The Evolutionary Void

by Peter F. Hamilton

  Araminta was thankful her hair was still all messed up, and the threadbare robe was a ridiculous white and red stripe. Even if the girl knew all about the Second Dreamer, she’d never recognize her in this state.

  ‘I think Ranto was pulling into the park out front,’ Janice said as she handed the bags over to Araminta.

  ‘Ranto?’

  ‘You ordered takeaway from Smokey James? He runs delivery for them.’

  ‘Ah. Yes. Right.’ Araminta couldn’t work out if Janice was angling for a tip. It said a lot about Miledeep Water’s economy that they used people instead of bots for a service like this. In any case, Araminta could remember how only half a year ago she depended on the tips at Nik’s, so she produced the cash coin, which was obviously the right thing to do as Janice immediately smiled in gratitude.

  Ranto appeared before the door was even shut, handing over the five thermplastic boxes of food from Smokey James. That immediately kicked up a dilemma. Araminta was desperate to use some of the medical kit she’d bought, but the smell wafting out of the food boxes was too much for her stomach, she could actually hear it churning. She sat back on the bed, and kept her feet off the floor as she started to open the boxes. There were pancakes in berry syrup and cream, followed by an all-day-breakfast of smoked bacon, local chulfy eggs scrambled, hash browns, baked galow, and fried mushrooms; the drinks box had iced orange juice and a litre flask of English Breakfast tea, then she finished with toasted muffins. By the time she’d finished eating, her feet didn’t seem to be aching quite so badly as before. Nonetheless, she applied the antiseptic cleaner, wincing at how much it stung; then sprayed both feet in artificial skin, sealing in the abused flesh. When she finished she just curled up on the mattress where she was and went straight back to sleep again

  It was dark when she woke, leaving her slightly disorientated. Something somewhere wasn’t quite right, and her subconscious was worrying away at it. She didn’t think it was another dream connection to the Skylord, at least she couldn’t remember having one during the last sleep. But on the plus side she didn’t feel remotely hungry any more. Time to think about me.

  The bath had spar nozzles which didn’t work. Even so she let it fill to the brim and poured in the scented soaps she’d bought. While it was running she went back to the cybersphere node, and laboriously typed in a request for information on Oscar Monroe. The antiquated search software pulled a list of references out of the unisphere. There were eight and a half million of them. The search hadn’t gone into deep-cache databases.

  ‘Great Ozzie,’ she muttered, acknowledging just how much she missed her u-shadow, which would have sorted the information down to something useful in half a second. Another minute typing in new parameters, and she’d filtered the list down to biographical details verified to the Commonwealth general academia standard – always a good starting point. That took it down to one point two million.

  By then the bath was full, so she got in and wallowed in the bubbles as the dirt slowly soaked off. Reading up on Oscar would have to wait a while, but at least she knew he had to be important. He wasn’t lying about that. When she got out she felt a whole lot better.

  Araminta tipped the remaining contents of the bags onto the bed, and started examining the clothes. Most of it had come from a camping store, which had provided her with practical hiking boots that came halfway up her shins. When she tried them on they were impressively comfortable. The dark-brown jeans were tough and waterproof, which raised some interesting questions given she was on a desert continent. She shrugged into a simple black singlet, then put a loose burgundy T-shirt on top of that. A navy-blue fleece was similar to the one she’d brought with her, except this one was waterproof and the semi-organic fibres were temperature regulated. She needed that function: even after sunset Miledeep Water’s climate was still baking from the desert air gusting over the ridge. All the other accessories, the knapsack, the water bottle (complete with manual filter pump), solar-store cooker, multipurpose blade, micro tent, gloves, thermal regulated bodystocking, hygiene pack, first aid kit, meant she could now walk wherever and whenever she wanted. The notion made her smile grimly at the collection. Buying the gear had been instinctive. She knew Miledeep Water was only ever going to be a way station; though Chobamba itself might turn out to be a possible.

  She ran a hand back through her still-drying hair, suddenly unsure once more. Sitting worrying in a motel room wasn’t exactly choosing her own destiny. She sealed the fleece up and went out to see what Miledeep Water had to offer by way of nightlife.

