Elena could be waiting for me. Confused and scared. Alone.

I rehearsed a monologue in my mind. A speech about an unexpected shared future together. I mapped out a time-line, a process a strategy. As if somehow I could conjure together a recipe for love and happiness from the seeds of destruction around me.

The water was the first thing I heard. A faint splash of liquid dripping onto metal. I watched it for several moments. Amazed and transfixed by this marvelous impossibility. My astonished laugh echoed back to me. If there was even a little water here then there was more hope that I realised. I hastily revised my plans. Accelerated timelines. We could reasonably expect fertile land within a generation!

That's when I glanced up.

Whatever artist had crafted this statue must have laboured in front of the real thing. Truly an ancient city then.

Long horns that slightly curled upwards, obsidian, cold eyes. Textured, metal, moulded shoulders that seemed almost slathered on. The effect was of something caught in motion. It didn't just capture the form of the animal itself, a raging, powerful bull, but of it's emotion. I held my breath slightly, half-expecting steam to start flowing out of its finely crafted nostrils.

There was something incongruent around its neck. A golden chain tied around a metal flask. Both starting to flake and decay in a way that betrayed their true origin. Patterns like that meant only one thing. They had been spun by the Moon Gate.

I ran to the broken fountain as though a quicker step now would make up for the centuries that had passed. I knew now that the Elena I knew was long gone. Her body had been spun instantly, a long time ago. Inside the flask was a message. As I read it the cold, tin heart in my faked chest started to burn. If this body could have cried, it would have.

"I ride the bull," it said, "I wait for you!"

I walked slowly around the statue. A reluctant smile on my lips as I beheld the figure of the woman I could have known. Her thighs were clenched tightly and her torso raised so that she hovered above the saddle. She clutched chains that had been strung around the bulls immense girth and leaned against them. The 'golem' body was young and vibrant. Her hair longer than he remembered and curling darkly around her head, like vengeful smoke.

Faint traces of red were left on the seductive dress, or perhaps it was just rust. Even as a peeling photocopy of the woman she had been, she had strength and vitality and presence. For a long time, I sat beside her, grieving.

Eventually, it was time to return to the gate. Time to see if there was anything alive in the world left to return to.

I half expected silence when I touched the stones and it did take a little longer than it should have done, but with a low groan they activated and I heard the spinners start to churn. I should have hurried through them. If there was any chance that my true body might have survived then I should have returned to it. I was a Guardian! But, something stilled my feet and suddenly they felt too heavy to move. I glanced over my shoulder and felt something pulling me back. She called to me.

I pressed my hand to the stone panel and felt it warm slightly under the demands of the data that I demanded from it. I drained the portal almost dry. So many memories retried that it may never spin again. Fine!

I wove a cloak for her shoulders from scraps of metal that I scavenged from the lost city. I quilted them together using old copper wire that I pulled up from cracks in the streets. Once formed, I imbued it with symbols that represented our shared story together. Even as my story ended, I wanted it to continue to be told.

Then I mounted the bull and wrapped the metal fabric around both of us. I laid my chin against her shoulder. I let my crafted body take a final breath. Closed my eyes and started to dream. I had downloaded so many memories from the gate that they would sustain me almost infinitely.

As the last vestige of consciousness sank away, I heard the gentle familiar chime of a link forming. Shocked, I realised that the ravages of time had not yet reached her duplicated mind. The machine still lived. It had been lying dormant all these years. Drained of power, not of life.

In our shared minds, Elena smiled as she strode towards me. She pushed my chin up with her chin, took my hand and we started to dance.