Download the Book - Islam and Science Fiction

long-standing thing he's had for her. He wonders how he can think of sex,
even fleetingly, even with GRob, who's muscled up but looks like a woman,
not a steroid queen like Perdue. Escape, he imagines. His hormones offering
him an out. He still can't accept that Perdue is dead. She was a mad fucking
soldier.
"Punch yourself some downs," Baxter says to GRob. "Light level."
GRob doesn't move to obey.
"That's an order!" He looks to Wilson. "You, too."
"That's not cool, man! We can't be doing downs we're in the shit!"
"Hear what I said? That's an order!"
"I already did up. When the wolves showed," Wilson says, not wanting
to dull his edge. "I went way light, but I did up."
Baxter eyes him with suspicion, then says wearily, "They're shaitans,
not wolves. I told you about 'em in the carrier."
"I wasn't all the time listening."
"Muslim hell got some devils resemble wolves. That's what we saw."
"I thought this was supposed to be Paradise," Wilson says, and Baxter
says, "Who the fuck knows? Maybe the ragheads back in the village weren't
tellin' it straight. Maybe they're chumpin' our ass. Wouldn't be the first
time."
GRob, keying up a drug mix, makes a disparaging noise. "We just
gonna sit around and get high until the shit comes down? That the plan?"
Baxter checks the mix on her computer, tells her to do up, and then says
to Wilson, "Read the pearl for her."
The interior of the pearl consists of chamber after chamber, what seems
an infinite progression of rooms of varying proportions. Wilson reports this
and Baxter says, "You got that, GRob? Infinite. There's this room, then
another and another and another … Get the picture?"
GRob's leisurely tone reflects her new chemical constituency. "Naw,
man. I don't got it. How's that possible?"
"Right! I'm goin' explain this whole thing."
She doesn't seem to notice the sarcasm in Baxter's voice and waits for
him to deliver an explanation. Finally it appears to sink in. Her head droops
to the side as if with the weight of acceptance that no explanation will be
forthcoming. A smile touches the corners of her lips, the strain empties from
her face. She might be seventeen, a sleepy girl waking after being with her
lover, remembering the night they had. "This is probably the way to go," she
says.
It's a vague statement, but Wilson, recognizing the hopelessness of their
situation, trapped inside a giant pearl that has no end, devils like werewolves
roaming everywhere, without the guidance of command, and maybe sixty-
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