  After half an hour walking along the nearly deserted streets she had her answer: not much. A few bars were open and some restaurants, as well as several all-day autostores, which were handy for people on a strict budget. Despite its location and the charming buildings, Miledeep Water was just too much like Langham for her to be at ease. Small town with a matching attitude.

  The emotions emerging from the gaiafield of a bar down by the waterfront attracted her. The people in there were rejoicing over something. As she drew close she could hear some bad singing coming from the open door. The gaiafield emissions were stronger, more defined, as she walked up to sparkly holographic light shining through the windows. Araminta allowed the images and sensations to wash through her mind, experiencing Justine waking up back in the Silverbird. The essence of her conversation with the Skylord reverberated through Araminta’s skull, enhanced by the rapture of those in the bar.

  Justine is on her way to Makkathran.

  Realization of exactly who was in the bar made the tentative smile fade from Araminta’s face. Living Dream followers, celebrating the latest development in their favour. Making very sure none of her own bitter disappointment leaked out into the gaiafield to alert them, Araminta turned round and slunk away. That there were followers in Miledeep Water didn’t surprise her; they were on every External World in the Greater Commonwealth and even the Central Worlds weren’t immune. She wondered briefly what those in the bar would have done if she’d walked in. Held her prisoner or fallen at her feet?

  Maybe Justine will manage to do something. Araminta couldn’t quite recall the last dream she’d had, the one with Gore and Justine in some room. I must see the rest of Inigo’s dreams, find out what happened to Edeard, why he inspires everyone so. I have to understand exactly what I’m up against. Then she stopped dead in the middle of the street as her subconscious finally triggered the memory that had been bugging her: the time display on the unisphere node. Araminta hurried back to the SideStar motel, not caring if anyone noticed her half-jogging along the deserted pavements and ignoring the traffic solidos to race across intersections.

  As soon as she was in the room she locked the door and switched the unisphere node on. The central time display winking in the top corner of the screen always ran on Earth’s GMT, with a secondary display showing local time. Araminta immediately switched it to Viotia time, and then Colwyn City. It took a moment while she did the mental arithmetic, aided by her macrocellular clusters – then she ran the figures again. If she’d done it right, and the secondary routines in the macrocellular clusters were practically infallible, then it was barely fifteen hours since she’d walked into Francola Wood. But that was impossible, she’d spent a whole day and night just trudging over that first wet, cold, miserable valley, then there had been the day by the oasis. The walk across the desert outside Miledeep Water, followed by sleeping the rest of the day away. That was when she worked it out – walking across the desert outside Miledeep Water and sleeping in the hotel accounted for a good twelve of those fifteen hours.

  The Silfen paths took practically no time at all. How could that be? I wasn’t even on the paths the whole time. Sweet Ozzie, do they manipulate time on the planets as well? But then, who knows exactly where the planets are, what universe or dimension? Come to that, were they even real?

  When she looked down at her feet encased in the cushioning artificial skin, she knew she’d walked somewhere, and spent h
ours doing it. What happened, or rather where and when she’d been along the Silfen paths, was of no consequence. She knew then that the Silfen wouldn’t let her use their paths and worlds as a refuge. It was instinctive knowledge, coming right from the heart of the Silfen Motherholm.

  I really do have to face this myself.

  ‘Oh crap!’ She picked up the bar of orange chocolate that had been part of the delivery and took a big bite out before flopping back on the bed. There actually was no escape. So where do I start? Learning about Edeard was the obvious beginning, and to be honest she was rather looking forward to immersing herself in his life again. But she felt it was more important to find out about Justine. She let her thoughts slow, mildly satisfied that she no longer needed Likan’s melange program to achieve the calm alert state required for any serious interaction with the gaiafield – not that the Skylord’s thoughts occupied that particular realm. It was to be found in some parallel domain, its thoughts serene and content.

  ‘Hello,’ she said.

  ‘You are always welcome.’

  ‘Thank you. And thank you for receiving our emissary. Are you the one accompanying her to Makkathran?’

