“Inhale,” said Hyper, but Helix gagged against the rush of pressure released gas, and coughed. In defeat she withdrew the pistol and wiped it on her sleeve. “Sorry,” she said, handing it back to Orielle. She felt a mild tingle at the base of her skull, nothing more.

“You have to be ready for it,” said Orielle. “Here, watch.” She replaced the spent cartridge with a new one and drew the barrel into her mouth. She exhaled deeply, and then pulled the trigger, breathing in at the same time. Her eyes closed momentarily and then she put another fresh cartridge into the pistol with automatic motions. When she handed it to Helix, her eyes were glistening and unfocused. “Now try it again,” she whispered.

Helix held the pistol in her hand. “What does it feel like?” she asked. Orielle smiled and her eyes closed again, “Only one way to find out.”

This time when Helix squeezed the trigger she breathed in, and felt her sinuses flooded with icy gas. It made her eyes water, and she shook her head, and then shivered as the tingling at the base of her skull spread up and out, across her face and over her skin to the tips of her fingers and toes. She felt like a glass of water vibrating with the frequency of some distant chime. She saw a temple, gleaming white on a distant, sunlit mountaintop. Below, in the valley, a river flowed by. When her eyes refocused, she was left with a lightness in her body. The chime still vibrated in her cells, thinning her physical form, turning her more into sound than flesh. Hyper was taking the cartridge into his mouth. She watched him release the gas and lean back, eyes closed.

His skin looked very fine and bright. She leaned closer, because she thought she could see gold in the hollows of his cheeks. Her face was inches from his when he opened his eyes — glittering with the reflection of the river. She could feel the sound emanating from his body, to ring against hers, and she leaned closer to sharpen the pitch, to touch his vibrating skin and tune her cells to his. oOo

Chango climbed the steps to Hyper’s house in the bright morning sunshine and let herself in the front door. She knew right away the house was empty. If Hyper’d been home he’d be moving around somewhere, and if Hyper wasn’t home, Helix wouldn’t be here either. They’d spent the night then, at Orielle’s. Chango shook her head to try and rid herself of a headache. She’d gone to sleep on Mavi’s couch last night with a hard lump of anger in her stomach. It had climbed into her head while she slept. It was like a ball bearing rattling around in there, and every time it bounced off her skull, she thought of another angry, hurtful thing to say. She pulled one of Hyper’s bench stools into the archway, sat down, and waited.

They came up the stairs together, and as soon as she saw them, she knew they’d made love to each other. She’d been all ready to read Helix the riot act about diving, but this distracted her. It was an easier thing to be mad about than Helix’s inexplicable death wish. If there was anything she’d learned from Pele, it was how to throw a jealous fit.

“You slept together,” she said, as they stood in the doorway, staring at her owlishly. “My girl and my best friend.”

“You’re girl? Good gods!” exclaimed Hyper.

“Well, it was too late to leave,” said Helix.

“No, I mean you had sex.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah we did,” said Helix. “It was different than with you. What’s the matter?”

“Was it better?”

“What?”

“Chango please,” said Hyper.

She ignored him. “Was it better, Helix? Do you like him better?”

“I like both of you.”

Hyper spread his hands, “Can’t argue with that, can you? Don’t tell me Miss Free Love Michigan is going to claim ownership of her lover’s body.”

Chango put her face in her hands. “I don’t know. I just don’t know anymore.”

“The shoe hurts when it’s on the other foot, doesn’t it?” said Hyper. “But that’s not really what you’re upset about. I mean maybe you are, but what’s really bugging you is that Helix is going to be a vatdiver.”

“I can’t believe you support her in this. Don’t you care if she dies?”

“Of course I care,” Hyper approached her, and put his hand on her arm. “But let me show you something-”

“No!” Chango recoiled and jumped off the stool. She started gathering her clothes from the front room, stuffing them heedlessly in her back pack. “I don’t want any more explanations.” She turned to Helix.

“You’re going to dive in the vats and you’re going to die.” She looked at Hyper, “And you’re helping her. Well, I’m not going to stick around and watch it happen. I’m out of here,” she said, and she left, banging the screen door shut behind her.

oOo

Helix arrived at the gates to the vat yard at a quarter to eight the next morning. About twenty vatdivers congregated on the street in loose clusters, talking amongst themselves. A tall, broad shouldered woman looked up as she approached the gate, and muttered something to her companions. They all darted glances at her, their conversation becoming more animated. "Must be crazy," Helix overheard as she passed, and "What makes her think she has the right?" She quickened her pace, entering the vat yard and searching among the domed vat houses for one labeled nine. Before long a security guard spotted her and ambled up. "Employees only, ma'am," he said.

"I am," she said, "that is, I will be. I'm here for orientation, Vat 9." He looked at her dubiously, "What's your name?"

"Helix Martin," she told him.

He switched on his transceiver, scanned through a list of names, and found hers. "Okay," he shrugged,

"It's the one over there, second from the end," he pointed to the opposite end of the yard.

"Thanks," she said, and made her way across the cloncrete towards it. Inside, the vat house was astir with end of shift activity. Divers filed towards the detox shower, a pair of porters went by, lugging a plasmic barrel marked "Grow Med. Batch 1234-9896," a supervisor shouted instructions to a team in he vat, her voice ringing clear above the general din and murmur of voices bouncing off the polished cloncrete floor and the glass dome above. It was bright inside, lit by halogens and the morning sky. A balcony ran along the second story, with catwalks connecting to the upper rim of the vat which filled most of the room.

An ample woman in white coveralls approached her, glancing at a clipboard. A badge above her left breast said April. "Helix Martin?" she eyed her impassively.

"Yes."

She nodded. "You're early. Come on, there's some forms for you to fill out." Helix followed her to a small office on the ground floor, where a stoop-shouldered, smiling clerk handed her waivers and contractual agreements and tax forms, and she signed them. When she was done, April took her to the locker room. It seemed a vast sea of tile and steam, with rows upon rows of lockers, and divers in all stages of undress. April took her down one long aisle, a narrow bench running its length down the middle, to a locker at the far end, near the wall. "This is yours, number 302," she said and opened it. "Take off your coat, I have to measure you for a suit." A small throng of divers hung out at the other end of the aisle with an expectant air. She glanced at April, who stared back with patient indifference. She swallowed and reached for the buttons of Hector's overcoat with trembling fingers. She adjusted her position to put as much of April between herself and the divers as possible, and slowly, with economical gestures, she unbuttoned her coat.

"Na-na-na-na, na-na-na-na," someone sang the tune to The Stripper, and someone else hooted, and there was general laughter among the audience. Helix's face burned, and she stood there, her coat hanging open, her hair standing on end, sweat breaking out under her armpits and she glared at April, who pretended not to have heard anything.