‘The usual?’
It was, despite all the mental adjustments Neil had tried to make in advance, a monstrous paradox that he now had to face. For the old woman who shuffled across to the shop window and picked up a loaf with trembling, varicose hands had the young, enquiring eyes of an adolescent and a voice which had hardly matured from girlhood. Neil felt his heart thudding as he forced his eyes down to the loaf, knowing that he had to look up again and brazen it out.
Alice said, ‘The bread has come out really good today. I had some.’
Kin said easily, ‘I thought you were slimming?’
‘Can’t always think of my trog, Kin. I’m as greedy as sin.’ Alice glanced at Neil casually, ‘I bet you don’t get bread like this uptown!’
Neil managed, ‘Still warm from the oven, too. That awful stuff in Exeter tastes like steamed glue.’
Alice laughed like a child. ‘Steamed glue! And what on earth is glue?’
Krister challenged Neil with a glance. He wasn’t going to help out. Neil knew he was right. If meeting Forenthorics was to be a regular occurrence he must know how to cope from the start. ‘I’ll tell you when I’ve invented it.’
Alice said, ‘Tell me nano or you can’t have the bread.’
‘Glue is a mixture of harmfree and peanut butter, and is normally smoked and eaten simultaneously.’
Alice giggled and said to Kin, ‘I think he’s fab! You’re not to come in here again without him.’
Kin gave her the two tallies and promised, ‘I wouldn’t dream of it. Morrow, kid.’
‘Morrow. And remember what I said. Or we shut the bakery. Dig me?’
Kin grinned at her and ushered Neil out. In the street he said, ‘You did well.’
‘I feel like crying.’
‘Was it like that at the PONEM — when you met Clare?’
‘No. I was only half with reality then. The sight of Clare was a terrible shock. But not … moving … in quite this way. The shock is to my emotions, this time. Not so much a nightmare, just …’ Neil was fighting the tears.
‘Tragic. I know. If it hadn’t affected you like that I would have been disappointed. Disgust is not an appropriate reaction to injustice.’ He sought to change the mood. ‘What is glue?’
‘It sticks things together.’
‘Oh, gum. That’s what we call it.’
Neil smiled. ‘That’s what we call it, too.’
Kin said, ‘I’ll have to update my Roget.’
‘Don’t you mean backdate?’
‘I never discuss black holes before breakfast. But you really should try Alice’s doughnuts. They’re a lot less disturbing. Let’s get back to the cottage. I guess Penta will have the eggs on by nano. I take it you do eat eggs?’
Neil grappled with the tears. ‘Only the eggs of dinosaurs.’
‘We only have chickens. You’d better bring your more exotic brand on your next trip through the PONEM … plus a frypan big enough to cook them in. Look, for God’s sake don’t be embarrassed by tears. Penta would think it extremely unnatural if you just frolicked through that experience.’
But breakfast was not a sombre affair. Penta wanted to talk about Juls’ next concert. She did it as a kind of antidote to horror. Nothing had changed. That was the order of the day and Neil was alert to it. She said, ‘Juls made a practice playdisk a few weeks ago.’ Her eyes conveyed a private joke she shared with Kin. ‘The Brahms. Will you listen to a bit of it? Say what you think?’
Neil watched them shrewdly. ‘What are you up to?’
Kin said, ‘Just want your opinion, that’s all.’ Penta had recovered her high spirits and her trog was gloriously alive as she crossed to the playfone. She put it on at the last Movement of the Brahms violin concerto where the fiddle took the lead in the dance-motif.
Kin and she were watching Neil’s expression. He felt slightly baffled because there seemed nothing remarkable about it except the quality of the performance. Juls played very much in the style of Isaac Stern. The orchestra was evidently an excellent one and never swamped the soloist, which was unusual since Brahms scored rather heavily, and all too frequently conductors got carried away, playing fortissimo far too soon, with nothing in reserve for the final coda.
After a few minutes of this Penta switched off. She was suppressing a smile and said, ‘Well? How does Brahms go with your bacon and eggs?’
