by Vernor Vinge
He bowed to enthusiastic applause. Qiwi slipped in front of him, to stand at the porch railing—and the applause just got louder. The kitten, finally fed up with the noise and the jostling, jumped off Qiwi’s arm and sailed into the air over the crowd. It unfurled soft wings and slowed its upward trajectory, then curved back to circle over its mistress. “Take note,” Qiwi said to the crowd, “Miraow is allowed to fly here. But she has wings!” The cat made a mock dive at her, then flew off into the forest that grew all around the inland side of Nau’s lodge. “Now I invite you to the side of the Podmaster’s house for refreshments.”
Some of the visitors were already there. The rest shuffled round the pathways to trestled tables that bowed subtly downward, as if from the weight of the food that was set upon them. Pham moved along with everyone, loudly greeting anyone who would talk with him. It was important to establish his presence here in as many minds as possible. Meantime, in the back of his eyes, the view from his tiny spies built up the tactical picture of the park and the forest.
Cultures clashed at the food tables, but by now Benny’s parlor had established an etiquette for going after food. In a few moments, most people had their first buckets and bottles full of refreshment, and spread back into the open. Pham walked up behind Benny and slapped him on the back. “Benny! This stuff is good! But I thought you were supplying.”
Benny Wen swallowed, coughing. “Of course it’s good. And of course it’s mine—and Gonle’s.” He nodded at the former quartermaster clerk who was standing beside him. “Actually, Qiwi’s father sprouted some new stuff he found in the libraries. We’ve had it for about half a year now, saving it for this party.”
Pham puffed himself up: “I did my part out-of-doors. Someone had to supervise the added drilling and the melt-water for the Podmaster’s lake.”
Gonle Fong showed her mercenary smile. More than any Qeng Ho—in a way more than Qiwi herself—Fong bought into Tomas Nau’s “cooperative vision.” Gonle had done very well by doing good. “Everybody got something out of this. My farms are openly endorsed by the Podmaster now. And I’ve got real automation.”
“You have something better than a keyboard now?” Pham said slyly.
“You bet. And today, I’m in charge of services.” She lifted her hand dramatically and a food tray floated docilely over to them. It rotated beneath her hand, bobbed politely as she grabbed at spiced seaweed. Then it moved to Benny and then Pham. Pham’s little spies looked at the gadget from all directions. The tray maneuvered on tiny gas jets, almost silently. It was mechanically simple, but it moved with grace and intelligence. Benny noticed too. “It’s controlled by a Focused person?” he said, sounding a little sad.
“Um, yes. The Podmaster thought it worthwhile, considering the event.” Pham watched the other trays. They swept in wide circles, out from the food tables, picking out just the guests who hadn’t been fed. Clever. The slaves were kept diplomatically offstage, and people could pretend what Nau had often declared, that Focus took civilization to a higher level. But Nau is right! Damn him.
Pham said something appropriately truculent to Gonle Fong, words that showed that “old fart Trinli” was truly impressed but determined not to admit it. He walked out from the center of the crowd, apparently intent on food. Hmm. Ritser Brughel was off-Watch just now—another cleverness of Tomas Nau. Many people bought into some part of Nau’s “vision” nowadays, but Ritser Brughel could unnerve even the fully converted. But if Brughel was off-Watch, and if Nau and Reynolt were diverting rote-layer zipheads to manual serving…this was a chance even better than he had thought. So where is Reynolt? The woman could be surprisingly hard to track; sometimes she dropped off Brughel’s direct monitor list for Ksecs at a time. Pham pushed his attention outward. There were millions of the tiny particles scattered throughout the park. The ones stabilizing the lake and running the ventilators were mostly tasked, but that still left immense processing power. No way he could handle all the viewpoints and images. As his mind swept back and forth though the park, he was vaguely aware that he was swaying on his feet. Aha, there! Not a close view, but there inside Nau’s lodge, he had a glimpse of Reynolt’s red hair and pinkish skin. As expected, the woman wasn’t participating in the festivities. She was hunched over an Emergent input pad, her eyes hidden behind stark black huds. She looked the same as ever. Tense, intense, as if on the verge of some deadly insight. And for all I know, she is.
