Of Man and Manta Omnibus

by Piers Anthony

  Veg was looking at the Tamme/Aquilon couple. "That's as pretty a set as you'll ever see," he murmured.

  "So there may be an infinite number on the treadmill," another Tamme said. "We can work it out by ourselves -- but that's just a fraction. Useless."

  "Yet there is a frame for each couple -- somewhere," a Taner pointed out. "A one-to-one ratio. No need to compete."

  The Tamme disagreed. "We can't pinpoint our exact alternates or guarantee that others will. Some would be missed; others would get half a dozen couples. Just as we find ourselves doubling up right here. That will play merry hell with the equality of alternates. Some governments will catch on no matter what we report. Then -- "

  "Then war between the frames," Tamme murmured to herself, and heard the others coming to the same conclusion. All agents' minds worked similarly, of course.

  "Whose world would be ravaged?" Taler asked rhetorically. "Mine? Yours? I don't care about the others, but I want my own left alone even if I don't return to it."

  "We can't guarantee that any alternate is left alone -- the moment one government catches on to the exploitative potential of alternity, the lid's off," the Tamme said. "We all know what our governments are like."

  "Omnivores!" an Aquilon cried with feeling. "Ravening omnivores!"

  "We are omnivores, too," Taler said. "We are all killers at heart." He raised his left arm. He wore long sleeves; now the cloth fell away to reveal a stump. His arm had been amputated at the elbow. "An alternate Taler -- myself! -- did this to me. I was lucky to escape with my life, and as it was, I spent some time recuperating. If it had not been for my normal companion -- " He smiled, glancing at another Aquilon, who lowered her eyes demurely -- "Well, let's check this out here and now. How many couples met their doubles on the way here?"

  All hands went up.

  Taler nodded. "I thought so. Many of you conceal your injuries well -- but every agent here lost to his exact counterpart, correct?" There was agreement. "Received a head injury -- a bad one?" Again, agreement. "We represent the natural selection of that fragment of the circuit that met their doubles -- and lost, and so were delayed for recovery. Out of all the other possibilities happening elsewhere. So we know first hand: We are omnivores, destroying even ourselves. Yet it seems that the male-female aspect enhanced the chances of survival as though something more than mere competence were operant. We may have redeeming qualities." He paused. "And how many of us -- remember?"

  All the agents' hands went up, including Tamme's own.

  Veg turned to her. He was half amazed, half furious. All about them the other normals were facing their agents with the same question. Even the Aquilon with the chairman-Taler was on her feet, her pretty mouth open accusingly. "You remember?"

  Veg saw the universal reaction. Suddenly he laughed -- and so did the others. "Wait till I get you alone!" he said.

  "We are not as we were," Taler said over the hubbub. "We lost -- but we won. I tell the world, I tell alternity: I remember Budge, the lonely orphan boy, condemned as economically unsalvageable. I am Budge."

  Tamme stared at him. Taler had gone normal!

  All around the wavorium others were staring.

  "But I am also Taler," the agent continued. "Converted from unfit normal to fit agent. Veteran of seven anonymous missions, killer of men, competent liar, lover, philosopher -- "

  "Amen!" his Aquilon said.

  "I remember both heaven and hell," Taler continued. "I am heaven and hell, and now purgatory -- as are we all."

  "This is intriguing, and it would be entertaining to compare notes -- but we must complete our missions," an alternate Tamme said. "Or agree not to..."

  Taler nodded. "If no one returns to a given world, the government is unlikely to expend more agents in such hazardous exploration. Paleo is not secure, owing to the presence of the manta's spores; the desert world has the known menace of the wild machines and the unknown menace of the sparkle cloud. So long as they have no hint of what lies beyond the sparkle, they will not pursue it further. It wouldn't be economic."

  "If no one returns..." It was another general murmur. The Cal spoke again. "The matter is academic. The option is not ours. We were conveyed to this framework of frames by pattern-entities, and we have virtually no chance to locate our original worlds -- Desert, Paleo, or Earth -- without the intercession of these entities. We are in their power, confined to these worlds at their pleasure." Taler looked about. He sighed. "Any refutation?" There was none.

  "Then I suggest we return to our points of entry into this alternate-pattern, rejoin our original companions, and wait on the pleasure of the sparkle entities. They appear to have protected us from ourselves, and perhaps that is best."

  "But what if we return to the wrong companions by mistake?" his Aquilon asked.

  "Then, my dear, we shall treat them as we would our right companions. We have had enough of misunderstanding and violence." He looked about and again discovered no refutation. "Meeting adjourned."

  Veg turned to Tamme. "But why did that other Tamme attack us? If they were at this meeting -- or one like it -- she would have known there was no percentage in fighting."

