Wait. I wasn't real. I was an image in Abigail's mind. No. I was Abigail! I looked around and saw only LeClaire. The girl had wandered off somewhere. Miss DeChant was gone. More truthful, she was in my memories, where she was wanted and where she belonged.
"Is something wrong, Miss DeChant?" LeClaire said pleasantly. He placed a hand on my shoulder. I looked him straight in the eye.
"You're either going to take that hand off me, LeClaire, or you're going to choke on it when I force feed it to you."
He seemed startled, but removed his hand. He leaned down and frowned.
"You're not Miss DeChant!"
"No, I'm not. I'm Abigail Wyeth. And you're not Philip LeClaire."
"I'm not, eh? Then why am I wearing his clothes?" he laughed. "Come. Enough of this nonsense. Let's sit down and you can tell me how the KME has worked out. I could also do with one of your fabulous back rubs."
He sat down on the sand I'd created for Miss DeChant and myself. I remained standing and let the sand trickle back into the floor of my mind. He looked irritated and perplexed as he stood again.
"What are you doing, girl? It is your station to serve me!"
"No, it's not. That was the relationship between Miss DeChant and LeClaire. And as I said, we're neither. Miss DeChant was a piece of my life, manipulated to serve you and Young. But now she's where she should be: in my mind and in my past. And you're a remnant of LeClaire that he placed in the KME. A waste of time, if you ask me."
He laughed again. "You are quite the little spitfire, aren't you? Very well. You're right, I am a ghost of LeClaire."
"More like a ghost of LeClaire's ego. What is your purpose here?"
"Despite the grim picture you painted for Miss DeChant a few moments ago, I am here to help you. I'll need to hurry, though. I have perhaps five minutes of life. I didn't want to use too much room in the KME." He put his hands behind his back and bounced slightly on his toes, considering me.
"I can't tell you how exciting it is to look at you!" He raised his hands at my look. "Not in a physical sense, young lady. Although there is that, too. I mean in a scientific sense. You have to be the original persona. If you are, then that means the KME has not only reached full maturity, it's activated and has taught you unbound trinary code." He looked at me earnestly. "Tell me - Abigail, was it? - what is it like?"
"Something I can't describe, LeClaire. It's as though ..."
"Please, call me Philip."
"I think not. Anyway, it's given me free reign in the puterverse. And I can use the coding directly, though I have two UTC constructs that do most of the number crunching for me. All in all, it's fit very well inside me." I looked at him. "I'd thank you except I know that what benefits I've gotten from it are just side issues, aren't they?"
"Quite astute, Madame. My main desire is to know that it worked. I've no doubt been dead for some time. What you do with the UTC is quite irrelevant to me, or to my bones. My second desire is to know that M'sieur Young didn't get that knowledge. And my third desire is the one I stated first: to help you by giving you additional information. Information not included with the KME, nor recorded anywhere else."
"Go on."
"You say you've been able to move freely through the puterverse?" I nodded. "At what level, might I ask?"
"Any level I choose, although my normal access is at unlimited."
"Indeed!" He became very excited. He peered at me closely. "And tell me; are there more than thirty-two levels? Perhaps, say ... sixty-seven?"
"I'm impressed, Doctor," I said honestly. "I know that levels beyond thirty-two were not discovered until ..."
"Yes, yes, yes. I'm well aware that not all the levels had been discovered by the twenty-fourth century. The only relevant fact is that there are sixty-seven levels. And your accessing; it's without pain or physical weakness, is it not?"
"Yes. I have no difficulty coming and go--"
"Yes!" He jumped and spun, very unusual for a man, especially for a ghost of a man that would flicker out in a few moments. He continued making exclamations and shouts in French, which I now understood fluently. I cut him off after his third outburst.
"LeClaire! We don't have much time! You're here to help me, remember?"
"I'm so sorry, young lady." He calmed down and wiped a tear from his eye. "You are correct. Very well, let me tell it quickly, and you can deduce the rest after you waken. First, briefly about myself. I'll speak frankly, since I am but an image, and my true self has gone on to whatever reward or punishment I deserved.
