premiere casinos in civilization,” Del Casal
reduce their size. They react only to one fre-
said. “It needs unique beauty.”
quency and the rest, as they say, is signal trans-
“These leaves,” Belisarius said, touching
duction.”
one gently with a finger, testing its hardness.
“An interesting greeting.”
“Is this glass?”
“One that is occasionally necessary. So tell
“I inserted genes from extremophilic bacte-
me, Arjona. Why are you here? You are no art
ria that dissolve silicates,” Del Casal. “I also en-
dealer.”
gineered a silicate carrier system, and a
“I’ve got a job. A big one. And I need a ge-
mineral deposition pathway, mirroring the
neticist.”
one used by oysters to make shells and pearls.
“There are many geneticists.”
They are fragile and beautiful, but nothing as
“Could any of them duplicate your work
complex as the Homo quantus.”
with the Numen?” Belisarius asked.
“Are you an admirer?”
Del Casal watched Belisarius in still silence
“Of the craftsmanship,” Del Casal said. “Not
for long moments. “Now I have to compli-
of the project goal.”
ment your sources. What kind of a conf i-
“We’re in agreement on that.”
dence scheme are you hatching, Arjona?”
Belisarius didn’t ask about the silvered
“I want to penetrate the Forbidden City and
plants lining the stairway. They shone with an-
some secure facilities at Port Stubbs.”
other faint luminescence, all the way to Del
“How?”
Casal’s apartment. Del Casal opened the door
“I want you to engineer someone to smell
and stepped in. Instead of overhead lights, the
like a Numen.”
soft glow of fireflies lined the ceiling, arching
It sounded dirty when he said it. The Nu-
above like stars haunting a dome. Del Casal
men were the second most reviled people in
crossed to the other side of the room, pulling
all of civilization.
down a bottle of wine from a rack. Belisarius
“You are wasting my time,” Del Casal said.
closed the door and grew still.
“I know that you’ve been blocking the
“More of your work?” he asked.
pheromones in the descendents of escaped
“I make things of beauty when beauty is
Numen.”
called for, but nature is first and foremost red
“I have been able to reduce the
in tooth and claw,” Del Casal said as he ex-
pheromones, mostly through the disruption
tracted the cork.
of metabolic intermediates. I have not cured
The walls on either side of Belisarius were
anyone.”
covered in what seemed to be cactus skin, but
“I’m looking for you to try, and I can offer
the needles, long and finger-thick, all pointed
you something special,” Belisarius said, “a real
at him.
Puppet, one of the exiles.”
“These are long of tooth,” Belisarius said.
“I thought exiles were only mutants who
“Animal?”
could not detect the pheromones from the
Del Casal poured one glass, but left the oth-
Numen.”
er empty. He sipped and turned.
“I’d like him f ixed too. He’s going to help
“All plant,” Del Casal said. “I added pho-
penetrate the Puppet defenses.”
toreceptors sensitive to infrared so that they
Del Casal sipped his wine. “Correct a genet-
are capable of tracking . . . targets. The bulbs
ic flaw in a Puppet and create a false Numen.
at the base of each needle are pressurized
You have not come all this way without know-
bladders, designed like the explosive cham-
ing that what you ask is impossible? The best
bers some plants use to launch their seeds, al-
that can be done with both is to make forg-
though no natural plant is able to reach the
eries. The original designers created entirely
pressure I have achieved. If you think of mus-
novel sub-cellular organelles with unique mol-
ket gunpowder, you’ll have some idea.”
ecular and genetic structures, as well as novel
44
DEREK KÜNSKEN
JANUARY/FEBRUARY 2018
symbiotic microbiomes to alter biochemistry,
sounds of snapping tectonic ice vibrated in
immunity, and neural responses. Even with au-
their bones.
thentic examples I cannot replicate either the
At twenty-two kilometers below the sur-
Numen or the Puppets.”
face, the view opened on one side. The tower
“I know,” Belisarius said. “This is an exer-
of carbon containing their elevator carried
cise in engineered mimicry. How close do you
them past slush dotted with moving icebergs,
think your forgeries can get?”
and then into the dark, open water of a pro-
Del Casal’s eyes narrowed. He swirled his
tected bay.
wine slowly, watching the wash cling to the
At this depth, the frame of the elevator
inner surface of the glass.
creaked as it endured eight hundred atmos-
“As in all things,” Del Casal said, “the more
pheres of pressure. If any of the systems failed,
money spent, the better the product, but I
they would be crushed instantly. At the bot-
doubt you could afford even a distant ap-
tom of the elevator shaft, the chamber’s air-
proach.”
lock made a hard seal with the visitors’ section
“The take is seven figures, in francs. You’d
of The Deepest Mess in Civilization.
be surprised at my financial backing.”
