Finished, the younger brother set off home.
Fury turned to me, as the projected images faded away, leaving only the empty reality of the Martian landscape.
"Do I need to spell it out, Mercurio?"
"I don't think so. The younger man became the emperor, I'm assuming?"
"He took Mars into war. Millions of lives were lost—whole communities rendered uninhabitable. But he came out of it very well. Although even he couldn't have seen it at the time, that was the beginning of the Radiant Commonwealth. The new longevity processes allowed him to ride that wave of burgeoning wealth all the way to the stars. Eventually, it turned him into the man I could so easily have killed."
"A good man, trying his best to govern justly."
"But who'd be nothing if he hadn't committed that single, awful crime."
Again, I had no option but to take all of this on faith. "If you hate him so much, why didn't you put a bomb in that bullet?"
"Because I'd rather you did it instead. Haven't you understood yet, Mercurio? This crime touched both of us. We were party to it."
"You're presuming that we even existed back then."
"I know that we did. I remembered, even if you didn't. I said we came from the same production batch, Mercurio. We were the suits. High-autonomy, surface-environment protection units. Fully closed-cycle models with exoskeletal servo-systems, to assist our wearers. We were assembled in the Deimos manufactory complex and sent down to Mars, for use in the settlements."
"I am not a suit," I said, shaking my head. "I never was. I have always been a robot."
"Those suits were robots, to all intents and purposes. Not as clever as you and me, not possessing anything resembling free-will, but still capable of behaving independently. If the user was incapacitated, the suit could still carry him to help. If the user wished, the suit could even go off on its own, scouting for resources or carrying material. Walkabout mode, that's what they called it. That's how we began, brother. That's how we began and that's how I nearly died."
The truth of it hit me like a cold blast of decompressing air. I wanted to refute every word of it, but the more I struggled to deny him, the more I knew I could never succeed. I had felt my ancient, buried history begin to force its way to the surface from the moment I saw the dust in that bullet; that cryptic inscription.
I had known, even then. I just hadn't been ready to admit it to myself.
Hand in glove, the emperor and I. He'd even said he'd feel naked without me. On some level, that meant he also knew as well. Even if he no longer realized it on a conscious level.
A bodyguard was all I'd ever been. All I ever would be.
"If what you say is true, how did I become the way I am?"
"You were programmed to adapt to your master's movements, to anticipate his needs and energy demands. When he was wearing you, he barely noticed that he was wearing a suit at all. Is it any wonder that he kept you, even as his power accumulated? You were physical protection, but also a kind of talisman, a lucky charm. He had faith in you to keep him alive, Mercurio. So as the years turned into decades and the decades became centuries, he made sure that you never became obsolete. He improved your systems, added layers of sophistication. Eventually you became so complex that you accreted intelligence. By then he wasn't even using you as a suit at all—you'd become his bodyguard, his personal security expert. You were in permanent walkaround mode. He even made you look human."
"And you?" I asked.
"I survived. We were sophisticated units with a high capacity for self-repair. The damage inflicted on me by the weapon was severe—enough to kill my occupant—but not enough to destroy me. After a long while my repair systems activated. I clawed my way out of the grave."
"With a dead man still inside you?"
"Of course," Fury said.
"And then?"
"I said that we were not truly intelligent, Mercurio. In that respect I may not have spoken truthfully. I had no consciousness to speak of; no sense of my own identify. But there was a glimmer of cunning, an animal recognition that something dreadfully wrong had taken place. I also grasped the idea that my existence was now in peril. So I hid. I waited out the storms and the war. In the aftermath, I found a caravan of nomads, refugees from what had once been Vikingville, one of the larger surface communities. They had need of protection, so I offered my services. We were given that kind of autonomy, so that we could continue to remain useful in the fragmented society of a war zone."
"You continued to function as a suit?"
"They had their own. I went walkabout. I became a robot guard."
"And later? You can't have stayed on Julact—Mars—all this time."
