Entoverse g-4

by James P. Hogan

  “Go on,” Gina said, not willing to commit herself just yet.

  Sandy put down her fork and gestured briefly, then brushed her hair aside. Whatever recollections she was bringing to mind seemed to be troubling her. “But it goes a lot farther than just creating things that you tell it to. It can go right into your head and pull out things you didn’t even know were there-things about yourself that you didn’t know existed. Or maybe if you did, you buried them down deep somewhere because life has enough problems that you can do something about, without wasting time hassling yourself over things you’re not gonna change anyhow. But can you imagine what it’s like to find them staring you in the face?”

  Gina held her eye and nodded slowly. “Yes, I know,” she confessed finally. “I fooled around with it, too. I know what you’re talking about.”

  “You did?”

  “Yes.”

  “And how did it…” Sandy left the question hanging and showed an empty hand.

  “Terrifying,” Gina said. “I haven’t gone near it again, either.”

  Sandy nodded. It was woman-to-woman now. They understood each other without need of secrets. She looked at Gina and pulled her zip-up sweater tighter around herself. “Want to know something? I can kill people.” Despite herself, Gina couldn’t prevent a startled look from crossing her face. Sandy nodded as if seeing Gina’s reaction provided a source of relief. “That’s something I found out. Want to know something else? I get a kick out of it. How’s that for finding that what you thought you were all your life isn’t you?”

  Gina saw that Sandy had paled and was trembling. She leaned forward to lay a reassuring hand on her arm. “Don’t worry. Everyone has something. Look, if it’s any-”

  Sandy pulled her arm away defensively. “It’s a psychic fucking Freud with a one-million IQ, for chrissakes. Maybe Thuriens don’t have things they’d rather not know, or maybe they can deal with them-I don’t know. But…” Her voice trailed off. She looked up at Gina and sighed. “I’m sorry. I guess I was looking for someone to dump on.”

  “That’s okay.”

  Sandy took a long swig of real Coke from a batch that had been ordered from Earth by PAC’s Terran contingent and arrived with the Vishnu. “Yet we were only out there a couple of days.” She set the can down and made a sweeping motion with her arm. “But outside there’s a whole planet that’s been junked on something like that for as long as anyone can remember. And everyone’s asking what drove them crazy? Are they kidding? It’s pretty clear to me what drove them crazy.”

  Gina regarded her long and hard. Why she hadn’t said anything herself, when she had reached the same conclusion even before they left the ship, she didn’t know. Now that she had heard it from Sandy, it all seemed so obvious.

  “Finish your squid shit,” she said.

  Sandy pushed the plate away. “I’ll puke. Why?”

  “Because I think you’re right. It’s time we told the others. Probably we should have said something a long time ago.”

  They found Danchekker perched on a stool in the main lab, pondering some curves expressing the variation in programming complexity exhibited by sample populations of anquilocs-the peculiar Jevlenese flying animal that could inherit learned behavioral modifications. Apparently the anquiloc was just one of a family of related creatures with such abilities.

  “Have you heard people argue that machine intelligence is superior to our kind because it builds up its knowledge base cumulatively?” he asked as they entered. Evidently he had been preoccupied in a line of thought and was bouncing it off the first targets to appear. “They see it as a crippling disadvantage that we have to spend a quarter of our lives learning the same basics over and over with each generation, after which we use little, add less, and take most of it with us when we go.” The professor waved at the solid image of an anquiloc hanging in a flying posture above a bench top to one side. “But can you imagine what the consequences of an advanced development from that animal would be? One of the things about ourselves that we should be thankful for is that conditioning isn’t inheritable. After all the effort that was expended on turning virtually an entire generation into Nazi fanatics, their children were born as untainted by it as Eskimos. But think how much more insufferable fanatics would be if the process of indoctrination created its own gene. What would our friend Baumer give for a tool like that?” He turned fully on the stool and saw that Gina and Sandy were waiting to say something. “Anyway, ladies, what can I do for you?”

