Collected short stories, p.282
Collected Short Stories, page 282
The man wailed and glanced forlornly at his utterly embarrassed friends.
But tell me this, Xo continued. Your fleet of ships I bet they see some very unusual things
Unusual? the golfer muttered.
Dark-matter ships. Mysterious flashes between the stars. But neither brought a reaction, which was when he asked, Or any odd artifacts, maybe?
The man didnt belong to any Family, but to keep track of his far-flung holdings, he had amassed some considerable and legally questionable talents. The implanted guilt had disabled most of his security systems. Xos question caused a reflexive search of records, which in turn allowed Xo to peer into that elaborate crush of files and digitals and routine flight manifests.
Xo saw what he wanted.
Theres this one thing, the sobbing man replied, unaware of any intrusion, believing that this memory had dragged itself into the fading light of the day. One of my AI captains was cutting distance, clipping the Kuiper belt beside a red dwarf. And its sensors found a hot spot. On a pluto-class world, there was a few kilometers cooking at nearly 260 Kelvin, and someone had given that ground hills and trees. On the tallest hills was a big house. Of all things, it looked like the old Chamberlain mansion
Whats that? blurted another golfer.
What? said the first golfer. Irritated now, he dug at his eyes with his increasingly dampened hands. I was just telling a story.
What story? asked the third golfer.
I dont remember. He blinked. It was just the three of them standing on the flat and perfumed and perfectly round green. Why should it be anything but the three of them? And why was he crying like this? Gazing down, he blinked and sniffed, staring at the black mote, and he found himself thinking about the billions of tiny machines fixed to its surface. Like its own world, it was. And if every one of the machines was a person, and he could save all of them and make them as happy as he used to be
Shut up! he wailed, although no one was talking.
Then to the ball, he said, Quiet. Everybody keep quiet so I can make this damned shot!
THECHAMBERLAIN MANSIONhad been resurrected, complete with a reefs worth of cultured coral, and it rose on the high hill, nearly as white as the snow that stretched out on all sides.
Beneath the mansion were two figures. Approaching on foot, Xo thought he understood. The figures were child-sized, and proportioned like children, and fighting. One lay helpless on the ground, while the other stood over him, kicking his ribs and face and smacking him between the useless legs. Other than the terrific thud of flesh impacting on bone, silence reigned. A trickle of blood ran off into the snow, pooling in a thick frozen black-iron lake at the bottom of the hill. Judging by the flow and the lakes considerable depth, this beating had continued, without interruption, for the last two centuries.
What passed for Xos heart quickened as he approached.
The scene was lit by the Cores angry fires. The boy lying on his back, enduring that fantastic abuse, was a young Chamberlain. He had the red hair and the proper build, and those were Chamberlain teeth scattered about in the glittering drifts. The other figure was Ravleen. Obviously. These had to be slivers of their original selves, portraits left in their wake as they raced through the universe. How many of these horrific little dramas lay scattered from here all the way back to the dead Earth?
Unless these were his lost friends, finally and unexpectedly found.
If this was Ravleen, then Xo was committing suicide. But he discovered that he didnt care. With a corporeal hand, he grabbed the bully by the shoulder and gave her a hard, swift jerk, and with a thousand toxic eschers ready to assault her higher functions, he ripped away the simple golden mask, finding an unexpected face staring at him.
Shaggy red hair framed a male Chamberlains craggy features.
It was a more mature face than the one lying in the bloody snow. And if anything, it was harsher in appearance, the bright pale eyes miserable in a deeper, more piercing fashion.
A moment passed.
Another.
Then together, with a shared amusement, both apparitions said, Xo.
A strange and sad laugh followed, and the Chamberlain voice told the dumbfounded newcomer, Goodness, you certainly took your time!
Four
Without question, we have imagined the essential heart of whatever scheme the baby Chamberlain is unfolding before us but we have also envisioned another fifteen hundred and twenty-two general plans, each with its own muscular credibility as well as myriad variations and elaborations and opportunities for sweeping inspirations. Separating the genuine from the possible will be daunting. All that is certain is that Ord/Alices attentions are focused on the Core, and it is in our Familys best interest to stop him.
His motivations are secondary.
If it matters, we can establish his intent once he is dead securely and eternally out of our way
a Nuyen communication
ARE YOU ANuyen? Or do you simply like that face?
I am, and I dont, he replied. My name is Xo.
The woman showed him an impossibly bright smile, then, after too long a silence, she made sure to tell him, I have always admired your Family.
Thats gracious of you, Xo replied, focusing his senses on the bureaucrat. And may I say, Ive always been fond of your Family, as well.
Why, thank you
She was an Echo. Until recently, hers was among the least consequential of the Thousand Families. Like the Nuyens and Chamberlains, the original Echo was chosen with care, augmented with care, and cloned; then throughout the Great Peace, those clones had done a very small part in exploring and settling the galaxy, preferring to use their careful powers to manage the civilized regions.