  ‘I am with my kindred.’ The Skylord’s incredible senses revealed a vast swathe of space between nebulas, devoid of stars. It flew on and on through the emptiness, followed by a flock of its own kind who called to each other across the gulf. They were all gladdened that minds were once again emerging into the Void, giant sombre thoughts enlivened by anticipation.

  ‘Oh. Do you know where she is?’

  ‘The one you seek is within our universe. This is known to us all. For that we all give thanks. Soon there will be more. Soon we will guide your kind to the Heart again.’

  ‘Can you call to the one who is with her?’

  ‘My kindred are departed across the universe. Most lie beyond my reach. I will encounter them again in time, within the Heart.’

  ‘So how do you know one of us has arrived?’

  ‘The Heart feels it. We all know the Heart.’

  ‘Damn. Okay, thank you.’

  ‘When will you come? When will you be here with your kind?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  Araminta withdrew her mind from the connection, and permitted herself a brief feeling of disappointment. It would have been nice to talk to Justine. Instead, she had only herself to rely on. A state she was growing accustomed to. Her mind reached out into the human gaiafield again, stealthily, slipping into the local confluence nests like a silent thief. Her thoughts fluttered around the sight, taste and smell of Edeard, and up into her brain sprang the wonderful lazy awakening on a soft mattress as dawn stoked the sky over Makkathran. A kiss touched Edeard’s cheek, the phantom touch sending a delightful tingle along Araminta’s spine. A nose nuzzled her ear. Then a hand could be felt sliding down her/his stomach, and her smile widened at the naughty sensation. Jessile giggled close by and thousands of years ago. ‘Now that’s what I call rising to greet the dawn,’ she said.

  The other girl giggled as well. Edeard’s eyes snapped open, and Araminta looked out through them into his maisonette.

  *

  The Ellezelin forces capsule slid over the smooth fast-moving surface of the Cairns. Directly ahead was a big old house with walls of white arches filled with purple and silver glass, surrounded by balconies that overhung a pool whose water glimmered an inviting turquoise. Well-maintained formal gardens flowed down the slope to the southern bank of the broad river. Even under the wan light that filtered through the grey clouds scudding against Colwyn City’s weather-dome force field the place looked inviting, a real home.

  ‘Very fancy,’ Beckia muttered as the capsule floated down onto the broad lawns. ‘The building supplies game must pay more than I realized.’

  ‘In an External planet economy, going multiple is just a smart way of avoiding taxes,’ Tomansio said dismissively. ‘Bovey wouldn’t be able to afford this if every one of hims paid income tax.’

  The capsule door expanded.

  ‘Can I trust you?’ Oscar asked quietly. The other two froze, then they were both looking at him. Beckia’s gaiafield emissions were spitting out resentment. Tomansio was amused more than anything.

  ‘You can trust us,’ Tomansio said, pushing a warm sensation of confidence into the gaiafield.

  ‘She founded you. You wouldn’t even exist without her. And you’re all waiting for her return.’

  ‘Common mistake,’ Tomansio said. ‘We all understand her flaws, but we don’t forgive her. We were born out of her determination, but now we have grown far beyond her.’

  ‘Pupil and master relationship, huh?’ Oscar queried.

  ‘Exactly. She accomplished a lot in her time, most of which was disastrous. We are about the only good thing that ever emerged from the Cat’s life.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘Unless she did have children . . .’

  Oscar simply responded with a wry smile.

  ‘Quite,’ Tomansio continued. ‘So her continuing existence, albeit in suspension, is something of an embarrassment to us. It leads to misunderstandings like this one.’

  ‘Far Away rioted when Investigator Myo arrested her,’ Oscar countered.

  ‘Far Away did,’ Beckia said. ‘We didn’t. By that time she’d grown to be a symbol of Far Away’s independence. Arresting her was seen as a political act of repression against the planetary government by an authoritarian Commonwealth. I’d point out the riots didn’t last long once the details of the Pantar Cathedral atrocity became known.’

