The creature had a generally humanoid shape but short. stubby arms that ended in four tapered fingers. without an opposable thumb. Its legs were long and had an extra joint. The feet reminded Billy of a big bird's. There were three large toes facing forward and one thicker toe facing backward.

  Where a human's head would be, the creature had a triangular protrusion growing straight from the shoulders. The headpiece reminded Billy of a starfish's arm.

  The other odd thing about the creature's head was that it was not transparent but covered with milky, translucent, bumpy flesh. The flesh seemed to be a sort of supersensitive membrane. Billy watched it quiver in response to every new sound. As far as he could tell, the creature had no mouth, nose, or ears.

  But it did have eyes, or what Billy thought were eyes. Small pupils in red orbs were scattered all over the creature's body, beneath the transparent flesh. Billy noted an eye in each "shoulder," one in the palm of each four-fingered hand, one on each leg joint.

  It was a Shipwright. It had to be. Billy affirmed his guess with Mother. Yes, Mother's creators. The Makers.

  Where are the Shipwrights now? Billy asked. Mother did not answer.

  Mother was as much a prisoner of her past as was Billy. They were two sad and lonely beings. And they were both, to some degree, insane. Billy knew this. He wondered if Mother did, too.

  Billy was engaged in a battle of wills with Mother. The struggle had been fierce at first. Then Mother had stopped fighting. They were now in a benign environment Mother had pulled up from a data disc. A painting by a man named Hopper. The painting showed a brightly lit diner and three people seated at the counter. Those people had soon disappeared. They had been two-dimensional, their expressions and postures fixed.

  Billy and Mother were pretty much at a stalemate. This allowed Billy a moment of relative rest and the chance to be open to what was going on with Jobs and the others.

  2Face was talking quietly to Kubrick. Billy figured she was considering Kubrick a potential ally against Yago.

  Billy couldn't blame 2Face for politicking. Yago was selfish and intolerant. But ... suddenly Billy saw something else about 2Face, a memory of pain and ... he pulled away. He couldn't concentrate on that. He'd lose his grip on Mother.

  Yago was impatient and disgusted. Jobs, curious and distracted by his thoughts, as usual. Mo'Steel, nonchalant, breaking into unexplained grins. Miss Blake, the pretty, sweet one, was curious, too, but not in the same way Jobs was. Edward was sneaking looks at Kubrick. He had been afraid of Kubrick but he wasn't anymore. Maybe he should be, Billy thought. Kubrick was consumed by anger.

  And his father ... Billy had brought his father here because he still needed Big Bill. Maybe not in the way a son usually needs his father, but that didn't matter. Big Bill was dead, but he was here now. In his suit and cowboy boots, his face ravished by worms.

  Billy took another sip of coffee. He didn't know what would happen next. What Mother would do to him. He hoped he would be strong enough to survive.

  Because Mother had started talking again.

  CHAPTER 5

  "WE HAVE TO GET AWAY FROM HERE."

  Dr. Cohen recognized aspects of the landscape in which the Children were camped as Austin, Texas. She and her husband had attended a conference there. She pointed out the headquarters of a major software company and a university building. All that Noyze knew about Austin was that one of the families on the Mayflower had come from there. She didn't know which family.

  Neither knew why they were surrounded by a strange and compressed version of Austin, Texas, or why in places Austin became a war-torn Eastern European city.

  The two environments coexisted strangely. In some places there was no strict demarcation between the American and the European cities. Noyze saw filthy soldiers rampaging through what was clearly an American grade school, given the paper flowers taped to the windows and the American flag flying from a pole by the front door. There was always the sound of gunfire and bombing. Occasionally, large billows of smoke blackened the bright blue Texas sky.

  But what concerned Noyze and Dr. Cohen more than the ever-shifting fun-house atmosphere was the second meeting of the Quorum in as many days. Something was going on.

  The Quorum was gathered at a public fountain constructed of concrete slabs set on various levels in a large circle around a column of water.

  Huddled behind one of the concrete slabs that divided the circle into triangular sections, Noyze could see without being seen. This was important. The Children were intelligent. Noyze did not want them to suspect she was eavesdropping and understanding.

  "They've decided to forgive us for the attack on the structure they call the Pillar of Recurrence," Noyze whispered.

  "That sounds good," Dr. Cohen whispered back.

  "Mmm." Noyze was listening/looking hard again. "Two Righteous Trees is arguing that it's obvious the thing they call Mother is in distress. That she's – malfunctioning."

  "A computer?" Dr. Cohen mouthed.

  Noyze squinted, concentrating. "They're not happy about the fact that Mother is bonding with the humans. Or about the fact that Mother seems to be interfacing with one of the humans."

  "I don't understand. So much we don't know!"

  "Mother is tolerating the humans' defiance .... "

  Noyze was silent.

  "And?" Dr. Cohen urged.

  Noyze looked at her companion. "Six Perfect Branches is saying something like 'The humans are enemies and must be destroyed.' "

  "How? When?" Dr. Cohen said urgently.

