Roger Zelazny - Today We Choose Faces

Drifting Placid, yet relentless. Peaceful, yet merciless. Drifting.

A bolt of lightning, followed by an infinite sigh

Rushing, falling

A slow shower of jigsaw pieces, some of them coming together about me

And I began to know.

It was as if I had known all along, though.

Then the picture was complete, and I beheld it in its entirety as from a timeless vantage.

There was a sequence, of course, like vertebrae or dominoes, and it was not at all difficult to here, here, there it.

Here. For example.

Leaving the club on a cold Saturday night in November. A little after 10:30, I guess. Eddie was with me, and we stood behind the glass doors at the front of the place, buttoning our overcoats and looking out at a damp Manhattan street, gusts of wind sailing bits of paper past us, while we waited for Denny to bring the car around. We said nothing. He knew I was still in a bad temper. I took out a cigarette. He hurried to light it for me.

Finally, the glossy black sedan drew up. I had just pulled one glove on and was holding the other. Eddie moved forward and opened the door, held it for me. I stepped outside and the chill air stung my eyes, bringing tears to them. I paused to get out a handkerchief and wipe them, mainly conscious then of the wind, the idling of the engine and a few distant horn notes.

As I lowered the handkerchief I became immediately aware of another figure which had appeared in the car, in the rear seat, and in the same instant realized that the rear window was down and that Eddie had moved six or seven paces away from me.

I heard some of the gunfire, felt the impact of a couple of the slugs. It was to be a long while before I learned that I had been hit four times.

My only consolation right before the lights went out was, twisting as I fell, seeing the smile vanish from Eddies face, his hand jerking after, but not making it to his own weapon, and then the slow beginning of his topple.

And that was the last I ever saw of him, falling, an instant before he hit the pavement.

Here. For another.

Listening to Paul talk, I regarded what could have been a lovely view of a bright mountain lake fed by a little stream, a giant willow tree quivering beside it as if chilled by the water it tested with the green and shiny tips of its limbs. It was a fake. That is, it was real, but the picture was relayed from a spot hundreds of miles away. It was more pleasant than looking out a window from his upper-floor apartment, though, when all I could see would be a sectionalbeit a neat, attractive areaof that urban complex which extended from New York to Washington. The suite was soundproof, air-conditioned and I suppose tastefully decorated in accordance with the best sensibility of the times. I could not judge, since I was not yet familiar with the times. Its brandy was excellent, though.

Must have been puzzling as all hell, Paul was saying. I am amazed at how quickly you have adapted.

I turned and looked at him again, a slim, still-young, dark-haired man with an engaging smile and eyes that really told nothing of what went on behind. He was still a thing of fascination for me. My grandson, with six or seven greats in front of the word. I kept looking for resemblances, finding them where least expected. The jut of the brow, the short upper lip, heavy lower one. The nose was his own, but then he had our way of quirking the left corner of his mouth at moments of pique or amusement.

I sent the smile back.

Nothing that amazing about it, I replied. The fact that I made the provisions I did should have indicated I had done some thinking about the future.

I guess so, he said. But to tell the truth, my only thought was that you had been looking for an out on death.

Of course I was. I was aware of the possibility of my getting it the way that I did, and while body-freezing was still a fairly novel thing back in the seventies

The nineteen-seventies, he interrupted, with another smile.

Yes, I do make it sound like just a couple of years ago, dont I? Try it sometime and you will understand the feeling. Anyway, I figured what the hell. If I got shot down, whatever got damaged might be replaceablesomeday. Why not set things up to have them freeze me and hope for the best? I had read a few articles on the subject, and it sounded like it might work. So I did. After that, it was funny It got to be kind of an obsession with me. I mean, I got to thinking about it quite a bit, the way a real religious man might think about heavenlike, When I die, Ill go to the future. Then I found myself wondering more and more what it would be like. I did a lot of thinking and a lot of reading, trying to figure different ways that things might work out. It wasnt a bad hobby, I said, taking another drink. It gave me a lot of fun, and as things turned out its paying off.

Yes, he said. So you were not really surprised to learn that a means of traveling faster than light was developed, and that we have visited worlds beyond the solar system?

Of course I was surprised. But I had been hoping for it.

And the recent successes in teleportation, on an interstellar scale?

I was more surprised at that. Pleasantly, though. Hooking the outposts together that way will be a great achievement.

Then let me ask you what you have found the most surprising.

Well, I said, finding myself a seat and taking another sip, outside of the fact that we managed to get this far and still have not found a way to remove the possibility of war I raised a hand at this point as he began to interrupt me with something about controls and sanctions. He shut up. I was glad to see that he respected his elders. Outside of that, I went on, I suppose that the single most surprising thing to me is that we have gone more or less legitimate.

He grinned.

What do you mean more or less?

I shrugged.

Well? I said.

We are as legitimate as anybody, he countered, or we would never have been able to get listed on the World Stock Exchange.

I said nothing, but found another smile.

Of course, it is a very well-run organization.

I would be disappointed if it were not.

Just so, just so, he said. But there we are. COSA Inc. All legal, proper and respectable. Been that way for generations. The tendency in that direction had actually begun in your day, withas feature writers liked to put itthe laundering of funds and their reinvestment in more acceptable enterprises. Why fight the system when you are strong enough to be big in it without fighting? What are a few dollars one way or the other when you can have everything you want and security, too? Without the risks. Just by following the rules.

All of them?

Well, there are so many that it has become, if anything, easier, when you can afford the brainpower.

He finished his drink, fetched us refills.

There is no stigma, he concluded then. The image we had in your day is ancient history now.

He leaned forward conspiratorily.

It must really have been something, though, living in those times, he said, and then he looked at me expectantly.

I did not know whether to be irritated or flattered. From the way they had been treating me since my arousal a couple of weeks earlier, I obviously shared some historical niche with the bedpan and the brontosaurus. On the other hand, Paul seemed to regard me with more than a little pride, rather like a family heirloom which had been entrusted to his keeping. By then, I was aware that his position in the organizations power structure was both secure and potent He had insisted that I be his houseguest, though I could have been put up elsewhere.

He seemed to take a great delight in getting me to talk 12 about my life and times. I learned slowly that his knowledge of these things was largely based on the gaudier writings, films and rumors of the day. Still, I was eating his food, sleeping under his roof, we were relatives and the statutes had long since run. So 1 obliged him with some reminiscences.