Eternity's Mind

by Kevin J. Anderson

  “I am aware of Terry’s condition and I understand the human need not to raise false hope,” OK continued. “You can trust me to provide you with an accurate and objective assessment of potential medical treatments. Have you also reviewed the records of more recent Rakkem studies?”

  Xander shuddered at the thought of the biological black market. “I don’t want to be sold any snake oil.”

  “None of the proposed treatments involve reptilian distillates in any form. Some experiments, however, investigated the ability of lizards to regrow severed tails as a possible means of restoring the degenerated spinal nerves that patients such as Terry Handon suffer.”

  Xander rolled his eyes. “Not quite what I meant, OK.”

  With the compy beside him, he called up the records old Omar had given him, reviewing the summaries and case studies. There were images of patients before and after, success stories of people who seemed able to walk again following the new treatment. Such test cases supposedly suffered from the same form of neurological degeneration that Terry did. Cleanly severed spinal nerves and damaged legs had been reparable for some time, but Terry’s condition was intrinsic to his nervous system, and the motor control from his brain was disrupted.

  “Can we find any of these patients?” Xander asked. “I’d like to interview them in person to verify that this isn’t just an elaborate scam.”

  “Due to medical legal requirements, the names of all patients are confidential. Their identities are not revealed in these studies, so we are unable to speak with them.”

  “In other words, we just have to take the researchers at their word—and their price tag.”

  “I can provide no further information, Xander Brindle. I’ve reviewed their medical tests thoroughly, and some work is indeed connected to less-than-reputable biomerchants. Since Rakkem has been shut down, we will be forced to rely on secondary providers.”

  Xander felt a lump in his throat, as he experienced second thoughts. Terry was happy, claimed he didn’t need his legs, and got along just fine. Xander couldn’t dispute that, but every time he walked through Kett headquarters on Earth or hurried down the normal-grav corridors in Newstation, he was reminded that Terry couldn’t do the same thing. Surely he wanted to be whole again.

  On the other hand, Xander couldn’t forget the wife of the Dremen colony leader, who had been tricked into paying for a skin and body rejuvenation “miracle.” The treatment had caused her to reject her own skin, so that it sloughed off in great chunks, leaving her body a flayed mass of suppurating muscles. He recalled the horrific sight of her lying moaning on her medical bed while the enraged colony leader forced them to watch, because the Verne had inadvertently delivered more of Rakkem’s “miracle treatments.”

  Xander felt nauseated to think of Terry suffering something that way if a treatment went wrong. The risk was too great. On the other hand, if it really was a cure …

  He studied the medical claims again, noting that the researcher made no guarantees, offered no refunds, promised no satisfaction. Instead, the man was selling the experimental treatment entirely on hope and faith. And although Xander had plenty of both, he wasn’t sure he wanted to apply it here.

  Omar Selise sent another message, in text this time, to Xander’s private message slot. “Anything yet? Does my grandson have hope?”

  He answered, “Not yet. Still checking. And hoping…”

  CHAPTER

  68

  LEE ISWANDER

  When he went to see his wife on Newstation, Iswander made every effort to hide how discouraged he was. He had made an agreement with Londa long ago that each of them had their own roles, and he would be the good husband she expected. He would not bring home the burdens of his business and weigh her down with his stresses.

  He had Elisa Enturi, Alec Pannebaker, and any number of line supervisors and crew chiefs with whom he could discuss operational difficulties or management problems. His home life with Londa was an island of refuge.

  He could have had a more dynamic spouse, a partner at his side in all things, with whom he could build a grand Iswander empire—a partner like Elisa, for instance, whose mindset was the same as his, with the determination and drive to focus on success.

  But that wasn’t what Iswander wanted in a wife. He had thought long and hard before asking Londa to marry him. It was all part of his plan, and Londa had her own plans. He knew exactly what he wanted, and she got exactly what she needed in her role. Others might not understand. Why didn’t Londa want to run a division of Iswander Industries? Why didn’t she put her name in the ring for political office?

