"Serves him right for meddling with our work," said Lewrick with a shrug. "After the first big mistake he will leave us alone."
"After the first big mistake he'll send in a committee of edutors from the University," said Zarvora, smiling grimly in anticipation.
"Edutors? In here?" cried Lewrick in disbelief that became horror as he realized what the full consequences would be.
"Edutors, in here, Fras Lewrick." "Godslove, no! They wouldn't understand. They would try to prove that it couldn't work. The secret would be out, damn nobles and relatives would try to liberate some of our best components."
"It will only happen if the errors are not stopped. Come, we shall begin by checking the abacus frames on each desk." They started at the back row of desks on the right-hand processor of the Calculor and gradually moved forward. After an hour they had found no more than a hidden bag of walnuts and some obscene graffiti.
"The mechanisms are in excellent condition, Fras Lewrick," said Zarvora as they reached the partition that separated the FUNCTION section from the common components. "You are to be congratulated for maintaining the machine so well."
"I love the Calculor, good Frelle," he confessed as he checked the gears in a translator. "When I think of some rabble of edutors violating this hall, babbling their ignorant opinions, poking their grubby fingers into her gearwheels.." it makes me shake with rage. I think I'll clean my gun and spend some time in the gymnasium tonight."
"Admirable loyalty, Fras Lewrick, but your time would be better spent finding the defect. We know that the same incorrect answers come from both Dexter and Sinister processors, yet these are separated by two cloth partitions ten feet high--and the corridor between is patrolled by Dragon Colors. Still, components on the two sides must be communicating with each other."
"Would you fight a duel rather than let the Calculor be violated, Frelle Highliber?"
"I already have. Now, if two components had a tiny mirror each they could flash coded signals on the ceiling of the hall. Have the components stripped naked and given new uniforms as they enter. Nothing reflective must be smuggled in."
"Yes, Highliber." "Coughs, or the humming of tunes, could be code as well. Have all components gagged for the next shift. I would like to put the two processors into separate halls, but that would take months of rebuilding, and would slow the processing time. Have the components well rested, Fras Lewrick. There will be a ten-hour series of tests tomorrow."
The Assessor of Examinations was barely ten years older than Lemorel, and did not conform to her image of Dragon Silver Librarians. He was graying, haggard, and unshaven. His robes were disheveled, and looked as if he had been sleeping in them. There were ink and coffee stains on his sleeves.
"Dragon Orange Milderellen?" he asked, glancing up from a nest of forms and other paperwork as she entered.
"Yes, Fras Assessor." "Please sit down," he said, opening her file. "Good marks in mathematics, in fact honors. You topped your year three times, I see." Suddenly he frowned. "Won the regional shooting championship twice and shot the magistrate's champion in a duel: that's a worry."
Lemorel felt a surge of horror, and suddenly wondered if she would be given a test at all. Without another word he closed the file and fished out two lists of questions from the mess on his desk.
"Please complete these tests when I tell you to start," he said as he handed them to Lemorel with a slate for rough work. "Married?"
"No, Fras--" "Just as well. I was married, but my wife left me. Thought I had another woman in Libris, because of the long hours I work. Hah! I should be so luckry. Lackey I"
A short girl with large eyes and long black hair came mincing in from another office. She smiled at Lemorel. Her tunic bore the twin bars of the library-assistant grades.
"Rosa, this candidate is to be examined before two witnesses for a Dragon Red upgrade. Bring your work in here and give the Frelle anything that she needs--coffee, headache powders, all that."
Rosa took Lemorel over to a desk where an hourglass with a calibration seal stood at one corner.
"Pay him no mind," she whispered. "He works too hard and doesn't get enough sleep. Now, you have exactly one hour to finish, from when I turn the hourglass. Ready?" Lemorel nodded. "Start... now!"
There were ten questions of moderate difficulty on the first sheet, and five really hard questions on the second. Fighting down waves of panic, Lemorel scanned for the easiest questions, marked them in order of difficulty, then started.
