Paradox Alley s-3

by John Dechancie

  "I know what you mean," John said. "I think we should dispense with that notion straight off. Prime is obviously an advanced form of life. Perhaps he's even immortal. But eternal? Hardly."

  "Okay," I said, "we're in agreement on that score. I'd also add that, though he might be very powerful, he probably isn't omnipotent. Or omniscient, or all-loving and good, either. He says he has something to accomplish-what, we don't know, but his plans seem to include us. We have to decide whether we want to cooperate. We might not like what he wants to do."

  Darla said, "Maybe he'll give us the choice of not cooperating."

  "There's that possibility," I answered, turning in the driver's seat to face her. She was squatting behind the seat, forearm resting on the back. She looked as pretty as ever. Her hair had grown out quite a bit, softening the effect of the severe cut she'd worn when we first met. The hardships of our journey had left their mark. She looked tired most of the time, which could have been due to her pregnancy, though she was only a little shy of three months into it. She'd been gaining weight too. Her features were slightly more fleshed out. A little, not much.

  "Darla," I said, "what's your gut feeling? Do you trust Prime?"

  She pursed her lips and thought about it for a long time. Then she said, "We have no reason to trust him. Absolutely none. Ask me on a bad day and I'd say no, let's not go near him." She ran a hand through her smooth, dark-brown hair. Tired or not, Darla always looked as if she'd just stepped out of a beauty parlor hair in place, makeup perfect. "And though I wouldn't exactly call this a good day, I get this feeling that we simply must deal with him. We'll have to, if we want to get back." She sighed. "Do I trust him? No farther than I could throw Sean. What's my gut feeling?" She shrugged helplessly. "Let's go to lunch."

  "I dunno, Darla, m'girl," Sean said with a grin, "after the way you handled those two beefy loggers back on Talltree, I wouldn't give odds on how far you could throw me."

  Darla smiled, a little abashedly.

  "Oh, no, you should be proud, Darla." Sean's grin broadened and he swelled with satisfaction. "Ah, I'll never forget the sight of Tommy Baker, gorked out across the bed with his arse hanging out. He had it coming, and it was a fine thing to see him get it."

  "I caught him at a delicate moment," Darla said. "Anybody else want to express his or her opinion?" I asked around. "Susan?"

  "Oh, I trust him. Darla's right, no good reason. But isn't everybody interested in finding out what this guy's all about? And where the heck are we, anyway? What is this place? Only Prime can tell us that."

  "Lori? How about you?"

  "Well…" She gave Carl a sidelong admonitory glare. "If certain people can behave themselves… I say we go to the Emerald City."

  "I won't punch the guy again. But I'm not promising any more than that."

  "You'll behave or I'll give you a fat lip."

  "Don't worry, I'll be Goody Two-Shoes."

  "Whoever that is."

  I said, "John?"

  "Oh, yes, by all means. We should accept his invitation." I looked at Yuri and Zoya.

  "I agree with the consensus," Yuri said. "We certainly need some answers."

  Zoya looked out the port moodily. "It might serve us to be cautious. Perhaps we should make some attempt to communicate with him, talk to him further. Find out exactly what he wants of us."

  "Do you really think we can remain safe from him," Yuri asked skeptically, "simply by staying away from that fortress of his?"

  "No. But…" She focused her gaze far away. "I don't think I want to go there."

  "What's all the discussion?" Roland broke in impatiently. "You saw what he did to Carl. If he wants, we all drop over dead, like that. So what choice do we have?"

  "Good point," John said.

  "I just wanted to take time and think things over," I said to Roland. "And I wanted everyone to have a say in what we should do."

  "Sorry, Jake. I just don't see the point in haggling over this."

  "Maybe there is none, but we've been running in a panic for a long time now. For once I want the luxury of ruminating over our next move."

  Roland laughed and sat back in the shotgun seat. "Take all the time you want. We have most of eternity."

  "Exactly," I said. "Ragna? Would you and Oni like to put your two cents in?"