  "Their meeting differed from ours," she said. "They had not been injured in battles with their doubles, and perhaps there were no Cals to clarify matters. They must have decided that it was each frame for itself. There must be many like that, still out to terminate the opposition -- as I was at the start. Before I went normal."

  "Yeah." He faced about. "Let's go."

  "Don't you want to chat with Cal and Aquilon?"

  "Yeah -- but I'm afraid you'll take off with the wrong Veg again."

  She laughed -- but realized it wasn't funny to him. The presence of his friends, who he knew were not his original ones, made him nervous.

  They had to wait their turn for use of the projector. There were actually many projectors here, but the others were labeled for other loops, and further exploration seemed pointless. Meanwhile, the bazaar was fascinating.

  Then on through to the --

  -- Jungle gym, this time encountering no opposition; --

  -- the fog world, for a brief reunion with their friends there; --

  -- the orchestra, --

  -- and the forest.

  "Before we go on," Veg said. "About remembering -- "

  "Yes," she said. She had known this was coming and was prepared. "There is something you should know. I am strong again, but I am changed, as Taler is, as all of us at the meeting are. I have full emotional control, but it is as though my program has been modified -- and can not now be reverted to the original. Not without erasure and resetting -- which seem unlikely in view of events."

  He watched her, the wild hope coalescing. "Then -- "

  "I still love you," she said.

  "But I thought -- "

  "I said I had recovered control. I knew that if I died, or if we were separated, it would be best that you not know the truth. And there was still substantial risk of such an outcome. Therefore, I exercised that control to protect the one I loved." She lowered her eyes. "I did what I felt was necessary. I did not enjoy it. Now I know we shall be together. I shall not again conceal my feeling from you. But I must advise you that my love is now as fixed as my prior conditioning. I shall not be casually set aside."

  "That's for sure!" he agreed. He looked at his hexaflexagon. "Next world's Blizzard, then back to the City. We don't have to rush it."

  "We'll never have to rush it," she agreed.

  Chapter 16 - REQUISITION

  They emerged in single file from the indoctrination suite: twenty-four agents of the TE series. Eighteen were male, six female.

  The inspection party consisted of ranking execs from industry: Steel, Atomics, Transport, Fuel, and Construction. They were all portly, wealthy, powerful, conservatives who were not to be trifled with -- no, not for an instant. The ire of any one of them could cost the Sec his position within the hour, and so he was unusually accommodating. In fact,
he was obsequious.

  "The agent program is the finest investigative and first-line remedial service ever conceived or implemented," the Sec said to the visitors. "The computer itself processes them, giving them a common store of information, guiding their attitudes: We call it 'set.' The individual agents are like extensions of the machine, each reacting to any situation exactly as programmed to react. That way the computer needs to make no allowance for human variability, subjectivity, distortion. All that has been pre-compensated in the program; one agent's report is exactly like another's."

  Transport shook his head in seeming perplexity: a deceptive gesture, as none of the execs were stupid. "Surely this is not feasible; every mission any agent goes out on represents new and different experience. He would soon differ from his companions by that degree. We are what we experience."

  The Sec smiled ingratiatingly. "Of course, sir. The computer has taken this into consideration. Therefore, every agent is reprocessed after each mission. His individual memories are erased, and he is restored to the programmed set for his series. These TE's are an example; they have just been -- "

  Fuel shook his head. "Memory can't be erased. It is a chemical process spread throughout the brain. You'd have to destroy the whole -- "

  The Sec coughed. "Well, I am not conversant with the technical details. Perhaps it is merely repression. But it is a repression that it would take brain surgery to abate. I assure you, no agent is put in the field unless his set is correct. The computer -- "

  "Brain surgery?" Fuel inquired. "I'll bet a severe shock could scramble -- "

  "I'd like to question one of those retreads," Transport said. "Or would that distort that delicate 'set'?"

  "Of course not," the Sec said, ruffled. "You are welcome to interview this batch." He touched a stud. "Send a premission TE to the exec tour observatory," he said. The first agent in the line detached himself and came to the observatory. He was a handsome man, exactly like his companions except for the details of hue and feature: eyes, hair, nose, mouth, ears. Each varied just enough to provide that superficial individuality the public notion required while making it plain that he was a nearly identical twin to the other members of his series. Even his blood type matched, and his fingerprints -- with that same minute variation. He was powerfully built and extremely well coordinated: a superman in many respects. "I am Teban," he said with a slight inclination of the head.

  The Sec nodded in return, not bothering to introduce himself. "Each agent has a three-letter designation. The first two indicate the particular series; the third identifies the individual. The remaining letters are merely cosmetic, to offer a humanizing aspect. Thus, this is Series TE, individual B: TEBan. We employ the eighteen most adaptable consonants for the individual names, B, D, F, H -- "

  "You missed C," Construction protested wryly.