The first four she did mentally, juggling figures and scrawling down answers without bothering to verify anything. The sand drifted down into a pile that grew ominously. Group theory, integral calculus, and division of matrices: some of the methods she could only guess at, others she had studied. She rounded off results for convenience, wrote in numbers remembered from tables and made approximations from roughly chalked graphs. In the background the Dragon Silver muttered to Rosa.
"Working us like slaves, how can she expect me to fill these quotas? Does she think Dragon Greens grow on trees? For every ten components we need one Dragon Green equivalent in the support staff, yet she wants the machine up to a thousand components in ten months."
Lemorel was desperate by now, and as the sands ran out the final question was still unanswered. The Dragon Silver continued to mutter about workloads and not having time to spend his apparently generous salary.
"Time's up!" Rosa announced, reaching across to take the papers and slate back from Lemorel. She handed them to the Assessor. He sat up, stretched, and began to mark the answers.
She would be sent back to Rutherglen now, to Lemorel there was nothing more certain. She forced herself into a cold, calm state to keep the tears back.
"Now... first paper, ninety-six percent, that's good. Second, fifty-two per cent. A bare pass but good enough," he concluded with a flourish of his pen, then looked up with a smile. "Congratulations, that was short notice, but informality is in vogue here."
"Have I passed, Fras Assessor?" "Of course, welcome to Libris." "But that was only mathematics." "Frelle, we have to work under pressure to keep the Highliber's needs satisfied Look at my desk: a staff of nine used to do all this, but now there's just me and a couple of assistants."
He scribbled on a form, then signed it and handed it to Lemorel. "Fras Dragon Silver--" "Dargetty, Tarrin Dargetty."
"Fras Tarrin, this means so much to me, I just have to tell you. Working in Libris has been my dream for years."
"I'm glad to hear that, Frelle Lemorel, because you won't do anything else but work in Libris--except for sleeping and eating, if you're lucky. Now, lovely to meet you, but you'll have to hurry if you are to catch the Registrar's lackey before he closes up for the afternoon."
"Fras Examiner Dargetty, don't you even know Libris office hours?" Rosa cut in. "It's not even four as yet, she has over an hour."
Tarrin sat perfectly still for a moment, then slowly looked up at the reciprocating clock. He turned to Rosa.
"Did you just make Frelle Milderellen do two exams in one hour?" he asked slowly.
Lemorel blinked, too numb to comprehend. Rosa gasped.
"Oh--shewt! Er, well--well you didn't tell me!" "You're paid to think as well as follow orders," said Tarrin, putting his head in his hands. "A red header on one paper, a green header on the other."
"I don't follow," said Lemorel anxiously. "Am I a Dragon Red?" "Only for as long as it took me to mark the second paper. You're Dragon Green now. Ah shewt, where are the regulations? "When a candidate faints, suffers a heart attack, gives birth or is otherwise unable to complete a paper for any justifiable reason the mark may--at the discretion of the examining officer--be increased by a percentage of the mark obtained equal to the percentage of the time remaining." That's one hundred four percent in your case.." no, that will never do. Anyway I'm not sure if that clause covers shoddy supervision." "Giving birth seems unlikely."
"Not at all, the stress of the exams seems to trigger it. Apparently
happens every couple of decades--on average." "Why not add the two marks together and take an average?" Rosa suggested. "That way she gets two credits instead of a distinction and a pass."
Tarrin looked up and clasped his hands together. "I know, she could do another paper for Dragon Green. Frelle Milderellen, what do you think of---Rosa, catch her!"
They helped Lemorel back onto her seat. Rosa sat with her while Tarrin went outside to find a lackey to bring coffee. In a few minutes she was feeling better.
"Met the Registrar in the corridor and told him what happened," Tarrin announced as he placed a steaming mug of black coffee in front of the new Dragon Green. "He said he'd sanction a distinction for Dragon Red and a credit for Dragon Green, with an option of sitting the exam again if you wish."
"A credit's quite enough, Fras Tarrin. Are you sure there are no other tests?" He rubbed his face with one hand and sat on the edge of the desk.