  Noyze turned back. "They're talking about us now, you and me. Twelve Hallowed Stones ... he's saying we should be kept alive ... at least until they're sure we don't have any information that can help them move against the others."

  "Okay," Dr. Cohen breathed.

  "Wait. Seven Glorious Valleys is arguing that if we're too stupid to understand basic language - theirs - how can they learn anything valuable from us?"

  "What does our personal escort say to that?"

  Noyze smiled in spite of herself. "Twelve Hallowed Stones says that's knowledge in and of itself. We're too stupid to understand language, so too stupid to see past Mother's inventions, too stupid to realize that the Pillar of Recurrence was not to be attacked. Too stupid to be real enemies. Too stupid to kill."

  Dr. Cohen smiled, too.

  "Twelve Hallowed Stones says he understands some of what we say. And that we have said nothing of importance. We've revealed only our ignorance."

  "Mission accomplished." Dr. Cohen nodded.

  The meeting was over. The members of the Quorum were dispersing.

  "No doubt about it," Dr. Cohen said. "We have to get away from here. It's up to you, Noyze. You'll have to watch closely. Get an idea of when we might make a break."

  CHAPTER 6

  "SHE WANTS US TO DO HER DIRTY WORK."

  "Why can't we hear what they're saying?" Yago demanded. "I don't even see a mouth on that thing."

  Jobs shrugged. "I don't know. They're communicating in some way we can't understand. Look, the person we see at the counter isn't really Billy. It's a projection of Billy. Maybe what he feels like inside."

  "An orphan," Violet said. The Jane. "He looks like a character from a Dickens novel. Oliver Twist."

  "Like a refugee, which is what the poor boy was," Big Bill said. "Before my wife and I adopted him."

  Yago wanted to scream. He'd been standing around this dinky old diner with a bunch of freaks and a moldy dead guy for way too long. "We can waste time making ridiculous guesses," he snapped, "or we can find out for ourselves what's going on."

  Yago didn't care if the others agreed. Freaks and geeks. Plastic Wrap's - Yago's new name for Kubrick - father, Alberto, was just a gibbering idiot. The guy was a waste of oxygen.

  "What are you two doing?!" Yago shouted.

  The underfed, hollow-eyed version of Billy turned to Yago. His voice was raw and accented.

  "Mother wants to take care of us," Billy said. "She wants to entertain us. She wants to be nice to us."

  Yago stared rudely, he hoped, at the thing that was supposed to be the mind or consciousness or big honking computer of this ship.

  "Tell her she's been doing a pretty lousy job of it up until now."

  Billy went on, ignoring Yago's comment.

  "In return, Mother wants to use our ideas and feelings like food. She's been starving for new information. She's been alone for a very long time."

  Yago snorted. "What about the Riders, those savages on Frisbees?"

  "The Riders are irrelevant to Mother," Billy explained. "She says they're a limited species. Not innovative or imaginative."

  "Not like humans," Violet said.

  "Not like the Shipwrights, either." Billy got a spaced-out look on his face. Yago hoped he wasn't going to go all comatose again."Mother wants to recreate the Shipwrights. She wants to make us in their image."

  "Whatever," said Yago."Look, Mother wants to help us. What do we care about her motives? Let's just say, 'Sure. ' "

  Billy looked pointedly at something over Yago's shoulder. Yago turned. Kubrick. Even now the Sight of the walking/talking biology class model caused the bile to rise in Yago's throat. He turned back to Billy.

  "Mother wants to remake us in the image of her creators," Billy said. "Literally. She's damaged. Any deal we make with her now will carry a heavy price. "

  Yago considered. Weirdo did have a point. Yago did not want to be skinned alive and rewrapped in a sandwich baggie. But he was seriously tired of being yanked around and even more tired of being hungry and scared and dirty.

  "We're in deep here, people. You want to refuse help, fine. I say we do the deal with ... " Yago pointed at the disgusting thing sitting beside Billy."We accept her terms, and later, we make adjustments."

  "I'm not sure if a deal with Mother is good or bad. But I do know the time to negotiate is before we say yes," 2Face said angrily."When we still have some independence."

  Mo'Steel hoisted himself onto the counter. "Look, it sounds okay to let Mother be all sweet to us. But I'm not getting a good vibe off this. No disrespect to the head femme, but ... my grandmother always said a deal with the devil only benefits the devil."

  "Who says we're not going to be able to get what we want?" Yago said. "The übercommunicator can handle Mother."

  Billy frowned. "No. Right now I'm holding my own. But I can't win a bigger test of wills with her. Mother and I are alike, but not that alike. She's much more powerful. I can't make Mother do what she doesn't want to do. Or isn't programmed to do."

  "You're refusing?" Yago taunted.

  "I'm tired. This whole thing ... " Billy shook his head.

  "Billy, what do you think we should do?" Big Bill asked.

  "Like it matters to a corroded dead guy what happens next," Yago said under his breath.

  "Say no," Billy answered promptly.