"I was quite famous as a leading pioneer in the field of sonics. It's a reputation that is well deserved. No doubt many of my discoveries and applications are refined and in use today. I'm sure to be remembered and honored even in this time, which I would estimate to be between 2650 and 2800."
The man's ego would have been staggering if his claims weren't also true. And his guess at the year was very impressive. Here was real NATech material.
"What is probably not as well known is that I started out not in sonics, but in spatial theory I was among the class of 2251 that tapped into the poorly named fourth =dimension for eighty-nine nanoseconds. Poorly named, I say, because while time is often considered the fourth dimension, we both know it is in fact the real fifth dimension. There is no fourth dimension."
I nodded in understanding. Contrary to conventional wisdom, and the seeming proof of the stability of binary code, mathematics thrived on prime numbers. Non-prime numbers were merely unstable composites of prime numbers. It tends to be overlooked that the number two is a prime, unlike all other even numbers.
"In any event, this look into the new dimension was very brief. Fortunately, we were fully documenting the event, and in eighty-nine nanoseconds were able to accumulate 944 terrabytes of data, images, and digitized samples."
"I remember reading about the discovery. I was excited at first, because it seemed like a substantial breakthrough in physics. I wouldn't know, because I could never gain access to the data, but I imagine that a fifth dimension would probably be a stable merging of the first three along the time axis, which would eliminate physical velocity and acceleration. In that dimension, any form of movement by any object would be instantaneous."
"Wonderful!" He clapped his hands. "You have an excellent grasp of spatial theory, woman! I am astounded! You're imaginings are completely accurate. It took the eight of us nearly a week to come to the same conclusion. Further work with the data revealed that a byproduct of non-temporal movement also meant that existing in this dimension would be impossible for corporeal life."
"Of course. Since any movement would occur in literally no time, the normal movement of living would prove fatal. Air entering the lungs would travel at such high speed, the lungs would be shredded in a moment. The friction caused by blood cells in the veins would cause the entire circulatory system to be burned away. Even a single heartbeat would be fatal, because the muscle would completely implode." I felt a shiver along my back and a heavy thudding in my chest as I listened to the suddenly familiar description of death in that dimension. LeClaire saw my widened eyes and smiled.
"You have captured the action quite vividly and again quite accurately. Have you ever heard of or witnessed such a death?"
"Yes. A Lieutenant Posen was found dead in his quarters with injuries exactly like that. At least, what was left of him indicated massive and spontaneous organic failure throughout his body. And he had just been in the puterverse, at my access." My voice rose with the excitement and fear of sudden revelation. "Do you mean to say ..."
"What I mean to say, young lady, is that the puterverse is not a creation of Chris Young. It is its own dimension, a dimension we cannot physically enter. He created the original webbing techniques, and he was the driving force behind the development of the Net. But the puterverse, as it exists today, was made possible by the data stolen from us by M'sieur Young, who overlaid it with a Net interface to disguise his theft.
"Less than a month after
our access, the data, all its backups, and all our research - stored on the university fullframe - was missing. Within six months, five of the eight of us were dead. Within three years, two more had also died."
"Leaving just you."
"Leaving just me," he sighed. I saw particles of light popping and bursting from behind him. He was still solid, but there seemed to be small glimmers peeking through. He saw my stare and looked down.
"I should say my time is concluding. Please, let me finish.
"As you said, leaving just me. It wasn't by accident I was the last one alive. I figured out very quickly that the only being that could do such sweeping theft of that much data had to be an entity, not a person. Where that entity existed was not difficult to deduce either. To survive my friends, I would need to become useful to him.
