“Why didn't I remember my name? Why did you have to tell me?”
“You will,” the Mentor who had helped her out of the learning sleep-pod told her, “when you are ready to access your personal memsphere, the one recorded before your last body died. you'll remember choosing your name back on Homeworld, and all the other memories you decided to keep.”
So she was Rainsong. What a funny name! Her thoughts were darting around like crunchies, but at least her skin had stopped blushing. “Back on Homeworld? We aren't on Homeworld now?”
“No, we are on the Ship,” he told her, patiently.
He was pretty nice, for an oldster, she thought. “What do you do?”
“I used to be a Navigator, when I was younger. Now that my replacement is old enough, though, I'm retired from that, and I help out as a Mentor.”
She had to ask. “What's a Mentor?”
“Long ago, before the coming of the Meddlers,” he informed her, “there were no memspheres to store our knowledge and give it to youngsters like you. Back then everything one of the People needed to learn was taught to them by a Mentor. For example, in ages past we lost a lot of youngsters who didn't know which organisms were good to eat and which were poisonous, so the Mentors taught them, to avoid more losses.”
Poisonous was a scary word that she knew now. Food that could kill you! “So when are you going to teach me that? What's safe to eat and what isn't?”
The Mentor made his eyes roll in opposite directions to indicate amusement. “I don't have to. We didn't bring any poisonous species with us on the Ship. Anything that moves and isn't one of the People is safe to eat.”
Later, when she absorbed a memsphere marked Ecology, she understood this a little better. Since they no longer had the sun of Homeworld, the light-makers on the inner hull fed the trees and other plants that grew inward toward them. The trees kept the air breathable, and they and the smaller bushes and plants fed the crunchies and other insects the people lived off. The Ship was like a traveling piece of Homeworld, albeit without any of the larger predators and poisonous creatures that might have otherwise endangered the crew.
Her mind tried to picture it: the path of an atom in the soil, pressed against the inside of the outer hull, spiraling through space as the Ship spun and sucked its way through the almost-vacuum of interstellar hydrogen. And then, to superimpose upon that motion the further complications of absorption into roots, the slow climb of sap in a tree or bush, the inclusion into a leaf, bitten off by the mandible of a crunchie, to find its way, perhaps, into the chitin of an exoskeleton, with further embellishments of motion buzzing through the artificial forest's air, then snagged by the whiplash of her previous body's tongue, to become part of one of the People, climbing and leaping, until the body wore out and recycled into the soil, for yet another iteration...
In a way, it reminded her of planetary orbits, which, as she now knew from the astrophysics memspheres, were also spirals, looping around stars which, themselves, were in motion around the center of the galaxy, which was itself in motion. The planetary coiling was cleaner, simpler, but the resemblance was there. When she tried to take it down to the level of a single electron orbiting that atom in its wanderings, however, the clean spirals became a mess of dotted lines, the electron too unsure of itself to cleave to a continuous path, popping around in quantum jumps instead.
Maybe I need some time away from the memspheres.
Chapter 49
Lester: Person to Person
“Life isn't worth living, unless it is lived for someone else.”
- Albert Einstein
He sat at a worktable but his mind was not on the papers and artifacts scattered on it. The human mind is awfully good at distracting itself from important things by thinking of other things that are important in different ways. In this case, his self-distractions centered around women.
Growing up in Inverness, there had been a small number of potential mates, a number which diminished at an alarming rate as the ladies concerned came of age and were married off. Carolyn had been the exception to these, probably because in her case her father had no dowry to confer upon a future son-in-law other than an apprenticeship, and most farmer's sons weren't looking for even harder work than they had already.
Given all that, and the inevitable nearness of the smithy to the inn he had grown up in, it was only natural that he'd come to entertain thoughts of a future with the smith's daughter.
Lester knew that Gerrold wanted him to find a wife that would move into the inn with them and eventually help Lester run it when Gerrold was to old to manage.
This was not, however, a future that Lester was much interested in. The storybooks he had read while growing up seemed to imply there were other destinies one could aspire to, destinies that did not involve feeding horses and pouring drinks.
All of this made Carolyn and a smith apprenticeship more attractive.
However, things had changed, (as they always do) and now he had accepted the path of a wizard. His fate had been caught up in the pathspace Xander induced around him, and although it might turn out to be a lot more dangerous than the fairly secure life of an inn-proprieter-to-be, he felt committed to help Xander produce his crops of 'psionic engineers' at the school for wizards.
So the situation was different now. He did not have to marry anyone to escape running Gerrold's inn. But never mind that. Was Carolyn still as attractive, now that he had to view her as simply a person and not also as an escape route?
Amazingly, he had nearly forgotten her when Xander kidnapped him to Denver and he met Aria. But Aria was engaged to Jeffrey, and surely Lester had more in common with Carolyn, now that she was a wizard too.
