by Tim Dennis
Whose fault is that?
Shut up.
Myles crawled from the tangled sheets and wrapped them in a ball before tossing them into the re-Maker in the hall. He stepped into the little booth beside it. The sounds of falling water helped isolate his mind from distractions inside and out, while the steamy warmth disolved the barriers of ego, letting his self forget for a moment its very skin, the physical limit defining where Myles ended and the rest of the universe began. The absense of smell and taste helped erase the fiction of passing time and the dancing Bento-Pig was forgotten.
Myles dressed and went down to the kitchen. Bread from the Kitchen-Maker and something like smoked fish from the Food-Preserver made a breakfast, which he took with him out to the back step. One little piece of fish he tossed onto the ground, keeping the rest for himself. It wasn't long before the nameless red-spotted lizard climbed up over the back wall. They each eyed the neighbor's yard for the junior psychopath and, judging it safe, the lizard trotted up for its meal. As the creature tore at the flesh Myles felt a rush of happiness, as if all was well with the world and all his needs were met.
Wonderful. Amazing. The simple act of nurturing another creature can fill one with such a sense of purpose.
Satisfaction. It fills you with a sense of satisfaction. said Pig
Pig?
Since before he could remember, the voices in Myles's head had always been his own. Normal, ordinary voices of self-doubt, ruminations on life, the universe and everything, the mulling over of decisions both profound and mundane. Nothing peculiar about that. On the other hand, interactions with his implant, when it functioned properly, produced a neurological presence separate from his own personality: an intrusion of data, pure knowledge; the 'voice' of an automated system like the Scheduler or Shuttle Nexus; Bento. His mother. The two experiences were sometimes unambiguously distinct, other times confusingly similar. Pig was new, and Myles hadn't yet decided exactly what Pig was. A manifestation of subconscious guilt? A true symptom of schizophrenia? A pig? If asked he would have described the sleeping experience as a nightmare, although the casting of Pig in his dreams didn't really frighten him. The wakeful appearance of his porcine pal disturbed Myles more.
And then there were 'feelings.' Whenever he spoke of the feelings that came through his implant he would be corrected: 'implants don't transmit feelings, Myles.' Myles began to suspect that the intense feeling of satisfaction he was experiencing at this moment wasn't his at all, it was the lizard's.
Myles thought about it.
As he thought, ruminated, and mulled his arm hung loosely by his side; a small, cold, dead fish held firmly between finger and thumb. Without conscious awareness of the fish's protruding head he felt a wave of desire and entitlement sweep over his body and mind. Myles immersed himself in the feeling, exploring his mind to discover from exactly where the feeling came.
Pig?
It didn't seem to Myles that Pig was present.
Hello? Anyone there?
No response from his implant.
"Ah!" Myles grimaced and flicked his hand but the lizard's jaws stayed firmly clamped around his index finger. "What the hell!" He stood and the lizard dropped, surrendering Myles's hand-fish and running instead to the door, stealing an unguarded fish from Myles's toast. Myles watched himself warily as he dragged the prize backwards, pulling the prize into a crack in the garden wall.
That looks like a nice hiding place. A safe place to eat.
"That little shit almost took your finger off!" Said Pig.
That was an exaggeration, the skin wasn't even broken, but he felt offended, and his meal was gone, so he went back into the kitchen and found something else. This time he sat at the table, watching through the window for the lizard's reappearance.
"He's long gone," said Pig.
No. He's still under his rock. He's finished eating, now he's watching the neighbor's wall.
Pig looked at Myles the way Pig would have looked at a mad man, if Pig were alive to do so. Nevertheless, Myles felt certain the lizard was still hidden in the crack, watching for the passing of shadows, sniffing the air. He felt certain that no one remained in the back garden and a moment later the lizard shot across the yard to the low wall. Sun. Warm. Digest.
"So now you're a lizard expert?" sarcastic Pig.
Myles ignored Pig, or himself, or whatever it was, pushed his plate away and took up an irregular meditative position in his chair.