  “I think we may have an answer to the question of what messed up the Jevlenese,” Gina said, coming straight to the point.

  “We already have an answer,” Danchekker replied airily. “They’ve been stifled by millennia of well-intentioned overindulgence by the Thuriens, who made the mistake of thinking that humans are put together in the same way as themselves.”

  “So you still don’t think it was JEVEX?”

  Danchekker was in an expansive mood and not minded to give anyone a hard time. “Well, in a way I suppose you could say it was,” he conceded. “Although JEVEX was merely the instrument of the cause, not the cause itself, you understand. It provided all their needs, did all their thinking, took away their problems. But the Jevlenese, like any human, is a problem-solving animal. Take away his problems and he’ll promptly invent more; otherwise he’ll languish or resent you for denying him his nature. And that is precisely what we’re seeing the symptoms of. Time and patience are the only answers now, I’m afraid.”

  “We don’t think so,” Sandy told him. “We think it could be something specifically to do with the way JEVEX operated.”

  Danchekker extended his lanky frame over the back of the stool and looked mildly amused. “Oh, really? That’s most interesting. Do tell me why.”

  “JEVEX is pretty much the same as VISAR, yes?” Gina began.

  “Well, the Jevlenese system was programmed with different procedural rules and operating parameters.”

  “I mean in terms of basic technology and capabilities.”

  “Very well, yes.”

  Gina pulled up another stool and slid onto it. Sandy remained standing by the bench. “Then let me ask you something, Professor,” Gina said. “How much have you used VISAR yourself?”

  “Probably as much as anybody,” Danchekker replied. “I was one of the party that met the first Thurien craft to come to Earth, and nowadays I use it routinely in the course of my work.”

  “Yes, but what do you use it for?” Gina persisted. “Describe the operations that it performs.”

  Danchekker shrugged in a way that said he couldn’t see the point but would go along with it. “To access Thurien records and data; to confer with Thuriens, and also other Terrans who happen to be at locations connected into the system; and to ‘visit’ locations throughout the Thunen domain, for business reasons, social reasons, or out of pure curiosity. Does that answer you?”

  “And never for anything beyond that?” Gina asked.

  Danchekker started showing the first hint of irritation at being cross-examined. “Beyond that? What do you mean? What else is it supposed to do?”

  Gina sat forward, raising a hand momentarily as if mentally rehearsing herself to get this right. “Professor… with all due respect, could I suggest that your impression has been restricted by a professional attitude that sees VISAR purely as a technological tool?” She added hastily, “And the same’s true of Vic. You’re both scientists, and you’ve never thought of it as being anything other than a piece of technical equipment. But it’s far more than that. It’s a self-adapting environment in its own right, which interacts directly with the mind. And like any interactive environment, it can shape, as well as be shaped.”

  “Tailored realities, guided by what it dredges up from your subconscious,” Sandy said.

  “VISAR doesn’t read minds,” Danchekker retorted. “That’s something which is excluded quite specifically by the Thurien operating protocols.”

  “It can if you perm
it it,” Gina said.

  Danchekker blinked, then stared at her. “I’d never thought to ask about that,” he admitted. Which made her point. There was no need for anyone to say so.

  “And JEVEX worked by different rules,” Sandy reminded him. “Rules that didn’t embody Thurien notions of privacy and rights.”

  “You’ve experienced this phenomenon, both of you?” Danchekker asked. They confirmed it. “Tell me about what you found,” he said.

  They related what they had discovered and its effects, leaving out unnecessary personal details. Hunt had warned Gina that Danchekker could be cantankerous at times, and she had come prepared for a fight. But instead of scoffing, Danchekker listened closely to what they had to say. When they had finished, he got up from his stool and walked slowly over to the far side of the lab, where he stood looking thoughtfully at a chart of Jevlenese phylogeny.

