The Nano Flower

by Peter F. Hamilton

  "Not much of a deal for the alien. We're free of it, you make a profit. What did it get?"

  "It got to live, Victor. Death was the only other option. And that would have been a monumental crime. Planetary genocide. I'm not sure I could have sanctioned that. But it can wait for a couple of millennia until it finds a barren star system to colonize, it's already waited billions of years."

  "If you say so," he said reluctantly. "And what about us? What sort of combination do we make? You build it and I protect it?"

  There was a tremble in his voice, slight though, well concealed, it wouldn't register with many people. Do I know him that well already, or have I always known? "Something like that. I don't think you're cut out for life as a househusband."

  "That's true enough." His arm came over her back, hand stroking the side of her ribs. "Funny how the Hexaëmeron knew us so well it cut straight to the heart of our society. It knew all along that people like you and Jepson were the real powers in the land."

  "I've been thinking about that. And it was wrong. Jepson and I were simply the most appropriate people, not the most powerful. That's the way the world works today. A million different interests, all competing, all clamouring for a voice. I told Marchant the world is becoming more complex, and the Hexaëmeron proved that to me beyond a shadow of a doubt. Simple political systems don't work any more; that two-party, two-ideology confrontation is behind us now. We need a system valid for the data age, a world where total information is available and no two places are physically more than ninety minutes apart. Parochialism is dead, long live parochialism."

  He gave her a long look. "I don't get it."

  "Think about Wales. As part of England it was failing; above-average unemployment, mediocre social services and infrastructure. To New Conservative politicians in Westminster it's just another special interest grouping, like education policy or tax levels. They invest minimum resources compatible with a maximum return of votes; double the investment and they certainly don't double their votes. So it's automatically marginalized. That's why there are such powerful regional secession movements evolving. Not just here, but right across the globe; the Californias, Italy, Germany, even China's decentralization is the same thing with a different name. Small but forceful local governments, providing they are democracies, can always look after their people more effectively. What they lacked in previous eras was the strength and stability resulting from size, which is what Marchant was so worried about England losing. But now access and membership to large-scale organizations is profoundly simple; they're virtually spoilt for choice. Autonomous regions will become nodes in the global networks; and there are hundreds of them, thousands, each of them separate, but every one interlocking; financial, commercial, strategic defence alliances, corporate, pure data, trading markets, all of them networks of some kind or another. Event Horizon itself is a network; my factories are so widely distributed now any product you buy has components made all over the place, there is no single source."

  "So you're going to back the Welsh Nationalists' bid for independence?"

  "Yes. But first I'm going to dump the New Conservatives. Not dramatically, but they'll get no more money or patronage from me. They were necessary after the PSP fell, rampant capitalism is always a good way to build quickly, and we needed that then, we'd fallen so far. But unless you're very careful, that kind of economy becomes a runaway shark, always having to move to eat, to survive. You get unemployment in the name of efficiency, suffering in the name of market forces. That's over. We've rebuilt, we've gathered all we lost; now we need to consolidate. If the New Conservatives can't accept that, then they deserve to go; if they're smart, they'll adapt their policies. Whatever they do, it isn't important to me any more. They don't matter. England will benefit from Welsh secession as much as the Welsh."

  "So it will be you who decides Wales's fate after all. Doesn't that place you outside these networks you have so much faith in? Doesn't that make you the controller the Hexaëmeron thought you were?"

  "I neither control nor dictate. I see the trends which evolve, I'm good at that, damn good; it enables me to go with the flow. That's why Event Horizon functions so smoothly, that's what makes it such a powerful network. In this case, I'll nudge a little. But even if I didn't, and this referendum kept Wales under Westminster, the next or the one after would see them breaking free. It's happening, Victor. Separatism is evolving as the single most powerful political movement this century. And evolution is always stronger than imposed solutions."

  "You really think that's the way we're going?"

