by M. D. Hall
‘Yes,’ Gorn answered.
‘Very well,’ the image replied, ‘please make yourself comfortable.’
Gorn could understand the restrictions. His mother, the transcriber, would record a message and, provided no questions were asked, the recording would play uninterrupted. However, when she made her recording, an engram was stored within the galet, containing all her memories, enabling her image to be wholly interactive. Any questions he put to her would then be answered, provided they did not infringe any restrictions she imposed. As soon as he began to interact with the image, the galet’s programming would come into play, adjusting the image to suit the response. Instead of viewing a recording, he would be conversing with a computer generated version of his mother, indistinguishable from the real person.
There were obvious reasons for closing down the interactive element, after the final session. When the technology was first introduced, there were no restrictions, and some grieving relatives continued to talk to holo-images regularly, for years. This caused immense psychological and legal problems, and led to the setting of boundaries that could not be crossed.
He walked over to a chair near to the window, overlooking the now black mountains, silhouetted against the darker, star speckled sky. Removing his boots he settled back in his chair. The image of his mother appeared suspended outside the open window, in front of him. No passerby would see, or hear anything.
He had the sensation, just like at the Office of Formal Closure, that she was looking directly at him. He knew the image was designed to have just that effect, but the impact was still profound. ‘Your life has changed greatly over the last few days, and you’re probably wondering what else is going to come out during our talk,’ the image of his mother broke contact with his eyes for a moment as though remembering something far off. When she looked back at him, she was smiling but there was sadness in her eyes. ‘You know about your father?’
‘Which one?’ he asked.
The eyes of the image brightened. ‘I’ll take that as a yes. I see from your face that you’re wrestling with self doubt and guilt, but I think I can assuage both,’ she paused with the confidence of a woman who knows her audience better than he knows himself. Reason told him it was merely a program, able to decipher images of him passed via the sensors in the room, but still…
‘Knowing that Zaran is your father, it’s inconceivable the two of you haven't talked, in which case you're aware of Bakir’s actions. You think, I was worried he might carry out his threat to frustrate your ambitions, and that fear caused me to act as I did.’
‘It’s the only logical conclusion, given there isn't any other rational explanation,’ he replied.
Cyrar shook her head. ‘If he had divulged the truth of your paternity you would have got over it with little difficulty. Yes, it would have slowed your progress, but your gifts are such that your superiors couldn’t overlook you for long. However, for my purposes, you would have been overlooked at a critical time.’
‘I don’t understand, your purposes…critical time. What are you saying?’
‘Once Bakir threatened me, he set in motion a chain of events he couldn’t possibly comprehend. It wasn’t the risk to your ambitions that prompted me to act, it was the risk to my ambitions for you, and the need to save his life.’
Gorn was silent.
‘You're shocked, but I can assure you, it’s absolutely true. What’s more, I can tell you the future of our entire people is almost certainly dependent on your actions.’
Gorn stood up, head in a daze, and wandered into the sleeping quarters. He just sat on the bed, looking at the floor. From the moment he first heard of his mother’s death, to learning the identity of his true father, and even now, his reactions were not what he expected. Once again, he felt physically weak, unable to control his emotions. This repeated inability to keep his feelings in check was a completely new, and unnerving experience. He was physically strong, and throughout his childhood had taught himself to be emotionally detached, what’s happening to me? He lay back and closed his eyes, breathing deeply. After a short while, the rational part of his mind made itself known, I'm not reacting any differently to anyone else, it’s simply that my defences aren't up to these revelations. Would I want it to be any other way, would I rather be a machine? No!
Opening his eyes, he sat up. None of what she’s said makes any sense, I need to hear more, but his thoughts were interrupted by the image of Cyrar appearing in the middle of the room. Before he could speak, she raised her hand. ‘You need to rest, you're exhausted,’ and with that she was gone.
He shouted after the departed image, ‘I don’t need rest, what I need are answers!’ but his outburst had no effect, except to increase his level of frustration. His mother had opened a doorway to a place he was sure he did not want to visit. He had the unpleasant feeling of being left with no choice other than to step through that opening, into a world of secret ambitions, where people saved the lives of those who sought to destroy them, and where someone like him was tasked with saving the world.
He had slept for more than twenty four of the last thirty six hours, there was no way that he should need more sleep, yet the computer generated version of his mother could interact with the apartment’s console, maybe she was right. Perhaps, he thought, my subconscious can make some headway with all the things I haven’t been told. One thing was clear, even to his confused, conscious mind, he already knew the worst.
He could not have been more wrong.
Ω
Zaran stepped out into the coolness of early morning, his worst fears realised. He had spoken briefly to Jaron, but only to arrange a meeting somewhere private, they could not risk being overheard. Cyrar had told him everything, and he was frightened.
He would have preferred another way, but he needed to precipitate a meeting between Narol and Gorn. Narol would ensure a meeting took place anyway, but if he acted quickly enough he could, at least, control the when and the where.
