* * *
Paris. December. But this was not the city whose streets Olga loved to prowl on a motorcycle in her early childhood.
Olga and Arina slowly walked along the central streets. The simulator reproduced the thick snowfall and cold wind with exceptional precision. Their fashionable leather boots squished over the slush as they walked down trash-filled sidewalks and past once-fashionable shops whose windows were covered with steel shields and twined with concertina wire. There were no trees left—they had long since been cut down for firewood. Only one out of every ten street lamps operated since electricity was so costly. Hydrogen powered vehicles hummed down the street. A large column of smoke rose into the sky from a few blocks away. Shots were heard as rioters and the army traded gunfire. A huge line of people stood in front of a government office. Judging by their looks, they had spent many hours in the cold.
“Nowadays, you will see a similar picture in all the major cities,” Arina said. “The situation here is still rather calm. The army still has control of the city center, though they steer clear of the outskirts if they can help it.”
“Are all those people unemployed?”
“Yes, and they are seeking food rations. Most of them have never had a permanent occupation. And never will.”
Olga shrugged. It wasn’t her problem.
There was too little work left for Earth’s huge population. Hardly ten percent of them were employed. The space industry with its high efficiency had ruthlessly destroyed most enterprises on Earth. The farming industry had also changed drastically over the past fifty years with fully automatic facilities needing almost no personnel.
Finally, there was Olga and other representatives of the Changed from her generation. The symbiosis of the artificial intellect and nanomachines has given them virtually unlimited capabilities. And so the billions of ordinary people had become useless for anything except standing in lines for free rations.
Olga had never felt sorry about that, taking this state of things as a matter of course. Since her early childhood, she understood that you can’t stand in the way of progress or progress will crush you. These people couldn’t compete with her, and so in compliance with the omnipotent laws of evolution they were doomed to defeat and squalor. The sole thing that worried Olga was that sooner or later she too could be replaced. This option was not unlikely, either.
“We observe the classical vicious circle,” Arina said. “No work, no money. No money, no trade. No trade, no work. Nowadays to live on Earth, one must be either very rich or very poor. All others have gone to the orbit.”
The sirens howled out their warnings of the commencement of the curfew and the closure of borders between the districts. Olga shuddered as a gust of cold wind hurled wet snow into her face. Even as the rest of the world baked, Europe had frozen with the cessation of Gulf Stream current.
“Well, Raven, have you decided not to return to Earth when your contract expires?”
Olga stopped. Her glance took in the dark streets, barred windows, and dismal figures.
“Here? I don’t think so … But where shall I go?”
CHAPTER SEVEN: VISIT
May 2089
“So, you started your service on the prison transport?”
“Yes, I did. After four years of training. I had a choice—either a year of probation as a sailor on the ship or another two years before the exams. I chose the probation, which was the right thing, made it much easier to rise to an officer’s rank. I got an appointment to the GULAG-19 prison transport. That involved monthly trips to the Oven with five thousand prisoners there and raw ore back.”
Mikhail Petrov and Olga Voronov sat at a small table in a dim pub decorated in the Old Russian style: log walls, clay tableware, wooden spoons decorated with fancy Khokhloma patterns and skewered suckling pigs turning over a massive fireplace. Petrov was drinking vodka, and Olga was sipping kvass. She had already finished her work, and her curator had a free hour, which Olga decided to use for getting more information about the naval service at first hand. She was particularly interested in what was not written in textbooks.
“Who were those prisoners?”
“Hell knows who. We’d never seen them. Different countries, not Russia alone, paid us for the delivery. Their terms were for five years. They loaded on board in modules, in their sleep. Everything was very simple: flew to the Oven, unloaded them, loaded the ore, and left. Nobody wanted to stay a minute on that horrible planet.” Petrov was chewing on his lamb ribs with relish, wondering if he should order another helping.
“Did you descend to Venus?”
“Do you mean the Oven? Yes, several times. It was quite an adventure. You have to stay underground all the time. Though once we did have to work on the surface, repairing something. The temperature was six-hundred degrees in the shade, the pressure ninety-three atmospheres, and the wind was so violent we could hardly stay anchored. I must have been struck by lightning a hundred times. It was hard. But the girls were impressed by our heroism.” Petrov smiled, recalling the past.
“Was it Boddicker who engineered his escape back then?” Olga girl asked. She knew the answer perfectly well, but without her questions Mikhail easily deviated from the subject and started to speak about irrelevant things.
“No, the Columbia incident occurred much later, in the first month after the war when Tartar was still called Big Dump. Pass me that beefsteak, please.”
“You made the route to Mercury, didn’t you? You see, I know all about you.”
“Only once to the Frying Pan. An urgent delivery of equipment to one of the Union stations. They had sustained a thermal insulation failure. It was okay out there, no comparison to the Oven. We landed on the night side, handed over the cargo and left immediately. It’s very much like the Moon, only without the infernal dust. The surface was as smooth as ice in some places.”
