The Octagonal Raven

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  Then I went back to structuring the third search. One of my side searches showed that there was no name Mujaz-Kitab, or any translated or transliterated variations, but that Mujaz and Kitab were both transliterated versions of ancient Arabic and both were key words in the titles of tomes by an ancient Arab physician, a man whose names took up two entire lines. All that elaboration of a subterfuge bothered me, but I didn’t know why.

  The sun had vanished behind the growing October clouds by the time I stepped out of the last VR hallway, and slowly stood and stretched in my study. Father had been correct. There was certainly nothing definite in the UniComm net, nor in those parts of the pubNet, or the OneCys net to which I had access.

  And all I had was a listing of two thousand women whose first or second names were Elysa and those who might have the capability to create an Elysa or the massive histamine-producing nanos-pray used on me. And those institutions or multilaterals with the possible resources to fund and support such an effort. There were eight multis and three foundations, and three private individuals, one of whom was, not surprisingly, Father. There were nine scientific/medical types with the theoretical background to tackle what I’d specified. There well might be more, given the pre-select tendency to avoid reporting all but the absolutely required.

  I closed my eyes, thinking.

  Father was worried. He wouldn’t have had all the keys waiting. He also had as much as told me that whoever was after me wasn’t, at least to his knowledge, within UniComm, or even known to UniComm. And if he and his staff didn’t know …

  Then … there was Myrto. His reactions had been predictable, and while it was far from sure, I’d gotten the impression that nothing had happened to anyone else on his team. He needed a good methodizer, but I wasn’t irreplaceable. Myrto could find another methodizer, nearly as good, perhaps better.

  So … it seemed unlikely that my work with OneCys was the cause of Elysa’s appearance … not totally definitive, but a good indication. Still … I couldn’t believe that someone had gone to all that effort to stop my edart compositions. There were other composers who were more radical than I, and far more popular.

  I hoped that I hadn’t overlooked something, and worried that my mental faculties weren’t as sharp as I thought they were.

  As I massaged the back of my neck with my left hand, I tried to ignore the burning in my lungs, and to forget that a strikingly beautiful woman had tried to kill me for a reason I couldn’t even guess at.

  * * *

  Chapter 7

  * * *

  … The perceptual integrative ability test [PIAT] was first developed by Fitzgerald Rachlin [JMSEU, V.1, 242 N.E.] and later refined by Dyris and Janes [JMSEU, V.3, 287 N.E.]. The PIAT consists of a series of pseudo-experiences and an artificial dataset and is administered in a controlled state of sensory deprivation through both a degenerating nanospray and a VR tap.

  The test measures the subject’s ability to integrate diverse perceptual inputs, along a belief axis encompassing artificial norms ranging from verifiable historical environments to artificial cultural constructs … care is necessary because in a suggestible state, belief axes can not only be assessed, but inadvertently modified …

  Dyris’s objections to the potentially confrontational nature of the original constructs led to the revisions and refinements of the later versions of the PIAT, embodied in the changes adopted by TanUy, which have been designed to ensure that the constructs embody no overtly aggressive challenges to the underlying belief system of the subject. Use of the refined system requires baseline reality assessment and psychochemical discernment testing.

  … principal advantage of the revised PIAT is its improved accuracy in determining “raw” perceptual integrative ability … the test has limited applicability, however, because its accuracy is directly based on the precision of the baseline testing, and such testing is an exhaustive and lengthy process, even in the best of medical facilities …

  Diagnostic Aids

  WideComm, Vancov

  411 N.E.

  * * *

  Chapter 8

  Raven: Vallura, 458 N.E.

  * * *

  After three days of work, I’d finally finished the review and comp analysis for Myrto and sent it off. I needed to get to Klevyl’s engineering assignment, since the specs had arrived while I was in the middle of finishing the analysis for Myrto, but I was taking a brief break because I couldn’t face another grind-it-out methodizer project immediately. I wasn’t sure how I ended up with such a range of assignments, except that I’d made a practice of taking anything I thought I could do.

  I was staring out the window, sipping verdyn, enjoying green cinnamint tang, forcing myself to take a dose of InstaNews — the OneCys immediate reporting net. The holo image before me was that of a fuzzy off-white toroidal octagon set in against vaguely familiar stars.

  … the high commissioner for Interstellar Transport announced early this morning in Geneva that a second forerunner Gate has been discovered … near Gamma Recluci … apparently identical to the first discovered more than twenty years ago …

  I nodded. That was bound to happen. The image shifted to a reddish building set before verdant trees, trees I didn’t recognize.

  … students at the academy level schools in Ankorplex and in Kievplex have filed petitions with the secretary director of the Federal Union … claiming that the proposal to use perceptual integrative ability tests — the so-called PIAT — effectively grants an advantage to students who have undergone genetic preselection … petitions also state that the use of the PIAT smooths the orbit for other subjective criteria …

  That was no surprise. Students who had greater perceptual integrating abilities had an advantage, but it didn’t matter how they got the advantage. Some norms scored high on the PIAT. The image flicked again.