Yes, he thought, I need to invite Narol to breakfast.
Ω
Gorn formed the thought - I intend to sleep; once you detect my sleep pattern I’m to be left undisturbed for three hours - and the monitor logged the instruction. He decided not to utilise the sleep induction program, if his mother was right, it would be unnecessary; within minutes of lying on the bed, he was asleep. The monitor gently stimulated his brain to a waking state precisely three hours later. Six minutes after waking, he left the cleansing cubicle thoroughly refreshed.
He ate a short meal prepared by the synthesiser - he preferred fresh food, but today he was in a hurry - before sitting down to continue with the recording. Without any intervention on his part, the image of his mother reappeared in the room; he had swivelled the chair away from the window, and the still dark morning beyond.
Cyrar was wearing different clothes, adding to the illusion that she was real. ‘I’m pleased you took my advice, and rested,’ Gorn imagined her imposing a restriction on the program, preventing him from reactivating it within a set time frame, and wondered what she had chosen, probably three hours, he thought.
‘You said you acted to save my father’s…Bakir’s, life and to enable your ambitions for me which involve me being responsible for the future of our race. In case it escaped your attention, I’m twenty one, and a junior officer in the Navy. What you’re saying doesn't make any sense.’
‘They’re both entangled. It would be fair to say that Bakir became an obstacle to the ambition I alluded to. There are some, let’s call them associates of mine, who would have removed that obstacle, permanently. I couldn’t allow that to happen, and by acting as I did, Bakir was effectively neutralised, he was no longer a hindrance.’
Again the feeling of frustration rose up in her son, but before he could press her to explain, she launched off on another tangent. ‘I’ve set in motion a series of events, calculated to achieve something which will benefit our entire race. However, this grand statement ignores the h
arsh realities of what I’ve done in depriving you of your mother. I treated you with less decency than the man you once revered as your father.
‘I’m about to offer you a choice which, knowing you as I do, is no choice at all. You’ll soon be placed in mortal danger, by my actions. Why have I done this? Because of a chance encounter, and an accident of birth. The chance encounter was with someone I expect you’ll soon meet, and the accident of birth was you!’
Chance encounter? She can't mean my father, he thought.
‘You are, because of a remarkable confluence of events, and circumstances, the one person who can determine the future of our race. To achieve that future, however, you'll be exposed to terrible danger, and if you survive, your life will never be the same.’ He was not in the least afraid of what she was telling him. Fear had never been part of his life, but he was still confused, and needed explanations. Perhaps, he thought, I don’t know enough to be afraid.
‘Other than your innate abilities, there are strengths within you that make you ideally suited to the role chosen for you. I know it isn’t in your nature to recoil from a challenge, simply because it’s dangerous. Your wish to join the military wasn’t based on a juvenile fantasy of heroics and adventure, it was a rational choice. The only time I've ever seen you display irrationality was in your need to please Bakir, but that isn't a criticism, my son, quite the contrary.’ He remembered his reactions over the last days, if only you knew how wrong you are.
Yet again, his mother was one step ahead of him. ‘Despite what you might think, your emotional side allows you to go beyond the logical mindset you have developed as a protective coating. You’ll need both sides, if you're to succeed in the challenges ahead. Our time together is limited, and so much of what I want to say has to be left behind. By the time we’ve finished here, if you don’t already think it, you will see me as cold and calculating, but you have no idea how I struggled to find alternatives; how much it pained me to learn the bittersweet truth of what you could mean to our people, at the cost of your own happiness and wellbeing. Had things worked out as they were meant to be, I would be there to guide you.’
He loved his mother, but had always seen her as one-dimensional, she was far removed from that. Clearly, Bakir had not appreciated, probably barely comprehended, the multiple layers to Cyrar, but at least he had the excuse that he had become a stranger to his wife; Gorn had no such excuse. Why, he asked himself, didn’t I see what should have been obvious? His rational mind tried to assure him that there was nothing in his upbringing, that held the key to his multifaceted mother. It was elsewhere, beyond his reach, but he knew the argument was weak, I shouldn’t have missed this.
She broke in on his train of thought. ‘I’m sorry, but we need to move on,’ he nodded, relieved at the interruption. ‘I’m limited in what I can tell you, because my life is no longer an issue. There is another whom I've known for almost as long as your father…’
So, the chance encounter wasn’t with my father. ‘But you’ve known him since you were at school.’
She seemed not to notice the interruption. ‘That person shares my secret and will soon decide whether to seek you out…’ he interrupted her again. ‘What little you’ve told me, so far, has me being dragged into whatever future you have mapped out for me, and now you're saying that your friend might not see me. Something else that doesn’t make sense,’ as an afterthought, he asked: ‘Who is it?’