"I shifted my studies from spatial theory to sonics. I had always enjoyed it as a hobby. I now devoted myself to it for three reasons. One, it would be seen as a non-threatening discipline by the puterverse entity. Two, the long term benefits, as a whole to society and specifically to my new, secret employer, NATech, would give me value, as well as a portion of the fame and social status I deserved. And three, I knew that with sonics, I could create a method to develop unbound trinary code without the use of a computer. And once the entity - Young - concluded that it was impossible to create trinary code in a binary environment, he would allow me to continue my work for his ultimate benefit. A benefit I never intended to fall into his hands. He had destroyed by best chance to gain recognition and wealth. He robbed me of my discovery of the fifth dimension!"
There was no question now that he was disintegrating. Already his feet and lower extremities were gone, although he continued to hang in midair, a hideous crucifix. His hands were gone, as was the back of his head. Light shone through his body as through stained glass. He gazed at me intently with eyes that seemed like dark, smoke-filled marbles with a candle glowing on the other side.
"Remember, woman, what Philip LeClaire has done for you. Remember me for what I have done for mankind, not what I have done for NATech." He flashed a smile and the glow in his eyes faded to dying embers. "And remember that Young is not the master of the puterverse. You are."
The vestiges of his face lingered, then vanished with a silent pop, leaving me alone with my thoughts and within my thoughts.
***
"Princess!"
I waited a moment, then called again. I'd been searching for over an hour, being pulled along by a deep sense of direction. The landscape had changed significantly and to the worse. Gone was the flat plane of the foundry ripe. I was now entering the portion of the girl's ripe, and it was worse than I could have imagined. Everything was black, with no relief of shade or pitch. I could make out features only by a sixth sense that seemed to let me see from within my chest. In my blindness, I could make out fissures everywhere, in the air as well as on the ground, which itself was rough and sharp and uneven. No matter which direction I went every step was an uphill struggle. I stumbled frequently and when my hands touched the ground, it felt like bloody flesh. Only once, after a bad stumble, did my hands come against the edge of a fissure. The edge cut my palms, but also gave way, like the edges of a knife wound. I lurched to my feet very quickly, the quiver of the ground underneath filling me with terror and revulsion. Yet this was my mind. At one time, I had lived here. At one time, I was this place.
"Princess!" I yelled. Although the name was so completely out of place in this Dantesque horror, it was the only name that had been given her, and it seemed more appropriate than shouting "slut" or something equally descriptive.
I had staggered up a particularly tough stretch of flat ground, jumping over four fissures and walking around two others that rent the air, when I saw a shimmer of deep black in the distance. Occasionally, a flicker of pain would show through, with the smell of laughter. I worked my way toward the shadow, the ground becoming softer and sharper as I went. I finally was close enough to see that it was the girl.
She lay on the ground, near a fissure. Although she was curled up, her face was extended toward the jagged edge. I heard lapping sounds and whimpers of delight coming from her as she licked the massive surface scar. My stomach twisted and I was very nearly sick at this open display of obscene pleasure, but I fought it down. It wasn't her fault she was this way. That's not quite true. It wasn't my fault that I was once this way. Because the pathetic creature lying at my feet, oblivious to everything but the pleasure pain brought her, had been me. I leaned down and touched her shoulder.
"Princess?"
I stopped my licking and looked up. Abby! She had come to find me! I felt a wave of happiness inside me. I laughed and came to my knees, grabbing her around the waist. She smelled so wonderful! And her skin was so soft!
I half-expected the girl to disappear when she hugged me, but she didn't. We apparently had not reached the point where we were close enough mentally to join. I wondered how I could possibly let Doctor Barrett know he needed to adjust the wavelength of the inducer, when I suddenly just knew that he understood. I felt a curious sensation wash over me, and the bitter warmth of the surrounding air began seeping into me, making me tingly and numb at the same time.
Abigail was standing still and I felt her body get hard, like she was going to hit me, which would be nice. But then her body went softer again, like she liked my holding her. That was nice, too, so I began kissing her pretty legs.
"Stop that!" I scolded. "You know I don't want you to do that!"
"You don't?" I asked, very confused. "Then why are you here?"