Someone whacked him on the shoulder, as hard as he had struck Benny a few moments earlier. “So Pham, my man, what do you think?”
Pham pushed away the inner visions and looked around at his assailant: Trud Silipan had dressed up for the event. His uniform was like nothing he’d seen except in some Emergent historicals: blue silk, fringed and tasseled, and somehow imitating torn, stained rags. It was the dress of the First Followers, Trud had once told him. Pham let his surprise become exaggerated. “What do I think about what—your uniform or the view?”
“The view, the view! I’m in uniform just because this is such a milestone. You heard the Podmaster’s speech. Go ahead, you take a few more moments. Take in the view of Lake Park, and tell me what you think.”
Behind them, Pham’s inner vision showed Ezr Vinh bearing down on them. Damn. “Well—”
“Yes, what do you think, Armsman Trinli?” Vinh walked around till he stood facing them. He looked straight into Pham’s eyes for an instant. “Of all the Qeng Ho here, you are the oldest, most traveled. Of all of us, you must have the deepest experience. How does the Podmaster’s North Paw compare to the great parks of the Qeng Ho?”
Vinh’s words had a double meaning that went unnoticed by Trud Silipan, but Pham felt an instant of cold rage. You’re part of the reason I have to kill Anne Reynolt, you little jerk. Nau’s “true” histories of Pham Nuwen had eaten into the boy. For at least a year now, it was clear that he understood the true story of Brisgo Gap, And he guessed what Pham really wanted with Focus. His demands for guarantees and reassurance had become more and more pointed.
The localizers painted false-color images of Ezr Vinh’s face, showed his blood pressure and skin temperature. Could a good ziphead snoop look at such pictures and guess that the boy was playing some kind of game? Maybe. The boy’s hate for Nau and Brughel still outweighed his feelings against Pham Nuwen; Pham could still use him. But he was one more reason why Reynolt must be removed.
The thoughts passed through Pham’s mind even as his mouth twisted into a self-satisfied smirk. “Putting it that way, my boy, you’re absolutely right. Book learning can’t compare to traveling the light-years and seeing the sights with your own two eyes.” He turned away from them and looked down the footpath, past the lodge, to the moorage and the lake beyond. Pretend to be thoughtfully considering.
He had spent Msecs invisibly prowling this construction; it should have been easy to play his proper role. But standing here, he could feel the air drifting slowly out of the trees behind him. It was moist, faintly chill, with a tarry scent that whispered of a thousand kilometers of forest stretching out behind him. Sunlight came warm through high patchy clouds. That, too, was fake. Nowadays, the real sun was not as bright as a decent moon. But the light systems embedded in the diamond sky could imitate almost any visual effect The only clue to the fakery was the faint shimmering rainbows that arched across the farther distances…
Down the hill from him was the lake itself. That was Qiwi’s triumph. The water was real, thirty meters deep in places. Qiwi’s network of servos and localizers kept it stable, the surface flat and smooth, reflecting clouds and blue from overhead. The Podmaster’s lodge overlooked a moorage that sat at the head of an inlet. The inlet spread and spread. Kilometers out—actually less than two hundred meters—two rocky islands rose from the mists, guarding the far shore.
The place was a Lord-blessed masterpiece. “It’s a tresartnis,” said Pham, but he made the word sound like an insult.
Silipan frowned. “What—?”
Ezr said, �
��It’s parkbuilder jargon. It means—”
“Oh, yes. I’ve heard the word: a park or a bonsai that goes to extremes.” Trud puffed up defensively. “Well, it is extreme; the Podmaster pushed for that. Look! An enormous microgravity park, perfectly imitating a planetary surface. It breaks a lot of aesthetic rules—yet knowing when to break the rules is the mark of a great Podmaster.”
