Page 90 of Lucy Undying

Alicia burst into tears. Her heart was so full, her body so tired. She was ready. She was ready. She didn’t know if she deserved it, but she trusted that what they saw in her was true. And she did believe she’d earned it.

When she entered the grand ballroom of the Salt Lake City Goldaming Life Center, she half expected a literal gate, shimmering and golden, with a rainbow haze beyond which immortality awaited.

Instead, Blanche Goldaming, smaller and older than she’d remembered, was sitting in a chair, supported on either side by people who didn’t look like Ford, but felt like her.

“Come forward and kneel,” Blanche said. She sounded tired. Alicia had a moment of confusion and doubt. Why would Blanche Goldaming look like that, when she held the secret of eternal health?

Alicia did as she was told, kneeling in front of the chair where Blanche sat. A hand rested lightly on top of her head, and Alicia struggled not to tremble. “Close your eyes,” Blanche whispered. “Leave weakness behind, and become gold forever. Swear yourself to the Goldamings.”

“I swear,” Alicia said. Before she could wonder why she was swearing herself to the Goldamings and not to Goldaming Life, two points of ice stabbed into her neck. She tried to jerk away, but arms like chains wrapped around her, trapping her. Her face was tilted down; she couldn’t see. Cold flesh was pressed against her lips. “Drink,” someone commanded. She tasted blood. This was wrong. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen. But she was so used to trusting and obeying. She swallowed.

“That’s enough,” a woman’s voice said. “Snap it.” Hands wrapped around her head. She heard and felt the pop as an atomic burst of color, and then everything was dark.

And then nothing was dark. She gasped back to life in an explosion of consciousness.

The higher connection she’d wanted with the universe descended on her like a mantle from heaven. She had senses and feelings and strength she never knew existed. She was also in a box, and had no idea who she was other than a desperate, terrible need.

“Open it up,” a voice demanded. The lid was removed. “Welcome to the other side of the Celestial Gate, Alicia.”

That’s right. She was Alicia. She’d forgotten for a moment. And the woman who stood over her was Ford. Her sponsor. Her friend.

Ford escorted her to a small house in the middle of the desert. Alicia felt like a newborn deer, unsteady and baffled by the world around her.

Ford gave her a cup and commanded her to drink. “I’ve given you your name back, which will help. But you’re here until you can controlyourself,” Ford said, all business. “Once you prove you can handle what you’ve become, we’ll be able to use you. There are rules, and they must be followed with precision. Do you understand?”

Alicia nodded, desperate and eager.

“Good,” Ford said. “First rule: We exist to protect the Gold Path.”

“Yes,” Alicia said automatically and eagerly. She understood that rule like it was woven into every cell in her body. She’d lived for the Gold Path for so long by then, it was instinctive.

“Second rule: Don’t kill anyone. Once you have that down, you’ll be ready to come back.”

Alicia stared in confusion, but instead of clarifying, Ford left. Two employees showed up in her place, taking care of the house, watching Alicia, making sure she drank when she was told to.

Her teeth hurt—why did her teeth hurt?—and the boundaries of her body felt strange and unfamiliar. After the euphoria of waking wore off, she was thirsty all the time. Achingly, desperately thirsty. Worse, the people taking care of her scared her. Not because they were threats, but because they didn’t feel real. They felt like…things.

She had wanted a greater connection with the universe, with herself. And even though she could hear and see and smell like never before, even though at night she could make herself go thin and flexible like she was about to become the air itself, she’d never felt more disconnected.

But she was going to do what she had to. She was going to get back to Goldaming Life. Ford would help her understand, and then Alicia would be an ambassador. Help women just like herself find this same strange new power. Maybe even work directly with Blanche.

When at last Ford was satisfied that Alicia could follow the rules, she was driven back to Salt Lake City. Alicia couldn’t wait to find out what her role as a god on earth would be.

They assigned her to an elevator in an office building.

73

Salt Lake City, November 15, 2024

My Dear Butter Chicken,

I keep looking right, and you aren’t there, and it makes me sad.

Are you in Boston yet? In my dreams—not the dreams you’re in, but you know what those ones are like and I hardly think I can put them in writing, both because I’m not that good at description and it would make these letters X-rated and I don’t know if your therapist (it still makes me laugh that you have a therapist, how human of you!) is going to be reading them before you visit her and pick them up—anyway, in my dreams you get to Boston and Dracula is just, like, hanging out. Outside MIT or something. I don’t really know why he’s there, maybe he’s developed a taste for insufferable geniuses. And it turns out we don’t need me to infiltrate Goldaming Life at all, because you make even quicker work of him than you did of Ford and whoever the ginger fox was. So I walk out in the morning, dreading my weekly torture sessions, but instead:

There you are. Radiant. Glorious. Dracula’s desiccated head in your hand like the season’s hottest accessory. I run to you and take you in my arms and you toss his head aside because who fucking cares about him, what a loser, and then we make all those dreams we’ve been sharing come true. Maybe even right there in the street, depending on whether I can stand to wait long enough to get into the house.

Who knows. We got lucky finding each other. We could get lucky again.

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