The transformer trilogy, p.67
The Transformer Trilogy, page 67
Initially, they shut her in and left her alone, all in total silence, and in darkness as well. She thought she had heard a faint, dry, sliding sound, like short sequences of raspy chattering nearby, and supposed that they communicated with each other by means of a touch-code: fingers met in a pattern of pressures, taps, and slides. But although she knew such things existed, she didn’t know any herself, and couldn’t read theirs.
For a while, they left her in the dark. Chalmour explored the room with her fingers and soon had an accurate representation of it in her mind. It was small and plain and there were no traps or movable walls. It was just a room with a door which locked from the outside. The ceiling was out of reach for her, standing, but she could jump and touch it, and it was as solid as the rest. That kept her busy for a long time, because she was not adept, but they appeared to give her plenty of time, and she used it as best she could.
Also, she listened, and felt for vibrations in the walls and floor. At first she felt and heard nothing, but she expected that. As the time wore on, her senses became more sensitive, and she began to pick up faint sounds and weak vibrations. Demsing had talked to her about this, but had only shown her certain basic exercises. Now she learned as she went, and learned to perceive through the noise her own body made, creaks and snaps of joints, low rumbles of muscles, her heartbeat and breathing, swallowing, and the rumbles of her digestive tract. It was that quiet. But she waited, and presently some things began to appear. Not so near, she heard a soft, thudding vibration, fairly frequent, but at odd intervals in a rhythm and pattern she could not quite identify. As her senses sharpened, she detected a suggestion of movement to this vibration, and tentatively identified it as of the Linduc line. They had not crossed it on the surface, and it seemed off to the side, very slightly higher than the horizontal.
She learned to feel people walking. That one was very dull and blurred-out and impossible to follow, but she could tell there were several by the way they overlapped. And there were faint sounds, too: conversations too weak and far-off to resolve, but perceptible enough for her to guess at how many there were, and where. The footfalls were connected with her, and so was one set of the muttering conversations. Another set, somewhat fainter, seemed to have no relation to her, nor did any other noises. That one, she adjudged to be a living area or work area a little farther off She was near the surface, and gravity told her which way was up.
Demsing had told her: Use the time! Never sit idle. Listen, feel, walk around. Work on making a picture. And don’t worry or anticipate. They want you bored and sensory-deprived. Keep busy! Make up an imaginary language and conjugate verbs in it! Invent a non-decimal number system and hunt for Prime Numbers. Memorize the results. And pace yourself. Sleep if you feel like it, and know the difference between sleep and waking. Stimulate yourself sexually—it’s fun and it breaks a tension they damn sure want you to have. Explore chord progressions in music. And learn the basic routine pattern of where you are and who is there. And then watch for the breaks in the flow. Learn to use that and it will tell you a lot more than they want you to know. If you see a break, go for it. Nine times out of ten it’s a real opportunity. The odds actually favor you. Prisoners are their own best guards, repeating to themselves, “I can’t.”
Chalmour also knew about the old trick of wetting your hands, cooling them by blowing on them, and feeling about for Infra-red emitters. As far as she could tell, there were none, although the room was warmer than the usual Teragon chill, but the warmth seemed to come solely from a hot water pipe to the washbasin.
And he had said, And if they ask about me, tell them whatever you know. Because you don’t know what they want to know ; I don’t know it, either, so you couldn’t know it.
She smirked to herself in the dark. This could wind up being less of a bother than a trip to the dentist. There was, of course, another way it could go, equally probable, but that she only considered long enough to make herself know that it existed. That was sufficient.
She knew that her perception of Time would be distorted and magnified, so for a long stretch she ignored the seemingly endless passage of hours. Eventually, however, she felt hunger pangs, which she put off by drinking water, which she smelled carefully before drinking it. As far as she could tell, it was just plain tap water, put there to drink. The toilet worked, flushing with a deafening industrial-strength roar which she found extremely funny. She even thought of telling them, when they eventually arrived, that they should be careful what they put in it: it charged when wounded. But she later decided not to, because that remark would reveal the nature of her defenses—and that Thelledy thought that she had been clumsy. She’d show her, and in such a way that Thelledy would know it only after she had gone.