  … delegate Diem offered the Union council a proposal to increase the distance penalty on privately owned gliders … claiming that the present tax-charge and ownership requirements are merely designed to prohibit private use of gliders for all but the wealthiest. “The charges mean nothing to the wealthy. Do you see them on the induction tubes?”

  With a headshake, I broke the news link and let the holo images fade. The charges certainly weren’t “nothing” to me. Probably twenty percent of what I made went to fees for the glider, and I did my own maintenance, and was careful when I used it.

  I didn’t even finish the thought because the commplate lit, and the gatekeeper informed me that I had a message. Myrto was the one I half-expected, but the image that appeared in mid-air, cutting off the sweep of the sun-splashed red stone of the East Mountains, was that of a smiling Kharl, wearing a dark gray singlesuit.

  “I know you’ve got a lot of work to catch up on. So I’m just sending this to you so that you can see and hear it when you can. It might even give you another idea for an edart composition. And no, I still haven’t heard from Elysa. I don’t expect either of us will. When you have a minute, let me know, and I’ll fill you in on what I know about what caused your reaction.” With those words, Kharl’s image vanished.

  The databloc he’d sent was a VR — of the Warsha Symphony concert that Elysa had been so successful in keeping me from attending.

  I needed a break from the routine of heavy-duty methodizing, anyway. So I blocked any incoming inquiries with direct routing to gatekeeper storage, pulled on the headset once more, let myself drop into the VR concert hall, a VR re-creation of the large hall in Vallura, and began to listen.

  I hadn’t intended to listen all the way through. After all, I’d heard the Uphyrd before. But I found myself listening first to Gate of Conquest, and then to the re-creation of The Planets. When the VR ended, I just sat behind my flat desk for several minutes, looking blankly in the direction of the window, but I didn’t really see the valley below. Even though it had been a VR, and not a live concert with all the overtones and electricity created by a real orchestra, one thing was brilliantly c
lear — Uphyrd was an amateur compared to Holst.

  I’d never heard of Holst until Kharl brought his name to mind, and despite the directness and the brass — I’d always preferred strings over brass — I had no doubts about my reaction. The ancient work left Uphyrd’s Gate of Conquest looking pallid by comparison.

  That brought up another question. Why would that be so? Without an easy answer, I began to think, and one thought led to another until I had the rough outline of another edart piece. Once I had the outline in mind, I began to speak and to throw in ideas and rough visuals to accompany my words.

  Over the past month, all across Noram, the Warsha Symphony has been presenting two symphonies — one almost one thousand years old, and one less than two hundred …

  … You might think that modern is better — I did before I heard the older work, and most of us would. But is it?

  I searched for the clip of the “Mars” section, then fed it in after my next words.

  This is Holst, his music describing Mars.…

  The screen filled with a rough and reddish pink image of Mars.

  And here is Uphyrd … with his departure from the inner system.…

  After a moment, I keyed in Uphyrd, banal after the Holst, but I let it run a good minute, too long by VR standards, but I could get away with it once.

  Let us hear Holst on Jupiter.…

  I used a stock net image of the gas giant. I could refine or replace the images later.

  And now Uphyrd …

  Then I followed with the “Finding the Gate” section of Conquest … and a clip of a SysCon Gate — the supra-ecliptic one, I suspected, from the stellar background.

  We could follow a dozen passages from each composition, but the comparative effect would be similar.…

  … Conquest is simple … just like the idea expressed by the word. And so are the melodies.

  I stripped the Uphyrd down to eight simple notes, repeating twice.

  … You can hear how much more Holst expresses in The Planets.…

  It’s not that I am a lover of antique music, or an antiquarian. In fact, Conquest was always one of my favorites … until I heard The Planets.…

  Then I let the concluding section of Holst’s work run, accompanied by an image of the solar system spinning against the spangled darkness of space. When the music ended, I left the solar system spinning silently for a long moment.

  So … from this edart composer … the thought for the day is that modern may not always be better … in fact, modern may not even sound as modern as something written long ago. Modern may not be as advanced as the ancient. Remember, we still don’t know how the forerunner Gates operate … and they were built a long time before we even broke the orbit of our own home planet.…

  The piece needed work, a lot of work, and I’d need to figure out the exact net-royalties I’d owe for using the clips, but I liked the idea. I’d let it sit for a day or so, then go back and check it over before it went up on the UniComm net.

  During the time I’d roughed out the edart piece, nothing new had showed up from either Myrto or from Klevyl. So I pulsed an inquiry across the net to Kharl.

  Surprisingly, he was in and appeared, if wearing an off-green sin-glesuit that was either for lab work or for some other medical effort. He stood before a set of French windows that framed a northern section of the East Mountains. “You caught up on all your work?”

  “Not really, but I wanted to thank you again. I’ve got a little time before I get the input I need from the clients, and I did want to know what you’ve been able to find out.”

  “Not very much. There were some strange nanites in your system … or maybe they were pathogens — the structural differences are getting smaller.”

  “Could it be a version of the pre-select plague? You’d suggested an allergenic off-shoot, but what about some form of the plague itself?”

  “Someone might have used those pathogens as a base, but the symptoms were even more rapid, too rapid in my screen, and they didn’t have any defense against what I dumped into your bloodstream. Pre-select plague strains probably would have shown some defensive reaction.”