  "Mother is not a person," Jobs said suddenly. "We talk about her like she's a human being invested with free will. The capacity for critical thought. It's how Four Sacred Streams talked, too. But Mother isn't a living creature. She - it's - a computer, a piece of machinery. Very sophisticated machinery but programmable. We think she's mad because we interpret what we observe in relation to ourselves. But a machine can't be mad, it can only be malfunctioning."

  Jobs stopped to breathe. He liked puzzling things out. But it was unusual for him to blab on. "Your point?" Yago said.

  "Mother is broken," Jobs went on. "Maybe it's a massive virus, some essential files got deleted, maybe some subroutine got corrupted. Without being at the bridge I can't identify the problem, but I know it's something rational. Mother is not a lunatic. She can be fixed."

  "You have a wrench handy?!" Yago spat. "We need an environment where we're not going to get eaten alive by monsters or beheaded by Riders. Mother is saying she'll give us whatever we want, comfort, safety, food, indoor plumbing. What does it matter if she's broken or insane? What has that got to do with anything?"

  2Face rapped her knuckles on the counter. "It's a matter of trust. You can trust a sentient

  being. Or not. Your choice. But a sentient being is capable of being trustworthy. Not a machine."

  "Shut up, okay?" Yago snapped. Ugly Girl had nerve, flaunting her disgusting, burned face. When he was in charge there would be laws against physical deformity.

  2Face nodded at Billy. "Ask her to restore Kubrick to his normal state. Let's see if negotiation is possible."

  Billy tilted his head toward the creature sitting next to him and lowered his eyes. Nothing happened for a moment, then Billy jerked violently.

  "She won't do it," he said, looking up at 2Face. "She won't say why."

  "Maybe she can't," Violet suggested.

  "I just want to go away," Kubrick mumbled.

  "Billy," Jobs said, "ask Mother to provide us with a schematic of the entire ship. Blueprints, manuals, whatever there is."

  Again Yago watched Billy communicate with the alien. Billy jerked in his seat, more violently than before, and Yago saw the alien's hideous head quiver.

  "No. She says no."

  "Ask her about the Blue Meanies," 2Face prodded. "This ship is home to them. Something they lost and want back. What happens to our little paradise if they succeed? What happens to us while they're blasting holes all over the place? Are we expected just to sit here and die?"

  A third time Billy spoke to the alien. A third time Billy got shaken up.

  "She says: 'You will destroy the ones who call themselves my Children.' "

  2Face looked smug."The plot thickens." she said. "She wants us to do her dirty work."

  "I wonder why Mother can't get rid of the Blue Meanies herself." Violet said. "Why does she need us?"

  Yago nodded toward Jobs. "Ask the expert."

  "I'm not an expert," Jobs said. "But I do know Mother was programmed to recognize the Blue Meanies as a threat and get rid of them." Jobs hesitated. "But Miss Blake is right. She doesn't seem to be able to do the job. I don't know, maybe it's some sort of Isaac Asimov protocol."

  "What's that mean?" Edward, one of the mutants.

  "Asimov's Laws of Robotics. A robot – computer, in this case - may not injure humanity or, through inaction, allow humanity to come to harm. I guess in this case we can substitute 'any biological life-form' for 'humanity.'"

  "The whole thing is really strange." Violet frowned. "Investing a computer with a morality? Could Mother's creators actually have programmed in a sort of ethical code?"

  "Inhibitions," Jobs said. "Not ethical tenets. Mother seems to have a hard time killing outright. It's not about power, she's got that. So, why? Maybe because she's an entertainment computer. So the Shipwrights would had to have built in certain inhibitions against violence."

  "Inhibitions?" Yago said angrily."Let me point out that Mother's come seriously close to killing us."

  "Yes, but it's not like she's deliberately tried to murder anyone," Jobs argued. "It's not like ... not like swatting a fly, which you do specifically to kill the fly. What she's done is use the environments to do the job. Not even that. She's created environments based on data discs from the Mayflower but she can't have understood them. Not really. She's just put them in place and let them run like programs."

  "So you're saying she's harmless in the end?" That settled it. Yago nodded to Billy."Tell Mother to give me the power to kill the Blue Meanies and I'll do whatever she asks."

  "No," Big Bill.

  "Look, tell her or I'll tell her myself," Yago sneered.

  "Don't do it, Yago!" 2Face grabbed his arm and Yago wrenched it away.

  "This is not a good idea," Jobs said. "You could get us all killed."

  "Yago, listen." Violet interrupted. "In the beginning I thought it would be wonderful if Mother made us a paradise. But I've seen too much to believe that's possible."

  Other voices, protesting. Mo'Steel. Even Kubrick. Yeah, like Yago was going to listen to any of them.

  "You!" he shouted."I'll do it. I'll destroy the Children. I'll ..,"

  It happened so fast.

  It was like being inside a kaleidoscope, everything, every bit of the scene, the counter and stools, the soda jerk, the urns of coffee bursting into component pieces, then reforming, then bursting apart again, beautiful and dizzying and ...

 

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