The problem was, he didn't seem to have any time to court anyone. Aria was always busy being groomed to be the next Governor, and with Carolyn he was always busy solving problems, teaching students, and so on. With all that had happened, he really had no clue at all how either of them felt about him, and he wasn't meeting any other potential mates in his current situation. Should he be worried about that? He was still young, after all.
“You look like you need a break from whatever it is that you think you are doing,” said Xander.
Lester looked up. “I thought you were napping on one of the memspheres.”
“I should be,” the older man grumbled. “But I'm not tired enough. I'd like you to help me with an experiment.”
He climbed to his feet. “What do you need?"
Xander turned to lead him to the stairwell door. “I want to try something with that blue ring we got from Lobsang. It's related to the memspheres somehow. Must be – they both have that bluish glint on the metal, so they use the same variety of metaspace, even if they are different weaves.”
Lester frowned at this. “I thought you decided that it was dangerous for you to try the ring on, because it might connect you to the Queen who was using it to hypnotize Lobsang.”
“Right. So I want you to try the ring.”
“What?” He swallowed. “If it was dangerous for you, wouldn't it be even more so for me? You're more experienced with this stuff."
“Exactly,” said Xander. “So if whoever puts the ring on gets into trouble, it's better if the most experienced wizard here is available to help them, instead of the second-most experienced.”
“I'd rather neither of us risked getting under her influence.”
Xander pulled the door open and began to descend the stairs toward his quarters. “I've nearly convinced myself that there is little danger of that. She already had a hold over him with his family in her clutches, and used that to get him to cooperate with trance induction. We owe her nothing, and so it ought to be pretty hard for her to trick us into a hypnotic state.”
“You said 'nearly convinced'. Not completely. So that's why you want me to go first.”
“There's another reason,” said Xander, but he had to get through another coughing fit before he could tell Lester what that reason was. So he
coughed while Lester waited him out.
Eventually Xander drew a ragged breath and continued. “We know the ring amplifies telepathy, because Queen Rochelle was able to manipulate Lobsang all the way from Angeles. So I want to try using it to contact a couple of distant people. Well, actually I want you to try to contact them.”
“Who?” Lester asked, when they reached Xander's floor and exited the stairwell to head for his door.
Xander held the door open for him and followed him inside. “First I want to see if we can reach Jeffrey.” He rummaged in a box and pulled out the ring, wrapped in a bit of burlap to prevent accidental contact. “If he's still alive we should see if we can help him.”
“Why should we do that? We've got our own problems to deal with.”
Xander sat down on the couch and regarded the bundle of burlap. “Because we need him on the Honcho's throne. Whatever you think of him, he's more useful to us restored to power, in a Texas he can keep our ally, than on the run, in a Texas ruled by a junta intent on conquering us instead.”
“But won't the Queen interfere with me trying to reach him? I'm sure she'd rather Rado and the Lone Star Empire fight each other.”
I had a thought about that, Xander sent him. At close range, I can send to you or one of the other wizards by thinking about you before I try to send my thoughts.
So?
Maybe the ring always put Lobsang in contact with the Queen because it reminded him of her. Every time he slipped it on, he knew he was doing it at her orders.
“But I know it came from her, too,” Lester said out loud.
“Yes, but you can start thinking about Jeffrey before you even put it on.”
“How do you know he's even alive, at this point?”
“It seems to me that if they took him alive, they'd probably arrange a mock trial to justify executing him.”
“And if they didn't take him alive?”
“In that case,” said Xander, “they wouldn't be looking for him any more, and they'd have picked a new Honcho or be fighting over who gets to be the new leader. But according to Kristana's operatives, the junta is still searching. It seems like whoever catches or kills him first might have the best chance of becoming the new Honcho. So he's still among the living. But we need to know which living he's among.”
He unfolded the burlap and held the ring out for Lester. “Otherwise there's not much we can do to help him.”
“Shouldn't you be trying to reach him, if you think it's safe? You've got more experience sending thoughts.”
“It works better if you know the person better,” Xander informed him. “You've spent more time talking to him than I have. You had all those visits from him in the Dallas prison. All I have is the little time we spent making the peace and alliance treaty.”
Damn. He's probably right. Lester picked up the ring with his right hand. It wasn't hard to come up with thoughts about the young Honcho-in-exile. He could remember their talks in that cell in Dallas, and besides that, there was the jealousy over Aria to give him even more help brooding about the Texan.
He slipped the ring on.
Jeffrey, this is Lester. Can you hear me?
At first there was nothing. Then, very faintly, so faint that he was half-convinced he was imagining it, Yes.
“I think I've reached him,” he told Xander. “But he's very faint.”
“Probably because he doesn't have a ring on his end. Keep trying anyway.”
Where are you? Are you all right?
I'm...fine. Somewhere in Texas, I think.
You're not sure?
There was a faint impression of a bump and some jostling. It's rather hard to tell, hidden in the false bottom of this cart. But it's been less than a day since we started out. So I'm pretty sure we're still in Texas. It's a big country.
Where are you going? Tell me and we'll meet you there.