‘Marvellously. Juls is terrific. I take it that’s a full-sized violin?’
‘It’s a Strad.’
‘I believe you.’
Kin peered at him over the top of his cup. ‘Notice anything else?’
‘Only the orchestra.’
‘Yes?’
‘The LPO seems to have lost none of its expertise. It is the LPO? The strings are magnificent I’m glad that particular orchestra hasn’t been made redundant.’
Penta said, ‘What orchestra?’
Neil looked helplessly from one to the other. ‘Would you kindly explain?’
Penta sat down and rested her chin comically on her fist. ‘So you like the orchestra?’
‘Of course.’
She said, ‘There isn’t one.’
‘Uh?’
Kin said, deadpan. ‘It’s Puterized. Simulated. What’s more there’s rather a distinguished conductor. You may have heard of him.’
‘I don’t get it. A conductor I’ve heard of, in charge of an orchestra that doesn’t exist?’
‘Sure. A simulated profile. All the old playdisks — and what could be salvaged from rotting tape — were programmed in. An exact synthesis of the Maestro in question was produced. This profile was then intermixed with orchestral simulation.’
‘What Maestro?’
‘Why don’t you look on the playdisk label?’
He did. The label said conducted by Arturo Toskanini.
Neil said, ‘Your Puter is clever all right, doing an inspired simulation of a dead man’s genius. The trouble is, if it can do that sort of thing it’ll be hard to beat in other areas — if you see what I mean.’
Penta said, ‘All too clearly.’
Krister said abruptly to Penta, ‘Have you made up your mind?’
She nodded briskly and said, ‘Yes. He checks out.’
Kin said to Neil, ‘I won’t make a mystery of what Penta and I talked about last night. And you mustn’t be insulted if I tell you nano.’
‘What’s up?’
Kin said, ‘Only that we don’t risk life unnecessarily. On the other hand, the fruits of the work being done here — largely by Forenthorics — are very precious. We can’t squander serum on doubtful cases.’
‘Serum against what?’
‘Plastic cancer. As you already validated, it’s the monstrous outcome of genetic engineering and cross-fertilized antibiotics. The almost barbaric processes we have to use here in Clearwater for deFlemingization are frantically slow and expensive. What equipment we’ve managed to steal is almost prehistoric — even by your standards. Penta, how many doses have we produced in the last year?’
She said, ‘Fifteen.’
Kin turned to Neil. ‘Fifteen. That means we have just two shots in reserve. Nano. Here’s the rub. We never know when we’re going to be asked to shelter a Forenthoric. They turn up everywhere and we have to be ready for them. We think they have a right to live. Their lifetimes are all too brief anyway. And although no one needs a raison to live — which is a right we feel to be universal and unquestioned — the Forenthorics here have in fact proved their worth. As you appreciate, many are very advanced thinkers. We don’t bother with IQ ratings but with most of them it would go clean off the dial.
‘Quite wrongly, the Forenthorics thought they owed something to the Samaritans. They didn’t give a two-tally damn about their own survival but they did think of ours — do you see what I’m getting at?’
Penta said, ‘The first of the Samaritans who looked after them were at risk the whole time. Three of them — together with seven of the Forenthorics themselves —
died of plastic cancer within three months. It is illegal to harbour Forenthorics and the penalty is … quite horrible. But the outcome of looking after them has been the development of the serum. You are to have a shot immediately.’
Neil said, ‘That would leave you only one spare dose?’
Penta said, ‘Until about three weeks from nano.’
‘But I don’t understand. Surely, if you’ve found an answer to the antibiotic problem, shouldn’t you pass it on to the State?’
Kin said, ‘Believe it or not, they don’t want it. Naturally when our people here made the discovery I made some extremely tenuous enquiries to see what the reaction would be. In short, the answer I got was unviable and apparently a total thinkoff … until I realized why they keep areas of virtual desert in existence — like this one. The truth is a bit mindshaking, but you might as well know. Plastic cancer keeps the population down.’