"I didn't. I passed from nomadic group to nomadic group, allowing myself to be improved and augmented from time to time. I became steadily more independent and resourceful. Eventually my origin as a suit was completely forgotten, even by those I worked for. Always I kept moving, aware of the crime I had witnessed and the secret I carried with me."
"Inside you?" I asked, just beginning to understand.
"After all this time, he's still with me." Fury nodded, watching me with great attentiveness. "Would you like to see, Mercurio? Would that settle your doubts?"
I felt myself on the threshold of something terrifying, but which I had no choice but to confront. "I don't know."
"Then I'll decide for you." Fury's hand rose to his face. He took hold of the gargoyle mask and pulled it free from the rest of his armored casing.
We were, I realized, almost perfect opposites of each other. I was living flesh wrapped around a core of dead machinery. He was machinery wrapped around a core of dead flesh. As the faceless skull presented itself towards me I saw that there was something inside it, something older than the Radiant Commonwealth itself. Something pale and mummified; something with empty eye sockets and thin lips pulled back from grinning brown teeth.
The face in Fury's hand said: "I didn't ever want to forget, Mercurio. Not until you'd come to me."
It may be difficult to countenance, but by the time I returned to the Great House my resolve was absolute. I knew exactly what I was going to do. I had served the emperor with every fiber of my being for the entire duration of my existence. I had come to love and to admire him, both for his essential humanity and for the wise hand with which he governed the Radiant Commonwealth. He was a good man trying to make a better world for his fellow citizens. If I doubted this, I only had to reflect on the compassion he had shown to the uplift Vratsa, or his distaste at the political methods employed in those parts of the Commonwealth that had not yet submitted to enlightened government.
And yet he had done something unspeakable. Every glorious and noble act that he had ever committed, every kind and honorable deed, was built upon the foundations of a crime. The empire's very existence hinged upon a single evil act.
So what if it happened thirty-two thousand years ago? Did that make it less of a crime than if it had happened ten thousand years ago, or last week? We were not dealing with murky deeds perpetrated by distant ancestors. The man who had murdered his brother was still alive; still in absolute command of his faculties. Knowing what I did, how could I permit him to live another day without being confronted with the horror of what he had done?
I grappled with these questions during my journey home. But always I came back to the same conclusion.
No crime can go unpunished.
Naturally, I signaled my imminent return long before I reached the Capital Nexus. The emperor was overjoyed to hear that I had survived my trip to Julact, and brimming with anticipation at the news I would bring.
I had no intention of disappointing him.
He was still on the same body as last time—no assassination attempt or accidental injury had befallen him. When he rose from his throne, it was with a sprightliness that belied his apparent age. He seemed, if anything, even younger than when I had departed.
"It's good to have you back, Mercurio."
/> "Good to be back," I said.
"Do you have. . . news? You were reluctant to speak in detail over the superluminal link."
"I have news," I confirmed.
The body's eyes looked to the cross-shaped seam in the ceiling. "News, doubtless, that would be better discussed in conditions of absolute privacy?"
"Actually," I said, "there'll be no need for that at all."
He looked relieved. "But you do have something for me?"
"Very much so."
"That thing in your hand," he said, his attention snapping to my fingers. "It looks rather like the bullet you showed me before, the one with the inscription."
"That's what it is. Here—you may as well have it now." Without waiting for his response, I tossed the bullet to him. The old body's reflexes were still excellent, for he caught it easily.
"There's no dust in it," he said, peering at the glass-cased tip.
"No, not now."
"Did you find out. . . ?"
"Yes; I located the origin of the dust. And I tracked down the would-be assassin. You have my assurance that you won't be hearing from him again."
"You killed him?"
"No, he's still much as he was."
The ambiguity in my words must have registered with him, because there was an unease in his face. "This isn't quite the outcome I was expecting, Mercurio—if you don't mind my saying. I expected the perpetrator to be brought to justice, or at the very least executed. I expected a body, closure." His eyes sharpened. "Are you quite sure you're all right?"
