The Elysium Commission

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  Unlike Odilia, the Tozzis had no guardhouse at the gates to their palacio, only a virtie guard—and ornate permasteel grillwork that could have stopped the largest ground combat vehicle ever used. My implants also registered some rather large energy concentrations. The rotunda was neomodem, with smooth limestone columns. The capitals and bases were hexagonal and unadorned.

  I'd arrived a quarter hour early, and I was met by a real doorman in a navy blue uniform at least a millennium old in style, with silver piping on his sleeves and trousers.

  "Seignior Donne?"

  I nodded.

  "Katrinka will escort you. She's waiting inside."

  "Thank you." I stepped through a stone archway that could have accommodated a shire stallion bearing an an­tique knight. Twin golden oak doors opened, and I was in a modest circular entry hall. Modest for Seigniora Tozzi. It was a good fifteen meters across and rose that much into a vaulted dome of amber intelligent glass that cascaded warm sunlight down upon me and the mosaic tile floor.

  With the name Katrinka, I'd pictured a tall muscular blonde. The reality was a tiny black woman with deep-set brown eyes and short silver hair, fashion-silvered, not age-silvered. "This way, Seignior Donne. Principessa Tozzi will receive you in her private study."

  The private study was just that, surprisingly, a space no more than six meters square, with bookshelves on two walls, a sitting area around a low table, and a table desk with a single comfortable chair in one corner. The carpet was a Sacrestan, patterned in deep blue and gold geometries that made the one I'd given Krij seem exceedingly inexpen­sive.

  Seldara Tozzi stood in front of the table desk. She wore a simple dress, but the material was anything but simple, cast­ing not light but shadows from the fiber lines in it. Her scarf was silver, and she wore no jewelry.

  "I thought you might appreciate the shadow-dress."

  "As always, you are most elegantly tasteful." I inclined my head.

  "Luncheon will be served shortly, Seignior Donne. How do you plan to proceed? I must inform you that I detest sur­prises."

  "So do I, Principessa. So do I. That's why I'd like to ask you a question or two before we join your great-granddaughter and her fiance"." I managed a smile. "First, do you object to

  Dr. Dyorr as an individual or more to the possibility that he might be using Marie Annette?"

  "He's well regarded, extremely talented, and pleasant. I have no objections to that aspect of matters."

  "Do you object to a marriage that is, shall we say, as much a partnership as a marriage, provided there is an heir who is well loved and cared for?"

  "Are you telling me that he is a samer, Seignior?"

  "No. In fact, after seeing him and following him and talk­ing with a number of individuals, I'm quite convinced that he has never had a lover, much less kept one on the side."

  "Then why didn't you just say so?" Her question was not quite snapped at me.

  "Because I feel there's more at stake here, Principessa. I am going to ask that you merely begin the discussion about his work. I will ask some questions. I ask that you not show any anger or emotion until after luncheon, when we will meet briefly again." Before she could say anything else, I added, "I've already resolved the question for which you engaged me, but that isn't the question at hand. After our meeting, if you believe I have acted against your interests, I will return all fees and expenses."

  That gave her pause. Then she laughed. "When a man bets his own money to prove his devotion to his client, I suppose I should at least reserve judgment."

  "That's all I'm asking." For the moment. I hoped I'd read the principessa right. I could have just offered a report af­firming what I'd just said, but that wouldn't have been right.

  "Then we might as well join Marie Annette and the doc­tor in the family dining room."

  I forbore to mention that they were both doctors and walked beside her down a smaller interior hallway floored with a golden creamy polished stone.

  In the center of the family dining room was a single cherry table capable of seating twelve people. One end was set for four, with Caveline silver and Iskling crystal. The china I didn't recognize, except that it could have graced any human table in the universe. Shimmering white, with a thin black rim and a silver line in the middle of the black. Standing between the table and the sideboard were the doctors.