OK. So what's new in the Advocate world today?
Turning his face up to the sun that shone not on himself, but on the lizard, Myles settled easily into his implant and connected with the various channels of general information that might interest an Advocate.
OH. Nothing there.
He tried another tack, connecting specifically to the Advocate Net. A sea of demands swept over him, past him, gathering themselves into several distinct collections. He moved his concentration to one knot of activity and slipped into it. His offer of help declined, he moved on to other knots only to be warned off by other Advocates. Undeterred, he tried again, this time seeking individual requests, but the longer he searched the harder it became and he started dropping out. He wanted to feel sad, frustrated or angry. Those would be appropriate emotions for not being needed. Instead he felt calm satisfaction and the warmth of the sun, and the urge to chase after a bug. He unfolded his yogic position and went back into the yard in time to catch the lizard skittering away beyond the wall.
Myles looked up the hill. The Shuttle Station was out of sight, but he could see antennas being lofted near it.
Bento's installing a Gun Emplacement today.
He closed the back door and followed the lizard. The short, steep walk straight up the hill avoided the safety cordon Bento's crew had erected. Bento spotted him aproaching.
"Myles!" She said. "I don't have time to talk."
Despite her words Myles felt certain she was pleased to see him. Avoiding the crew and all the staged equipment, he approached her. Bento stood gripping the Reader-Bar of her Control Rig. On her head she wore an amplifier, a simple ring above her ears, nothing as embarrassing as the helmet Peto had tried to force on Myles. As a third communication and control back-up she issued orders verbally, looking directly at one then another S.I. Guard.
"Align antennas." She called.
"Antennas aligned." Someone shouted back.
She released the Bar and joined a half-dozen crew gathering in the center of the antenna array. "OK. This is different from our usual job. This foundation is critical. We're going to need deep penetration here," she pointed to the ground at her feet. "The gun is a powerful device, it produces sudden bursts of power, greater than anything you've dealt with before. It doesn't just come as one thrust," she added, "it fires rapidly, in a volley." She punched the air in simulation. "Bang bang bang bang! There's a vibratory component to the pounding."
Myles felt embarrassed. His face reddened.
"The mount will be here in an hour. We're not staging it, it's going to drive straight into the hole, so the opening's got to be ready, spread wide to full depth with the inner walls prepped."
Bento sent her crew to their stations and turned back to the Control Rig. She saw Myles running toward the terraces, at an angle more towards Harry's cafe than his own house.
Harry was busy with customers, which suited Myles just fine. He needed to think. So he took his tea and cookies out onto the deck and found a seat where he could look out over the lagoon. Tugot Key could be seen clearly, its mangroves defining the shore and the oaks marking the location of the farm buildings. Three sailing boats came into view, making their way out from the rebuilt harbor into the lagoon. The little sailboats formed an odd link with their past. They served no purpose other than pleasure, yet they had been among the first devices constructed when their ancestors had moved down to the surface.
Harry came out onto the deck. "Beautiful day, eh Myles?"
"I've been to Earth." Myles blurted.
>
Harry looked around, fearing that someone else might have heard. He squatted next to Myles and whispered. "I know, damn it, Bento told me. You want to make a public announcement do it someplace else."
Myles was genuinely surprised by Harry's reaction. "What?"
"Sssh!" Harry said. "It's bad enough everyone knowing about this Eden thing, don't be stirring people up about Earth."
"I just thought you'd-"
Harry stood up. "Don't want to hear it. Nahnananana-ah." The two elderly gents sharing the deck watched Harry gesticulate and mumble. "Won't leave well-enough alone, you and Bento both. You're a pair." Harry went back inside, leaving the old folks staring at Myles. Myles shrugged and went back to his tea. The noises coming from inside suggested an army had just landed at the counter and within a minute Bento came out on the deck.
"Where'd you go?" She asked. "I've been trying to contact you. Why'd you walk off like that?"
