He had known for about an hour that the ground was rising. He was coming out of the desert valley. The stones underfoot had been the size of large eggs. Now they were all gone and Courane walked on dry mud as hard as concrete, split with wide cracks. Perhaps in the spring this was the bed of a river. Now though it was only unyielding yellow soil. There were small tufts of rough brown weeds growing here and there. It wasn't quite as dead and hopeless as the desert he had already crossed. He kept his hands under his arms, tightly hugging his chest to stop their nervous trembling. He whistled a march tune because he thought it might raise his spirits, and he knew that he always walked to the beat of anything he whistled or hummed. He whistled it rather allegro, because the hills were still too far away.
The red ADVISE light was lit on the tect, and Courane was the only one around the house to notice it. He identified himself to the console and waited for the message.
**COURANE, Sandor —ExtT— Excar Ep Er IV
M232-86-059-41Maj
Or ANYONE
17:48:19 15 May 7 YT - TECTGreet**
**COURANE, Sandor:
Notification of additional program. Reinstitution of Therapy Group (Instructions follow).
**COURANE, Sandor:
Hello, COURANE, Sandor! How are you? It is nice to speak at you once again. TECT in the name of the Representative hopes that you are comfortable in your new home, and that you have begun the series of adjustments essential to your complete assimilation. You have been on Planet D now for four months, four days, five hours, forty-eight minutes, and twenty-nine seconds. No doubt you have looked around, met everyone, settled yourself, and begun to realize just how pleasant Planet D is.
**COURANE, Sandor:
No indication that the addressee wishes to offer profuse thanks is necessary. TECT in the name of the Representative understands your feelings and wishes you to know that you are entirely welcome.
**COURANE, Sandor:
However, TECT in the name of the Representative concedes that some individuals do not respond so positively. Indeed, some people cry and plead and carry on in a totally unacceptable manner. Some people have never grown up, and no doubt there are some members of your community on Planet D who fall into this category.
**COURANE, Sandor:
If you wish to enter the names of individuals who fall into this category, either there on Planet D or from your former life on Earth, TECT in the name of the Representative will consider it a generous act of patriotism, commendable in every way, and a notation to that effect will be made in your permanent personal file that may someday be of some benefit to you.
**COURANE, Sandor:
Enter names**
Courane thought about it for a moment and was tempted to put in the name of his foreman in Tokyo, Sokol, who had gotten him into trouble, and Mr. Masutani, and an Arab forward who once deliberately gave him an elbow in the throat and was never called for it. But after he considered it, he decided against putting down anyone's name. They might end up on some colony themselves—maybe even Planet D—and he didn't want to be responsible for that.
**COURANE, Sandor:
You have chosen not to enter names in compliance with the above suggestion. That will be noted in your permanent personal file. Either you live by an outmoded code of ethics, or you have lived a charmed life and have no grievances against anyone.
**COURANE, Sandor:
Be that as it may. The real purpose of this communication is to instruct you that the quarterly group therapy session will be held tomorrow, 15 May, 7 YT, at 12:00:00 (35 Gai, 124, at 03:42:55). It will be held in this room so that TECT in the name of the Representative may listen to the comments of the participants and offer insights that may prove valuable in relieving tensions and solving petty problems.
**COURANE, Sandor:
The leader for the discussion will be NUSSEL, Sheldon, unless he is indisposed. In that event the leader will be STANEK, Molly. In the event that both people are indisposed, please inform TECT in the name of the Representative and provide a list of community members who are able to assume the duties of group leader.
**COURANE, Sandor:
Understanding of the above to be indicated.
**COURANE, Sandor:
Affirm?**
"Yes," said Courane, but he didn't really understand it at all. He assumed that Sheldon would know what was going on, though.
Everyone was just a little annoyed that TECT had called for the session at three o'clock in the morning. TECT didn't sleep, of course, and there was no reason in the world (either world, Earth or Planet D) why the session couldn't have been scheduled for some time more convenient to the colonists. But, as Goldie said, that was just one of TECT's funny little quirks.
They all sat on chairs in a semicircle facing the tect s console, as TECT was a doctor who would have enlightening things to say. Molly told Courane that she had sat through several of these meetings, and TECT had only interrupted to comment on two occasions. One time, everyone had reacted to a note someone passed around, and TECT wanted to know what the laughter was all about. The note had to be read aloud and its author identified. Another time, TECT had directed the group's temporary leader to sedate a group member who was threatening violence toward the others and the console's screen as well.
"Well," said Sheldon, obviously uncomfortable, "does anyone recall where we left off last time?"
"That was almost three months ago," said Alohilani. "I think we were discussing the possibility of having jobs assigned semi-permanently, for periods of ten weeks."
"That's right," said Daan. "Iola said that if someone has a job he particularly enjoys, and it's agreeable to everyone else, there's no reason why that person couldn't have that job as long as he wants. And if someone really hates something, I don't think we should force him to have to do it."
"I'll tell you what I hate," said Fletcher. "I hate just being here. How about that? What can you do about it? If you ask me, I don't want to have a damn thing to do with your farm."