  "C is not one of the preferred letters," Teban interposed smoothly. "It may be rendered soft as in 'cent' or hard as in 'cock.' Therefore it is not -- "

  "What?" the exec interrupted, reddening.

  "Soft cent, hard cock," the agent repeated. "I am certain you heard me the first time."

  The Sec stepped in hastily. "A 'cent' is an archaic unit of currency. A 'cock' is a male fowl, a rooster. Our agents are well versed in -- "

  "Any intelligent person is," Teban said.

  "I believe we should question another individual," Steel said.

  "Yes, of course," the Sec agreed. He gestured to Teban, who turned smartly and departed. In a moment he was replaced by another agent, so like him it was disconcerting.

  "I am Teddy."

  "Series TE, individual D, suffix DY," the Sec explained.

  The agent turned to him, raising one eyebrow. "These people are well familiar with the pattern," he said. "In fact, they consider you to be a somewhat inept official due for replacement and would prefer to interview me directly."

  "Right on the mark," Steel muttered.

  "Ah, er, yes," the Sec agreed wanly. "Our agents are trained to interpret the nuances of human involuntary body language."

  Steel ignored him. He turned to Teddy. "We are told you are preformed, like an ingot, to rigid tolerance. High-grade, invariable. That you have no prior memories of your own personal experience. Is this true?"

  "No."

  Fuel smiled. "Aha!"

  "We already have proof it isn't true," Construction said. "This one reacted differently from the first. So they aren't all alike."

  "We're alike," Teban said. "In the interval between interviews, you changed. So I responded differently."

  "But you said you had no prior personal memories," Steel said. "I mean, that you do."

  "All of us have the same personal memories."

  Steel nodded. "What do you remember?"

  An obscure expression crossed Teddy's face. "Naked breasts, spread thighs straddling a cello. Beautiful music. Guilt, urgency, Frustration."

  Steel glanced at his companions obliquely. "Most interesting programming!"

  Transport stepped forward. "Where and when did you observe this nude musician?"

  "Time and geography are not readily defined in the frames of alternity," Teddy said. "We are twenty years out of phase, so could not interact."

  "Alternity? Phase?" Atomic asked. "Now don't explode, 'Tomic," Steel said with a vulpine smile. "Let's interview another agent. This has been most informative and may become more so."

  Teddy departed. Another agent appeared. "I am Texas."

  Steel made a gesture to quiet his companions. "Please define alternity."

  "The entire fabric of probability," Texas replied. "This world is but a single frame of an infinite framework."

  "And on these other frames are naked female musicians?"

  "On one frame among the myriads."

  "What else is there -- in alternity?"

  "Translucent planes. Technicolor blizzards. Edible fog. Alien creatures. Bazaar. Forest. Carnivorous walls. Machine-hive. Element plants. Çatal Huyuk."

  "Send in another agent," Steel said brusquely. "A female," Transport added, and the other execs nodded agreement. The Sec merely stood as if frozen.

  She arrived: supple, buxom, attractive. Her hair and eyes were brown but not intensely so; pretty as she was, it would have been hard to describe her precisely after a casual encounter. "I am Terri."

  "Have you seen," Steel asked carefully, "a nude female cellist?"

  She eyed him archly. "Of course not."

  "Your male companions seem to have had other experience. A different 'set'?"

  "They were referring to the program," she said. "The computer provides a common set. That does not mean we have actually seen these things, only that we remember them. I am certain my brothers informed you it was a memory, not an experience. However, if you are really interested in this type of thing, I will fetch a cello and -- "

  "I believe it is time to interview the computer itself," Fuel said. "It occurs to me that a great deal of money has been foolishly spent."

  Now the Sec summoned the courage of desperation. "Sirs, something has obviously gone wrong with the program. We never -- "

  "Never checked the program?" Fuel inquired. "Or never thought we'd check it?"

  "The agent program has been inadequately supervised from the start," Terri said. "It would be simple for us to assume control of the government, and perhaps the time has come."

  Steel turned to the Sec. "Are there no safeguards in the program?"

  "Of course there are!" the Sec said nervously. "Agents of all series are specifically directed to preserve the status quo. They -- "

  "Are they?" Steel demanded of Terri.

  "Not when the status quo is obviously a liability to the welfare of the species," she said.

  Now the glances the execs exchanged were as nervous as those of the Sec.

  The other agents of the TE series, male and female, fell in around them as they approached the computer communications input, like an honor guard... or merely a guard. Polit
e, handsome, powerful, frightening. But the execs were permitted to address the computer without interference.

  Steel, no coward, became the spokesman for the execs. "What's going on here?" he demanded.

  "Interpretation," the voice of the computer said. It was a pleasant voice, not at all mechanical.

  One of the agents spoke: "These execs are suspicious of the program and wish to ascertain whether the status quo is threatened by us. They are also confused about the nature of alternity and intrigued by nude female cellists."