Pham shrugged, and continued to munch on Gonle’s refreshments. He turned idly and looked up into the forest. The crest of the hill matched the true wall of the cavern, a standard parkbuilder trick. The trees stood ten and twenty meters tall, moss glistening cool and dark on their long trunks. Ali Lin had grown them on wires in incubator tents on Diamond One’s surface. A year ago they had been three-centimeter seedlings. Now, by Ali’s magic, these trees might have been centuries old. Here and there, dead wood of “older” forest generations lay gray within the blue and green. There were parkbuilders who could achieve such perfection from a single viewpoint. But Pham’s hidden eyes looked from all directions, throughout the forest. The Podmaster’s park was such a perfection at every level. Cubic meter for cubic meter it was as perfect as the finest Namqem bonsai.
“So,” said Silipan, “I think you see why I have reason to be proud! Podmaster Nau provided the vision, but it was my work with system automation that guided the implementation.”
Pham sensed the anger building in Ezr Vinh. No doubt he could contain it, but a good snoop would still pick it up. Pham punched Ezr lightly on the shoulder and gave the braying laugh that was a Trinli trademark. “Did you get that, Ezr? Trud, what you mean is the Focused persons you supervise did this.” And supervise was too strong a word. Silipan was more of a custodian, but saying that would be an insult Trud could not forgive.
“Er, yes, the zipheads. Isn’t that what I said?”
Rita Liao approached from the crowd around the tables. She was carrying food for two. “Anyone seen Jau? This place is so big you can lose someone.”
“Haven’t seen him,” said Pham.
“The flight tech? I think he went around the other side of the lodge”—this from an Emergent, someone whose name Pham should not know. Nau and Qiwi had arranged an intersection of Watches for this open house so that there were some near-strangers in the crowd.
“Well, pus. I should just bounce off the ceiling and take a look.” But even in the present mellow circumstances, Rita Liao was a good Emergent Follower. She kept her feet squarely on the gripping ground as she turned to scan the crowd. “Qiwi!” she shouted. “Have you seen my Jau?”
Qiwi detached herself from the group around Tomas Nau and shuffled up the walk toward them. “Yes,” she said. Pham noticed Ezr Vinh backing off, heading for another group. “Jau didn’t believe the pier was real, so I suggested he go take a look.”
“It’s real? The boat, too?”
“Sure. Come on down. I’ll show you.” The five of them walked down the path. Silipan strutted along in his silken rags, waving at others to follow. “See what we’ve done here!”
Pham sent his inner gaze ahead, studying the rocks around the pier, the bushes that leaned out over the water. This Balacrean vegetation was beautiful in a stark way that fit with the cool air. And the entrance to the utility tunnel was hidden in the cliff behind the blue-green fronds. This may be my best chance. Pham walked next to Qiwi, asking questions that hopefully would mark his presence later. “You can actually sail in it?”
Qiwi smiled. “See for yourself.”
Rita Liao made an exaggerated shivering sound. “It’s cold enough to be real. North Paw is pretty, but can’t you redial for something tropical?”
“No,” said Silipan. He hurried to walk in front of them and lecture. “It’s too real for that. Ali Lin’s whole point was realism and detail.” Now that Qiwi was present, he spoke of the zipheads like human beings.
The path wound back and forth, realistic switchbacks that took them down the rocky face of the harbor wall. Most of the guests were following, curious to see what this moorage could really be.
“Water looks awfully flat,” someone said.
“Yes,” said Qiwi. “Realistic waves are the hardest part. Some of my father’s friends are working on that. If we can form the water surface on a short scale both in time and—” There was startled laughter as a trio of winged kittens zipped low and fast over their heads. The three skimmed out across the water, then climbed into the sky like strafing aircraft.
“I’ll bet you they don’t have that at the real North Paw!”
Qiwi laughed. “True. That was my price!” She smiled up at Pham. “Remember the kittens we had in the pre-Flight temp? When I was little—” She looked around, searching for a face in the crowd. “When I was little, someone gave me one for a pet.”