"You just passed the test for Dragon Green, Frelle, and there's an end of it." "But what about heraldry and advanced cataloguing?" "Mathematics has become everything in Libris, at least for the work that you will be doing. You've passed mathematics at Dragon Green, so you are a Dragon Green Librarian. I know there are rituals and ceremonies that ought to go with this honor, but there's no time for all that. Ah yes, I'm sorry. I remember my own Dragon Green ceremony, with a thousand Dragon Librarians, edutors, and library assistants presided over by the previous Highliber in the old Investiture Hall, but now the Hall has been given over to--well, you will see soon enough. Now Rosa, try to make up for what you did to Frelle Milderellen by taking her papers over to the Registrar's lackey."
"What I did to her? You were the one who--" "Just take the papers over and come back with her green arm band Please?" "Just one question," Lemorel asked when Rosa had gone. "When you read about my dueling record you seemed to have doubts about me. Will, ah, my past count against me here?"
"No, quite the opposite. If you had come in as a Dragon Red with that sort of shooting record Vardel Griss would have claimed you for her Tiger Dragons just as fast as she could petition the Registrar. She's under pressure to meet recruitment quotas too. Now, however, you're too senior to be a Tiger Dragon recruit so I can send you to Systems Design."
Lemorel was too drained to reply, and just stared at the cooling mug of coffee. Tarrin flinched nervously several times, then gritted his teeth, stood up, and came around the desk. He put a hand on her shoulder. His touch was light and trembling, and he smelled of stale clothing and coffee. Here's someone with even worse graces than me, Lemorel told herself. He coughed and cleared his throat.
"Frelle Lemorel, trust me, this is a better path for you. Five years in Systems Design and you'll be a Dragon Silver, I guarantee it. By the way, I want you to enroll at the University for some postgraduate work."
"I--ah, yes. How long is the course?" "Three years, normally, but I'll arrange for the exams to be earlier. I need eleven new Dragon Blues to act as senior regulators in the, ah, Highliber's special calculation section, and you need to have at least partly completed a degree to be made a Dragon Blue."
Rosa returned and announced that Lemorel could not be awarded her green arm band by proxy. Utterly exhausted, she shambled to the Registrar's office, where a Dragon Blue tried to comply with a fragment of the old ceremony by reading some lines of the formal presentation and giving her the green arm band on a faded red cushion that had been on his chair a moment earlier. Tarrin, Rosa, and the librarians waiting in the queue for their pay envelopes clapped.
"Where are you staying?" Tarrin asked as they walked out into the bluestone corridor.
"In the hostelry," replied Lemorel, her words slurring. "Darien vis Babessa... letting me stay with her."
"The Dragon Blue, linguistics expert. Ah yes. No real talent with figures. Rosa, escort Frelle Milderellen to her rooms, she looks terrible. Sleep late to morrow, Frelle, don't turn up for work until seven A.M. I'll introduce you to your superiors and have you sign the Capital Secrets Act."
"As in Rochester the capital?"
"The word 'capital' refers to capital punishment, Frelle." Closter and Lermai pushed their overloaded book trolley down the long passage way that led from the backlog store to the Cataloguing Chambers. Normally they would have made one such trip every two months, but for several weeks past the rate had climbed to nine trips per day. The two elderly attendants were grimy with dust and sweat.
"Soon there'll be no backlog at all," said Lermai as Closter complained about their workload. "Then things will ease." "No backlog? No backlog?" retorted Closter. "What's a Cataloguing Department without a backlog? The new Highliber has no respect for tradition. She's just too.." new."
"Not so new, Closter. She's been here three years." "Three years? Hah! Her predecessor was here ninety-five years. He came here as a mere boy and worked his way up. Forty-one years as Highliber! Tradition meant something under him."
They trudged on in silence for some yards; then Lermai sneezed into his sleeve. A cloud of dust billowed out, causing Closter to sneeze in turn.
"It's all because of that signaling machine," grumbled Closter as he waved at the dust. "All books have to be in the main catalogue because the machine can only find books that are catalogued. Men and women slavin' for a machine!
Hah! The whole of Libris is turning into a machine. And what are we?" "Library Attendants, Class Orange, Subdivision Five--" "No, no, dummart, we're machines, I'm meaning. Even though we're breathing, talking, sneezing people, the Highliber's turning us into machines."
