The Caterpillars Question - txt

by Farmer, Phillip Jose

  "Yes. Does this disturb you?"

  "Yes, it does! And it will disturb Tappy, too. In fact, that could be why she wants me here: because at least I understand her feelings, somewhat."

  "But we are feelingless objects ourselves."

  "Then how the hell did you manage to serve the Imago in its other hosts? Weren't they all living creatures?"

  "We were more conversant with their nuances, and had competent input. They were in the Galactic Registry."

  "And my species is not?"

  "It will be added, Jack, now that the Imago—"

  "Yes, I see. The Imago must have chosen it because it was a primitive backwater species no one would suspect of harboring such a significant entity."

  "That is a likely conjecture."

  "So you were caught short this time."

  "Yes. If you will tell me what I am doing wrong, I will correct it immediately."

  "Just like that," he said with irony.

  "Yes, Jack."

  "Okay, I'll make you a deal. You show me around this place and tell me what I need to know, and I'll tell you how not to antagonize me while you're doing it."

  "This is what we asked of you at the outset of our association."

  "First lesson: never say 'I told you so.' "

  They walked through the door-portal, and she showed him around. They talked, and he pointed out the nuances of human interaction as she ran afoul of them, beginning with the ill-fit of her dress. She became both more human and more attractive at a rate that was alarming in its implication.

  He looked at the brightness of the outer hall. "What's beyond this?" At her gesture, the white wall-floor became transparent, and they could see outside.

  Jack stared. It was a blaze of light from a seemingly infinite number of sources. "Those— those are stars!" he exclaimed. "But so many, so close!"

  "We are in a globular cluster of stars, orbiting the galactic center. Because this cluster is outside the plane of the galactic ecliptic, it will be among the last to be drawn into the black hole."

  "So you won't have to move and rebuild soon?" he asked, still stunned by the change.

  "No, that is of no immediate concern, as is anything beyond a few billion years. But it represents another backward region, of little interest to the Gaol, so they are unlikely to search here soon."

  "Backwater species, backwater cluster," he agreed. "It does make sense. But how did we come here? This building was in a cloud on the honkers' world!"

  "This is not a building, Jack. It is a mobile city. To fetch the Imago, we rendezvoused intermittently at the designated spot and broadcast our signal. When the Imago came, we ceased the shuttling and settled at the primary location."

  "Let me see if I have this straight," he said, staring at the amazing sky. "When Tappy came through the portal to the world of the honkers, you picked her up on your instruments, and sent your city: seven seconds there, seven away. Tappy could tune in on your signal, but so could the Gaol, so it was a race. The Gaol tried to get to the city and destroy it, but couldn't, so they tried to intercept Tappy instead. But the honkers helped her avoid the minions of the Gaol, and to get away from them when they did capture her. It was a close call, even so."

  Candy smiled, a thing she had not done before he advised her about things like that. "You have a marvelous understanding of the situation, Jack!"

  "Just how far is this from the honker planet? And how far was that from Earth?"

  "This is about fifty thousand light-years from the honkers, and that planet is about one thousand light-years from Earth. The planetary portals cannot retain their tuning long, so are normally established for short ranges."

  Jack shook his head. "So this is a spaceship, really!"

  "I think it does not match your concept. Jack. A ship of space can travel where it chooses. A city must be carefully programmed and routed. This one is able to travel only from here to the realm of the Imago's concealment. Now that it has vacated that world, it will not be feasible to return there; the Gaol will prevent it."

  He could appreciate the determination of the Gaol! "So they are searching for us now. Will they follow us here?"

  "They can not trace an intermittent phase-state. That is why we used it, and have used it in prior millennia. They will have to spread their net again, narrowing down the possible regions of the galaxy where we might be. Their efficiency has been increasing in recent centuries, and we may have no more than a year to complete the training of the Imago. This is why we require your help."

  "A year? How long does training usually take?"

  "Seven years— the full term of the ripening of the Chrysalis. Because the Gaol were unusually alert this time, the Chrysalis had to be hidden instead. This makes it difficult."

  That was surely an understatement. They had to squeeze seven years into one, and work with a life-form they understood only imperfectly. It would be about as easy to teach a dolphin to speak Greek. But with the help of another dolphin who understood their purpose, and was friendly with the one they had to train, maybe it was possible.

  They walked on around the outer wall of the city, gazing out of the floor. The ground came into view, seeming to be like a vertical wall; the gravity inside the city related to the city, not the planet outside. A glassy covering extended over the region surrounding the bright shell, and through it Jack could see what appeared to be exotic foliage.

  "Is that a greenhouse?" he asked. "Where you grow the soybeans?"

  "Please clarify your reference."

