by Liz Williams
Suddenly lonely, she went in search of him. She finally found him down by the growing tanks, peering in at the dense mass of foliage. Or maybe it wasn’t foliage at all, but something else: skeins of viruses, writ large, or some kind of embryonic life. She was coming to realize that she couldn’t describe the world according to the old categories any longer, but she didn’t know how to replace them.
The air in the growing chambers was fresh and green, like a garden after rain. Sirru smiled at her as she came in. “What’s been happening today?” she asked him.
“Many things.” Sirru sighed. “And none of them very interesting. I had reports to complete.”
“How boring, to be an interplanetary colonist,” Jaya teased. Sirru blinked.
“That depends on the planet. And you? How are you?”
“Me? I’m confused.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here. The seed is changing; I don’t know how I’m supposed to help her, or how—oh, a hundred things confuse me, Sirru.”
Sirru glanced at her with sympathy.
“There is always a transitional period. At present, you are being very helpful. And when the network on Earth is fully operational, you will have your own work to do: Relaying information between here and Rasasatra. Interpreting the instructions of the Core, along with those of the ship.”
“And if I refuse?” she said, with careful indifference. Sirru gave her a long, measured look. Then he said, “We can find another Receiver. Your genetic structures are not unique; you were merely the first to come on-line. But I would rather have you here.”
“And I don’t have anything to go back for, do I?” Jaya mused aloud. Sirru did not reply, only busied himself with the growing tank. After a moment, he said, “You may be interested to learn that I have filed a formal complaint against Ir Yth and the khaithoi. It is not done to question the practices of one’s betters, but this is an exceptional case and Ir Yth, at least, must answer for her actions.”
“But Sirru, she’s dead.”
He glanced up, surprised. “No, no. Both of us were here in Second Body, after all. Only Ir Yth’s Second Body—the form in which you knew her—has been terminated, and with its termination her First Body has been permitted animation once more back on Rasasatra.”
Jaya digested this for a moment. “So what about your First Body?”
“It’s in a translation chamber, orbiting Rasasatra.”
“So if you go back—what will happen?”
“‘I’ will not be going back. This Second Body”—he gestured—“will be stored as data in a manifold here, and my First Body will be reanimated. Whenever that is. Whenever the Core allows.” His tone was uncharacteristically acid, and Jaya winced. It had not really sunk in before that Sirru might not have been all that thrilled to receive this posting. Earth was such a little world in comparison to what she had now heard about other places. She couldn’t help smiling at the thought of the alien invasions she’d seen in the cinema: beings of great and evil power, sent to dominate the world. Instead we get a couple of minor civil servants, embroiled in petty office politics.
And talking of politics, there was something she still had to do. After Anand’s death, Jaya found that she possessed new knowledge, as though he had downloaded secrets into her head in the moment of his demise. She did not think that this knowledge had been disseminated beyond Sirru and herself; Anand’s death had been too disruptive. But she knew she should not wait too long before using the newly gained information. She headed down into the ship, to the place where rafts were grown.
2.
Tokyo
Naran Tokai sat behind his desk and let imagination take him where he wanted to go. The harvest yielded from Ir Yth’s body had been a bountiful one, and Earth’s new friends had proved generous in sharing their knowledge. So many new sicknesses—all benign. At least physically, Tokai thought, wondering what the social symptoms would be. In conjunction with the írRas, Tokai Pharmaceuticals had already been busy manufacturing the drugs that would enable humanity to utilize this new and alien technology to its maximum effect. Drugs to facilitate viral communication; to enhance learning; to shape and change the genetic frameworks of humankind within the limits prescribed by the írRas-desqusai. It had been a little galling to discover that the desqusai were no more than one of the lower írRas castes, but Tokai was learning to live with the loss of face. He could, at any rate, be a big carp in a little pond.
The sunlight spilling through his window was momentarily darkened as an immense shadow passed across the wall. Frowning, Tokai crossed cautiously to the window and looked down. A rippling membrane covered the ornamental courtyard; he could see his koi fish flickering golden through its translucent surface. Before he had time to contact his security team and order an immediate investigation, the door to his office slid open and Jaya Nihalani stepped through.
Alarmed, Tokai nonetheless regarded her with curiosity. She looked nothing like the woman he had seen in countless security videos during her life as a revolutionary. She was dark and small and graceful, and her eyes were fierce. Fleetingly, Tokai wondered whether alien technology might be harnessed for lucrative cosmetic purposes also. Through the cane, he got an impression of spices, and an underlying musk.
“Good afternoon,” he said, sidling the cane toward the alarm system. “Might I ask what you’re doing here?”
“I think vengeance is in order,” Jaya said.
“I see. Well, I understand that’s the goddess Durga’s speciality. You’ve come to kill me, then? How regrettable.” He would retain his dignity, at any rate. Tokai had no wish for a dishonorable death.
“How predictable.” Jaya’s lip curled. “Durga’s jackal I may be, but I have no intention of killing you.”
Tokai paused. The tip of the cane quivered into stillness.