And so Thelledy: Chalmour never questioned who was behind this, and expected to confront Thelledy herself whenever her captors appeared. Therefore she was a little disappointed when footfalls outside stopped at her door. A small lamp lit in a wall alcove, and a panel slid open, revealing dim light outside. A man, rather young by the sound of his voice, said, “Dinnertime,” and slid a tray in with hot food. She mumbled a muffled gratitude, surprised at her creaky voice, and the unseen young man slid in a package through the opening. “Here’s some fresh clothes, too. It may be a little warm in there for what you have.” He sounded pleasant enough, and seemed to be going to some trouble to avoid a threatening appearance. But she only thanked him and said nothing else, though her mind was boiling with questions. She thought it an extraordinary piece of self-discipline: Demsing had told her: Never, never ask anything! Questions reveal more than answers!
The food was better than average, and tasted good. She had no ill effects from it. After she ate, she washed the tray and the spoon they had provided, and then looked at the clothing. The light remained on; although rather dim, it was a vast improvement over total darkness. In the light, the clothing appeared to be a loose caftan made of soft cloth. It was a dull neutral brown in color, and was of no specific size, although she could wear it without doing too much to it. Without hesitating, she stripped, put it on, washed her old clothing out, and draped it over the end of the bunk to dry. Then, pleased with herself, she lay down on the bunk to relax, and took a nap with her arms propped behind her head.
“Psht! But you’re a cool one!”
It woke Chalmour up, and her head cleared instantly. She had been asleep, but not very deep, not dreaming; now someone was in the room with her, and the time had come.
She opened her eyes, but made no move. The voice was familiar, the same one who had brought the tray earlier. This resolved into a slender young man slightly taller than herself, so she estimated, wearing a loose caftan similar to the one she had on, the one they had given her. His was a very dark blue, almost black. What does that tell you? That wherever you are, there’s a distinctive dress worn internally, that they can spot you instantly, and that if you escape, they can pick you out of a crowd. Thank you, Demsing. Chalmour risked a quick glance around the room, at nothing in particular, but including the foot of the bunk in its sweep: her clothes were gone, sure enough.
She sat up, rubbing her eyes, and swung her feet over the side. “Would you run that by me again?”
“I said, you were cool and collected for one who was just pulled out of an air shaft on her way somewhere.”
She shrugged. “I was tired; I took a nap.”
It seemed to put him off, as if he had been prepared for another response. He waited a moment, and then said, “I am Ilyen. Mainly why I am here is to reassure you that you are not in any danger. You might consider this protective custody, temporary in nature.”
“I see.”
“Is there anything I can get you? Books, handicrafts?”
“Out.”
For a moment, he stepped back, as if her ambiguous reply had confused him. “What do you want?”
“I want out, in the simplest possible way of saying it. If you can’t do that, then get out.”
For a fraction of a second, something utterly dark and maleficent flickered across his face, a narrowing of the eyes, a tightening of the mouth, but it was gone almost before she could see it, and the bland expression returned. He said, quite evenly, and Chalmour admired his control, “Well, actually, I’m as much compelled by circumstance as you find yourself, so that is quite beyond me at the moment. But I will bring you such items as you would like to have. Also I will take the tray back. And later, when I bring the things you want back, we might converse for a little.”
Chalmour stared fixedly at the toilet, and said, in a monotone, “You have the key; come and go as you will. If you insist on bringing something, then bring a folio copy of Malinoski’s Contrapunctus Semidecimus; I should like to review my exercises.”
He picked up the tray and gave a slight, stiff bow. “I am not familiar with the work you mention, but I will see if I can obtain a copy; we have an excellent library.” For a moment, he stopped, uncertainly. Then he asked, sheepishly, “To what does this volume refer?”