As they opened the door to the Cataloguing Chambers they instantly knew that something was wrong. Along the rows of overcrowded desks not a single cataloguer was moving. A heated argument could be heard in the Chief Cataloguer office.
"The Highliber's here," whispered a Dragon Yellow, holding a finger up to her lips.
"I do not request, I order!" shouted Zarvora from behind the office door.
"My department! I'll not run it to please your daf-shewt machine," the Chief Cataloguer shouted back in a high, reedy voice. "My library! You will do what my system demands."
"I challenge your system, I challenge you!" shrieked the Chief Cataloguer. At the word "challenge" the cataloguers cringed, and Closter and Lermai took refuge behind the trolley. The door to the office was flung open.
"Meet me in the dueling cloisters at dawn or report for exile to the par aline chain gangs," called Zarvora as she strode out. She passed Closter and Lermai without a glance and slammed the door behind her. The Chief Cataloguer emerged from his office holding some tom, grimy pages. His face was red with fury and his gray hair disheveled.
"Tore up my copy of the cataloguing rules!" he shouted at a burly young Dragon Blue. "Horak, you must stand in the dueling chambers as my champion."
"Against Highliber Zarvora?" replied Horak without standing up. "Sorry,
good Fras. I'll duel for you, but suicide is another matter entirely." The Chief Cataloguer's blue eyes bulged so alarmingly that Horak recoiled. "Traitorous wretch! I appointed you to your Color, and I can break you down to Dragon White."
Horak marshaled a grim smile. "Better a live Dragon White than a dead Dragon Blue."
The Chief Cataloguer flung the tattered pages in his face. "Get out! Now!"
he cried, pointing at the door. Horak left his desk and walked across to the main door. "Enjoy your new appointment to the par aline gangs," he called as he pulled the door closed behind him. The Chief Cataloguer snatched up a thesaurus and flung it after him. It fell short, striking a pile of books on the trolley and spilling them across the floor.
"The Highliber's angry about something," whispered Closter as they picked up the books, "and it's not the cataloguing backlog either. They say something's wrong with her signaling machine. They say a bad spirit has possessed it."
Lermai opened his mouth wide in astonishment. The Great Machine was only a signaling system as far as the librarians and attendants knew, but it was so complex and
large that they had begun treating it as a living--and senior-member of the staff.
"Why not call in a priest to perform an exorcism, asked Lermai. "why? Why? Because there's not been a machine like it since before Greatwinter," replied Closter, feigning exasperation. "The art of exorcising machines has been lost for so long that we have not a single book of prayers and ceremonies concerning it."
Observing the drama from a corner of the cataloguing room were Tarrin and Lemorel, trapped during the new Dragon Green's tour of the Libris departments. As Closter and Lermai picked up the fallen books Tarrin took his recruit by the arm and hastened her throuzh a side door and down a service corridor.
"We see a lot of that," Tarrin said with a shrug once they were out of earshot. "The Highliber is introducing reforms that certain factions in Libris dislike. People have to work to schedules and deadlines now, people who have never worked to a schedule or met a deadline in their lives. As you have just seen, our complaint system is a little dangerous. A complaint against the Highliber must be addressed to the Highliber herself before it can be addressed to the Mayor. The Highliber can choose to challenge--and that means a duel. Now, you could name a champion, but if the Highliber kills your champion, then she has the right to demand a retraction. If you refuse, you have to fight her in person." "That's the same as everywhere in the Southeast Alliance."
"Yes indeed, but in Libris there's been a lot more of it lately. The Highliber's killed nineteen champions and two Dragon Golds who chose to duel in person. She's a deadly shot and has a bad temper. On the other hand, us younger Dragon Colors love her. She makes everything move, she gets things done."
They came to a newly renovated area with whitewashed walls and skylights. Tarrin had to sign them in with the guards at three separate doors, and they finally entered an office with the title System Controller stenciled roughly on the door. Tarrin introduced Lewrick, who smiled and kissed Lemorel's hand, then called for his lackey to bring coffee. He had a faint smell of bath salts, and impressed Lemorel as the sort of person that one could not help but like.
Souls in the Great Machine Page 6