The image waited a few moments and, when apparently satisfied her son had nothing more to say on the subject, replied. ‘I’m not able to tell you who it is, for the same reason I’m unable to confirm you’ll definitely be approached. If I reveal any facts to you, it could place, not only my contact, but also many others in mortal danger, and that’s a risk only the living can take. Only if you take up the challenge, will the advantage to our people outweigh the lives of all those who will be involved in the enterprise.’
‘What enterprise?’
‘I’m sorry I can’t tell you more…
‘You haven't told me anything, yet!’
‘I understand your irritation. If I gave you even an inkling of what I was involved in, or more importantly what caused it, and you weren’t contacted, your life would be in great danger. For the moment, you’re safe and if you choose to go no further, matters will remain that way,’ once again, his mother seemed to be looking at him, evaluating him. ‘You find it hard to accept that you could be so pivotal to our future?’
‘I'm smart, I’ll grant you that, but saving an entire race, I'm sorry, you're wrong.’
‘It isn't just about your abilities, it’s also about opportunity. Everything has converged in our favour for the first time, in almost three thousand years. We haven’t made a mistake…’
‘Who is we?’
With a rueful smile, she shook her head. ‘All I can say is that, no matter how absurd the suggestion appears to you now, there is only one person who can take advantage of this remarkable chance, you! It’s time for me to leave.’
He was almost lost for words, almost. ‘Wait!’ he exclaimed. ‘This is my personal message, this is everything? I find out that my mother had a secret life and, instead of explaining anything, gives me cryptic messages. I'm twenty-one, can't manage a coherent conversation with a girl, have only one friend, have lost all the family I knew, only to hear that my father wasn’t really my father after all, and your message to me is: go save the world, you're the only one who can do it, bye. Oh, and by the way, if you do it your life will be in danger!’
The image of Cyrar, raised her eyebrows. ‘You’re absolutely right, what I've done to you is appalling. Would I do it again? I’m sorry to say, I would. Even when you learn the truth, I can't expect your forgiveness, it would be asking too much. By acting as I did, I relinquished any chance of that. The best I can hope for, is that you come to understand my motives. You can choose to walk away from the task, if it’s offered to you, and continue your life as normal, but if you accept and go on to succeed, I’ll be content to have traded any fond memories you have of me, for the good you will have achieved.’
In spite of his anger, Gorn found himself softening. ‘I've learned more about you in the last few hours, than in all the time I lived with you. I've even learned that you can sound pompous!’
She smiled. ‘I suppose I can. It’s difficult to keep a sense of proportion, when touching on these matters, thanks for reminding me. I was about to say, when you come through this,’ Gorn noticed a minute emphasis on when, he knew it was really if, ‘there’s a third recording on the galet which contains the memories I would like to share with you. It seemed incongruous to talk about them now, in the light of all I've almost said. All I ask is that you bring your brothers,’ she held up her hand as if to stifle any interruption. ‘No, I hadn’t forgotten them, but to speak to them now, would raise too many questions, dangerous questions. They will hate me for seeming to ignore them, but it’s necessary.
‘Before I go, I need you to know that despite my actions, I have and will always love you, and your brothers.’
The image disappeared, his mother was gone.
Gorn’s head was reeling. What was he being drawn into?
He needed answers, and all he had were questions. Now would be the perfect time to speak to his father. Zaran would have played his galet, perhaps he could fill in the missing spaces.
Ω
Gorn arrived at the villa by nine, to find he had the place to himself, Jaron and Ciarra would have played their galet by now, did they get any surprises, he wondered. Fresh food had been left for him, which he gratefully devoured. Noting another place had been set for his father, he made sure to leave some. Within an hour, Zaran joined him, looking jaded and drawn. What did you learn that could have this effect? Perhaps, I look the same, he thought.
Zaran chose not to eat, and invited his son to sit with him in the garden.
There was silence, charged with expectation and, for some minutes, neither seemed willing t
o be the one to break it. Eventually, it was Gorn who spoke. ‘I’m sorry for storming off from the café, I should have let you tell me the full story.’
His father shook his head and smiled, which had the effect of instantly restoring his vitality. ‘There’s no need for apologies. At your age, hearing something like that, I would probably have leapt at my father, fists flailing.’
Gorn looked carefully at his father. ‘I don't think so. I thought my mother would give me the answers I needed, but I’m not much further forward.’
‘What did she say to you?’
Gorn wondered whether Zaran would be surprised by any of it, perhaps he already knew, it would certainly explain his appearance, he thought.
After relaying everything his mother had said, he sat back and awaited his father’s response. The spark that had kindled in Zaran, just minutes earlier, began to fade and when he replied, it was as though the words were being torn from him. ‘Most of what you’ve told me I knew from your mother’s message to me, I imagine you expected as much.’
His son nodded. ‘What was she involved in?’
‘That, I can’t tell you. If I did, it would place you in danger from more than one source.’
The young man’s patience was wearing thin. ‘You as well. Why am I being kept in the dark, with only glimpses of what’s really happening? Perhaps it would be better if I stepped out of the picture now, so those in the know can get on with things?’