There was still a little girl inside, who remembered other times. Pham ignored the wistfulness in her voice. His words came out bluff and patronizing. “Flying kittens don’t have real significance. If you’d wanted a solid symbol, you’d have wombed some flying pigs.”
“Pigs?” Trud stumbled, almost lost his stride. “Oh yeah, the ‘noble winged pig.’”
“Yes, the spirit of programming. There are winged pigs in all the grandest temps.”
“Yeah, sure…just get me an umbrella!” Trud shook his head, and some of those behind him were laughing. The flying pig mythos had never caught on at Balacrea.
Qiwi smiled at the byplay. “Maybe we should—I don’t think I’ll ever convince the kitties to scavenge floating trash.”
In less than two hundred seconds, the crowd had ranged itself along the water’s edge. Pham drifted away from Qiwi and Trud and Rita. He moved as if seeking the best vantage point. In fact, he was coming closer to the cover of the blue-green fronds. With any luck, there would be some excitement in the next few moments. Surely some fool would fall off the ground. He began a final security sweep across the localizer net…
Rita Liao was no fool, but when she saw where Jau Xin was, she got a little careless. “Jau, what in Plague’s Name are you doing—” She handed her food and drink to someone behind her and rushed out onto the pier. The boat there had slipped free, was sliding smoothly out into the inlet. Like the lodge and the pier, it was dark timber. But this wood was tarred near the boat’s waterline, varnished and painted at the gunnels and prow. A Balacrean sail was hoisted on its single mast. Jau Xin grinned at the crowd from his seat amidships.
“Jau Xin, you come back here! That’s the Podmaster’s boat. You’ll—” Rita started running down the pier. She realized her mistake and tried to stop herself. When her feet left the ground she was moving at just a few centimeters per second. She floated off the platform, a-spin and embarrassed, and loudly angry. If no one snagged her, she would sail over her errant husband’s head, and come down in the lake a few hundred seconds later.
Time to move. His programs told him no one in the crowd was watching. His probes into Nau’s security showed that no snoop was on him right now, and he had a glimpse of Reynolt still working at some drudge task back in the lodge. He blinded the localizers for an instant and stepped into the fronds. Just a little massaging of the digital record and there’d be proof he was here the whole time. He could do what was necessary and get back unnoticed. It was still as dangerous as hell, even if Brughel’s snoops were not on alert. But taking out Reynolt is necessary.
Pham finger-walked up the cliff face, slowed by the need to stay hidden behind the bushes. Even here, the artistry of Ali Lin was evident. The cliff could have been simple raw diamond, but Ali had imported rocks from the mineral dumps on the surface of the L1 jumble. They were discolored as if etched by the seepage of a thousand years. The rock was watercolor art as great as any ever painted on paper or digital. Ali Lin had been a first-rank parkbuilder before the expedition to OnOff. Sammy Park had picked Ali for the crew for that reason. But in the years since his Focus, he had become something greater, what a human could become if all his mind was concentrated on a single love. What he an
d his fellows had done was subtle and deep…and as much as anything it proved the power that Focus gave to the culture that possessed it. Using it is right.
The tunnel entrance was still a few meters farther up. Pham sensed a half-dozen localizers floating there, imaging the outlines of the door.
A small fraction of his attention remained with the crowd back at the harbor. No eyes looked back in his direction. Some of the nimbler partyers had scrambled out onto the pier and formed a chain of life that reached six or seven meters into the air, an acrobatic tumble of humanity. The men and women of the chain were in a dozen different orientations, the classic zero-gee pose for such an operation. It broke the illusion of downness, and some of the Emergents looked away, groaning. Imagining the sea as flat and down was one thing. Suddenly seeing the sea as a watery cliff or a ceiling was enough to provoke nausea.
But then the tip of the chain extended a hand and grabbed Rita’s ankle. The chain contracted, bringing her back to the ground. Pham tapped his palm, and the audio from the scene below came louder in his ear. Jau Xin was beginning to get embarrassed. He apologized to his wife. “But Qiwi said it was okay. And face it, I am a space pilot.”
“A pilot manager, Jau. It’s not the same thing.”