Amusement came faintly though the mental link.
You will anyway. I'm on my way to Denver.
Chapter 50
Lobsang: long Distance Call
“Those who understand others are intelligent
Those who understand themselves are enlightened”
– The Tao Te Ching by Lao Tse
By the time they finished learning more from him than he did from them, it was getting dark. Perhaps they felt a little guilty about detaining him so long, because they offered him a bed for the night. He accepted, then went out to recover the car and find some place to park it. They had already moved their barricade of wagons, and he managed to get get it rolling and steered it off the main road into the “parking lot” they told him about. This turned out to be a space between two buildings, mostly empty.
He felt a little panicked about leaving the car to go sleep, but managed to convince himself they wouldn't steal it while he snored. If they wanted it, they could have had someone take it already while they were playing question-and-answer with him, right? Even if they didn't have anyone who understood spinspace, they could presumably figure out how to release the brake and just tow it behind a couple of oxen. But they hadn't, and he found himself certain, for reasons he couldn't put into words, that they'd leave it alone. After all, surely a wizard was more valuable than a car. He knew the everwheel weave, so he could make more cars.
And they weren't trying to steal him.
He climbed out of the driver's seat and shut the door and followed Ezrah to a room with a bed. It was small, but clean and neat, and after saying goodnight to Ezrah he chewed some jerky, took a swallow of water from a pitcher on the one table, and threw himself at the bed. At least tonight he would not have to sleep in the car or risk mosquitoes.
His head seemed stuffed with thoughts, restless and fretful, in contrast to his body, which was fully ready for sleep.
One thing they had not asked him was how he came to have the right aptitude to become a wizard. They just accepted it as a natural part of him, like his height and eye color. In their minds, he fell right into the category they called Gifted. At first the term had worried him, but after a while when the expected question did not come, he decided they hadn't made the connection Xander had, between exposure to the Gifts of the Tourists and becoming one of the Gifted.
It looked very much as if these polite people thought that only some people were Gifted, the way some people are better at singing or drawing or such. Otherwise they would have had a lot more wizards by now.
Wait, he thought. It's more than that. These people were devout, very serious about their religion, and so they must think that all gifts come from God. That explained why the wizards he had met were advisers to the First President. Surely they thought that their Gifted had found more favor in the eyes of their God than the ordinary folk, the ones Xander might have called Mundanes. Their attitude about the magic was blended into their religious beliefs now. Instead of fearing it to be demonic, as the TCC seemed to, these people had decided it was holy, given by God, and a thing to be respected, not feared.
He turned over and tried to relax.
Lobsang, can you hear me?
He stiffened. But the Queen always called him Dog.
Who is this?
It's Lester. Xander wanted me to try to contact you.
His thoughts about Deseret vanished. How did you?
With your ring, Lester told him. It turns out we can make the contact work even with only one, but I can barely hear you unless you're wearing one too.
He absorbed that. But you can hear me? Good. I'm glad you called.
Have you reached Angeles?
No, he said. I'm still in Deseret. Never mind Angeles at the moment. Deseret has wizards! And they might not have any of the blue rings, but they know what they do.
It was going to be a while before he could let himself sleep. There was a lot to talk about.
Chapter 51
Aria: Territoriality
“Life is not easy for any of us. But what of that? We must have perseverance and above all confidence in o
urselves. We must believe that we are gifted for something and that this thing must be attained. ”
– Marie Curie
She raised the long knife and slashed again. Another section of vine hit the dirt at her feet. She kicked it toward the basket and raised the knife again. Ah, the glamorous life of a future Governor!
After a while she stopped to catch her breath, and someone behind her cleared a throat.
“It looks like good exercise, but why are you doing it?”
She spun and regarded Kristana in the glare of the glowtubes that had helped her gardens through another winter. “Because these damned vines are spreading. Eventually they'll be weighing down the branches and smothering the trees.”
“Then why did you plant them?”
“I didn't! They must have come with some of those gifts we got from the Florida delegation last year.” She shook a fragment of vine off the knife. “Like a fool I put the ferns and the palmetto in this section with my apple trees, thinking they'd give the place a little color during the winter. One of them must have had a little of this clinging to it...and I missed it.” She scowled and wiped the knife with a bit of burlap.
Her mother watched her. “What is it?"
Aria bent and snatched up some severed vines and shoved them in the basket. “It's kudzu. The books call it pueraria montana, but the common name for it is kudzu. It's a perennial, and extremely invasive. One of the books calls it 'the vine that ate the south'.”
“I never knew we had to worry about being invaded by plants,” said the Governor.
“Well, we do. According to what I read, it's an exotic brought from some other continent, probably Asia. It can grow dozens of feet long.” She turned and chopped another segment, and bent to retrieve it. “Unlike many plants, kudzu's leaves have the ability to fix nitrogen from the air, so it can grow in poor soils. And it loves to climb.”
Tonespace: The Space of Energy (The Metaspace Chronicles Book 3) Page 20