  "You're feeding us reconstituted things, or adapted from something you grow. I'm sure it isn't what it appears to be, because this isn't Earth. We do a lot with a plant called the soybean, and maybe other plants, too."

  She smiled. "Why, yes, Jack, you are most perceptive." Despite his knowledge that she was following a script which he himself had just revised, he found himself warming to her. He liked being flattered by a beautiful woman.

  "Let's go down there."

  She shook her head. "No, Jack. That would not be wise."

  "Why not? Those plants aren't going to eat me, are they?"

  "Not physically. But they are of rather special breeds, capable of adapting rapidly to unusual conditions, such as the light of thousands of suns, and of producing particular nutrients as required. They are responsible for the air you are able to breathe, which is poisonous to most creatures of the galaxy, and they refine your essential fluid, water. We select those aspects of their production which are appropriate. There are other aspects which are not appropriate."

  More was falling into place. The planet of the honkers was similar to Earth in its atmosphere and gravity, so human beings had been able to colonize it. How they had come there— well, he could ask, and would surely receive an answer, but he preferred to wait and find out for himself. So the Gaol recruited human minions to serve in that region, and perhaps elsewhere, but humans were no more significant than goldfish in a bowl. Except that this time the Imago had chosen a goldfish as host. What a kettle that was!

  "Just what would happen to me if I went among those plants?" he asked.

  "Physically you would not suffer; the plants have been attuned to your biology. But your mind and emotion might be affected by their pheromones. We have no direct information, but our references suggest that your perception of reality could be distorted, changing your nature significantly."

  Reality is a dream. Jack remembered those sleep-talking words of Tappy's. Did they relate?

  He turned away from the scene as if losing interest. "I note you have control of gravity here."

  "Yes."

  "How is it that you have such high-tech features, yet have to hide from the Gaol?"

  "The Gaol are conquerors. We are not. We lack emotions, therefore have no desire for aggrandizement. We exist only to serve the Imago."

  "But you are machines! Some living species must have made you. What happened to those folk?"

  "I know of no such species."

>   "You're saying that you robots evolved on your own?"

  "I have no knowledge of this."

  Jack dropped the subject, but filed it away in his "unfinished" mental compartment.

  They continued walking. Then Candy paused as if startled. "Jack, we have learned that the Gaol are quartering the galaxy, and will locate us sooner than we anticipated. We shall have to accelerate our program. Your cooperation is essential, because Tappy knows and trusts you. But we of the AI do not know or trust you well enough to risk the Imago with you. Will you allow us to survey you?"

  "You've been risking Tappy with me all along!" Jack exclaimed. "Last night—"

  "No. You were monitored. Jack, as you know. Had you sought to bring her to harm of physical, mental, or emotional nature, we would have interdicted it. Now we must allow you greater access to her, for you relate to her in a way we do not."

  "I'm human," he said wryly.

  "That is true. You also have a relationship with her that has greater leverage than we can muster at the moment. We had hoped to learn the human ways, and relate to her, so as to train her adequately in the time available. But now we must work through you more directly."

  "What happens if she isn't properly trained?"

  "This much we have learned of your recent culture: you have a weapon called a gun?"

  "Yes, we have guns," he said, scowling. "So do the Gaol. If you expect me to use a gun—"

  "No. But if one were to place a gun in the hand of a small child—"

  "The power of the Imago— it's like that? Dangerous?"

  "The analogy is imperfect. But in degree, it is like a gun capable of causing a planet to rupture. I think you can not at present appreciate the actual nature of the power of the Imago. Perhaps gun is not the appropriate term. Perhaps grenade, or detonator—"

  "I'm getting the gist. That girl is dangerous."

  "Only if her power is improperly used. But with appropriate direction, it means the salvation of galactic culture. It is essential that its proper potential be realized."

  "So you want to use me to make Tappy do something. I'm not sure I care to be used."

  She turned to him, taking him by the arm, staring into his face. Now she was animated, and startlingly pretty. "Jack, we need you! I beg of you: help us."

  How well she had learned! Every inflection was right, every aspect of her facial and bodily expression. Her hair was tumbled back, her bosom was heaving, her eyes were wide—On top of that, he believed her: the AI were now desperate. There was no way he could turn down her plea without feeling like a heel.

  "What does this 'survey' entail?"

  "We will put you in a chamber and question you. Your responses will be analyzed. By this we shall know whether it is appropriate to place the Imago in your charge."

  "My charge! Tappy's a person! She should be free to make her own decisions."

  "Tappy is a person," she agreed. "The Imago is not. If I may return to my crude analogy, the Imago is like the gun in her hand. You must tell her how it is to be used. When we are sure that your judgment and motive are suitable."