  "I believe you have met Seigniore Donne, Marie Annette," offered Seldara. "Dr. Guillaume Richard Dyorr, Seignior Blaine Donne."

  "After reading your report, I'm most pleased to meet you," offered Guillaume Richard.

  "After hearing your presentation," I replied, "it's good to see you in a less ... official setting."

  "Shall we?" suggested the principessa.

  Like the perfect gendeman he was, Guillaume Richard seated Seldara.

  I made the effort with Marie Annette. She hesitated, as if almost to refuse, but then accepted the antique courtesy.

  A servingman appeared instantly, and filled both water glasses and wine goblets. Clearly, the principessa had de­cided the wine and the meal. Then came a simple salad of mixed greens—nothing special except that every leaf in the salad was perfect and without blemish.

  Seldara raised her goblet. 'To a useful and productive luncheon."

  We all sipped. The wine was a primitiva grigio, I thought, and not bad, although it wouldn't have been my choice.

  "I thought that Seigniore Donne offered a most insight­ful report on your work, Dr. Dyorr." That was how the principessa began. "It struck me that his expertise might prove helpful in assuring that you receive the funding nec­essary for your work. That was one of the reasons for my inviting all of you here."

  "And what might be some of the other reasons?" in­quired Marie Annette. "You always have those ..."

  "I'm sure you'll let me reveal those in due time," replied the principessa. "You've always said that I've done things in my own sweet time." A knowing and cruel smile crossed Seigniora Tozzi's lips. "Not that you've ever said that di­rectly to my face."

  I could tell matters could get nastier, indirectly, and that was something no one needed. So I spoke up. "At a gather­ing of distinguished individuals as distinguished as this, there will always be secrets and reasons. I respect all those, but the point of this gathering is to present a strategy to as­sure a wider and deeper funding base for Dr. Dyorr's con­sciousness research."

  "You have such a strategy?" Marie Annette's tone was dubious, to say the least.

  "Actually, I do. As you all know, I attended the presenta­tion to the Humanitas Foundation. You all know how I found the presentation. But, in reflecting over it later, I realized that it lacked one basic element. Not in the research or in the fac­tual accuracy," I added. "Not from what I could tell."

  Both Marie Annette and Guillaume Richard frowned.

  I let them do so while I had a bite of the salad. Several bites, in fact, before I spoke again.

  "I'm going to approach this in a roundabout way. Please bear with me." I turned to Marie Annette. "What do you think of the Masculist Forum?"

  "What does this—"

  "Please," I said soothingly. "I'm not judging. I just want your opinion."

  She squared her shoulders. "I think that they make troglodytes look tolerant."

  "So do you disagree with their position on genetic ma­nipulation of the sex and gender tendencies of an unborn child or with the way in which they express that view?"

  "Both."

  "As a doctor, you look at the medical and societal im­pacts of such a technology, as well as the personal impacts, and you find their arbitrary and inflexible position less than tolerable?" I had another sip of the primitiva grigio.

  "Exactly."

  "So ... if you were faced with a couple whose genetic makeup would most likely result in a child with either cross-gendered or other sexual confusions, your view would be to take steps to preclude such confusion before the child was even born."

  "Absolutely! Most ethical
physicians would." >r "Would it make a difference if the child were your child? Or the child of a relative?"

  "Not at all." Marie Annette's voice was firm.

  Guillaume Richard glanced from her to me, then said, with a touch of acidity, "Would it be possible to be a bit less roundabout?" His hand moved to touch Marie Annette's forearm. He squeezed it gently but did not release it.

  I nodded. "I'll get there. I promise." I turned direcdy to Marie Annette. "Yet a large number of people on Devanta are passionately—and I use that word advisedly—supportive of the Masculist Forum. They clearly would rather have a child be confused, unhappy, and unsure of his or her gender and sexual identity than meddle, as they put it, with the unborn child. Why do you suppose that so many people support a po­sition that is certainly not in the child's interest and is against what you would call good medical practice?"