Neil said soberly, ‘That’s a little cold-blooded for my tastes. And in any case, what about the Regime? Wouldn’t Party Members be protected? — whatever happened to the proletariat?’
Krister said, ‘You’re talking egologic. The only people who can even grasp egologic — let alone apply it — are historical students.’
‘And the people of Clearwater?’
‘We are insignificant statistically. The outlook of the national average not only outnumbers us by millions to one, but is sustained by the data processing within the Puter. In other words, minority opinion isn’t merely outnumbered — it is truncated. No normal human being questions it, any more than in your own era your people would question — say — the cost-of-living index. However high up in the hierarchy a Party Member may be, he does not — he cannot — question statistical laws because the alternative simply doesn’t exist.’
‘It’s hard for me to grasp. It’s like expecting students to accept “the Big Bang theory of an expanding universe” without being allowed to consider the regenerative theory.’
Krister smiled slightly, ‘Only the IoM even discuss such a question. They have made much progress, too. But what I’m saying is that the law of the jungle has replaced true civilization, without anyone really realizing it. Think of the elk and the lion. Their co-existence is based entirely on probabilities. Each species will survive as long as a balance is struck. Suppose — for the sake of argument — you needed twenty-five elks for every lion. For each elk you need three acres of grazing … and so on, right down the line. It is a balance; and, ironically, although mankind has upset nature’s balance beyond recall, he is at the same time driven to rely on statistical balance to satisfy the Puter.’
Penta said, ‘Mathematically it is easy to show that the Puter is only obeying the masses; but paradoxically the masses have produced a situation where they have to obey the Puter.’
‘Yet you don’t believe in any of this.’
‘No, Neil. And we owe it to the Forenthorics that we can still think. Their terrible plight drew attention to the flaw of statistical rule and threw us back onto egologic: the significance of the individual and the validation of even one man’s opinion.’ Her eyes showed her warmth. ‘We make decisions on unique grounds, Neil. Statistically, you are not entitled to the serum against Introplasta … plastic cancer … because there are Forenthorics waiting to come here. But it will even out. Some genius among our group will hit on a quicker way of producing the serum. That’s how progress is made. You break one set of rules to create a better one.’
Neil shook his head. ‘I don’t think I have the right to the serum. I mean, on humane grounds — not statistics.’
She said, ‘We don’t play heroes here. The Committee have already ruled that you should be privileged.’
‘They are too generous.’
‘No. They are merely intelligent. They know that — given the chance — you might somehow help them. So you must have that chance. Already you are at risk, Neil. The incubation period for plastic cancer is only a few hours. As with rabies, you have to have the serum before the disease takes hold. You would merely be insulting the Forenthorics if you opposed the will of their committee.’
‘That’s just twisting my arm.’
Krister rolled back Neil’s sleeve. ‘Precisely. Just one sharp prick and — Good. No time for arguments here. There has to be a way of raiding the Puter archives on genetics. Besides which I must get back to the clinic before I’m missed.’
Penta said, Take care. I can’t think of anything more dangerous than penetrating non-okay. Just don’t forget what they do to heretics.’
Neil said, ‘What do they do?’
Penta said, ‘Enough to make you scream for thirty years.’
There was silence, after that.
7
Abruptly, Kin thunk the mag to a standstill and let it settle gently on the ground. ‘Look! Beyond the trees!’
At first Neil could see nothing remarkable, except the oddly twisted pines that appeared almost fossilized. In the heat-haze they seemed even more grotesque than before; and at this distance you could see how they had been eaten into, as if giant woodworm had tunnelled labyrinths deep inside the trunks, hollowing all but a filigree lattice structure which, by some freakish quirk of insecticide gone awry, had half-melted like the wax slithering down a burning candle.
Kin said, ‘On the east horizon.’
‘A magnecraft. Whose?’
Krister motivated the anti-radar, hoping he had done it in time. ‘I don’t know. But someone’s searching for us, or I’ll grow leaves.’
‘Narbiton?’
‘It has to be.’
Neil said, ‘He’s altered course. Heading this way.’
