“Finding out about private accounts will take a few days.”
“We’ve got more than enough time.” She cleared her screen. “What do you think he’ll do if he finds something? Given that he’s methodical, like you?”
“He’ll likely want to verify it, but that’s not the only question.”
“No, but Edo and Grantham and the other multi directors will be even more methodical. I worry about Edo. There’s something going on there. Have you checked out the passenger lists yet?”
“They won’t be made public until threeday.”
“You have sources…”
“There’s no point in wasting them on that.”
She laughed, softly. “You’re right … but let me know.”
“Don’t I always?”
12
I began the next morning, locally oneday, although it had actually been threeday onboard the Persephonya when we took the drop shuttle, by waking early, running through my standard exercises and Juchai workout, and eating lightly. After all the time I’d spent working out alone on the trip, I wondered if Passova had gyms or private workout equipment for lease or rent … but that could wait.
Then I met once more with Aloris, who, in her capacity as administrative director, gave me a work space, actually a small personal office, as well as clearance and codes for the Survey Service research and reports databases … and the observation that I only had access through the console in the office—or through other Survey consoles. There was no access through outside links.
“Why not?”
“It’s not necessary, and it simplifies and strengthens security. Most Survey personnel live close to Survey installations.” She offered an ironic smile. “That wouldn’t work in Smithsen or on Bachman, but it does here.”
I had to wonder why security was such a concern on Stittara, but I didn’t ask, making a mental note to revisit that issue later.
“Now … you need to meet Rahn Zeglar,” announced Aloris. “He’s the executive director of the Systems Survey Service here on Stittara.”
“Appointed by the Planetary Council?” I asked blandly, looking for a reaction.
“The executive directors of all Unity Ministry planetary entities on Stittara are appointed by the Planetary Council.”
I knew that was standard, but from what I’d read and heard some executive directors were sinecure figureheads and others were truly in control. I already had my suspicions, but meeting with Zeglar would give me more to go on.
“After that, we’ll stop by and you can meet Jorl Algeld. He’s the operations director.”
“Operations director?” That sounded more like a multi or military title.
“He’s the one who coordinates the research, studies, and operations of the individual media branches … And enforcement, of course. Each media branch is headed by an assistant director.”
That made sense, in a way, I supposed, although I had my doubts.
“Shall we go?” asked Aloris, although it wasn’t really a question.
I followed her past the administrative area and through another set of pressure doors, then along a short hallway to yet another set of doors, white pseudowood, teak, I thought, as I opened one and gestured for her to enter. Beyond the doors was an anteroom holding a black shiny console desk, behind which sat a most attractive and petite black-haired young woman with a pleasant face and a pleasing smile.
Her gray eyes didn’t smile as much as her mouth as she said, “He’s expecting you and Dr. Verano, Director.”
“Thank you, Venessa,” replied Aloris, leading the way through another set of double white teak doors.
Zeglar’s office was large—especially for a city such as Passova, where every square meter had to be excavated and reinforced—stretching some ten meters from the double entry doors to the scenic wallscreen above the white pseudo-teak credenza behind the matching desk. The wooden armchairs and the wide desk swivel were upholstered in a bluish purple, the same shade as the thick carpet that was bordered in a light golden green. I’d seen bureaucratically tasteless before, but I had the feeling I was beholding a new low. The wallscreen shifted from a scene of endless brownish green-purple grass to one of low hills covered with grass and foliage of a near identical shade.
Zeglar was a tallish man, taller than me, anyway, with blond hair, blue eyes, and skin that was either genetically or artificially colored like amber honey. He stepped forward and extended a muscularly beefy hand. “Dr. Verano, welcome to Stittara and the Survey Service.” His voice was warm, pleasant, and well modulated, and his attention was focused totally on me.
That combination told me that he was a politician through and through. I inclined my head politely. “Thank you. I’m glad to be here and to meet you. Director Raasn here has been most helpful, and it appears as though you have a most professional Survey Service here on Stittara.”
“I’m glad to hear that. We’d certainly like to think so.”
“I’m sure you do.”
“What can I personally do for you?” The warm smile was directed at me and no one else.
“I think you’ve done everything you need to do by letting me work with the professionals here in the Survey. If I need more, I’ll certainly let you know.”
“Well … don’t hesitate to stop by if you need anything.”
“I certainly won’t.”
After a few more generally meaningless pleasantries, Aloris and I took our leave and departed, nodding politely to Venessa on the way out.
Once we were beyond the doors, I did ask, for reasons of my own, “Did Venessa come with Executive Director Zeglar?”
Aloris barely managed to keep a straight face. “The executive director chooses his or her own personal aide. The Planetary Council believes it should be that way.”
“I can see why.”