  "So that she won't turn that gun on you?"

  "That is not our concern. If the Imago were to desire our destruction, we would destroy ourselves. But we can not allow the Imago to be misdirected."

  They had a point. "Okay. Survey me."

  "Here." She led the way into the closest step-through panel. Was it coincidence that they were right here, or could any chamber serve? He decided that the chambers were as interchangeable as the AI themselves were.

  Then Candy was gone. Jack stood alone in what appeared to be a rocky desert. But the rocks were giant crystals, and the sand was confetti, and the sky was purple. Evidently the AI notion of an Earthly landscape.

  Had you your desire, what would it be?

  "You mean, apart from Tappy's welfare?" he asked.

  Without qualification.

  "Well, first I'd see that Tappy was okay. In fact, I'd like to see her cured of everything that ails her. I want her to see again, and be happy—

  Do not speak. Imagine.

  Imagine? "Maybe I could paint it," he said. "If I had my paints."

  Paint.

  He pretended he had a brush, palette, and canvas set up on an easel. He touched his brush to blue, and made a sweep to paint the sky blue.

  The blue appeared. He moved his hand farther, and the blue spread accordingly. Then he let his hand drop and just pictured it— and abruptly the entire sky was blue instead of purple. "Like a computer painting program!" he exclaimed.

  Clarify your reference.

  He ran through the mechanism of computer painting in his mind. There was agreement: this was somewhat like that.

  Then he really got into it. He painted a picture of Tappy, not as she was now, but as she would be if he had his wish. She stood before him in a green dress with a yellow sash, her hair tied back with a matching yellow ribbon but nevertheless falling to her waist. Her face was without blemish; the scar was gone.

  Her eyes focused on him. "Jack, I see you!" she exclaimed. "I'm happy!" She made a pirouette, her skirt flaring, showing her legs to the knees, no brace.

  And for yourself?

  Jack was at a loss. He discovered that his original ambition of being a successful commercial painter had left him. That would require returning to Earth alone and rejoining its culture. "How can you send them back to the farm, after they've seen Paree?" he asked, repeating an imperfectly remembered quote. He had not seen the best of what the galactic society had to offer; in fact, he had seen mostly pursuit and oddity and ugliness. But behind it lay the amazing technology of the advanced cultures, and now all he wanted to do was know more of it. No, that wasn't all, but somehow he was unable to settle on the rest.

  "I don't know," he said.

  The chamber became ordinary again. Candy stood where she had been; apparently she had never left. "Thank you, Jack," she said.

  He smiled ruefully. "I guess I washed out on that one! My mind just went blank."

  "No, Jack, you provided us with the information we required. We now trust you."

  "But you didn't learn anything about me! I couldn't answer the simplest question about the nature of my ambition."

  "You have no selfish motive."

  "Sure I have selfish motives! I just wasn't able to define them. I mean, there's so much here that I want to learn about, only I have no way, and I know I don't belong here, but I don't want to go back— what a mess!"

  "Jack, if I had emotion, I believe I would like you." She took him by the elbow, guiding him from the chamber.

  It opened immediately on the larger room where he had eaten with Tappy, but she was no longer there. He was suddenly nervous. "Tappy— where is she? You haven't isolated her while you were distracting me, have you? I tell you, all bets are off, if—"

  "She will join you in a moment," Candy said. "Now we have important material to impart. Which of us would you prefer to do this?"

  "All of you!" he snapped. "Something's up; I know it. If you want my cooperation, bring Tappy here now."

  The other AI appeared, stepping together through the opaque panels around the room. Their clothing now fit perfectly. One man was unfamiliar; that would be Cole. "In a moment," they said in unison. "First we must acquaint you with the situation."

  "Oh, for God's sake! I didn't mean it literally! Abe, you be the spokesman. The rest of you just settle back and twiddle your thumbs or something. What's going on?"

  Abe stepped forward. The other five stepped back, putting their thumbs together. Jack's annoyed glance stopped that: they were coming to understand about non-literal.

  "The Gaol will isolate this retreat in as little as three days," Abe said.

  "Three days! Candy said the Gaol were coming sooner than you expected, but three days? How did that happen?"

  "We surmise that they located this site in the globular cluster during a prior quest for the Imago, several centuries ago, and retained aware
ness of it. There are a limited number of suitable planets in such clusters. In this manner they are able to check potential locations much more rapidly than is possible in a routine quartering. This puts us in an extreme situation."

  "Extreme isn't exactly the word! You need seven years, you were going to cram it in in one year, and now three days? I don't know much about how you operate, but that seems pretty chancy to me."

  "You have understated the case," Abe said.

  "Sometimes I do that, too. Or do you mean there is more I don't know?"