‘Yes. I think we’d better get under cover …’ He manoeuvred the mag stealthily toward the petrified forest. ‘Lucky you’ve been immunized. If we have to get out of the mag we’ll be well within contamination distance of the plastic dump. The air must be thick with bacteria.’
Neil said, ‘I don’t think he’s seen us.’
Krister felt no sense of relief from this. ‘He may be searching for our innocent-looking little village of Clearwater.’
‘Can’t we warn them by radio?’
‘Not a chance. That’s exactly what they’d love me to do. The Puter listens-out on every frequency. If it weren’t for the fact that there’s always a look-out on duty there — to clear the streets if necessary — this could be very dangerous.’
Neil said, ‘But the fresh thatch on the roofs?’
Kin nodded, not taking his eyes off the alien mag. ‘A mistake. I’m afraid we got rather over-enthused, trying to make that village home-worthy. Still, I’m not leading Narbiton there.’
They sat in silence, watching the other mag. Certainly it seemed to be conducting a systematic search; weaving back and forth in controlled zigzags and moving quite slowly. Kin spoke his thoughts. ‘Wels … and myself. We’ve both come within laser-range of Forenthoris. It does things to people. With me, it’s Clare. With Narbiton it’s two cousins. They died very young.’
‘Did he know about the Samaritans?’
‘Probably. But that’s why it’s become such an obsession to track them down. Guilt in reverse.’ Krister shot Neil a look. ‘Don’t jump to conclusions about Juls, though. Penta doesn’t blame Narbiton’s genetic question-marks because she knows it could equally well be her. In this world it can be anybody.’
Neil said, ‘The mag is heading this way.’
Krister nodded, inched the craft in among the sickened trees. They disintegrated like puffballs at the touch. Rubble fell from the uppermost branches and showered onto the roof of the mag, effectively concealing it. But it also concealed their view of the mag in pursuit.
Krister thunk the hermetic seethrough down. ‘We’ll have to rely on our ears. I can’t track him by radar; the signal would lead him straight to us.’
The smell from the fungus growths was so offensive Neil had to fight vomiting. ‘And you — how do you know Clare hasn’t twisted you up?’
&nbs
p; ‘You’re right. One doesn’t know … If Narbiton’s mag gets any closer we can validate that it’s him. He has one of those fancy number plates: AAA 222.’
Neil said laconically, ‘Quite an ego for someone who believes in statistical logic.’
‘Narbiton’s emotional conflicts would reach from here to Jupiter. Can you hear anything?’
‘No. But I hope I never get exposed to a stench like this again.’
Krister said grimly, ‘If Wels exposes himself it will be to something far more dangerous than just a stench.’
‘Would he take the risk?’
‘He might. If he can catch me hot-handed he can probably get full Party privileges. He’d risk plastic cancer for that.’
Neil said, ‘Then let’s hope he doesn’t pick us up on radar.’
Neil indicated the control panel. ‘If we switched this thing on in time, he can’t. The Forenthorics thought it up. It links an opponent’s radar pulses with the PONEM and sends them into the past … what interests me is when I read some astronomers’ reports, dating from about your origin-time.’
‘Pulsars!’
‘Yes. Random radar signals echoing around the universe — and puzzling scientists equipped with primitive radio telescopes. Of course, some of their findings were correct. But what confused the issue was the retroactive propagation of manmade radio signals. Ironically, they were right about LGMs!’
‘LGMs?’
‘Little Green Men — you’re forgetting your radio-astronomy.’
Neil said, ‘It seems the Forenthorics are right about so many things. The G Block people knew half the suplex genetics —’
‘— and Clare’s people found out all there was to know about the other half. But then, the misguided wizards of G Block had to be right about something. And they were. But technology has been stagnant for decades; it’s the Forenthorics who come up with the ideas. That’s why I can go to an infopoint without much danger of the Puter incriming me. An ingenious form of micro-engineering — brainops really, because it’s done on the inserted intermesh — fakes the thinkback. If it weren’t for that the Samaritans would have been smoked out of existence by this time — or else they would have paid the extreme penalty.’
The Prayer Machine Page 15
