by M. A. Foster
Charodei said, “Subjectively, then, to it…”
“Subjectively, the old woman died. And far below the level of anything we would understand as consciousness, something survived, and on that we built a personality… eventually, we were able to build a functioning persona, and of course we taught it much… but as far as the theory it operates under, it taught itself, and has done all the original work itself, and there is so much in that which is alien to us that it doesn’t inhabit the same universe we do, conceptually.”
Charodei said, “You mean it doesn’t agree with us?”
“I mean we have a bargain with it, and its word is good—we’ve tested that, too. But it doesn’t understand why what we’ve trained it to do is so important to us.”
“But will it change?”
“Voluntarily? Yes. No doubts. Although that is another thing which separates us, because of course the process is a sort of death… its immortality is not escape from death, but the acceptance of many deaths, none of them pleasant” Lozny mused, “Why is the ability of it to change so important?”
“Because it doesn’t matter if they track it down and find it afterwards! There is no link between the two persons. Its origins can’t be traced. It doesn’t matter how public its act is. And rest assured we’ve given it an extreme education in avoidance’”
Yadom asked, “And in what else?”
“All the tools of the trade for assassins. That one can brew poison from drinking water, make a pistol from trash, sabotage any machine made, live in the wild, maim with a gesture you can’t even see, and use most conceivable weapons to a high level of accuracy, in addition.”
“Why?”
“It told us that in the system it uses to identify its targets, it gets method as an inseparable part of the answer. It says that the assassins of old were wrong in target and method, and that it must have the ability to implement the answer it gets out of its calculations.”
“There is some sort of formula?”
Pternam said, “Yes. It makes no sense to anyone we’ve shown it to. Apparently it is using some underlying understood mathematical and logical concepts we haven’t discovered yet, or can’t imagine, blocked conceptually from them by what we already know.”
Charodei interrupted, “You say, ‘implement the answer.’ You were speaking of method, but I sense there is more… the Target. Then we don’t assign it a target, is this correct?”
“Exactly. All you have to do is agree—and we release it.”
“It selects the subject, the method…?”
Pternam said, “And the time to act. All of it. Remember, it sees our society as an extended schematic.”
Yadom shook his head. “We heard tales, but this is even more fearsome. I feel as if I were comparing brushfires to surgery, our methods to its. Incredible! And what governs its loyalty to us?”
Pternam said, slowly, “You are to take advantage of the shift it creates. It is programed to remove the pin that holds this society in its present form. That is all. It doesn’t understand what we would put in its place, or that we could. Only that it can do this. Neither you nor I have the option of controlling it once it is released. We can choose to release it, having given you advance warning, or we could destroy it… for we who created it fear it, too. My question is, do you think that you can take advantage of its release?”
Yadom didn’t speak, but held his face immobile. Charodei looked away from the window, and also from the group. But Lozny, after a moment, solemnly nodded. “We can handle it.”
Charodei said, thoughtfully, “You could have another choice, and set it loose on us…”
Pternam answered carefully, “No. That would require more retraining than we can do. Possibly we could pattern such a person, similarly to the way this one was done, but I frankly do not know. In the case of the Acmeists in Clisp, there were special circumstances involved. It told us of that situation; actually of three we could have tested, but we could use only one of them. It says that its actions disturb its own equations. In any event, I do not intend to use one against you. We went too far with this one, and we fear it also. There are serious restraints on this area. We simply do not take chances with it.”
“Well,” said Charodei. “Let’s go visit with your fabulous beast, before we decide. I’d like to talk with it.”
— 3 —
Meetings by Night
Anibal Glist was not the name he had been born with, nor had his subsequent upbringing and education known that name; however, it was the one he had been known by for so many years that it sometimes slipped his mind what the old one was. He actually had to stop and make an effort to recall it.
Glist had made his way back to his cell, but he did not rest, as he had intended to. At first he had dismissed the alarming report by Sheptun as nothing more than fancy; for this was a common enough trait among new operatives assigned to Project Oerlikon/Lisagor. They saw shadows everywhere. The trouble was that there was never any shortage of shadows, so that the problem became to discriminate between the real problems and the false starts, of which Lisak society was overloaded. Who would believe a monolithic totalitarian state still could erect itself and exist, and even prosper after its own fashion, in these times? It was a tribute to some perverse human vice from the farthest reaches of the squalling past.
But the more he thought on it, pacing back and forth in his small cell, the more he felt uneasy. There was something about this, some lunatic flavor that he had learned to associate, by dint of long experience on this planet, with some furtive glimmer, of truth. And so it was that after a time, Glist, donning a night cloak against the autumnal chill in the late night air, set forth again, negotiating the narrow walkways, stairs, and balustrades of his hill to the place of another of his associates.
This was a woman, Arunda Palude, who served as the archivist for the Symbarupol Central Group. Having no contact with the operatives, and insulated from all communications save certain specified ones, she concentrated on retaining data, for the reporting officials of their group to use. Most of her files were in her head: she was a trained mnemonieist, so that in case of emergency, there would be no damaging records found to link their group with anyone off-planet. She did not make reports herself.