  The two doctors exchanged glances.

  "Prejudice," suggested Guillaume Richard. His hand re­mained protectively on Marie Annette's.

  "Ignorance."

  "What fires that prejudice or ignorance?" I asked, quickly answering the question. "Emotion ... passion if you will." I paused for just a moment. "You are both trained to look at matters logically. Dr. Dyorr presented an extraordinarily logical argument for supporting his research on conscious­ness. But... the one thing it lacked was a visceral emo­tional appeal."

  "And you have such an appeal?" Marie Annette's voice remained critical.

  "I have thought of several, but that raised another ques­tion. Why didn't the PR and media linksters at the Institute at least provide that sort of input?" I turned to Marie An­nette. "I saw Daryla Rettek there at the briefing. I under­stand you know her, and she certainly knows of your relationship to Dr. Dyorr, and yet I would bet that she never raised the question of the need for an emotional appeal rather than just an intellectual one."

  Marie Annette froze momentarily, just momentarily, at the mention of Rettek. Seldara Tozzi caught it as well, and I thought that would be enough. I'd still have to be careful, though.

  "The problem is that, no matter what we think logically and superficially, emotion lies behind all decisions." I smiled. "It can support or binder, inspire or inflame, but what one can never do is ignore its impact. People who have been close, often exceedingly close, can often deny their support or just refuse to offer their best judgment when their emo­tions are involved." Then I turned to Dyorr. "Even for those whose achievements and work are considered inspired and fueled by purely intellectual considerations, for whom mere physical pleasures are secondary, there is an emotional fire behind that intellect, wouldn't you say?"

  Guillaume Richard smiled, faintiy, but not coldly. "I would have to agree, and I apologize for my earlier com­ment You do, indeed, know where you are going."

  That meant the good doctor Dyorr also knew, and that might make matters easier.

  Seldara Tozzi nodded, almost imperceptibly.

  At that moment, the server appeared and removed the salads, replacing each plate with a larger one holding pasta prima regia, flanked by pears royeaux.

  "I suggest we enjoy the meal for a moment" After saying that, I followed my own advice.

  "I wish some in my profession would follow your exam­ple," offered Guillaume Richard, with a laugh.

  "There are those like that in any field." Seeing him one-on-one, I couldn't help liking him, and I was getting the impression that he did care for Marie Annette.

  I let everyone almost finish their entrees before I returned to the ostensible subject at hand.

  "The key to getting greater support for your research, Dr. Dyorr, is linking the logical presentation of medical facts and potential gains to a deep human passion." I lifted the hard-copy bound report I had brought. "I have suggested several possibilities in this short report. One is the point that understanding consciousness will allow full restoration and maintenance of the minds of people who have suffered injuries, illnesses, or degeneration. We can look forward to remaining valued and contributing members of society so long as our bodies last. That would certainly provoke some kind of passion. Another emotional hook is die possibility of improving how we think." I laughed. "Of course, that would really upset people like the Masculists or the True Traditional Women. But then, the lower virtues are those most esteemed by the commons, and the lowest of those is blind reverence for rationalized prejudice."

  "How would you go about implementing this strategy?" asked Marie Annette,

  "Much in the same way as Dr. Dyorr already has, with the addition of the emotional keys I've laid out and the tar­geting of potential philanthropists whose emotional profiles are susceptible to such appeals." I smiled. "After you've read it and considered it, I'd be happy to answer any ques­tions, but I doubt you'll need much in the way of further consulting. Now that I've pointed out the obvious, you both are doubtiess quite able to manage matters from here on in." That was true on two levels.

  Later, after tea and cafe, and after the doctors had de­parted, Seldara and I walked back to her private study.

  Once the door was closed, she turned to me. She actually smiled.

  "Marie Annette... I never would have guessed."

  "You suspected," I pointed out "That's why you came up with the samer idea for him."

  "He's... what would you call him?"

  "The slang term is straight-neuter."