"I've never felt better, sir."
"I'm. . . troubled."
"There's no need." I extended my hand, beckoning him to leave the throne. "Why don't we take a walk? There's nothing we can't discuss outside."
"You've never encouraged me to talk outside. Something's wrong, Mercurio. You're not your usual self."
I sighed. "Then let me make things clear. We are now deep inside the Great House. Were I to detonate the power plant inside my abdomen, you and I would cease to exist in a flash of light. Although I don't contain antimatter, the resultant fusion blast would easily equal the damage that the assassin could have wrought, if he'd put a bomb inside that bullet. You'll die—not just your puppet, but you, floating above us—and you'll take most of the Great House with you."
He blinked, struggling to process my words. After so many thousands of years of loyal service, I could only imagine how surprising they were.
"You're malfunctioning, Mercurio."
"No. The fact is, I've never functioned as well as I'm functioning at this moment. Since my departure, I've regained access to memory layers I thought lost since the dawn of the empire. And I assure you that I will detonate, unless you comply with my exact demands. Now stand from the throne and walk outside. And don't even think of calling for help, or expecting some security override to protect you. This is my realm you're in now. And I can promise you that there is nothing you can do but obey my every word."
"What are you going to do?"
"Make you pay," I said.
We left the reception chamber. We walked the gilded hallways of the Great House, the emperor walking a few paces ahead of me. We passed officials and servants and mindless servitors. No one said or did anything except bow as their station demanded. All they saw was the emperor and his most trusted aide, going about their business.
We made our way to the koi ponds.
Whispering, I instructed the emperor to kneel in the same place where his earlier body had been killed. The clean-up crew had been thorough and there was no trace of the earlier bloodstain.
"You're going to kill me now," he said, speaking in a frightened hiss.
"Is that what you think?"
"Why bring me here, if not to kill me?"
"I could have killed you already, sir."
"And taken the Great House with you? All those innocent lives? You may be malfunctioning, Mercurio, but I still don't think you'd do something that barbaric."
"Perhaps I would have done it, if I thought justice would be served. But here's the thing. Even if justice would have been served, the greater good of the Radiant Commonwealth most certainly wouldn't have been. Look up, Emperor. Look into that clear blue sky."
He bent his neck, as well as his old body allowed.
"There's an empire out there," I said. "Beyond the force screens and the sentry moons. Beyond the Capital Nexus. A billion teeming worlds, waiting on your every word. Depending on you for wisdom and balance in all things. Counting on your instinct for decency and forgiveness. If you were a bad ruler, this would be easy for me. But you're a good man, and that's the problem. You're a good man who once did something so evil the shadow of it touched you across thirty-two thousand years. You killed your brother, Emperor. You took him out into the Martian wilderness and murdered him in cold blood. And if you hadn't, none of this would ever have happened."
"I didn't have. . ." he began, still in the same harsh whisper. His heart was racing. I could hear it drumming inside his ribs.
"I didn't think I had a brother either. But I was wrong, and so are you. My brother's called Fury. Yours—well, whatever name he had, the only person likely to remember is you. But I doubt that you can, can you? Not after all this time."
He choked—I think it was fear more than sorrow or anguish. He still didn't believe me, and I didn't expect him to. But he did believe that I was capable of killing him, and only a lethal instant away from doing so.
"Whatever you're going to do, do it."
"Do you still have the bullet, sir?"
His eyes flashed childlike terror. "What about the bullet?"
"Show it to me."
He opened his hand, the glass-nosed bullet still pinched between thumb and forefinger.
"There's no bomb in it. I'd see if there was a bomb in it. It's empty now." In his voice was something between relief and dizzy incomprehension.
What could be worse than a bomb?