  After a while Sandy, reassured by his manner, said to his back, “It might not be just us who are finding an alienness in the Thurien mind that we’re having trouble relating to. Maybe having a common biological ancestry isn’t what matters.”

  It was clear that she meant the Shapieron Ganymeans, who were from a culture estimated to have been only a hundred years or so ahead of twenty-first-century Earth’s. They, like Terrans, were from a culture in which people were where they thought they were, objects and places were what they seemed to be, time and space meant what common sense said they did, and i-space had never been heard of. The civilization of Thurien-even allowing for a long period of stagnation that had almost brought about its demise-had evolved far beyond either.

  “Perhaps now we know why Garuth turned for help in the direction he did,” Gina said.

  Danchekker turned to face them. “Most interesting,” he pronounced. “Have you talked to Vic about it?”

  “Not yet. He’s gone out into the city. We came straight here,” Gina said.

  “What’s he doing?”

  “I’m not sure. Trying to get a lead on Baumer, I think.”

  “ZORAC,” Danchekker called.

  But just then, ZORAC announced an incoming call for Gina. The pale, bespectacled features of Hans Baumer appeared on one of the screens. The face broadened into a smile as Gina moved closer.

  “Oh, you’re with company, I see. Is this an inconvenient time?”

  Gina shook her head. “No, go ahead. It’s okay.”

  “About our talk the other day. Look, I’m sorry if I was a bit terse. You caught me at a bad time. Those Jevlenese were being awkward, and things have been piling on top of each other lately. Of course, I’d be happy to show you a little more of Shiban. So, if you’re still interested, when would be a good time for us to get together?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  The place was the same gaudy, impenitent clutter that it had been the first time Hunt was there. “Hi, Vic come back,” Nixie greeted, smiling as she let him in. She was wearing a blue metallic top showing red nipples through a pair of circles cut out for the purpose. “No girl in PAC? Get lonely? We fuck now?”

  Murray killed the movie he had been watching and got up from one of the form-molding chairs. “Hell, I like the initiative, but ease off,” he told her. “He’s only here socializing.” He held out a hand to Hunt. “Wondered when you’d be back. How’s the acclimatization going?”

  “Not bad.”

  Nixie frowned. “What ‘socializing’ mean?” she asked.

  Hunt moved into the room and studied the panel that included the screen Murray had been looking at. “Is that part of the city GP net?” he inquired.

  “Among other things. Why?”

  “Can you activate channel fifty-six on it?”

  “That’s in a data service group. What would I need it for?”

  “I just want to try something.”

  Murray shrugged and said something at the panel in Jevlenese. He looked at Hunt. “What’s supposed to happen?” A Jevlenese translation of his words came from the room speaker.

  Nixie stared in astonishment, then asked Murray something. “How the hell did it do that?” a faithfully intoned synthesis of her voice asked. “What’s that? Can you two understand this? Is that me speaking in English?”

  “Well, I’ll be darned,” Murray said, staring at the panel. “You mean that’s been there all the time?”

  “Amazing what can happen when you bring a scientist into your house, isn’t it?” Hunt said.

  Nixie looked at Murray accusingly. “You mean after all the time I’ve spent working my ass off learning English, we needn’t have bothered? Well, that’s just great. Maybe I should bill you for the time it’s cost me, at my regular hourly rate.”

  Murray held up a hand defensively. “Honest, I didn’t know about it.” He looked at Hunt. “How does it work?”

  “They’ve got it hooked into the Ganymean ship’s computer,” Hunt told him.

  “You mean the Shapieron?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, how about that!” Murray declared.

  “This is terrific!” Nixie exclaimed. “We can talk normally.” She looked at Hunt. “The girls upstairs thought you were nice. They’ve been asking me to get you to come to one of our parties here. They can be a lot of fun.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” Hunt said. “I might just take you up on it, too. But not right away. Things are very busy.”

  Murray sat back down and waved Hunt over to the couch. Nixie perched herself on a hassock.