  ‘But her principles remain with us,’ Tomansio said. ‘The dedication to strength. Ever since our founding we have never broken our code. We stay loyal to our client, no matter what. Not even the Cat broke that. And we certainly wouldn’t double-cross you. Oscar, you demonstrated the ultimate human strength when you martyred yourself so our species could survive. I told you before, we respect you almost as much as the Cat.’

  Oscar looked into Tomansio’s handsome face, so redolent with sincerity, a note backed up by his gaiafield emission. He fervently hoped his own embarrassment at such a proclamation wasn’t evident. ‘Okay then.’

  ‘Besides, that wasn’t our Cat, not the founder of the Knights Guardian. If we weren’t committed to you I would take a great deal of satisfaction in tracking her down and finding out exactly which Faction has violated our Cat for their own ends. Didn’t you say they’d cloned more of her?’

  ‘Not any more,’ Oscar said flatly, and walked out of the capsule. Beckia and Tomansio shared a quiet smile, and followed him out onto the trim lawn.

  Mr Bovey had come out of the house to meet the capsule, three of hims. Oscar hadn’t met a multiple before, at least not knowingly. He couldn’t ever recall hearing about any on Orakum. The leader of the trio, the one standing in front, had black skin and a face that had even more wrinkles than Oscar’s; several grey strands were frosting his temples. To his left was a tall Oriental male. The third was a young teenager with a thick mop of blond hair. None of them were releasing anything into the gaiafield. However, their posture alone told Oscar they were going to be extremely stubborn.

  Oscar’s immediate response was to regret wearing the Ellezelin forces uniform, which was a huge visual trigger for any Viotia citizen right now. Then a deeper guilt began to manifest. He wasn’t here backed by Ellezelin authority – his sponsor was a whole lot more powerful than that. That was the problem. Marching into someone’s home with the authority and force to demand their cooperation was exactly the kind of fascistic repression which had so animated the young Oscar Monroe’s political instincts, which in turn led to him joining the Socialist Party at college and ultimately being seduced by radical elements. A journey which ended in the tragedy of Aberdan Station.

  Talk about going full circle. But we have to find her. Overriding necessity, the siren call of tyrants everywhere. Yet I know she cannot be allowed to fall into the hands of the Factions. Damn, how does Paula live like this?

  ‘What do y
ou want?’ the first Mr Bovey asked sourly.

  Oscar grinned, letting his amusement free in the gaiafield. ‘Oh come on. We know you and her had a thing.’

  The three Mr Boveys stared defiantly ahead.

  ‘Look,’ Oscar said reasonably, and plucked at his tunic, ‘this uniform, it’s a load of bollocks. We’re not Living Dream. I’ve never even been to Ellezelin. I work for ANA.’

  ‘Yeah? And I work for the Raiel,’ Mr Bovey replied, all three of hims speaking in concert. ‘So that makes us both super-secret agents.’

  ‘I saw her at Bodant Park. Me and my team here, we covered for her so she could get free. Ask her. We’re the reason she’s still out there. If she still is.’

  There was a flicker of uncertainty in the black Mr Bovey’s eyes. ‘I met Araminta a few times, that’s all.’

  ‘It was more than that. Come on, man, she’s in shit so deep she’ll drown if she doesn’t get some serious outside help. So please, if you know where she is tell me.’

  ‘I haven’t seen her for days.’

  Tomansio grunted in understanding. ‘She didn’t tell you, did she? You didn’t know she was the Second Dreamer?’

  Mr Bovey’s scowl deepened, none of hims would look at Tomansio.

  ‘Hell, that’s got to suck,’ Oscar said. ‘She was probably trying to protect you.’

  ‘Right,’ Mr Bovey said.

  ‘She was frightened, you know that. This planet was invaded just because she lives here. And she’s all alone. She doesn’t know what she’s doing, really, she hasn’t got a clue. If you know where we can find her, if you have any notion where she might be, then we’re the ones you need to tell. Call ANA if you need my status confirming. There are others out there who are looking equally hard, and I don’t mean Living Dream. The Second Dreamer is an important political tool right now. Who do you think caused the Bodant Park fight?’