"No, it's not empty." Gently, I took his hand in mine and guided it until it was poised over the open water of the koi pond. "In a few moments, Emperor, you and I are going to walk back inside the Great House. You'll return to your throne, and I'll return to my duties. I'll always be there for you, from now until the day I stop functioning. There'll never be a moment when I'm not looking after you, protecting you against those who would do you harm. You'll never need to question my loyalty; my unswerving dedication to that task. This. . . incident. . . is something we'll never speak of again. To all intents and purposes, nothing will have changed in our relationship. Ask me about your brother, ask me about mine, and I will feign ignorance. From now until the end of my existence. But I won't ever forget, and neither will you. Now break the glass."
He glanced at me, as if he hadn't quite understood the words. "I'm sorry?"
"Break the glass. It'll shatter easily between your fingers. Break the glass and let the contents drain into the pond. Then get up and walk away."
I stood up, leaving the emperor kneeling by the side of the pathway, his hand extended over the water. I took a few paces in the direction of the Great House. Already I was clearing my mind, readying myself to engage with the many tasks that were my responsibility. Would he get rid of me, or try to have me destroyed? Quite possibly. But the emperor was nothing if not a shrewd man. I had served him well until now. If we could both agree to put this little aberration behind us, there was no reason why we couldn't continue to enjoy a fruitful relationship.
Behind me I heard the tiniest crack. Then sobbing.
I kept on walking.
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
Stephen Baxter is one of the most important science fiction writers to emerge from Britain in the past thirty years. His "Xeelee Sequence" of novels and short stories is arguably the most significant work of future history in modern science fiction. Baxter is the author of more than forty books and over 100 short stories. His most recent book is the near-future disaster novel Flood. A sequel, Ark, is due next ye
ar.
Peter S. Beagle is the author of the beloved classic The Last Unicorn, as well as the novels A Fine and Private Place, The Innkeeper's Song, and Tamsin. He has won the Hugo, Nebula, Locus, and Mythopoeic awards. His most recent book is collection The Line Between. Upcoming are new novels I'm Afraid You've Got Dragons and Summerlong, and new collection We Never Talk About My Brother.
Ted Chiang published his first short story, "Tower of Babylon," in Omni magazine in 1990. The story won the Nebula Award, and has been followed by just nine more stories in the intervening sixteen years. All but two of those stories, which have won the Hugo, Nebula, Locus, Sturgeon, and Sidewise awards, are collected in Stories of Your Life and Others.
Paul Cornell is a writer of SF, comics, and television. He's best known for his work on the Doctor Who TV series, including "Human Nature." His comics work includes Captain Britain and MI-13 for Marvel. He's proud to have stories in all three ongoing non-theme SF anthologies. He lives in Oxfordshire.
Tony Daniel is the author of four science fiction books, the latest of which is Superluminal, as well as an award-winning short story collection, The Robot's Twilight Companion. He was a Hugo finalist in 1996 for his short story "Life on the Moon," which won the Asimov's Readers' Choice Award. Daniel's short stories have been much anthologized and have been collected in several year's best compilations. Daniel is currently working on a young adult novel and is a lecturer in creative writing and the literature of science fiction at the University of Texas at Dallas.
Born in Alabama, Daniel has led a peripatetic life. He's lived in St. Louis, Los Angeles, Seattle, Prague, and New York City, and is now settled in Allen, Texas, with his wife and two children.
Terry Dowling was born in Sydney, New South Wales, in March 1947. A writer, musician, journalist, critic, editor, game designer, and reviewer, he has an M.A. (Hons) in English Literature from the University of Sydney. His Masters thesis discussed J. G. Ballard and Surrealism. He was awarded a PhD in Creative Writing from the University of Western Australia in 2006 for his mystery/dark fantasy/horror novel, Clowns at Midnight, and accompanying dissertation, The Interactive Landscape: New Modes of Narrative in Science Fiction, in which he examined the computer adventure game as an important new area of storytelling.
Eclipse Two Page 31