  Instead, she built the home that Iswander required, provided a safe haven that let him be what he needed to be. Because she did her part so smoothly, he realized he often didn’t notice her—and that was unfair.

  Now, when he went to see Londa in her new quarters, he set aside his resentment over how the clans had treated him. Instead, he felt happy and welcome, and she greeted him with a warm smile. The new suite was bright, beautiful, cozy.

  “I fit right in here, Lee,” she said. “I didn’t want to leave you out there, but Newstation feels like home to me. I can see Arden as often as I like.” Her expression clouded. “There are still a lot of people angry at you.”

  “I’m sorry,” he told her, looking around at the new furniture, the decorations. It all seemed just right. “I’m an ambitious man. I’ve taken risks, and at times there have been costs—like on Sheol. But if I never attempted anything, I would never accomplish anything.” He put a hand on her arms. “I’m sorry for the hurt it causes you, though.”

  She straightened and looked at him with a bright intensity in her eyes. “It doesn’t hurt me—it makes me angry at those complainers. And believe me, I’ve given them a piece of my mind. I said I would listen to their grumbling the moment one of them achieved a tenth of what you have.” She sniffed. “You’ve changed the Spiral Arm. You’ve helped the Confederation more than anyone can know. And they were all perfectly happy to buy your stardrive fuel.”

  He clenched his jaws, refraining from telling her that none of the Roamers wanted to buy his ekti-X after all, but he felt a surprised warmth to hear her talk. “You don’t need to stand up for me like that. I don’t care what fools think.”

  “I care what they think,” she said. “And I do have to stand up for you. You’re my husband. I’m an Iswander. This isn’t just about our lives, but our legacy. Arden faces the same criticism at Academ.”

  “I know,” Iswander said. “I’m sure he resents me, but he’ll get over it. I know how strong he is.”

  Londa drew back, looking astonished. “He doesn’t resent you! You’re his father, Lee. He’s proud of you.”

  He took a seat in their spacious relaxing room, and Londa sat beside him, facing him. He noted the artwork she had placed on the walls, how she had picked some of his favorite things: Roamer tapestries, Ildiran glass knots, even an illuminated prisdiamond that glowed from its stand.

  He considered her statement. “Do you really think Arden is proud of me?” He didn’t often consider his son’s opinion of him. Arden was well aware of the Sheol tragedy and how many people had been lost in the lava disaster. He also understood that his father had been disgraced in the Speaker election. And because of Elisa’s crimes—which became Iswander’s crimes in the minds of Roamers—the Iswander name was more stained than ever. What must Arden think?

  “Of course he’s proud of you. He’s told me that many times. You can see it in his eyes, if you look. He wants to be just like you.” She touched his hand and leaned close. “Lee Iswander, you listen to me. You told me yourself that the road to success is full of bumps and potholes. If it was easy, everyone could get there, but smooth roads don’t lead to the most rewarding destinations.”

  “I said that?” he asked with half a smile.

  “More than once.”

  “Then you must be married to a very wise man. Thank you for reminding me.” He leaned back on
the sofa and put his arm around her. “Should we have Arden over for dinner? Can we bring him from Academ that quickly?”

  “I’ll arrange it.”

  Ordinarily, Iswander would have taken them to celebrate at a fine restaurant, but he didn’t want to deal with surly managers or resentful stares from other customers. He needed peaceful time with his family.

  Londa didn’t ask what he wanted to eat. He’d always been satisfied with whatever she suggested. His appetite right now was for an evening in his sanctuary. He would not waste that time talking about business or his disappointments and frustrations. He would just spend time with Londa and Arden and listen to what they had to say about their lives. He didn’t often have a chance—no, he corrected himself, he didn’t often take the chance—to get to know his wife and son. It was an opportunity he didn’t want to miss.