  Not counting George and Winnie, who were what exopologists would label "borderline-sapient quasi-hominids" looked like apes to me, funny ones, with long floppy ears and big wet eyes-Ragna and Oni were the only alien members of our party. They had joined us in the rig during our rest stop, abandoning their cramped vehicle, and had since taken pains to be as unobtrusive as possible, keeping to themselves and generally trying not to be an added burden, which they weren't. I liked them a lot.

  Ragna blinked, translucent nictitating membranes sliding up to cover the eyeballs before the lids came down. He put his hands up to adjust his blue headband, which was a linguistic translating interface. "The reference to outmoded monetary units is understood denotatively, but not colloquially. However, I am getting the gist of your nub. Yes, we are having a contribution to be making, which is this…" He glanced at Oni, who nodded consent. "We, being the nonhuman minority of this band of intrepid explorers-note irony-are hardly in a position to be saying anything yea or nay, since, by the same token, we have not been invited along, but more or less have crashed this party, if you are following my rhetoric. Be that as it may-and by the life of me, it very well may-we say yes, by gosh, let us by all means go to the fortress of this Prime fellow and ask him to put his two cents into the bargain as well!" He smiled sheepishly. "If you get what I am meaning."

  "I get what you are meaning," I said. "Who else? Sean? Liam?"

  "I'm hungry," Sean said. "Let's go and eat."

  "He's always hungry," Liam said, "but count me in, too."

  "I'm bored," Roland said. "Let's get moving."

  "Sam?" I said.

  "Oh, I have a vote?"

  "Sam, you always have at least a kilocredit's worth to put in," Susan said, "and you know it."

  "Thank you, m'am. What I say is, I'd be wary of this Prime dude."

  I waited for more, then. "That's it?"

  "Yup. I guess you have change coming, Suzie."

  "Oh, come on, Sam," I said. "Spill it."

  "Nothing to spill. I'm a computer, remember? Give me data to analyze, numbers to crunch, I'll give you a readout. But don't ask me to make anything out of recent events. It's all too crazy for me. Emerald cities, fairy castles, crazy planets, some guy who thinks he's God… Forget it, I'm shutting down. Wake me when it's over."

  "Oh, come off it," I said. "Every time you're put on the spot you go into that `I'm just a computer' routine."

  "Seriously, I think this is a human-judgment situation. It calls for acting on a hunch, an intuition, a feeling in your belly. Computers don't have bellies to get feelings in, boys and girls."

  "Sam, when are you going to admit to yourself that you're human?"

  "Son, I was human for seventy-two years. That was enough."

  "But your Vlathusian Entelechy Matrix," John put in, "makes your responses absolutely indistinguishable from those of a human mind fully possessed of every faculty. It's enough to fool anybody. Sometimes I half believe you're really a person hidden away in this lorry somewhere, speaking into a microphone and putting us all on."

  "Well, you've found me out, John. You're right, I'm a fraud. Thing is, I'm only one decimeter tall. You'll never find me."

  "You see? Computers don't usually have a sense of humor. Jake's right. You are undeniably human, Sam, whether you like it or not."

  "Be that as it may," Sam said. "Getting back to the issue at hand, though, I think you've made your decision already."

  "We haven't heard from everybody yet," Susan said.

  "Who's that?" I asked.

  "You, Jake. What do you think?"

  I sat back and exhaled. "Well. Just on general principles… like Yuri said, we need some answe
rs. I have a few questions to put to Mr. Prime myself. And if I don't like the answers, I might just take a poke at him, too. But I have other reasons for wanting to visit Emerald City. Moore and his gang are out here somewhere. We might be safer inside the city."

  "Maybe Prime invited them to lunch, too," Roland said.

  "When? Did I miss something? Or did they get here before us? I thought Moore and his crew took off in the other direction."

  "Maybe Prime contacted them by radio… or telepathy or some such wonder."

  "He didn't contact us that way."

  "True," Roland admitted. "But he might still do that thing — invite them."

  "Okay," I said, "I'll buy that, but we'll have to inform Prime that under no circumstances will we remain under the same roof with those birds."

  "I'll drink to that," Sean said. "Which reminds me, I've a god-awful thirst."