Echoes were pathologically cautious. Thats why they had no great history, no natural flair for invention or business, and a deep distaste for politics. Compared to most Families, they were an impoverished clan, worth pity and charity and little more. They never terraformed worlds at the Core, and naturally, they werent invited to help build the baby universe. As a consequence, they could claim a perfect, laudable innocence once the Baby had turned on its old mother.
Their lack of ambition made others sleep easy.
This particular Echo helped administrate every facet of life in her district. Local humans and most aliens respected her. During her tenure, the district had felt like a prosperous backwater, quiet and calm if not entirely at peace.
Out of respect for the Nuyen, or perhaps out of local fashion, she wore the simple archaic face and body of a mature woman. Echo women were small and round, dark everywhere but in the deep green of their eyes. With those eyes and her careful words, she admitted, I feel uneasy. Youve applied for permission to terraform a local world
Is there a problem?
A small difficulty, yes. She sighed and shrugged her shoulders. Im sorry to bring this up, and I dont know how else to broach the subject but according to my records, you arent supposed to be here
Where do I belong?
On the Earth, she replied. Its your last official residence.
Xo was wearing a Nuyens body. His straight black hair framed bright dark eyes, the simple mouth locked into a perpetually superior smirk. Through that smirk, he pointed out, The Earth is no more.
Which I know, sir. Yes.
Xo watched as the Echo accessed every available file. She wasnt particularly talented at her work, and she acted oblivious to the fact that he could see everything in her gaze, as well as terrains of data too secret for a lowly bureaucrat.
I was there, he confessed.
Pardon me?
When our home world died. With his Nuyen face, he showed his anguish, his guiltunalloyed, and pure, and wrenching. I dont mean that I was on the Earth. No, I was standing beside the Sanchex the one who actually murdered those billions.
I see, she managed.
She had no choice but to believe him.
With the subtlest touch, Xo adjusted her emotions. Then, with a soft, grave voice, he told her, I feel responsible for what happened.
For what the Sanchex did? she countered.
A creature conditioned and armed by my Family, yes. I could have anticipated her act, and with one hand, I might have stopped her.
She was embarrassed, and sorrowful. But Im sure youre not responsible. Otherwise
Id be languishing in prison. Wouldnt I?
She stared at him, waiting. Her home was a crystalline moon orbiting a superterran world. The Cores fires seeped through the barricades and through this solar systems defensive grid, then pushed their way into this modest, somewhat stuffy room. With those fires reflecting in her wide wet eyes, she said, Prison, yes. I suppose you would be enjoying some kind of captivity, yes.
Already knowing the answer, Xo asked, Whats my official status?
Your Family feels concern. Theyve sent general pleas to all local administrators, with some rather vague warnings attached.
Do you want to arrest me?
No, she blurted. Goodness, no!
He showed an appreciative smile, then asked, What are you going to do, Madam Echo? Tell me.
I am supposed to contact the Nuyens. And if possible, detain you.
Do it.
Pardon?
Both duties. You should do them.
She tried. An encoded message was sent nowhere, and when the Echos compromised systems sang out that all was well, she allowed herself to smile at Xo. It was a nervous, vaguely hopeful smile. Dont leave us, she advised.
I wont be any trouble, he promised. My intention is to remain here and work on my little project, and to the best of my ability, keep out of public view. When my Family wishes, it can come gather me up.
That would be best, she admitted.
We have an agreement?
The round face tightened. Finally, she told him, There is a second issue.
Is there?
This project. You wish to terraform a local world. But as far as I can determine, you lack the essential skills. She winced, as if expecting a fist or a blistering insult. When neither came, she made herself say, Sir, again. We have rules. Much as Id love to see our little portion of the galaxy thoroughly settled and green, we have standards to uphold, codes of conduct and craftsmanship to be honored.
I intend to purchase the proper talents.
The green eyes grew larger. I am so glad to hear that, sir.
Xo told her exactly what she wanted to hear. Then with each smooth word wrapped inside a comforting escher, he asked, Madam Echo, do you have any idea what kinds of talents Im wielding right now?
The eyes were too large, and in a pained way, awed.
At any moment, he assured, I can cause any entity to believe whatever suits me. Or I could tie her soul into an elaborate knot, leaving it tiny and insane for the next million years.
From deep within, the Echo admitted, I believe you.
Two choices are offering themselves. He touched the back of her hand, lightly. I get what I want, or I manipulate you into fulfilling my needs.
Dont, she squeaked. Dont hurt me.
I wont. If you will allow me the privilege of begging. Xo clasped his hands together, then knelt on the slick and perfectly transparent floor. With a voice that couldnt have been more plaintive, he said, I saw the Earth die. Barely yesterday, it seems like, and I can still hear the screams, and smell all that useless, useless death
She could see his nightmares, too.
I want to make amends, Madam Echo. In a small way, obviously. Perhaps in a pathetic way. But at least I can begin. Xo had never been more honest or more certain. Let me build a special world. A unique world. I will put it here, if you let me, and if we are lucky, it will be a piece of artwork that will endure for the ages.