  She nodded slowly. "You're very effective, Seignior Donne. You wanted me to find out in a situation where I couldn't react immediately, didn't you?"

  "I did. It's clear Marie Annette respects you, and she does want her own child. She wouldn't have proposed to Dr. Dyorr if she didn't. She had to have been the one who did."

  "It turns everything around, doesn't it?"

  "It does." After a moment, I added, "It's likely you'll have an heir or heiress, and he or she will be brilliant."

  "You could be very dangerous," she said. "Not everyone wants or will accept what may be best for them."

  "That's true," I admitted, "but that's also part of what I have to look for. Sometimes, I just have to provide what people ask for, knowing that it isn't what they really want or need."

  She understood. She nodded.

  As I rode back to my villa, the one I felt the most sympa­thy for was Dyorr.

  36

  A thought unexpressed is the beginning of a tale never to be told.

  The rest of Domen, as well as Senen morning, were spent researching Legaar Eloi—indirectly, and after I recovered from the surprise of finding that Seldara Tozzi had transferred ten thousand credits to my account. She'd also sent a text message of exactly one line.

  Even shadow knights must pay for their armor.

  Her reaction was another reason why I'd found it unwise to "concentrate" on a single case. Sometimes, those that seemed minor were anything but that to those concerned. And sometimes, if infrequentiy, they paid better than the "important" cases.

  Eventually—a half stan or so of marveling later—I got back to going through each and every outfit with which Eloi Enterprises had technology-sharing arrangements. All of them were in high-technology applications. Not military. At least, not directiy. The reports on several suggested that they had some unique equipment. I bet it had military appli­cations.

  I certainly couldn't have been the only one looking into the matter. Clearly, the charter amendment being fought by EsClox was merely the tail of the comet. And if Eloi's silent partners were the Frankans, that and the technology-sharing agreements suggested he was using Classic Research as a front for repackaging technology and conveying it to them. I should have drawn that conclusion earlier, but who would have expected a sordid entertainment corpentity to have been funneling off high-level technology to rival systems?

  On Senen afternoon, I girded myself up and did some re­search on Anshoots and Reed. The information was wide­spread and thin. Basically, A&R appeared to be just what Skip Barca had said—a design house that supplied graphics for any form o
f media from old-fashioned print to full-depth entertainment holo. They catered primarily to the fundie market and to media directors at smaller enterprises with fundie connections. They were located northeast of the Heights in a smaller commercial district that bordered the west end of the River Crescent. It wouldn't be hard to get there on Lunen.

  Twenty years before, Fillype Anshoots had just been an­other freelance designer, trying to supply a range of graphics and design products cheaper than die next designer. He'd linked up with Rafel Reed. Reed had been a youth mission­ary for some obscure sect—one of the Saint offshoots. An­shoots and Reed discovered that they were indeed religious men who wanted to market to other like-minded small cor-pentities. It did seem more than slightly coincidental that they had both joined the largest fundie congregation in Thurene. Before long, A&R was the designated supplier to the Congregation of Infinite Mercy. Who was I to argue with success? Both were straights—how could they be other­wise? Still, to their credit, in more ways than one, each had married once and remained married to that woman. Besides a myriad of other seemingly irrelevant supporting details, there was little else on either Anshoots or Reed.

  After that, I went to the Civic Codex and did a quick study on section three, and particularly subsection gamma. I was winding up that on Senen evening, and deciding exactly what to say to Fillype Anshoots, when Max an­nounced, Incoming from Siendra.

  Accept.

  Siendra was sitting behind a narrow table desk. It wasn't a virtie simulacrum. She had circles under her eyes. For the first time since I'd been introduced to her, she wasn't wear­ing anything green or cream or earth-toned. She wore a dark gray singlesuit, just loose enough not to be form-fitting. "Blaine, I'm sorry to have been so late in getting back to you. I was tied up until just a while ago. I'm glad that we could help a litde."