The partygoers cheered and toasted the de-
Del Casal’s eyebrows rose appreciatively.
scent. The guide gave each person a pin in the
“In that case, no doubt the forces prepared to
shape of an ocean vent smoker. Bragging
kill you would not surprise me either?”
rights, even though they were still a dozen
“None of the patron nations have any rea-
kilometers above the smokers of the ocean
son to have noticed me,” Belisarius said. “I’m
floor. They stepped into a great circular room
not only going to be working with a mutant
perhaps seventy meters in diameter. It was a
Puppet and a false Numen. I have two Homo
Congregate off icer’s mess with expensive
quantus on the team. That’s a lot of genetic
stuffed chairs and real wood tables, a bar, pool
models to learn from.”
tables, and VR battle simulators.
Del Casal looked mildly intrigued. “I might
However, no one paid any attention to the
be interested in seeing some of the modifica-
inside. The outer wall of the mess was f loor-<
br />
tions made to the Homo quantus.”
to-ceiling windows of glass so thick it distort-
“Easily arranged,” Belisarius said.
ed the view beyond. The windows also
“Shame your team does not include a mon-
magnif ied the tiny vibrations of icebergs
grel. You would have a whole set of the hu-
grinding against one another, like tympanic
man family.”
membranes. Moments of conversational still-
“Funny you should say that. I’m headed out
ness opened the mess to the long, rumbling
to meet one after this. Have you ever been to
thunder. Spotlights glared beyond the win-
The Deepest Mess in Civilization?”
dows, lighting the swirling sediment and
bulky gray shapes darting past.
Chapter Fifteen
Holograms projecting from the ceiling
The best place to barrack the Congregate’s
showed a schematic of the mess, the down-
special pilots, the Homo eridanus, was under
thrust spear of ice it occupied, and the sub-
the crust of an ice world. Two astronomical
surface sea that surrounded it, as well as a
units from Oler, circling the brown dwarf Ep-
series of red dots. Each dot marked the posi-
silon Indi Bb, was the dwarf planet Claudius.
tion of a member of the subspecies Homo eri-
Upon arrival, Belisarius and Del Casal bought
danus, the mercenary shock pilots of the
two expensive tickets for a specially pressur-
Congregate navy. Haloing these markers were
ized elevator to take them to a party twenty-
names, depths, speed, pressure, temperature,
three kilometers beneath the surface of the
and racing statistics.
ice.
The dots plunged hundreds of meters past
The elevator was as big as a house, and oth-
the mess. They exchanged positions, all but
er party-goers packed its divans and settees,
one, the leader who could not be overtaken,
mostly Congregate officers and some of their
Vincent Stills.
nouveau riche civilian friends. Moments of
Stills’ name was a transliteration. The Homo
sober terror punctuated the nervously brave
eridanus, engineered to live at benthic depths
mood whenever their chamber creaked or the
of another world, had no organs for human
THE QUANTUM MAGICIAN, PART I
45
ANALOG
speech. It was rumored, perhaps apocryphally
The house will accept bets on whether he
so, that the Venusians had insisted that the
catches it, as well as on whether he makes it
Homo eridanus select French names. If that
back to the mess. Odds are listing now.”
was ever the case, the mercenaries hadn’t
Locals and members of the tourist party
leapt to name themselves Jacques, Em-
turned quickly to pads, wrist controllers, or
manuelle, or François.
implants to place bets. Bookies were giving
The Homo eridanus were bitterly ugly,
four to one odds against Stills catching the
man-sized, having no human features at all.
fish. The odds of Stills returning at all from the
Whale-like skin covered layers of insulating fat
depth he’d reached were a bit better than
so thick that they could wholly retract their in-
even.
human gray arms into their blubber. Instead of
“What do you think of the odds?” Belisarius
legs, they had thick tails that might have
asked Del Casal.
looked more suitable on walruses. And where
“I am surprised he is still alive past a thou-
humans had faces, the Homo eridanus had
sand atmospheres,” Del Casal said. “I doubt he
been engineered with wide, f ish mouths,
is coming back.”
large enough to gulp anoxic water and force it
“I’ll take that bet, and the one on him catch-
over starved gills. They had electroplaques be-
ing the fish,” Belisarius said. “Sixty francs?”