  After his cold experience among the clan traders, he realized that if that was what the Roamers had become, then he no longer identified with that heritage. He decided right there to liquidate his Roamer bank accounts and transfer most of the funds into Londa’s and Arden’s names, which would protect them and their future. Lee Iswander was a wealthy man, but after the many accidents and accusations, he feared that some bureaucrat would try to seize his assets. He had to make sure his wife and son were protected.

  After what he had experienced here today, Iswander would leave Newstation, maybe for good.

  CHAPTER

  69

  SHAREEN FITZKELLUM

  At Fireheart Station, the silence from Kotto Okiah seemed as empty and unending as the mysterious void itself. Shareen spent two days, wondering and hoping, distracted from her other work. Even Howard was flustered. The two didn’t discuss their worries, although Shareen desperately wanted to. But she had an almost superstitious anxiety that speaking her fears aloud might make them come true.

  “We should concentrate on the greenhouse fix,” she said, even though Howard hadn’t said anything. They were finishing the designs. Per Kotto’s orders, they occupied themselves with figuring out how to build a bigger dome around the strained terrarium. When they had presented the idea to Celli and Solimar, just hours after Kotto’s departure, the green priests had been delighted.

  “It will save them for now,” Solimar said with obvious relief.

  “The trees will keep growing, but your new dome will buy us years,” Celli said.

  With just a glance at the proposal, Chief Alu had authorized the expenditure and effort, though he seemed discouraged to be adding a nonprofitable project when his work crews were so far behind already. The trees could not wait, however; they already pressed and strained against the confining dome. Once given the green light, Shareen and Howard exchanged ideas in a rapid-fire brainstorming session, elaborating on each other’s sketches and calculations.

  Within a day they presented the first stage of their plans for the dome expansion, and the engineering crews began work extending the base. In a week, they could begin building up the curved walls of the expanded hemisphere.

  “Kotto will be happy to see this once he comes back,” Howard said.

  Shareen, concerned at how long the scientist had been gone, made a point of keeping busy, which was much better than sitting around and worrying about him.

  Chief Alu came to see them, just as anxious. “I sure hope Kotto’s collecting a lot of data out there. How much nothingness can he look at?”

  “Maybe he found something, sir,” said Howard.

  Alu’s face twisted in a fearful scowl. “That’s what I’m afraid of. But we’ve checked—the sun bombs are still there at the threshold.”

  “I meant he may have found something of scientific interest,” Howard explained.

  “We can hope,” Shareen said. “Speaking of which, I hope he doesn’t accidentally trip on the sun bombs on his way out. He did accidentally tear a hole into another dimension. Who knows what he might do next?”

  She looked out the laboratory’s viewing wall, remembering when the Big Ring had hung out there. Now the gaping sinkhole in the universe brought a lump to her throat. That yawning void seemed so dangerous, and Kotto had to be so far away.…

  * * *

  On the third day, the survey craft returned. The tear in space did not convulse or twitch, and the small ship slipped back out without any fanfare. Once back in realspace, the compies began transmitting a distress signal.

  “We require immediate assistance. Kotto Okiah is in urgent need of medical attention. Please prepare for our arrival.”

  Fireheart Station went to full alert. Shareen and Howard raced to the landing bay.

  Roamer industrial pods escorted the scout craft to the main hub. Their pilots transmitted questions and encouragement, anxious to help. The compies answered crisply. “Kotto Okiah is not responding to stimuli.”

  When the survey craft landed inside the bay, Shareen and Howard pushed forward. The hatch opened, and the compies emerged, looking lost. “Please help him,” said GU. “He hasn’t moved during our entire return journey.”

  The medical techs were first aboard, but Shareen and Howard followed them into the cramped cockpit. Kotto Okiah sat in the pilot seat, his arms limp on the armrests, jaw slack, eyes open. He didn’t react.

  One of the techs touched his neck, leaned close. “He’s alive. He’s breathing. I’m getting a pulse.”

  Shareen turned to the compies. “What happened to him? Report.”

  KR said, “Kotto Okiah said we had encountered an entity called Eternity’s Mind. After that, Kotto no longer responded. Our systems were functional, but his brain was not.”