We walked back through the short corridor, then took a door to a ramp down a level. Then headed back along a corridor that seemed to match the one leading to Zeglar’s office, except when we went through the pressure doors, rather than double doors, the corridor continued, with offices on each side. We stopped at the first one, slightly larger than my cubicle and about the size of Aloris’s office.
A short bulldog of a man turned his swivel and bounded to his feet. “You must be Dr. Verano. Jorl Algeld.” He extended a hand and shook mine firmly. “I read the articles that came with the announcement of your assignment. The water overviews I thought were very perceptive.”
“Thank you.”
“Be interested to see what you think of our aquatic eco-relations once you look at them.”
“I’ll likely be looking at many interrelations.” That was safe enough.
“I’d appreciate it if you’d let me know when you’re ready to talk to any of our assistant directors of media or field personnel. Might be able to make sure you get to the right people.”
“I’ll do that. I’d thought to study the background reports and research before doing any visits or interviews. There’s no point in wasting people’s time over issues that have already been reported and analyzed.”
“Thought you might do something like that. Your reports are organized … methodical. I can see why the Survey Service on Bachman sent you. Is there anything you need from me right now?”
“Probably not for a few days.” Or longer.
“Well … let me know.”
“I will, thank you.”
Since Aloris had been effectively ignored and I had been dismissed, I nodded to her, and we left.
Algeld was back in front of his screen before we were even out of his spaces.
As we headed back to the upper level, I said, “He seems rather energetic.”
“He’s always been that way.”
“He came up through the water media?”
“He was the assistant director for water.”
I just nodded.
When we got back to my spaces, I turned to Aloris. “Thank you for introducing me to the ex
ecutive director and the operations director. I do appreciate it.”
“It was my pleasure.” A hint of a smile almost escaped her professional expression.
After Aloris left, I personalized the data interface in my “laboratory spaces” so that I could easily direct-access all the local Systems Survey files to which I’d been granted access. The next thing I did was access the personnel directory. I’d been surprised when Aloris had told me that the Stittaran Survey Service didn’t have a chief ecologist. When I finished going through the directory I understood why … and it also, in a way, gave yet another reason why the contract proposal had been offered and why I’d been sent. The entire Survey Service on Stittara was organized by environmental media—essentially by continental water resources, air, geology, oceanography, and solar impacts. There was no integration, and in a way, that made a strange kind of sense because the laws and regulations were also set out by media.
After shaking my head at the bureaucratic structure, I began to read, painstakingly, all the data and reports gathered on the grass/lichen symbionts, although technically they weren’t exactly symbionts, that had engendered the anagathic boom. I wasn’t really particularly interested in that, because the anagathic multis had been investigated time and time again, and I suspected that aspect of my assignment had just been thrown in as even more political cover for the charge to look into the ecological impacts that hadn’t been so thoroughly addressed, such as the airborne microorganisms that—presumably—comprised the skytubes. That the microorganisms did was, of course, a presumption based on indirect evidence, since the reports indicated no one had yet survived an attempt to take a sample. Not a direct sample, at least. There had been analysis of organic material shed from the tubes, which revealed both similarities and significant differences between the free-floating microorganisms and the skytubes, assuming, of course, that the shed detritus actually represented some integral aspect of the skytubes and wasn’t merely a waste product—which was my suspicion as well as that of a number of other researchers.
Even so, a quick reading of just the summaries of the anagathic reports took until midafternoon, and my conclusions tended to be similar to those of scores of other researchers. The properties of the pharmaceuticals produced by the local “grass” that covered almost every surface that wasn’t actively cultivated, or inside the hill and mountain forests, or on solid rock, appeared limited to certain tissues, and were most effective in those with close contact with free oxygen/air. In short, every compound, formulation, and derivative created by Syntex, Eterna, ABP, and a few smaller entities extended the life span of human skin cells, the strength and durability of human hair, as well as the exposed collagenous parts of the human body, such as fingernails and toenails. Given the time-dilation, and the costs, of course, the anagathic multis produced their derivative products in the Arm, close to the billions of women who sought—and received—the expensive creams, salves, and the like that gave them close to flawless skin for as long as the rest of their bodies endured.
But, of course, since human skin was also effectively the largest human organ, having good skin had translated directly into extended life spans, also possibly because of the impact on human keratin, found in various forms in critical internal organs, although the effect was less pronounced when it involved internal organs. The formulations also effectively eliminated an entire range of carcinomas as well. Because the multis had never been satisfied with limiting themselves, they had gone on to develop formulations targeted at other areas of the body. All that the various Arm regulators had determined was that such formulations did no harm and that they basically still only affected the various forms of human keratin.
After the initial boom and bust, and the winnowing out of less-capitalized anagathic multis, what remained on Stittara were the research installations that continued to pursue efforts to find the ultimate bio-rejuve substance that could create either cellular immortality for other organs or for the entire organism. More than five hundred years of research had only yielded modest improvement on previous formulations … so far.