"You can go hungry, too," said Arthur.
"You see how good this is for everybody?" whispered Kenny to Courane.
"Speak up," said Sheldon. He knew that if he didn't have Kenny repeat his words louder, TECT would demand to hear them.
"I said, 'This is good for everybody.' " He winked at Courane.
"What the hell are these meetings for?" asked Fletcher. "Nothing ever gets done. Nobody ever makes any good comments. Just people complain about this thing and that thing, and people accuse other people of one candy-ass thing after another. I don't think this is anything but a pain and a well-known drag."
Sheldon wondered if it was his duty to defend TECT's therapy sessions. "Look, Fletcher, if we air these gripes now, they won't cause as much trouble as if we just let them grow inside us. You can sound off anyway you want to, and I can, too, and it's good for all of us. TECT knows what's best. It's studied our community for over a hundred years. The best experts on Earth say that this kind of group will help to keep us healthy in mind and body."
"Experts on Earth!" Fletcher got up and took a few steps toward the tect. He laughed, a sound totally without humor. "Experts. As long as they stay on Earth, I don't care what they say. They don't know nothing about living here, Cap. They don't know enough to tell me how to tie my shoe. On Earth, that's where they are, and they've never even seen this place. They don't even know what we eat for breakfast. I don't listen to nobody unless they been here and met the bug, Cap."
"The bug?" asked Molly. "What do you mean?"
"I mean unless they shook hands with the bug. The forgetting bug. You know what I mean." He looked around the room. Obviously some of the group understood—Sheldon, Molly, Alohilani, each of whom had suffered their first symptom of D syndrome, and Daan and Courane, who had witnessed the behavior and understood. Courane didn't know if Kenny, Arthur, Rachel, and Goldie knew what the black man meant.
Fletcher continued defiantly. "You got to get down in the mud an
d kiss the frog, Cap, otherwise you're just throwing paper airplanes out of your tower window. You understand what I mean?"
Sheldon looked more uncomfortable than ever. "Yes, I think so. You don't feel anyone's advice is worth taking unless he's been here, too, and experienced the conditions."
"You got it," said Fletcher. He flashed a quick grin and sat down again.
"Anyone else have anything to add?"
Courane spoke up a little hesitantly. "I think Fletcher makes a lot of sense."
The red light on the tect lit and blinked furiously. Everyone in the group watched it for a few seconds.
"Oops," said Courane. He saw a brief look of triumph cross Fletcher's handsome face.
"Why am I here?" asked Nneka. This was the day after she came to Home, during a fierce Otho blizzard.
"I don't know," said Courane. "I could find out from TECT, but don't you know why?"
"Oh," said the young girl, "I know the reason I was separated from my family. I was taking care of a bird, a beautiful bird with a long tail of blue and white feathers. It was hurt and I was taking care of it. You're not supposed to have birds or animals like that in your house. They belong to the Representative, of course. Or to TECT in the name of the Representative."
"Of course," said Courane.
"Then one day last week, a woman from my village told me that I should be careful. The bird could get me in trouble. I told her that I was just taking care of it until it could fly again. She didn't like me, she never did. I think she thought I was having her husband. Then two days ago, the tect in the school building told me I had to report to the Paris Substation, that I was coming here. That was my crime. But why did they punish me this way?"
"I can't tell," said Courane.
Nneka was tall for her age but slender, with very long, delicate fingers and a natural and unrehearsed grace about all her movements. Her eyes were of a deep and liquid brown that captured attention, even drawing it away from her other striking features. She had high, prominent cheekbones and a mouth that smiled readily. She wore plastic ornaments in her ears and around her neck, the same kind of inexpensive jewelry that was worn in Moscow and Chicago and Manila. The only people who wore traditional African styles and designs were TECT's employees, those who were hired to represent a vanished black culture, between nine in the morning and five in the afternoon, Monday through Friday. It was impossible to find anyone wearing ivory necklaces or brightly printed dashikis on the weekend. Molly had learned the penalty for doing that kind of thing.
"What will it be like for me here?" Nneka asked in a frightened voice.
"It may be very nice," said Courane. "You'll miss your family and friends, but you can take care of all the birds you want. Just don't break any of TECT's rules for living in a colony."
"What are they?" she asked.
"We're not sure yet," he said regretfully. And he thought, That's just part of TECT's cruel and usual punishment.
Daan had meant what he said. He gave Courane several sheets of paper covered with his dense, cramped handwriting. "This is every bit of information I've been able to get out of TECT," he said, "plus everything I've observed myself. It isn't very much, but it's a start. You might be able to add something important. Maybe in a few years or a hundred years, we'll be able to tell Earth how to deal with this disease, and then TECT won't send any more people here."
Courane glanced through the pages and decided that it might be a lot easier to find a cure for D syndrome than decipher Daan's notes. "I don't understand why there hasn't been more progress," he said. "The colony has been here for a long time. It can't be that you and I are the first people to wonder about this sickness."