As he laboriously climbed up a particularly steep masonry stairwell to her cell, Glist did not worry too much about being seen, or his presence commented upon, for another of the endless wonders of Lisagor was that despite constant antisexual propaganda by the government, and total absence of any public media stimulation, the major concern of Lisaks seemed to be devoted to the maintenance of numerous affairs, and exotic practices associated with them. He smiled to himself. Rather than resent, or even take note of his visit, any ordinary Lisak would probably admire his verve, and consider Glist’s example as another goad to personal excesses.
At the cell door, Palude let him in without ceremony or comment, closing the door and bolting it. Once inside, she did not waste time or effort with pleasantries, but addressed Glist directly. She was a woman of mature but graceful aspect, tall and slender, with dark hair, streaked with gray, tied into a loose bun at the back of her neck.
She said, “Something would bring you out at night and over here directly; you’re not known for lechery, and all the Dragon games have ended by now, so something’s bothering you. What is it?”
“Direct as ever, I see. Well, I have heard some odd things tonight, and I thought I would stop by and check with you to see if you could make a tie to any of it”
“Go on.”
Glist gave, in summarized form, a loose account of the incident in which Student Procand and Student Sheptun had collaborated in reporting odd circumstances to him. For a time, Arunda did nothing but listen, with a rather expressionless, passive face. Then she looked up and went to a small cupboard, from which she took a pad of paper and pen and wrote down short phrases.
Glancing at the list she had written, she began, “I have some items that may or m
ay not connect with the information relayed by Sheptun. One. The Heraclitan Society central committee has been unusually active in recent weeks, doing a lot of moving around. Our contact has been sporadic and tenuous. There are indications that they have made contact with some other group, which has not been identified yet Two. Vigilance was instituted, but the usual sources report negative. Other clandestine organizations associated with HS in the past are disorganized and passive, and the Synodic of Law and Order, Ministry of Femisticleo Chugun, currently has no provocative actions in effect, except a very minor one operative in Marula, which appears to be unconnected.”
She continued, “Three. Cesar Kham is working on this personally. There is an incident in Marisol, Clisp, which has very odd aspects. A very minor fringe underground group calling itself The Acmeists, was recently brought to light in the aftermath of a murder, and the group completely fell apart. They are hunting down the survivors now, but the group is considered completely purged.”
Glist interrupted, “What is so odd about that? Chugun unearths one every other week. They don’t amount to much.”
Palude answered, “That’s the odd part. Chugun didn’t do it It was brought into the open by an odd, motiveless murder, and at that of a very minor clerk of the group. The killing has all the marks of a very professional assassination, and naturally, the assassin has not been located. Chugun is not worrying much about the killer, since he’s had so much fun rounding up the Acmeists. Another odd thing was that they were not really very secret, or very effective, or much of a threat They had no known enemies among other factions, and were in fact rather useful as a sort of sounding-board. The usual sources in Marisol and throughout Clisp all report no contact, and in fact, all the local cabals are very busy denying it They were all well-covered, so the fall of the Acmeists hurt no one except their own people, nevertheless, it caused a lot of nervousness, since no one seems to know where the incident that set it off came from. Kham went there personally to see if he could make sense of it His last report is that it’s as if something came out of the night and struck, and left the scene immediately. Kham also says that his investigation shows that this particular victim, although unknown and obscure, seemed to provide just the right impetus so that the internal weaknesses of the Acmeists caused them to fall apart in public. Chugun has written it off as a fortunate accident, and proceeded to clean up whatever was left of it Kham suspects conscious motivation and direction behind the incident, but cannot identify the organization.”
Glist thought for a moment, and then asked, “Is there coincidence in time between the activity of the Heraclitans and this incident in Clisp?”
Palude thought about it, and then said, “The Clisp incident was first. The activity commenced about ten days later. Also Kham notes that the Acmeists were the only group in Clisp with no active connections with any other group. He plainly suspects a sort of demonstration, since they were relatively open and isolated, but by whom and for whom?”
“Kham suspects? If half of what he thinks is true, there’s a finer control afoot than we’ve seen here.”
Palude said, thoughtfully, “My material on the Acmeists is current, via Laerte Ormolu, and confirms their general harmlessness. This is why Kham is investigating. Somebody wiped them out, and they are manifestly not dangerous—there are much more alarming groups active in Clisp, and also in the Serpentine, which Femisticleo Chugun views as almost as bad as Clisp itself.”
Glist reflected, “If a demonstration, it reveals extremely fine intelligence—that bothers me. We have Chugun pretty well covered, as well as the central organization under Monclova. If not from them, then who? Past reports indicate that there are few with that level of ability, or the networks to support the data base. Outside the police under Chugun, and the Heraclitan Society, everything else is local and pretty much ineffective.”