Three days later, I’d completed a quick run-through on all the files dealing with the anagathic aspects of my contract, necessary for two reasons. First, if I did run across adverse ecological impacts from those multis, I’d need that background. Second, I had no doubt that every file I accessed was being reported to Aloris—or Raasn or someone in the local Survey—and I wanted no complaints that I had slighted anything. Then, after taking some time out at Aloris’s insistence to get a complete familiarization with the Survey vans, I started in on my assignment, to determine if current monitoring was effective and if anyone was altering the environment in ways that weren’t being detected by current monitoring.
At the same time, especially after seeing them, I couldn’t help but wonder about the skytubes. How old were they? While they formed intermittently, like a tornado, there were always tubes in the sky. Was that only the visible manifestation of something more? How could anyone tell, exactly? They’d been a feature of Stittara from the first explorations nearly a thousand years earlier, and the flora and fauna suggested that the intermittent and violent storms that scoured the surface of the planet had been in existence for at least tens of millions of years.
Almost immediately, in looking at the files containing historical data, I ran across a reference to geoscanning, and what had to be a reference to forerunner remnants, if remnants buried hundreds of meters below the current surface of Stittara.
I went to find Aloris. She was engaged in some sort of administrivia, but looked up with a smile. “What is it, Paulo?”
“The geo-records indicate the possibility of, or the remnants of, forerunner culture…”
“Oh … those. They definitely are.”
“Then why isn’t there any mention of that?”
“There is. All that information is in the Archaeological History section.”
“Could you make that available as well?”
“Certainly.” She smiled. “You are being thorough.”
“Thank you. For what I’ve been assigned”—and paid—“I need to be quite thorough. I should have guessed, but thinking about archaeological history hadn’t crossed my mind in dealing with an alleged current ecological problem.”
“Alleged? You are being careful.”
“No. Merely professional. My first task is to determine if there is such a problem, and then, if there is, whether any recent actions caused it.” I offered a half grin. “Who knows? Perhaps those forerunners had a similar problem.”
“I doubt archaeological history will tell you that.” She arched her eyebrows. “As I recall, those traces date back hundreds of millions of years.”
“Well … thank you, anyway.”
So I dug into the archaeological archives and discovered—for myself, since it was clear the findings had been sent to Bachman more than two centuries earlier—that at least a hundred million years earlier there had been a number of forerunner cities on Stittara. All but one of the clearly identifiable remains had been located, with difficulty, under or near lava traps, and had been identified as belonging to the civilization classified as the Builder (A) culture. There was no certain way of telling how long the ruins had been abandoned before geological processes took over and buried them, not after that many eons. The one site that had not been located under or near a lava trap was, interestingly enough, the site to which Syntex had the rights of access. I went back to the “clearly identifiable” wording, and found an interesting qualifier in the notes buried at the end of the file: “more than fifty other far smaller anomalies of a similar composition have tentatively been located at the same geo-strata, but initial probes indicate that further investigation is unwarranted at this time.” What, if anything, that meant I’d like to find out, but at the moment, I didn’t have a reason within my contract to go around asking about that. Not directly, anyway, but perhaps …
So I went back to the comparatively mo
re recent environmental and ecological reports and discovered pages and pages of data, meticulously classified, and well-written analyses and findings. I spent all the rest of the day reading and studying them … and had a headache by the time I finished and leaned back in the chair in my small personal “laboratory spaces,” well away from those of anyone else.
Finally, I took a moment to think things over. Essentially, my assignment covered four phases. First, I had to determine whether the multis, the municipalities and installations, or any other entities were creating violations of environmental standards. The next question was whether any were, even within the parameters of those standards, altering the environment in a way that made significant changes or threatened it. Then I’d have to determine whether the outland settlements and practices had that sort of effect. And there was the remaining question of whether the skytubes were an organic entity or entities threatened by human activities on Stittara.
In theory, I could rush through my evaluation … and finish in less than a month … and still return to Bachman on the Persephonya, returning some 146 years after I’d left, and only three months or so older.
Then I stopped and laughed. The Persephonya wasn’t headed back to Bachman anyway. I’d get back sooner by staying longer for a direct return ley-liner, assuming there was one.
Was there more than a month’s worth of material to evaluate?
I doubted that the Survey files would take more than another few days to comb through, but I’d still have to visit each of the outlying multis and then the Survey’s research installations … and how long doing that would take I didn’t know, but it would take weeks at the very least to do that part of the contract justice, and there was no telling where that might lead. All that didn’t even include a survey of the impact of the outlying settlements and areas of cultivation, although the files I’d scanned hadn’t made much reference to them, nor had my contract. Still, I wanted to do it right, if only for my own personal pride.
The One-Eyed Man Page 6