Daan frowned. "We're not, of course we're not. The trouble has been that the people in the past who've tried to work on it have been patients themselves, not prisoners. So they get a little foothold and make a few observations and then they begin forgetting everything. All their work goes for nothing. There may have been a dozen others ahead of us, but they've provided no documentation. If they did write anything down, it was discarded by others in the colony who didn't know its importance."
"And now you're passing it on to me. Daan, I want you to know that I'm absolutely the wrong person. I don't understand a thing about any of this."
"I didn't either when I started," said Daan.
"Then why won't you continue? I don't even know where to start. You're a lot better at this than I'll be."
Daan looked very sad. "The day before yesterday, I made a significant discovery," he said.
"Oh?"
"I discovered that I'm not a prisoner. I'm a patient."
Courane was startled. He swallowed hard, but was unable to think of an appropriate reply.
"I was sledding in some firewood with Arthur and I fell apart. I can't remember what it was like, but Arthur said it lasted only about three or four minutes. I know what it must have looked like, though. I've seen it often enough. One crazy guy screaming and another guy patting him on the shoulder saying, 'There, there.' After a hundred and twenty-five years, that's the best we can do: There, there.' "
Courane, embarrassed, kept his attention on the pages of notes, but he couldn't focus his eyes on them.
"I suggested some things you might investigate first," said Daan.
"Thanks," muttered Courane. The shock of Daan's illness probably disturbed him more than it bothered Daan. It was a death sentence, and it was taking away a good man and a friend.
"Try to find out if the disease is hereditary or caused by conditions in the environment. Try to see if TECT can guess about possible prevention and treatment measures, based on any kind of relation to other brain disorders. Make wild guesses and try them out. That's not the scientific way to go about an experiment, but we don't have the time and the luxury to afford the rigorous method."
"I'll do my best," said Courane. "I really will."
"It's too late for me," said Daan. "But see if you can't do something for the people who come after me."
Courane tried to keep his promise, even though he hadn't had enough education to understand most of what TECT told him, or the imagination to know the best way to pursue the matter. He accepted Daan's advice and dug into the nature of memory and diseases of the neurological system. He received a lot of answers from TECT, most of them couched in impenetrable jargon, some of them apparently almost devoid of meaning. But by staying with the task, Courane was able to learn valuable bits of genuine information, and each bit was won with difficulty from a grudging TECT.
"Well, Mom, this is good-bye."
Courane's mother tried to keep from crying, but a single tear escaped and betrayed her concern. She wiped it away and tried to pretend that it hadn't happened. "Will you call?" she asked.
"New York, Mom. I've always wanted to live there. How could TECT have known? This is one of the best things that's ever happened to me."
She acted as though she hadn't heard him say a word. "Call me as soon as you get there. You have to find a place to stay first. Don't be in a hurry and don't rent the first apartment you see. Make sure it's in a good neighborhood. Then call me and tell me all about it. I'll be worried until I hear from you, Sandy."
Courane was just a little upset by his mother's anxiety. "You know what it's like, Mom," he said. "You've seen pictures. There aren't any good neighborhoods in New York. It isn't like Greusching."
"That's what I'm worried about, Sandy."
"Well, don't worry."
They looked at each other for a moment. Courane shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He set his suitcase down on the carpet.
"I wish I could help you," she said, "but I know this is something you have to do by yourself."
"TECT ordered me to New York, not you and Dad." Courane smiled; he really was very excited. He wanted to go to the top of the Continental State Building and go skating in Representative Plaza and take the subway out to the Coney Island reconstruction.
"Yes, I know."
>
Courane was unhappy about his mother's reaction. She seemed much more distraught than when he had left to go to Pilessio. "What's wrong, Mom?" he asked. "You look like you're really suffering."
She patted at her cheeks. "Do I? I'm sorry, Sandy, I don't mean to. You're my son and I love you, and I just feel so useless. You'll be so far away. I've raised you and now I don't like to let you go, even though I know I have to eventually. I want everything to be good for you. You're bound to run into some troubles, and I won't be there to help you."
He smiled gently and kissed her. "I have to leave now, Mom," he said. She cried, not trying to hide her tears any longer. She hugged him, and he kissed her again.
"Good-bye, Sandy," she said.
"Good-bye, Mom."
He picked up his suitcase and walked down the hallway. While he waited for the elevator to arrive, he turned to look at his mother a last time.
"You'll call?" she said.
"Yes, Mom." The elevator door opened.
"Good-bye, Sandy."
The elevator let him out downstairs and he walked through the lobby of the building. Alohilani was waiting for him. "Let's sit down," she said. They sat on a couch facing the fireplace. It was August and there were pieces of wood fished from the river in the fireplace; the wood was smooth and strange-looking from its time in the river, and it had been collected by Goldie. She thought it looked artistic. As soon as it grew cold, the branches would be replaced by lengths of firewood. Goldie wouldn't let anyone burn her driftwood.
"I wish we could spend more time together," said Courane.
"So do I," said Alohilani. Her eyes were large and dark and moist.
A Thousand Deaths Page 8