Palude nodded. “I have one more item. Thersito Burya has been acting as a go-between with a person or persons unknown, this also after the Clisp incident. This activity is rated as unusual, and highly secretive. Well, and I should add that since the HS became active, they are no longer working out of Marula, but on the move.”
“Not to Clisp?”
“Not noted there. Burya made a brief visit, but was gone in a day.”
“Coincident?”
A pause. “Yes. Definitely possible.”
Glist sat down on the edge of the bed and pondered for a moment. Then he said, “I suppose some watchfulness is warranted. If you can associate with this, advise me. I will try to scare up some data for you.”
She said, “Glist, I know I am here to record these reports, but I have had an idea about all this.”
“Speak freely.”
“With that fine a control, do you suppose whoever it was could also see us—I mean, our mission, here? That’s…”
“I agree. We’ve never been compromised, or even seriously threatened. During the last testing period we ran our existence wasn’t even suspected. We’re clean with Chugun, and also with the HS. We had always assumed that they lacked the sophistication to penetrate our screen. Still, it’s that fine control that bothers me. I will put the net on defensive alert until we can determine what this element is.” He stood up and started for the door. “Tonight.”
At the door, Pternam hesitated, for here indeed was the point they had worked for, but it also was a point of no return. There was also in this an air of chance. Rael was unpredictable, and he knew well how dangerous. Once they were in there with him… Still, this had to go on. There could be no stopping it now. He took a deep breath. “Are you quite certain that you wish to go on with this? I mean, once we penetrate the security system, we’ll be in there with it, locked in, whatever happens.”
Yadom said, “You have him under such tight security?”
“Indeed we do. This is the tightest security system in all Lisagor. There is none tighter.”
“You fear it, then?”
“We had, past a certain point, to secure his active cooperation. To that end, we have a certain bargain with him, the details of which need not be told now, save this: if he’s the man for the job, and if you are ready to live with the consequences, then we release him. If not, we’ll keep him in there.”
Yadom reflected, “You mean if we don’t want him, then you keep him in there… why?”
“Because he can do what he says he can—what we say he can. Absolutely. And I will not release him knowing that the main underground group cannot rebuild from the ruins he will leave. And because once we turn it loose, there’s no way to recall him. Or catch him. We trained him to be invincible and invisible.” And here, closer than any other time during the evening’s visit, Pternam was approaching the truth. They did not know for a fact that they could get Rael back, or stop him, if released. They had plans, but for this kind of contingency they had never been tested, not even in simulation.
“And he picks the victim! That’s turning the whole program over to him!” Charodei was for once beside himself with agitation.
“You can waste your finest people and murder every member of the Council of Synodics, and not get the job done; he can do it with one stroke. In fact, an actual killing may not be necessary, so he has explained it to me. But this is putting things where they belong: you claim to have a better way for Oerlikon. So, then. He’s the thing that sets it off.”
Charodei and Yadom lapsed into silence. Pternam continued, “I advise you to have a care with him, for I cannot predict his reactions to you; he does not perceive relationships as you and I do.”
Lozny inquired, “It is rational? Does it talk?”
“Very well on both counts.”
Charodei said, to his associates, “Perhaps it might be better if I phrased our discussions with it…”
Yadom agreed. “By all means. Do we need to wait further?”
Pternam said, quietly, “No.” And he opened a small panel by the window and removed a handset, which he spoke into. “Tiresio Rael.”
The bland figure at the desk did not look at the window, but spoke into the air, which they heard through the handset “Yes?” The voice was husky and a little rough around the edges, but also it sounded curiously flat, unemphasized, distant, almost uninterested.
Pternam said, briskly, “I have some visitors who would speak with you, before committing themselves further. Is the time in phase for such discussions?”
The figure in the room leaned back from the desk, paused, and said, “The modes are aligned in an acceptable configuration… for many ventures. Not all, but more than is usually the case. I will admit four, no more, no less, and make no restriction of subject matter, even to Life and Death.” Then he stood up and walked to a small panel in the wall beyond the desk.
Pternam replaced the handset, hurriedly, and said, “We are in luck! Things are not always so easy, where any but myself are involved. And of course, Avaria will remain outside… Elegro, you know what to do.” The last was a statement, not a question.
Avaria looked grim and resolute, a vast departure from his normal choleric self. He said nothing, but nodded quickly, a slight, clipped gesture. And to the three visitors, there was something menacing in that brief exchange. Pternam added, admonishing them, “I will warn you only once: do not hector, or appear to threaten him. Say what you must, but do not expect a servant.”
Pternam went around to the entrance side, and, motioning the guards away, manipulated a series of intricate locking devices according to an order with which he seemed familiar; and after a moment, the door opened, and they entered the chamber, where Rael waited for them, standing in front of the desk, and holding one hand in the other in front of his spare frame. Pternam pushed the door shut after they had all come in, and they heard faint mechanical noises, as of precision machinery, as Avaria manipulated the locks. Rael nodded pleasantly to them, and made some adjustments to the panel at his left.