  "Yes. It's right for this age. It'll work. Not for ever, but it'll do until the children want to change it."

  His hand began to stroke her ribs again. She snuggled up closer, looking over his chest at the bedroom's window. Wilholm's grounds were bathed in a combination of moonbeams and cool sail light. The woodland and lakes were quite enchanting like this, she thought, kissed by magic. It was the same the world over, the human race holding its breath in awe. Police had reported a drop in crime, politicians were quiet for fear of looking utterly foolish. Everybody busy gazing at the stars. Pity it wouldn't last.

  * * * *

  The Pegasus lifted from the reservoir's mud flats while Greg was clambering up the limestone rocks. It rose straight up for a hundred metres, then peeled away to the east. He watched it blend into the darkening sky before extending a hand to help Andria up the last couple of metres.

  A bonfire was blazing in the middle of the Berrybut estate away on the other side of the reservoir, its reflection dancing off the grey water. As he headed up the slope to the farmhouse he could see the pink and blue glow of charcoal on the pickers' range grill; thin streamers of smoke were spurting upwards as meat juices dripped through the soot-blackened metal mesh. People milled about in the camp field, little groups of five or six sitting on the dusty grass, passing a bottle round as they waited for the meal. A few figures were still wandering through the groves, organizing stacks of white boxes ready for tomorrow's picking.

  He hadn't realized just how much he'd missed it all. The three days away were so unnatural compared to this, like something he'd watched on the channels, If it hadn't been for Suzi –

  "They don't bite," he said as Andria hesitated on the doorstep.

  She flashed a nervous smile. Her eyes were still slightly red from crying.

  The hall's biolums were on. Greg walked in to the familiar battered oak chest, the bat stand, churchwarden mirror, ancient tiles with fresh muddy footprints. He could hear rock music playing somewhere upstairs, the mechanical twangs and squeaky voices of a cartoon from the open lounge door.

  "Dad!" Christine shrieked. There was a blur of motion as she flew down the stairs.

  Eleanor stuck her head out of the kitchen, and smiled. Christine flung her arms round him and kissed him before he could reach Eleanor. Oliver, Anita, and Richy piled out of the lounge yelling and whooping.

  "Were you really there, Dad?" Oliver asked, his eyes were round and incredulous. "Up in space when the sail unfurled?"

  Greg blinked as Christine let go. "Why are you wearing your nightie?"

  She laughed and did a twirl. "Do you like it? It's my new party dress."

  "The channel newscasts said Aunty Julia was up there," Oliver insisted. "They never mentioned you."

  Christine's shiny black dress was held up by two thin straps at the front, its back dropping almost to her rump; the skirt hem rode well above her knees.

  "This is Andria," he said distractedly to the three younger children. "She'll be staying with us for a while."

  Richy was chewing one of his toy cars. He tilted his head to one side, and looked up at Andria. "Why?" he asked.

  "Because she's a friend, and it's nice here." Which was true enough, the farm was the best place he knew to bring up a kid, but he was going to have to come up with a better reason than that. He would try and explain about the extra baby tomorrow. Though maybe it would be better coming from Ele
anor. Yes, excellent idea.

  "Do you mind?" Andria asked. Richy shook his head shyly.

  Greg managed to kiss Anita.

  "Missed you, Dad," she whispered.

  "Greg told us you used to work at a shipping office," Eleanor said.

  "Yes," Andria nodded.

  "How are you at accounts?"

  "I shuffled some finance bytes when I was there."

  "Good." Eleanor gave Greg a quick kiss and began to steer Andria towards the kitchen. "You can help me with our figures. I'm afraid I'm way behind this year."

  Greg gave Oliver a strong hug. "Yes, I was up there, and so was Aunty Julia."

  "The sailing star is an aspect of Gaia, isn't it, Dad?" Anita asked urgently. She threw a contemptuous glance at Oliver. "One of her angels come to show us the path to redemption."