"You were busy."
"Well, I'm not now. What'd you want?"
Harry tripped out the door, oscillating between his customers and his friends. "Keep it down, OK?" and then a moment later, "Don't make me come out there, I will close this cafe down if you two cause a scene!"
"Good lord Harry," Myles said. "You're treating us like we're children." Bento glared at him. "Not that Harry wouldn't make a good parent, if we were children, if there were children, a child, here. Like if you had a child. Baby." He added.
"What?" Asked Harry.
"I said, you're talking to us like children, but I said it kinda like that was a bad thing. It's good to talk to children, they're people too."
"Myles," Bento looked at him with concern. "Are you alright?"
Harry stepped back from them both. "You don't think he could have picked something up on Earth?" The two old gents had been joined by half of Bento's crew and all now stared at Harry. "-Man. Earth-man. He could have picked something up from the Earth-man." If Myles had effectively connected with his implant he'd have heard Harry toss him a 'Your fault' before slipping back into the cafe. Bento took Myles by the arm and practically dragged him from his seat.
"Look, all I said was-"
"Stop, Myles. Just stop."
In the middle of the sky two K-ships grew from hazy points to defined shapes. From one hung the thick pylon on which the gun would be mounted; from the other, the Gun itself, a sphere about three meters across. As they descended towards Caldera the ships shifted left and right, overlapping each other from the cafe's perspective. For a moment it looked as if both the pylon and ball dangled from the same ship. It was an odd effect that stole everyone's focus.
"I knew a guy like that at university." Myles said. "More common than you'd think." Everyone on the deck looked at Myles, then at the ships. "Surprisingly, it doesn't affect fertility." Then for some reason straight to Bento: "If that sort of thing is important to you."
Bento dragged Myles into the cafe and sat him at a corner table, away from other patrons.
"I don't know," Myles said, "maybe Harry's right. Maybe that trip to Earth shook me up more than I realized."
Harry came over, uncertain as to whether Myles needed sympathy or a kick in the pants. "I'm sorry Myles, put a drink in my hand on some Saturday night and I'll follow any bizarre thread you weave, but here in the cafe I need to think about my customers. They come here for tranquil views and fine pastry, not to be entertained by the village idiot." The last comment stung. "Look, you've had a tour of Earth. Maybe you should return the favor. Give the Earth-man a tour of Legong. Just don't include my cafe!"
With that Harry went behind his counter and didn't come out again. Bento sat with Myles, just staring at him. She'd practically grown up with him, their families worked together on the first farm. In high-school they'd been each other's 'firsts,' and for a couple years it looked like they'd share a future. But then college. And Harry.
"Pregnant Pause." Myles said. Bento's face dropped. "Your staring, like you're about to say something." He added. Bento blinked and looked around the room. "Um, you know, like words are about to issue forth from the silence itself. Pregnant pause." He had no idea why he was talking. Bento kept looking at him. She took his hand and led him outside, letting one of Harry's customers back in.
"No more rocks through your roof Harry," the man said. "Pays to be sleeping with an S.I. Lieutenant, huh!"
Bento's crew was on the hill, halfway to the top, and the K-ships hovered overhead. Myles followed Bento silently, letting her lead him to a seat where a crowd of onlookers had formed.
"Stay!" and then, to her crew: "All right, you all know the plan." She went back to her Control Rig, put the amplifier on her head and grabbed the Bars. Connections were made and control of the K-Ship holding the Gun Pylon was passed to Bento. The crowd, and the crew, fell silent.
Not a bad idea. Taking Traveler on a tour of Legong. A proper tour, stopping in other settlements and giving talks, meeting people.
Myles waited for Pig, or himself, to challenge his idea. No challenges came. He looked up at pylon. The K-ship hovered directly over the hole, slowly lowering the pylon into it. A slight blue haze filled the gaps and the pylon rose back up. The hole's shape had changed ever so slightly and the K-ship again lowered the pylon. Myles watched this three or four times before the crowd made him feel uneasy.