  Our beer reserves also had been under strict rationing. Susan said, "Do you really think they're still after us? I mean, what do we have that they want? The Black Cube?"

  "I'd give them that," I said. "Nobody seems to want the damn thing,"

  "One good thing," Sam said. "Old Corey Wilkes won't be giving us any trouble. He was behind it all, and now that he's gone, I think Moore might have a hard time thinking up reasons to give us grief."

  "Except that he has a score to settle with me," I said.

  "Well, maybe. You'd think he'd've had just about enough by now."

  "Not our Mr. Moore," Liam said. "You don't know him, Sam."

  "I think I do," I said, "and I'm worried."

  I looked out the side port. The "sun" was declining toward

  the horizon. It looked to be late afternoon, the sky having turned a slightly deeper shade of blue-violet. The green of the grass-carpeted hills was iridescent-a psychotic, delirious green. The neat shrubbery was variously colored-here pinks and reds, there browns and oranges. This place had the feel of a park, a playland.

  I turned and yelled, "Winnie! Where are you?"

  "Probably getting it on with George," Roland said. "Those two are a pair."

  Winnie came scurrying out of the aft-cabin, threading her way through the thicket of human legs and bodies. George followed her.

  "Winnie here, Jake!"

  "C'mere, girl."

  She jumped up into my lap. I rubbed the bony, fur-covered knot between her floppy ears.

  "What do you think, Winnie?" I said.

  Winnie thought, knitting her low brow. She put a lot of effort into it. Then she asked, "What think about?"

  "Huh? Oh. About that man we met. The one with the pretty clothes. Did you like him?"

  She shrugged. I wondered if the gesture were learned or innate.

  "Big man," Winnie said. "Big."

  "Big?" If anything, Prime had been on the short side. "You mean, important? Powerful?"

  "Yes, that. Big man. 'Portant." She groped for elaboration, then said, simply, "Real big man." Then, an afterthought. "Many."

  "Many? You mean much? Much big?"

  "Many," she said flatly.

  "Many? More than one? He has friends?"

  She considered it. "No. He many. More-than-one."

  "I see." I looked to the group for comment. None. Turning to George, who was no taller but a little more bulky about the midsection, I asked, "What's your opinion, George, old bean?"

  George gave me a puzzled look.

  "Do you think Prime-that man-is big and many?"

  He nodded. "Many-more-than-one." He continued nodding emphatically for a moment, then stopped and pondered. "But he one also, too."

  "Eh? He's one. Just one man?"

  "But many… also. One… many."

  "This is beginning to sound suspiciously theological again," John said. "One-in-many. Next they'll be expounding on the doctrine of the Trinity."

  "How did they tumble to all this?" Liam asked incredulously.

  "These two know everything," Susan said. "I've always had the feeling that Winnie has known everything all along." "

  Can you explain, George?" I asked. "Explain. Say more?"

  George scratched his belly and cogitated. "Pime. He… not man."

  "Oh. He's not? What is he?"

  "'Splain." He looked as if a headache were coming on. "He…" The belly scratching grew more vigorous. George screwed up his face in frustration. "He… Pime… he…"

  "Okay, okay. Don't get upset. It's all right that you can't say it."

  "He all of them!" George blurted. "All. One. Many." He stopped scratching. Something dawned on him, a faint light at the horizon of his understanding. His gaze was drawn out the port to the sky. "Me," he said. He stared for a moment, then lowered his eyes to Winnie. "Winnie, too. She also. We." He pointed to her, then brought his stubby index finger back to rest on his chest. "Me. Us." He tapped the finger. "We many." That said, he sighed, looking a bit sad. "'Splain no more." There was a long silence.

  Presently, I said, "Thanks, George, Winnie." Winnie gave me a hug and got down.

  "Well, gang," I said, not particularly apropos of anything.

  "Yes. Well," John said.

  "What do you say we get moving?"

  "Yeah," Susan said emptily.

  I turned forward, put my foot on the accelerator pedal, and took hold of the control bars. "Start her up, Sam."

  Sam did. The engine thrummed to life.