  Christine smoothed down the front of her dress. "I'm going to wear it to the dance at the Victoria Hall on Saturday. Graham's asked if he can take me. Mum said I'd have to ask you first. But it's all right if I go, isn't it, Dad?"

  "Who's Graham?"

  Eleanor smiled sweetly. "Supper will be late, sorry." She and Andria vanished into the kitchen.

  "It's an alien monster, and Dad stopped it from eating New London," Oliver said hotly, and glared at his twin. "That's right, isn't it, Dad?"

  Greg scooped up Richy, who smiled angelically and wrapped his arms round Greg's neck.

  "Dad! Can I go dancing with Graham or not?"

  Epilogue

  Julia opened her eyes to pure whiteness, a smooth translucent material centimetres from her nose with sunlight shining through. She stared at it while her thoughts coalesced, as if she was waking. But there had been no sleep, she was sure of that.

  Memories rose, coldly bright, every aspect of her life recalled in meticulous detail, the joy and pain undimmed by time. That was so unfair. Time was supposed to heal human angst. And there had been so much time. Centuries.

  The whiteness brightened, splitting open to show a cloudless sky. She was lying inside an oval cocoon which had a texture of resilient rubber. Sunlight warmed her skin and heavy moisture-laden air rolled in. There was the distinctive sound of waves breaking on a beach. She sat up.

  It was a beach, a long, curving cove with gingery sand and beautifully clear water. She could see a rocky headland about three kilometres away to her left; on the other side there was a dark line of cliffs stretching into the distance. The bluff behind her was littered with big boulders, narrow wind-blown buttresses of sandy soil gripping them tight. Blades of tough-looking reed grass struggled for a toehold above the sand, growing into a thick wiry mat at the top of the bluff. Beyond that was a band of dense vegetation. The trees were unusual, each of them had five equally spaced slender grey trunks, gradually curving inwards, their tips meeting at the centre of the pentangle. A clump of mossy indigo foliage foamed out around the conjunction, with long ribbons dangling down to the ground. She shivered in dark delight at the sheer alienness of the world.

  Five metres away was another cocoon. She waited as its top dilated, then Royan sat up.

  They embraced on the sand between the two cocoons, spending a long time just looking at each other, hands constantly touching and stroking for reassurance. Finally she held his gaze, and screwed her face up. "That was a bloody silly thing to do. Didn't you ever read War of the Worlds?"

  He grinned. "Brought us together in the end, didn't it, Snowy?"

  She groaned in mock-outrage, and hugged him tighter.

  He craned his neck, searching the sky.

  "There." She pointed back over the jungle. A brilliant star rising above the tree tops.

  "Where will it go now?"

  "It'll find it a world of its own, that was the deal. The SETI division had compiled quite an extensive list of local stars confirmed to possess planetary systems. I accessed the file before we left New London."

  "Good old Rick."

  "Yes." She took another look round the beach, and rubbed her arms absently. "It's going to be cold at night."

  "The nanoware will make you some clothes, they'll make you anything as long as they've got the right raw material to process."

  She glanced down at the white organisms. Both of them had closed up, shrinking slightly now there was no body to accommodate. if she concentrated she could feel their presence in her mind, an obedient animal-sentience, waiting for orders.

  "I wonder what happened to me. . . her, afterwards?"

  "We can always go back and see."

  "No," she said with a sigh. "It was just a dream. This is our world now."

  Royan slipped his arm around her waist. "Shall we take a look around?"

  The image of a planet seen from space filled her mind, strange continents, deep oceans dotted with long island chains, and large dazzling white polar caps. She had always adored the recordings of Earth's ice-bound continent, ruing the fact she would never see it.

  Exploring this planet would take a lifetime. The two of them would do it together, alone, and free of any obligations. The way it could never be on Earth.

  "Sounds good," she said.

  They started to walk along the beach towards the headland. After a minute, the nanoware organisms stirred themselves, and began to slither dutifully after them.