Petrov swallowed a couple spoonful’s of okroshka and patted himself on his sizable paunch. “Ah, much was flowing but little went to the right channel as the saying goes. Let’s have a glass each while we’re young.”
Olga clinked her mug of kvass with him.
“Well, I passed my probation, got my shoulder straps and served a little on the coastal fleet in the lunar zone and on the high orbits. And then I had a stroke of luck. I was appointed to the Martian lines, again as a passenger traffic operator. Only this time, I was a midshipman. I did my four-year stint there, making twenty voyages. It was a good time. The job wasn’t sophisticated and always paid double. That was when I bought my house.”
“And met Marina, eh?”
“Yes. She served as a quartermaster at the lunar passenger station. I’d meet her often as we stood at the port for loading. After two years, we decided to formalize our relationship. And a month after our wedding, I was enlisted for military service with the navy. Again, I found myself in a training unit. Then I served on a minelayer converted from a transport ship. And then there was the Ivan the Terrible. At first I thought it wouldn’t come to anything serious, but you know how it turned out in the end …”
Olga looked intently into Petrov’s eyes. “Was it terrifying to be at war?”
“It’s hard to say. It’s terrifying before the battle. And after it, too, it’s just as frightening. But an alarm is sounded, and you entered the Matrix. Well, you know there’s no room for fear in the net. All fears and feelings are gone. You are just doing your job while the neuro-interface cuts off the rest of everything. No, I never felt fear in the battle. And after I learned about Marina, I lost the fear of everything.”
Olga didn’t ask him any more questions. She knew that Petrov’s wife had died in the war during the bombardment of Lunograde-1. She also knew that Petrov had a chance to avenge his wife and that he avenges completely.
“Is it difficult to kill people?” Olga asked.
“Not difficult in our profession. In a space battle you can’t see who you’re engaged with. You just concentrate and everything will be all ri
ght.”
Petrov turned a stripped bone on his plate before continuing. “So I left the hospital about the same time as the truce was being. I buried my wife and served for some time as a minesweeper captain and then demobilized and entered the Academy, this time as a tutor. That was when I met Arina. Soon after, I received an invitation to participate in an international project as a staff expert. That project was called the High House.”
They talked on for some more. Petrov was pleased to relax with his pupil for the first time, and he was impressed by how mature she had become.
“So that’s your final decision?” Petrov asked.
“Yes, I’ll join the navy once the contract expires. A new wave of space expansion will start soon, and new far reaches of the solar system will be conquered. Who knows when the new solar sails are completed? When they are, an interstellar flight will be possible. I want to be a part of that!”
“To slipping the bonds of the sun!” the curator said, raising his vodka.
As they toasted, Arina Rodionovna appeared by the table.
“We must discuss something, Olga!”
“All right, let’s discuss it. See you later, Uncle Misha!” Olga said as she reluctantly put down her mug. “So long!”
The Matrix folded itself into an origami around them. Olga stood up from the armchair, yawned widely, and turned to Arina.
“These must be my ancestors cropping up again, I suppose?”
“Yes, they’ve lodged another application.”
“I will respond with another refusal, as per usual.”
Olga headed for the kitchen, but Arina held up her arm.
“Meet them at least once. You need this meeting. You may not have another chance.”
“I’m so tired of arguing with you about this,” Olga said as she sat back down. “I hate senseless behavior, you know. I see no sense in this meeting. Why waste time?”
“Olga, it’s precisely time that I’m talking about. In a half year you’ll turn ten. After that, they won’t be able to contact you.”
“Excellent.”
Arina dropped her head, and Olga lifted it by the chin.
“You’re right. I’ll be ten soon. Ten wonderful years that I have lived in this House. Do you think I’m unhappy because I had no parents or peers to associate with? Not in the slightest! Why should I have an usual parents and ordinary friends if I have you and Misha plus one of the best paid jobs in the solar system? You and Misha are my real family, the best family I could wish for. Those below are just donors. Yes, donors who were well paid for rejecting me. It’s just business, nothing personal. No, there won’t be a meeting.”
“All right, I understand you. You’ll turn down their request. But suppose I ask you for this as a personal favor?”
“You?” Olga’s surprise was genuine. “Are you asking for this?”
“Yes, I am. After all, I have done a lot for you as your tutor. So I deserve this not unduly cumbersome favor, don’t I?”
“Of course you do. But can you explain why?”
“I’m almost certain that sooner or later you’ll gain from this. And what is good for you is good for all of us.”
“Fine.”
“An hour in a real-time mode, no more, and I’ll be with you. You may eventually even thank me for this.”
“We’ll see.”
* * *
The Voronovs’ small and cozy house didn’t differ in any way from countless homes occupied by upper middle-class Americans. The once-prestigious suburb had gradually declined, but a smoothly trimmed lawn, well-tended rose bush and wicker chairs on the porch still spoke to the neatness and carefulness of the hosts.