  “What did you use?”

  “SADs.” Kharl’s voice was matter-of-fact.

  “Search and Destroy nanites?”

  “I figured I could rebuild your augmentation later — and I did — but SADs were the quickest solution. From your systemic reaction, if I hadn’t …” He shrugged. “Well … we wouldn’t be discussing it.”

  “So … there were invader nanites?”

  Kharl looked embarrassed. “That’s my best guess now. At the time, I was just trying to keep you alive, and treating symptoms as much as anything. Your symptoms were violently reactive — just like an acute allergenic reaction.”

  “You’re telling me that they were strange. How strange?”

  “They don’t have any antibody defenses. None at all.”

  “Then why did they almost kill me?”

  “They’re programmed to act against augnites — and only against augnites. And they release a lot of heat in the process.”

  “You mean, if I were a norm …”

  “You wouldn’t have felt a thing. You probably would have been a carrier for some other unsuspecting pre-select.”

  “Elysa didn’t act like a norm.”

  “I don’t think she was. She might not even have been the carrier.”

  I pursed my lips. “I don’t like that.” Whether she’d used a spray or just been there, it meant that she’d been immunized by someone or something, and that someone had definitely gone after me.

  “Neither do I.” Kharl wasn’t smiling.

  I nodded slowly. “Is there anything else?”

  “I’m still working on some angles. I’ll let you know if I find out anything. You probably ought to stop by the medcenter tomorrow for a screen … and a system boost.”

  “Any more thoughts on Elysa?”

  He shook his head, not as convincingly as I would have liked to see.

  “Did you monitor the gathering? Is there a VR reproduction that shows her?”

  “I’ve looked at it. There’s nothing there that I haven’t tried to track. I’ll send you a copy. You can see for yourself.”

  “I’d appreciate it.”

  “You’ll have it.” He paused, then added, “I need to go. I’ll see you tomorrow, at the medcenter.”

  “I’ll be there.” It wasn’t as though I had a real choice. Not with Elysa and her friends still lurking somewhere out beyond Vallura.

  But she had been charming. I wondered if the VR would show that as well.

  * * *

  Chapter 9

  Fledgling: Yunvil, 416 N.E.

  * * *

  I took a long hot shower in the fresher, the kind that made Father frown. Then I dressed for dinner, in a dark blue semiformal single-suit with a cream half-jacket, the one both Amelya and Ertis had liked. I kept thinking about the comments made by the youngsters at the tennis Club, except they had really been our age, even if Gerrat and I were nearly a third of a meter taller.

  I left my room and started down from the third level, almost catching Gerrat at the bottom of that flight.

  “Still worried about losing?” Gerrat wore a dark green singlesuit, with a pale green jacket. Somehow it went with his white-blond hair. He could wear anything, do anything, say anything, with elan. There were times, especially around the girls, that I wished I had half that much flair and charm. But then, Gerrat would never know how anything really worked.

  We were standing in the upper hallway. That was right by the Meraal sculpture of a young woman star-surfing star clusters in the block of darkness that rose from the pedestal. Father had already declared that the sculpture would someday go in the UniComm Art Museum.

  That was fine with me. I had my eye on the more traditional Hui-Lui painting in the salon, the one of a dark-haired woman standing by an open sunlit gate.

  “That match is done. I’ll
get you the next time,” I answered. “And if you want to think about taking a real beating, just wait till the next time we go to the islands. I’ll make you swim all the way to the point — in rough water.”

  “It’s not about the tennis.” Gerrat shook his head. “You still have that thoughtful look.”

  He was right, as usual. He could read people, but he was always analyzing things when he should have been acting. “Do you think pre-selecting genes is that good an idea? What if we select wrong?” I mused.

  “You’ve been listening to Mertyn again.”

  To Gerrat, now that he was working at UniComm, old Master Rosenn was Mertyn. Sometimes, Gerrat acted like Father. I ignored the superior mannerisms. “What if I have? It’s still a good question.”

  “If we select wrong, then that selection doesn’t get to the next generation. We all see to that. All we’re doing is speeding up evolution,” answered Gerrat. “We know the parameters. That’s why we don’t have three meter giants or dwarves … or huge brain-cases.” He stopped short of the archway to the family dining room, since the room was empty.

  We stood, waiting for our parents.

  “Why us?”

  Gerrat laughed in his irritating, older-brother way. “Because we value pre-selection and because we can afford to pay for it and for augmentation.” He gave me that too-perfect smile. “You don’t like being considered a modern god? That’s a compliment. They just wished they could be that good.”

  “They can’t. They never will be,” I pointed out.

  “Look … younger brother … they’ve got baseline nanitic protection that ancient emperors would have killed for. They can invest in their own children’s selection. And if we stopped genetic upgrading this moment, and returned to totally natural breeding, nothing would really change that much, except that the rate of human evolution would slow down. Elites have existed in every human society, and always will. Our elites are based on ability, not on inherited position.” He laughed again. “And if we do inherit, we have to have the ability to keep it.” I couldn’t deny that. No one could.