“I intend to use you, Shri Tokai.”
“For what?” Tokai asked warily.
“My alien colleagues are anxious to harness your resources. Since colonization seems inevitable, they might as well do so. However, I intend to make sure that you are answering to me as much as possible.”
Tokai’s eyebrows rose. “I think I’m capable of persuading your alien colleagues to deal with me directly.”
“It isn’t my alien colleagues you have to worry about—it’s the bullet an Indian assassin is likely to put in your spine when the world learns that you’re responsible for Selenge.”
Tokai became very still.
“Anand knew, Tokai. I don’t know if he found out or if you told him, but he knew. And without meaning to, he told me, in the minute before he died. My friend Shiv Sakai has hacked into some very old lab records. We have quite a lot of evidence, and I don’t believe the news would make you very popular. The UN might even see fit to have you up on the Geneva convention. I don’t think the West approves of biological warfare on civilian populations—not when it’s perpetrated by foreign businessmen, at any rate.”
“What do you intend to do about this?” Tokai asked.
“Actually, nothing—not to you, anyway; I think you’re too useful. You see, I am learning to be subtle. Do what I tell you, and your secret will be kept. If anything happens to me, Sirru will inform the world.”
“Very well.” Acquiesce now, Tokai thought, and solve the problem later.
Jaya bowed, keeping a close eye on him, and started to back out the door. As she reached it, she said, “One last thing. I find that I’m not entirely willing to relinquish my allegiance to Durga. As a test of your loyalty, and for all the people who have suffered from Selenge, I would like to see a Web headline in the next few days. Announcing the terminal illness that has been so regrettably contracted by Minister Singh.”
And then she was gone.
3.
Depth Ship, orbit: Earth
Sirru sat expectantly by the translation pad, awaiting news. It had now been several days since he had issued his complaint against Ir Yth, a
nd although he was well aware that the wheels of the Core ground exceedingly slowly, he had hoped for a slightly less leisurely response than this. Attempted genocide was a serious matter, after all, even if it was just desqusai. At length, the translator signified an incoming transmission. Sirru hastily ran his fingers across the pad, outlining his personal codes.
The face of a Core representative, flanked by official symbols, manifested in the air before him. The face had a long lantern jaw and slanted eyes beneath a crest of bone; it was not a caste that Sirru recognized. Presumably this was a member of a caste from deep within the Marginals.
“What is it?” the representative demanded.
“Recently I issued a complaint,” Sirru said, transferring the number of his report as he spoke. The representative’s eyes shut tightly for a moment as it processed the information.
“I don’t seem to have—ah, yes. Here we are. I have it now.”
“Might I ask whether my report has been transferred to the Core, to the attention of someone who might usefully consider it?”
“Your charges against Ir Yth írRas Estekhei/current locative: Ir Yth EsShekhanjin SiSamakh/are currently on the waiting list for consideration.”
Sirru was aware of a hollow sensation growing in the pit of his stomach.
“And how long is the waiting list?”
“There are currently nine thousand, three hundred, and ten cases awaiting appraisal by the relevant personnel.”
“What!”
“This is standard practice.”
“But we are talking about a question of attempted genocide by one caste against another, not some minor infraction of regulations.”
“It is standard practice.” The being briefly shut its eyes, as though pained by having to explain basic protocols to this unruly, wild-eyed desqusai. Sirru wondered whether the concept of intercaste genocide even made any sense to it, whether the being might be subject to epistemic suppressants of its own. The khaithoi must have influenced it, somehow; he was certain that this was not “standard practice.”
“Feel this: I have temenos privileges, accrued over several generations,” Sirru said. “Might it be possible to trade some of those in and get a quicker hearing?”
The representative consulted some inner protocol.
“Such privileges are granted by law to First Bodies only.”
“Why? Oh, never mind. I suppose I’ll have to come back to Rasasatra and sort it out in First Body, then.”
With a distant and supercilious sense of satisfaction, the representative said, “That will not be possible.”
“And why not?”
“Because you no longer possess a First Body.”
Sirru rocked back on his heels, astonished. “Excuse me, but I suggest you check your records. You’ll find it in translation archive 495, 671 (b).” He waited impatiently whilst the representative translated these figures into the appropriate chemical formula, mumbling inaudibly as it did so.
“The archive in question has been deleted.”
“What? How? When?” He was aware of the indignity of babbling.
“Unknown. Perhaps there has been some archive malfunction in the translation storage manifold; it has been known to happen. Deletion occurred a short time after your departure from Rasasatra.”
Ir Yth’s khaithoi accomplices, thought Sirru, with fury. He persisted, “So what you’re telling me is that you have no record of my original corporeal form? We’ll just have to retranslate this body, then.”
“I am afraid that will not be a simple matter. The khaithoi have invoked a penalty as a result of delays experienced by the project. They wish you to serve a contractual term covering the initial phase of colonization.”
“But that could take a year or more!”
“That is correct.”
“It is little short of a disaster. Will my complaint be upheld if I’m now permanently instantiated in my Second Body?”