  “We decided to return here without instructions. KR and I had to pilot the ship ourselves. Was that the correct decision?” GU asked.

  “You bet it was,” Shareen said. “What’s Eternity’s Mind? Were you attacked?”

  “We can share the complete log recordings. We don’t have any clear explanations. We did not understand what Kotto was saying.”

  The medical techs tested Kotto’s pupil response, pulse, blood pressure. “Pupils dilated. Slow heart rate. He does not respond to painful stimuli.” The woman shook her head as they hooked up life-support equipment and prepared to remove him to the medical center.

  Together, they pulled Kotto out of the pilot seat. Shareen and Howard helped. At the exit hatch they handed him off to a team that put him on a gurney in the landing bay.

  GU explained, “Deep inside the void, we found indications of a Shana Rei presence. There appeared to be changes in the fabric of the universe, geometrical scars.”

  “Are you saying Kotto was attacked by the Shana Rei then? Did they do this?” Shareen asked.

  “No. The Shana Rei did not respond to our presence,” KR said.

  “This happened when Kotto encountered Eternity’s Mind,” GU said.

  “You said that before.” Shareen was growing frustrated. “But what are you talking about?”

  “We better look at the complete logs,” Howard said.

  “Maybe later.” Shareen followed the med techs, desperate to know what was wrong with Kotto. “Anything? Can you revive him?”

  “We don’t know what’s wrong yet. Still more tests to run. So far … nothing.”

  The two compies scurried after them as they all moved to the medical center. GU continued, “Beyond the lair of the Shana Rei, we found bright manifestations, a kind of network. Kotto initiated communication with it, and it spoke back.”

  KR said, “But we could not hear it. Kotto claimed he received a complete understanding of the universe. He seemed quite happy, just before he went into a coma.”

  “The understanding of the universe? That’s a broad statement,” Shareen said.

  “Yes. It must be why he was overjoyed,” GU said.

  The compies were clearly agitated. “We did not know what medical aid he required. When Kotto gave us no further orders we consulted with each other and decided to fly back. We had placed breadcrumb buoys along our flight path th
rough the void. Many had failed due to residual entropy, but we found enough to retrace our way. We knew Fireheart Station could give him the medical attention he needs.”

  “We’ll do our damnedest,” said one of the techs as they entered the medical center.

  * * *

  A crowd formed as staff members from the Fireheart admin center came to see Kotto, but there was no change. The doctors combed over his body and found no injury, no reason for his waking coma. They hooked up a network of neural sensors to his scalp, further rumpling his curly hair. Kotto didn’t flinch.

  Shareen watched with deep concern.

  The doctor stared at Kotto, then studied readings, astonished. “There is … nothing. No brain activity except for autonomic functions. I detect no consciousness, almost as if his mind was wiped clean.”

  Shareen said, “All the knowledge of the universe … He always was prone to hyperbole. Maybe even Kotto couldn’t handle that much.”

  “What if he meant it?” Howard asked. “He learned everything, and then the knowledge took him along with it. What if his physical body simply couldn’t hold so much knowledge, so his mind decided not to limit itself by his brain’s capacity?”

  Shareen’s brow wrinkled. “Are you suggesting that Kotto’s mind left his body behind?”

  Howard shrugged. “It’s a hypothesis. If he was really offered access to everything, he might have chosen the knowledge over his body, rather than give up the chance to learn it all.”

  “We need to study his logs,” Shareen said uncertainly. “Maybe we’ll find some answers there.”

  They both looked down at Kotto’s placid, content expression. Even though he was otherwise unresponsive, the great scientist wore a deeply satisfied smile on his face.

  CHAPTER

  70

  TASIA TAMBLYN

  They had a hell of a fight getting away from the black robot swarms and the Shana Rei at Earth. During the escape, she and Robb worked together like a well-coordinated machine, using skills they had developed during countless dogfights in the Elemental War.