  I looked out across the valley at the green-glass fairy palace, and finally thought of something to say. I suppose there was an impish grin on my face when I tried to come out with, "Well, gang, we're-"

  "If you say `We're off to see the Wizard,"' Sam declared, "I'll come out of my hidey-hole and bite you on the ass."

  3

  The trip across the valley floor was leisurely and uneventful. We passed other structures along the way, ones we hadn't really noticed with the green fortress riveting our attention. We took time to puzzle over them now. One looked like a cross between an Ionic temple and a chemical factory. Another was in the shape of a squashed silver sphere melded to a blue pyramid. A third, lying some distance off the road, was a free-form aggregation of butterfly-wing shapes. There were others less easy to describe. Needless to say, we didn't have a clue as to what they were or what functions they served, if any. I suspected that some of them weren't buildings, exactly. Sculpture? Possibly. Machines? Maybe.

  The Emerald City was different. There was a fanciful quality to it. Its lines were graceful and romantic, belying its bulk. It imparted a sense of solidity, though; it was big enough to contain a city, and if it truly were a fortress, a castle, it looked the part, high ramparts braced against the wind. It looked to have been carved out of a single uniform block of material. No seams, no joints.

  It was a castle, but it was unlike anything you'd see in history books. An alien hand had drawn the blueprints; I was willing to bet on that.

  Sam asked, "What was that about an entrance at the foot of the mountain?"

  "That's what the man said."

  But what was there was simply the end of the the road. The Skyway, that maze of interstellar road that stretched throughout the galaxy, terminated at the base of the citadel in front of a stand of short purplish trees. Road's end. We had come a long way.

  I braked.

  "Whoa!" Sam yelled. "What's this?"

  The juncture of road and hillside parted, the edge of the hill rising like a hiked skirt, scrubby trees stitched to the hem. It stopped just high enough to admit the truck, forming an arch that revealed the mouth of a tunnel. The road continued through.

  "What do you think of that, Sam?" I asked.

  "Nifty."

  "Shall we drive on in?"

  "Sure. I'll put the headbeams on."

  I looked at the underside of the tunnel mouth as we drove through the aperture. It was all metal inside. No earth or debris rained down on us, and I couldn't for the life of me figure out how this trick was being done, but I didn't have much time to study it.

  The tunnel was
smooth-walled, lit by oval recessed fixtures positioned at regular intervals directly overhead. Otherwise it was featureless and reminded. me of the Roadbug garage planet, where the Bugs had caught us then dragged us across light-years to this place. The tunnel bore through the mountain for about half a kilometer before it debouched into a dimly lit, expansive cavern.

  But here the similarity to the Roadbug planet ended, though the place did look like a garage. The skeletal shapes of huge cranes and gantries loomed in the shadows. Strange machinery lay everywhere. There were scores of vehicles here, too, some parked out in the middle of the floor and appearing ready for use, others occupying numerous maintenance bays recessed into the walls. The vehicles were of every shape and description.

  "How much to park here by the hour?" Sam wanted to know.

  "Where's the attendant?" I asked. "But seriously, folks, how the hell do we get up to the city from here?"

  "Elevator, I guess," Carl said.

  "Yeah," I said. "Where? This place is big. See anything?" We roamed through the place for a few minutes.

  "What's that?" Roland said, pointing.

  "Where?"

  "Looks like a ramp. See? Through that opening right there, against the far wall. No, now you can't see it-behind that big electrical coil-looking thing."

  "Oh." I eased the rig forward and saw it. It was a sharply inclined ramp barely wide enough to admit a small vehicle. No go for the truck.

  "Looks like some sort of way up," I said, "but we'll have to hoof it."

  "Looks like I stay here," Sam said.

  "Sorry, Sam."

  "Well, I'd be a little obtrusive sitting at the table, anyway. Enjoy your lunch."

  I scrammed the engine. "Okay. Here we go."

  The cavern was cool, redolent of garage smells-not oil and grease, just the definite ambience of heavy machinery. "Everybody have everything?" I asked when all the crew had gotten out. "We might not be back here for a while."

  "Got all my Nogon camping gear," Susan said while reaching behind to adjust a strap on her backpack. "Don't know what use it'll be, but what the hell."