"I'm here ..." I broke off and lowered my voice. Deep inside, a dark pleasure started rising, and I had the sudden urge to strike her, knowing she would enjoy it. I fought it down. It receded into my soul, but remained alive. "I'm here, Princess, because it's time for you and I to become one person. May I sit down?"
"Oh, yes, Abby! Please!" I let Abby go so she could sit down, then tried to curl up in her lap. She wouldn't let me and anyway I was bigger than her so it would be hard to do, so I lay down and put my head on her lap and looked at her pretty eyes. I couldn't really see her, because it was all night everywhere, but I could see her, too.
She put her head on my lap, leaving her lovely throat completely open to being crushed ... I shook my head harshly. Why was I thinking this? We needed to talk. I wanted to know this girl, this lost piece of my past, before she disappeared forever inside me. But how can you carry on a conversation with someone like this? I didn't know, but I would have to try. Forcibly relaxing myself, I began stroking her hair. She sighed and made a sound in her throat not unlike a purr.
I wanted to just talk and wait until Barrett discovered the correct frequency that would begin meshing our minds together, but having her lying there, so trusting, so vulnerable ... I grunted and tightened my eyes shut. Why didn't I start talking? Why couldn't I think? What was it about her?
Abby wanted to hit me, I knew, but she didn't. I wondered why, so I asked her.
"What's wrong, Abby? Why don't you have fun with me? Isn't that why you're here?" I grabbed her hand and put it on my tummy and then my face. "Please? I'll be good, I promise." I licked her hand.
The blood rose up in me as I found her attention wildly exciting.
"What's happening?" I screamed at her. "What are you doing to me?"
"I'm sorry!" I cried. "I'll be better! I promise!" I didn't know what Abby wanted to make her feel better, because I could tell she didn't know either. So I just kept close to her, hoping she would do what all my other owners did.
My blind eyes were dazzled by ribbons of hate and self-loathing. Desperate to hurt her, I knew I would only be hurting myself. With my last ounce of willpower, I threw her off and scrambled to my feet. She rolled over to her hands and knees and began whimpering like a beaten cur.
I straightened up, and suddenly a massive weight fell on my back and shoulders, driving me to my knees. I felt exposed and guilty and worthless and delirio
usly happy.
Abby stood up, then went on her knees. Her arms were open, so maybe she wanted me to hug her. I crawled over to her and hugged her as hard as I could.
"Don't be sad, Abby!" I cried. "I want to make you happy! Tell me what to do! Please! I want you to feel better!"
The girl's cries of love and mercy cut like razors into my skin, making me want to lash out wildly. I put my hands around her throat and began crushing her windpipe. I watched my hands with a detached fascination squeeze the life from her soft throat. She offered no resistance and in the pitch darkness of hopelessness, despair and vile need, she was willing to give herself up in the impossible hope that she could still please me.
Abby liked me! I was making her happy! She really was my real owner! I felt her strong, soft hands hold me very very tight around my neck, and I felt the wonderful colors and pretty smells make me feel good, too. She hurt me even harder, so I knew she did love me. I only had a little strength left, so before I died, I wanted to do one more thing to make her feel good. I raised my hand and stroked her pretty arm.
Her loving caress seemed to snap me from my thrall. What was I doing? I tried to wrench my hands away, but they only tightened, intent on killing her. I could not stop myself, nor could I stop the pangs of pain and pleasure shooting through me, each stab filled with wonderful colors and pretty smells that made me feel good.
Knowing her death at my hands was only moments away, I threw myself bodily to one side, the girl still locked in my grip, her body becoming limp. My leg hit the edge of the fissure and skidded off. Helpless to stop myself, I screamed silently, once, then fell into the hot, dark abyss, the girl being yanked along with me.
***
It was dark in my room. They had been feeding me, and sometimes they let me out of the chair that held me and let me walk around. And Stays, who was almost my owner, but wasn't, had been training me. But I wanted to go. I wanted an owner.
Final Book Page 10