“Musical theory and chord progression.” And as Ilyen reached for the door to leave, she added, “And when you come back, knock first, will you?”
The door closed behind him and locked automatically, a fact Chalmour did not miss; she smirked, suppressing a giggle. She had improvised on one of Demsing’s principles: the work she had asked for was imaginary, and she thought that it might give them some difficulty. She had no idea how much difficulty this actually did cause.
As she measured time, it wasn’t very long until Ilyen returned, and to her surprise, he did knock before he unlocked the door. Needless to say, he had no book with him. He was dressed as before, and carried about him an air composed of subtle wariness, which had not been there before, and a curious shy wistfulness which made him rather more attractive.
He opened the conversation, apologetically, “I was unable to obtain it. Are you certain such a volume exists?”
“Oh, it exists, all right. It is as real as your reasons for holding me.”
“It must be uncommon. We could find no reference to it.”
“I worked with a private copy. It is a very old work. Possibly your index is incomplete.”
Ilyen nodded, agreeably, “It is certainly possible. Never fear! We are unrelenting and will get to the bottom of it, eventually.”
Chalmour understood the remark perfectly, and the threat it represented. She decided it was time to be more bland with them. “What would you like to discuss? Here, sit on the edge of the bed; if you have to be here, you might as well be comfortable.”
“Some of us have expressed a certain curiosity about a person called Demsing, who sometimes uses the surname Ngellathy; we have a certain interest in your relationship with him, and some general things you might know about him.”
“That seems a large list.”
Ilyen sat on the end of the bed. “You do have a certain association with him?”
Chalmour was quite impatient with this pussyfooting, but she answered, “I could hardly avoid such association. He was given duty as chief of apprentices over the group of apprentices to which I belong.”
“Who made the assignment?”
“Klippisch assigned Demsing to that duty; Thelledy volunteered myself out of her group. Myself, and Fintry, that is.”
Ilyen stretched; she caught the nagged motion out of the corner of her eye. He seemed to relax a little more, and asked, “But there is more to it than that.”
Chalmour wondered about this line of questioning; surely they already knew this. Or perhaps it was more an exercise to allow her to babble on. It didn’t matter, because she didn’t, she thought, know anything, and perhaps by talking she could occupy their attention. And waste their time. She said, pensively, “Yes, there was more.”
“What?” Was this idiot a total cretin?
“I found him attractive and went to bed with him. He made no resistance and seemed to enjoy himself. We continued the relationship because it became pleasant. It’s really simple.”
“I understand that simplicity.” Ilyen leaned back so that he displayed his slender grace to advantage. It caught her attention, however much she disliked the situation she was in, which he represented. It was as if she had two minds. He added, “Did this cause any problem in the job to which Demsing was assigned?”
“No. He seemed to evaluate each of us according to what he thought we could do, and then suited the exercises he gave us to that. He was all work, and that’s the way it was; I understood that and practiced no public displays. What we did, he and I, we did in free time.” She felt oddly relieved as she said this.
“Would you continue this, if free to do so?”
“We have made arrangements to make it permanent.”
“Yes, of course.” He stretched again, a subtle and slight motion, and looked at her intently. She saw that the questions didn’t really matter. They already knew all this.
Ilyen turned on his side, facing her, and said, “You have had other lovers?”
Oddly, she didn’t find this offensive. “Yes.”
“How were they?”
“Some were good, some not so good, some very good. None were bad.” She felt lazy, relaxed, and sensual. A lassitude was creeping into her limbs. She saw it happening, as if from outside. She thought, I don’t want to do this, but I don’t seem to be able to stop it. What the hell is he doing to me and how is he doing it? Ilyen had only a small distance to reach across to touch her knee, did so, casually, and she did not move her leg. Perhaps she could have; she didn’t know. She didn’t try. Nor did she raise any objection to what followed, seemingly naturally and easily enough, and very slowly, too. She remembered that. And the part of her that didn’t object enjoyed it very much. It lasted a long time, that wiry, agile body joined to hers, and, to the part of her that did object, incredibly, she asked him to stay. He reassured her he would return often.