“Your complaint is now pending until your legal status is confirmed. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have another transmission waiting.”
Without its waiting for a reply, the representative’s long face began to fade.
“Wait!” Sirru cried, but it was too late—the transmission ended. Sirru sat down on the floor and wrapped his arms around his knees. The fact that he had been blithely wandering about through all sorts of dangers in one fragile body was forcibly brought home to him. What if something had happened to his Second Body? His only body? Presumably this was one of the possibilities that Ir Yth had had in mind. The thought also occurred to him, however, that this khaithoi manipulation might prove to be a blessing in disguise. Without the epistemic suppressants, he had changed. If he were merely re-instantiated in his First Body, with its suppressant levels intact, then he would presumably be unable to think the things that he was thinking now. If his current form were copied back on Rasasatra, he would be as conceptually free as he was at present.
A day after that, the call that they had all been waiting for came through: Earth’s overseer was here. EsMirhei was tall, languid, and wan, like a plant that had not had enough sun. He was from a rather higher desqusai caste level than Sirru. His quills were bound in an elegant fall down his back, and his skin was ornamented with inset gold wire. He greeted the assembled desqusai with a remote charm and turned his attention instantly to Sirru.
“The team appear to have made some sterling efforts prior to my arrival. Good work!” he said, with a warmth that sounded rather simulated to Sirru’s skeptical ears.
“Thank you,” said Sirru. “I think you’ll find the groundwork is in place.”
“Excellent news. I shall make a personal inspection. A tour, don’t you think? Get the lie of the land and see how our kindred comport themselves. I trust there’s been no trouble?”
“Minimal public disorder. You know how these things are…”Sirru murmured soothingly, dismissing the month of riots and tumult produced by the announcement that Earth had new masters.
“Must have been terribly trying for you.” EsMirhei’s quills gave a shuddering rattle. “Still, necessary period of adjustment, I suppose. And this is our little Receiver?”
He bestowed a lipless beam upon Jaya.
“This is EsAyachantha IrNihalani IrBhara’th.”
EsMirhei blinked. “What a wonderfully exotic locative.”
“But you can call me Jaya,” said Jaya, through gritted teeth. “It might be easier.”
“Jaya” EsMirhei remarked, meditatively. “Charming. And are you ready to assume your duties?”
“What duties?”
“Jaya has been fully briefed on the nature of her links with the communications network, and will serve as the principal nexus between Tekhei and this ship,” Sirru said hastily.
“Splendid! Well, I’m sure you’re all dying to get on with things, so let’s not stand on ceremony, shall we? No need to be formal with me. I look forward to becoming one of the team,” EsMirhei informed them. Then, taking a clearly infuriated Jaya by the arm, he swept her out of the chamber in a flutter of robes and a pleasant, if highly discernible, waft of perfume.
Despite his languid and frivolous manner, EsMirhei proved to be a conscientious and energetic envoy, to Sirru’s private dismay. He insisted on a thorough debriefing of all aspects of life in Tekhei, and gradually an extensive if idiosyncratic picture was built up from Ir Yth’s preliminary studies, Jaya’s recollections, and the network itself. EsMirhei spent a great deal of time linked with Jaya, holding her hands and humming to himself as information was channeled through the network and into EsMirhei’s enthusiastic brain. He was clearly keen to throw himself into the development of the colony, and was insistent that Sirru should accompany him to the surface. He had prepared a tour of suitable places: Varanasi was first, in tribute to Jaya, and then Tokyo.
“The Americans want to see him, of course,” Jaya informed Sirru.
“But does EsMirhei want to see the Americans? Their government can be of little
interest to him. Industries, perhaps. But I understand that most of those are located to the south, in—where is that place?”
“Mexico? The industries are only there because it’s cheaper. I can see you have quite a bit to learn about where power lies on this planet. You must understand, Sirru, that this sidelining of government is presenting all sorts of problems.”
Sirru said, “In turn, you retain some curious delusions about the way in which your world is run. National governments have little or no relevance to the running of the global economy, or to the political systems. It is the multinational corporations and the groups of individuals who run them who pull the strings. Like the—what are they called? Oh, yes—the Bilderburg group. And these are the people with whom we must deal. Naran Tokai, for instance. Governments understand this; it’s only a few politicians whose egotism makes them blind to the true state of affairs. And anyway, by the time restructuring is complete, those governments will be largely ineffectual. Tekhei will primarily be a communications center, a relay station between Zhei Eren and the Khiamak systems. Don’t worry—EsMirhei knows what he’s doing.”
“I know,” Jaya said, in a thin voice. “That’s the problem.”
“Once we’ve sorted out minor issues, such as overpopulation and territorial disputes, we’ll have a modern and efficient system.”
“Complete with those suppressants you told me about.”
“Some social control is necessary, even on a world as old and enlightened as ours.” He smiled as he said it, so that Jaya would not take offense, but she was frowning.
“Sirru, that’s dreadful. That’s nothing more than brainwashing.”