neath their skin, like the Homo quantus did,
“Done.”
for navigation and speech. Two black eyes, as
As the other mongrel racers returned, their
big as eight balls, placed to optimize binocular
holographic icons winked out. Stills’ icon
vision, had no capacity to emote.
grew to cover the ceiling. The statistics were
Their features were so monstrous and their
not promising. The ocean current at his depth
genetic heritage so mixed, with genes from so
held steady at sixty kilometers per hour, in the
many species, that they called themselves The
direction he chased the Claudian tuna. A
Tribe of the Mongrel or The People of the
rolling server with a tray of small bottles, sy-
Dog. And although they called themselves
ringes, and smokables beeped to them. Del
this, they wouldn’t let anyone else call them
Casal took a bottle. Belisarius waved it away. A
dogs. Another urban myth told of an early
cheer filled the mess. The tuna had escaped.
mongrel pilot ramming her fighter into a Con-
“Maudit,” Belisarius swore.
gregate troop transport, killing herself, the
The icon and read-outs showed Stills turn-
troops, and the off icer who had called her
ing. He was far downstream, but he raced up-
chien.
ward, making for the creaking, icy roof of the
The holographic displays showed Stills rac-
ocean. He was trying to get out of the cur-
ing deeper and deeper, two kilometers be-
rent’s pull. At seven kilometers downstream,
neath them now. Past the icy prominences
his signal winked out.
that thrust through bottom layers of grinding
“Maldita sea,” Belisarius swore. He sat back
icebergs and slush, Stills pressed into the un-
slowly.
obstructed oceanic currents of the big moon.
“This was supposed to give me confidence
His nearest competitors hesitated at the bot-
in what you are doing, Arjona?” Del Casal
tom of the f loating ice f ields, just shy of the
asked. “Thanks for the drink though, and the
strong currents of the open ocean.
view.” He waved his hand at the panorama.
A signal went to racers that the race had
Belisarius needed one of the Tribe. He un-
been won. They began swimming back. The
rolled a pad and scrolled through the stats and
depth numbers around Stills’ icon paused, and
biographies of the other racers. The second
then resumed their frenetic f lipping as he
and third place finishers might not do. They’d
plunged deeper. Stills was fast, sustaining
stopped dozens of meters above the open
forty-f ive kilometers per hour. The pressure
ocean.
gripping him topped a thousand atmospheres,
Bets on the tuna were already being settled.
a
nd a swift current now carried him away, far
Belisarius’ account was sixty francs lighter. No
faster than he could swim.
one was settling on Stills’ survival yet, and the
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer said
pall that had layered the mess passed. The rac-
in français 8.31, “Monsieur Stills appears to ers gathered in the glow of the spotlights in
be on the trail of a Claudian tuna, a big one.
the lee of the mess. Some of the tourists spoke
46
DEREK KÜNSKEN
JANUARY/FEBRUARY 2018
with them through devices that translated
live beneath the waves. But even under the
their words into electrical pulses.
surface they weren’t safe, not until they’d en-
Then, another cheer and groans.
gineered the next generations to live at the
Stills’ icon shone brief ly, eight kilometers
very bottom of the oceans. The Mongrels alive
downcurrent. The mongrel pilot had made it
today, like the Puppets and the Homo quan-
up to the layer of icebergs and slush scouring
tus, had not asked to be made into what they
the undersurface of Claudius’ icy crust. The
were, but none of them would exist at all if
prominences of ice broke the current, but
not for genetic engineers. And now they were
Stills’ problem was to make it back. There was
trapped into this inhospitable ecosystem. Any-
too much debris to swim for long above the
thing less than about five hundred atmosphere
current; any gaps between the icebergs might
of pressure not only crippled the mongrels
crush closed without warning. Stills’ only non-
with gasses bubbling out in their blood, but
suicidal option was to swim lower, back into
denatured many metabolic proteins, killing
the stronger current.
them. They lived, but would never see the
Then Stills’ signal vanished again.
Sun, or even a baseline human being except
People groaned. Del Casal held out his
though thick glass. His augmented eyes and
hand. “You want to pay now, or wait until he’s
pattern-sensitive brain saw movement in the
nine kilometers downstream?”
gloom, something approaching stealthily.
Belisarius signalled the server robot.
“Like I thought,” Belisarius said.
“Does the mess have windows facing the
“Stills?”
current?” Belisarius asked in French.
“I think so.”
“Oui, monsieur. Par içi.”
Belisarius went to the frame of the window
Analog Science Fiction and Fact Page 13