After he left, she allowed herself to become very angry. But even that took a long time. And with the anger came fear, too. If he can do that to me so easily, and he does come back, how long can I hold up against that. And she added, Those bastards know I don’t know anything, so what Ilyen’s doing is just playing with me. I’m nothing to them but bait: they’ll keep me alive, fed, and well-laid, and it’s some trick he’s learned how to do, like Thelledy. And if I throw him out, they’ll send one even better, or worse, depending on how you look at it. Now she understood Demsing’s lessons, some of which she had taken rather lightly. The real enemy was the despair you felt yourself when you realized how much power those people had. What did he have to resist them?
Ilyen opened the door to a small room similar to the one he had just left, but this one held no toilet, there was no lock on the door, and there were two people inside waiting for his analysis: Thelledy and Telny.
Thelledy said, “You took long enough.”
Telny glanced at the younger woman, but said nothing.
Ilyen answered, carefully, “Chalmour has no defenses whatsoever against skills we take for granted.” He shook his head. “She rather enjoyed herself, and wanted more.”
Telny observed, “That’s very interesting. You mean Demsing has taught her nothing about projection and control?”
“Apparently not. She seems to have no defenses. Additionally, she knows little or nothing. He seems to have revealed nothing to her that we don’t already know; that he’s extraordinarily adept and perceptive. We are not going to get an answer from her as to why they want him.”
Telny said, “Nor out of that Tudomany, either. She didn’t know Demsing from reclama21. Told him to seek answers inside himself, that’s what she did. We tried to dig deeper, but she was obviously working for somebody, because she activated a very crude deathlock which beat us very neatly. Dead end there, and no pun. Lost her.” Ilyen breathed deeply, and said, “It occurs to me that we could wind up with a problem, holding Chalmour.”
Telny questioned this. “How so?”
“Demsing is considered a formidable individual with informal skills which approach the levels of the best of formal systems, and, from our file material on him, he has a wider range than do members of formalistic disciplines. He can be a dangerous and destructive adversary, as he stands. Now, from other sources, we come to understand that there may be some unknown quantity related to him, which has unknown consequences. And we elect to challenge him directly ... and hold a girl as a hostage, so to speak, whom he has selected....”
Thelledy interrupted, “Ilyen, I cannot find fault with your summary, except in this very soft area of Demsing and Chalmour. That is a soft area because we cannot comprehend the reasons behind it. That is what is disturbing, so we continue to search. Chalmour must be the leading edge of that probe.”
Ilyen responded, with a faint aura of anger well-hidden, “That is what I am trying to tell you: we may be looking for something which may not exist. While we manufacture imaginary mythology, Demsing erects a system in reality which we don’t anticipate because we can’t imagine it. I have tested Chalmour and my evaluation is that there is nothing hidden in her. Nothing. I suspect very strongly that that is precisely the reason Demsing has responded to her, and ...”
Thelledy interrupted again, “If you open that door ...”
Telny made a slight hand motion which stopped Thelledy. She said, pointedly, to Ilyen, “Your line of thinking interests me.”
Thelledy countered, “He is not being paid to think, but to act. All he does is serve as a challenge target22 for field agents such as myself ...”
Telny turned, slowly, until she was facing Thelledy directly, and paused for emphasis, allowing all of them to recognize the taut physique, the short, closely trimmed gray hair, and the controlled bearing that characterized Telny and her rank within the Wa’an School. She said nothing for a long time. Finally she said, slowly, “Good ideas are not intrinsically coupled to a given source. Intelligence and stupidity are equal in that: they may occur anywhere. Ilyen, continue your exposition.”