At the strictly appointed time, Arina and Olga Voronov, dressed in severe dark suits and gray hats, were silently walking along the path toward the house.
The door swung open, and a tall, lean man of about fifty rolled out in a wheelchair. The second wave of modified poliomyelitis, Olga guessed as she looked at him. He was followed by a small woman with close-cropped hair wearing a white blouse and long skirt. The Voronovs started to speak in English, inviting the guests to their home.
“It’s great to see you back safe and sound, my dear daughter!” the mother kept saying.
“Ours is a humble place, but we’re happy to see you here,” the father echoed.
Olga and Arina sat down on the proffered sofa, and the Voronovs settled down opposite them. The mother kept smiling all the time, trying hard to produce a good impression on the daughter who was two heads taller than her. The father looked depressed and guilty. Tears glistened in his eyes.
“You resemble your grandmother, my mother. You’re just as proud and beautiful,” the father said, breaking the silence.
Arina surreptitiously scanned the living room, taking a particular interest in a row of photographs on the mantelshelf. In the wedding photo, the young Voronovs happily embraced each other. Another photo showed twin boys of three or four. Separately from the cluster of photographs hung a large portrait of a young man wearing the Supernova Academy uniform.
Olga quietly listened to her parents, trying to discern she felt anything for them. She found nothing in herself except indifference and some annoyance.
“Dear Olga, I want to tell you only one thing,” her father said. “We have always regretted giving you away.”
“Why should you be sorry? It earned you a great deal of money, the Corporation obtained a worker it needed, and I got an interesting life and just as interesting of a job. Everybody wins.”
“Please, don’t speak of yourself as a piece of merchandise!”
“Why not? I don’t like to lie to myself.”
Olga pointed at the photo of the twins.
“You’d sold me for their sake, for ensuring your two sons’ future. That was a fine deal, worth around a million at the new rate. Though judging by everything, you couldn’t keep much of the money. The stock exchange collapse of 2083 interfered, didn’t it?”
Her father nodded in sad agreement with his daughter, and the uncomfortable silence resumed.
“What do you want with me now?” Olga asked. “Somehow I don’t believe you’ve suddenly decided to see me just because. So let’s get down to business. I’m sorry, but I can’t help you with money since all my accounts are controlled by the Corporation until my contract expires. Ask them for it and if they approve, I could fork over a thousand or two for you.”
An awkward pause ensued again. Arina excused herself and stepped out onto the porch, closing the door behind her tightly.
“Who’s that?” Olga’s mother asked, nodding toward the door.
“That’s Arina Rodionovna, a high-tech android. She was my nanny, tutor, and instructor. She raised me and taught me everything I know.”
“You were raised by an android?” her mother asked in terror.
“She was a wonderful woman. If it weren’t for her asking me to come, I wouldn’t be here. Listen, I don’t have much time, and thanks to you I have an important job to get back to. I’m doing fine, if you’re interested. I have my life, full of exciting pursuits and fruitful activity. But we have nothing to talk about. Now, tell me please why you invited me. There won’t be another meeting, you know that full well.”
“You’re nine years old and you’re working already?” her father asked slowly and uncertainly. “In what field?”
“I live and work in space. That’s all I can tell you.”
“You see?” her mother said, seizing her husband’s arm. “Didn’t I tell you that our daughter was in space? Ah, we’re losing time! Tell her the important thing. Tell her about Vladimir!”
Her parents nervously looked up at the portrait of the young man in the uniform.
“Olga, you have an elder brother, Vladimir Voronov. There was also Sergey, but he died in childhood of the influenza epidemic that killed so many of us then. His disease had prompted us to take that step. We’ve wronged you terribly, and God has punished us. Please forgive us if you can! The
y paid us very well for you, but as you’ve guessed, this house and a small pension is all we have got in the wake of the crash. Fully realizing our guilt, we don’t ask for anything for ourselves.”
“You don’t understand me. I’m not accusing you of anything. I have no claims against you. I never have.”
“We won’t last long,” her father said. “I’m paralyzed from the waist down, and your mother’s sorrows has led to several heart attacks. We want you and Vladimir to know about each other—and, if possible, become family. He never caused you any harm. And he’s eight years—”
“I must tell you plainly,” her mother interrupted in a pleading tone. “Forgive us and help your brother. He, too, is an astronaut and studies at the Academy! His grades aren’t the best, and nobody provides him protection so he won’t get an officer’s rank and won’t become an engineer, either. But if a person of your standing helps him! We’ll pass away soon; we both know that. And then Vladimir will be left all alone. Be merciful, daughter! We think that you carry real weight with the Corporation. Otherwise, they wouldn’t value you so.”
“I do have a certain influence, though not to such an extent as you imagine. I can’t promise you anything.” Olga gave a nervous laugh but then asked thoughtfully, “Does my brother know anything about me?”
“Not at the moment,” her father answered. “We decided that we had to get your approval first.”
Olga and her parents fell silent again.
The Raven High Page 9