Go. Before the moment passes. Get up to Central Command and tell Krykowfert. He'll arrange it.
Myles got up and squeezed through the crowd. He crossed the thirty meters from the gun to the Shuttle Station alone, everyone else watching the Gun Emplacement.
The Station itself was nothing fancy. The ground level was little more than a pavilion, a roof held up by transparent walls. The pylon was in now, and he could see the second K-ship approach with the Gun. He skipped the elevator in the corner and started down the sweeping staircase to the lower level. At this point the stairs changed from grand and institutional to narrow, steep, and plain. Most people took the elevator. A half dozen more twists got him to the lobby. A couple dozen chairs and a refreshment table. A f'window covered all of one wall, an ominous circular door opposite. As he waited on the platform the f'window activated, showing views of space with Central Command highlighted.
"The next shuttle launch will occur in ten minutes." A woman's voice made the announcement.
Why is it always a woman?
"Please board through the open portal."
The round door opened, revealing a stubby little tube connected to a second open, round door. Myles passed through into the Shuttle and took a right, picking out a seat on the ship's right about halfway towards the back. He heard voices and soon the long tubular space started filling with revelers, talking about the new Gun and all its implications.
"Boarding is complete" The woman's voice returned. "The shuttle will launch in Five minutes."
Each individual seat rotated to face forward, swinging out into the center of what a moment before had been the aisle. Myles and his seatmate smiled politely at one another and the chairs unbent themselves, forcing their occupants into standing postures, knees and hips relaxed.
The lights shifted and the woman's voice returned with her countdown. The gentle shove at Myles's back became a crushing pressure as the Shuttle accelerated along a hundred kilometers of perfectly straight track, digging deep under the curving ground above them to rise again on a distant shore. At the instant they broke through a beam of high-energy light issued from the front of the Shuttle, heating a tiny thread of air into a plasma, the sudden explosive burst creating a tube of rarefied air, a near-vacuum, through which the Shuttle could escape the vaporizing friction of Legong's atmosphere.
On the ground you'd hear the shock-wave of the expanding air followed immediately by the snap of implosion as the atmosphere rushed back to fill the vacuum. But with all the noise outside, the interior of a launching Shuttle was always silent. The device was imaginatively called a 'Banger,' and without it there would be no vacuum path. No vacuum path, and at ei
ght kilometers per second there wasn't a material on Legong that could prevent the Shuttle reducing itself to a puff of atomized flesh and steel. The only device on the Shuttle as important as the Banger on the front was the Greaser on the rear, a specially designed Maker that produced the Heat-Shield that protected the Shuttle on re-entry.
In seconds that part of the trip was over and weightlessness became the most obvious trait of Shuttle transit. Happy again, the passengers re-started their animated conversations, calling back and forth to one another, all except the poor sap stuck in the seat next to the Advocate. Myles and his neighbor smiled politely at one another and faced forward for the duration of the flight.
20
Krykowfert sat under the tr'indos in his small office as Myles stood over him, presenting his case. He listened, and when Myles finished, he spoke.
"And who would accompany Traveler on this tour? You?"
"I am the obvious choice."
I am?
Krykowfert gripped the arms of hisworn chair and rocked. He looked away from Myles, up at the Launch Rails.
"Public speaking events?" He mumbled.
"Yeah, something like that. Look, it was your idea in the first place-"
"I'm going to say yes, Advocate Tugot. But we must be reasonable and respect the concerns of the Council. You will take a Guard with you, perhaps a couple."
Bento! Say Bento.
"Bento Urbo. Sir."
"Your friend from Caldera?" Again he gripped and rocked. "We'll see. Put together a sample itinerary. Feric will find you an office, or maybe you can work in Traveler's apartment, where I can keep an eye on you, eh?" Krykowfert winked.
Myles was long in leaving so Krykowfert shooed him away. Myles went to the outer office and sat, waiting for something to happen.