Quietly, the woman cautioned, Your Family it isnt known for its terraforming skills or its artistry
And your Family has always been frightened little shits, he replied. Yet here you are, a wealthy despot ruling several thousand worlds.
She gave a tiny nod.
Point taken, she whispered. Then with a drop of bile, she added, Sir.
Do we have an agreement?
Ill be watching you, sir. Always.
An agreement?
She tried to laugh, and failed, and, placing her face into her cupped hands, muttered, As if I have any choice
Five
Why do we make such marvelous terraformers ?
The other Families have the same essential technologies. They can dress up in any proven talents, wielding the same fantastic energies, every eye clear and dry, while each hand is moved by a keen, quick intelligence. Yet their works never quite match our better works, and in every case, they fall woefully short of our best
I know what youll say: Real talent isnt something worn, but its a quality deeply embedded in our Chamberlain genes. And it is an integral part of our ancient, prideful culture. From the first breath, you have been taught that it is your duty and destiny to carpet dead worlds with life. Nothing else matters as much or for as long. And should the self-expectation weaken, then a thousand sisters and brothers will cuff you on the ear, telling you to return to your ultimate course.
These are all good reasons to avoid the obvious: Chamberlain voices are those who most often judge what is beautiful and best about a terraformed world. And we are the ones who decide what is unseemly. And we are the judges who skate upon the slippery laws of possession, deciding what is actually ours !
Alice, in conversation
THE WORLD HADfew charms.
Sunless and metal-poor, it was a full earth-mass drifting unclaimed on the dusty edge of the barricades. Judging by the physical evidence, someone had long ago attempted to make the world habitable, and they had botched the job. A rugged little continent had been thrown up through the ice, its stony bones built from cultured basalt. The toxic beginnings of an atmosphere lay everywhere as a young white snow. But the vanished terraformer had left a half-assembled sun in close orbit, which was a blessing. Plus there was enough Bose-condensed antimatter to fuel a modest biosphere.
Xo completed the sun and ignited it, and to hurry the worlds transformation, he injected fingers of antimatter into the frozen crust.
Ice became a warm, filthy ocean.
The reborn atmosphere was thick and agitated, gales slamming against the land, threatening to gnaw it down to nothing.
Xo briefly abandoned his world.
Twenty light-years removed from the barricades, orbiting close to a young blue-white star, was a warehouse. A sophisticated array of diamond scaffolding and shadow matter held every flavor of treasure, sorted and labeled and set in stasis. Most of the treasures had been yanked from the Core before the fires consumed them. In most cases, the owners were dead or unknown, and once the pesky legalities were addressed, the properties would gratefully belong to men and women who had saved them. But there were also items left over from criminal proceedings. Talents wrested from defunct Families. Talents that a Nuyen could rightfully purchase, or in special circumstances, rightfully steal.
Terraforming, said Xo. Do you have anything that can help with a little terraforming?
No, the governing AI reported, point-blank. I am sold out.
Terraforming skills were always in demand. Xo shrugged and turned to the other items on his enormous shopping list. Some proved available, and cheap, while many items were in stock but unavailable.
The AI explained the obvious. Were waiting for their legal owners.
I only wish to touch them, Xo countered.
You cannot, he was told.
Not for a simple second? What would be the harm in touching?
There wouldnt be any harm, the machine admitted. Then, with confidence, it said, No harm at all.
Then may I?
Xo made his request, and he touched the AIs most intimate places.
Do what you want, it replied.
Xo put everything in his hand, then asked, Just how long is a second?
Im sorry, sir, the AI replied. I cant remember.
But I know how long it is. Trust me.
Yes, sir.
Xo assembled the treasures, then mentioned, I need to carry everything home. I want to wrap each of these inside a dark matter envelope.
Of course, sir. How much do you need?
Xo answered.
The machine had a cranky laugh, but its voice was calm and reasoned. Thats far more than you need, it told this most difficult customer. It is everything that I have in stock, sir. My entire inventory.
Fine. Ill purchase it.
The AI meant to say, No, but heard itself say, Yes.
Xo wrapped his purchases inside four envelopes of refined, compliant dark-matter. The other thousand-plus envelopes were tied behind like the tail of an invisible kite. Then he returned to the AI, asking again, Are you certain that you dont have an old terraformers talents?
The machine felt itself being manipulated. It was a hard touch, this time. But with a rigorous honesty, it explained, This is a depopulated district, and terraforming is much in demand.
Who buys these talents?
Names and locations flowed.
Xo had more journeys and more stealing ahead of him. With a worried resignation, he returned to the head of the kite tail, ready to pull that massive load back across twenty light-years. But the obvious found him. Returning to the facility once again, he said, All right. Show me everything that might be a talent. But its broken. You cant get it to work well enough even to describe itself.
There is one small something, the AI allowed. A talent, perhaps.
Then Ill take it, too.
But its quite useless. Believe me, sir.