  “What did you think of Ayultha getting blown away like that in Chinzo?” Murray asked. “Pretty neat stuff, huh? It sounds as if everything’s a mess. SFPD’s what they need to bring in here. Any idea how they did it?”

  “We’re pretty sure it was a phase-conjugating laser,” Hunt said.

  “Yeah… right.” Murray wasn’t going to argue with that.

  “Which would be fairly straightforward to do. A spot from a target-designation pilot beam appeared on his chest a moment before he ignited.”

  “You see, ask a Terran and you get an answer that makes sense, even if I don’t understand it,” Nixie said.

  “Well… I don’t know about all Terrans,” Hunt muttered.

  Nixie looked at him and shook her head. “You wouldn’t believe some of the stuff you hear in this place,” she said. “Some people think it was cosmic energy from another dimension. Then we had focused waves of-what was it, ‘telepsychosynchronicity.’ I mean, what’s it all about? What in hell is telepsychosynchronicity?”

  “Sounds like what used to be called mind power, but at twice the price,” Hunt suggested.

  “I’d rather be getting laid,” Nixie opined.

  “That would make a good bumper sticker,” Hunt said.

  “People should do something about getting this city together instead of sitting around listening to that garbage and waiting for the Ganymeans to do something,” Nixie said. “Murray, why don’t we go to Earth? You said I’d make a fortune there.”

  “Patience. I need to get a little more invisible first.” Murray settled himself back in the chair and stretched out an arm idly to finger the hair at the back of her neck. “Anyhow, if you’re that busy you didn’t come here to shoot any breeze,” he said to Hunt. “What gives?”

  “I’m trying to find out anything I can about one of the Terrans back at PAC,” Hunt said. “It’s in connection with that traffic bridge that collapsed.”

  “The one that pancaked the head of the Keystones, and them other suckers who were driving under?”

  “Right. It may have to do with the Ayultha business, too.”

  “Okay, shoot.”

  “He’s a German by the name of Hans Baumer, been here a little over five months. We’ve got reason to think that he’s got himself mixed up with the shady side of city life here, somehow, and that the people he’s dealing with could tell us something. It occurred to me that it might be the kind of thing you’d know something about.”

  “Why are you interested?” Murray seemed evasive all of
a sudden.

  “It’s starting to look as if Jevlenese plots and power games didn’t all come to an end with the Federation,” Hunt replied. “There’s some kind of scheme afoot that involves another faction, and the trouble that’s brewing is all part of it. Getting rid of Obayin could have been a preparatory move. He was being very cooperative with the Ganymeans.”

  “Shit, I thought you were some kind of scientist. What the hell kind of science is this?”

  “The kind that doesn’t want to see the Ganymeans kicked out of here.” Hunt gestured in the direction of the door. “Look at the mess this planet’s in out there. It should have been flying its own starships long ago. Instead it waits for Thurien handouts. The same forces that held our sciences back for two thousand years are regrouping on Jevlen. That’s what we’re trying to prevent. And it affects you, too, Murray, because once a society becomes repressive, all forms of independence get repressed. And that wouldn’t be good for your line of business at all.”

  “I like what Vic’s saying, Murray,” Nixie said.

  But Murray shook his head. “Sorry, I can’t help. I don’t know anything.” His voice was clipped, and his face wooden. He was lying, Hunt could tell. Hunt could either confront him and risk alienating what could turn out to be a valuable contact with nothing to show; or he could let the matter ride for the moment and leave Murray time to think it over. He sighed inwardly.

  “But you’ll let me know if you do hear anything?”

  “Sure.”

  Nixie stared uncomfortably at the table but said nothing.

  “There was another thing,” Hunt said. “Tell me something about these ayatollahs.”

  Nixie understood whatever ZORAC translated the word into, but Murray looked puzzled. “These what?”

  “The cult leaders-the crazies who are stirring up these mobs, like Ayultha.”

  Nixie supplied Murray a term in Jevlenese, which ZORAC returned as “awakeners.”