“I learn.”
“You’d better. Age is catching up with us. Your predecessor’s friend Catherine Lao, who’s helped you more than you know—is a hundred thirty-eight. Giraud is pushing a hundred thirty. Your presence—your resemblance to your predecessor—is like a shot of adrenaline where certain Councillors are concerned, but you have to have more than presence this time. If you make a mistake—you can see Reseune sucked up by the national government, and Defense declaring it a military zone, right fast. They’ll have a pretext before the ink is dry. You’ll spend your days working on whatever they tell you to do. Or you’ll find yourself in some little enclave with no access to Novgorod, no access to Council or the Science Bureau.”
She looked at Denys straight on, thinking: You haven’t done that well. Or how else are we in this mess?
But she didn’t say it. She said: “Base One only lets me go so fast, uncle Denys.”
“Let me try you on another big word,” Denys said. “Psychogenesis.”
That was a new one. “Mind-originate,” she said, remembering her Greek roots.
“Mind-origination. Mind-cloning. Now do you understand me?”
She felt cold inside. “What has that got to do with anything?”
“The resemblance between you and Ari. Let me give you a few more words to try on your Base. Bok. Endocrinology. Gehenna. Worm.”
“What are you talking about? What do you mean, the resemblance—”
The sound-shielding hurt her teeth.
“Don’t shout,” Denys said. “You’ll deafen us. I mean just what I’ve always told you. You are Ari. Let me tell you something else. Ari didn’t die of natural causes. She was murdered.”
She took in a breath. “By who?”
“Whom, dear.”
“Dammit, uncle Denys—”
“Watch your language. You’d better clean it up. Ari was killed by someone no longer at Reseune.”
“She died here?”
“That’s all I’m going to tell you. The rest is your problem.”
ARCHIVES: RUBIN PROJECT:
CLASSIFIED CLASS AA
DO NOT COPY
CONTENT: Computer Transcript File #8001 Seq. #1
Personal Archive
Emory I/Emory II
2420: 10/3: 2348
AE2: Minder, this is Ari Emory. I’m alone. Give me references on psychogenesis.
B/1: Stand by. Retrieving.
Ari, this is Ari senior. Stand by.
The program finds you are 14 chronological years, with accesses for 16 years. This program finds you an average of 10 points below my scores overall.
Your psych scores are 5 points off my scores.
Your Rezner score has not been updated since age 10.
You are 5 points off qualification for access.
AE2: Base One: can my accesses reach data on Bok: keyword, clone?
B/1: Stand by. Retrieving.
Accesses inadequate.
AE2: Try endocrinology: keyword, psychogenesis. Gehenna: keyword, project. Worm: keyword, psych.
B/1: Accesses inadequate.
2420: 11/1: 1876:02
AE2: Minder, this is Ari Emory. I’m alone. Reference: psychogenesis.
B/1: Stand by. Retrieving.
Ari, this is Ari senior. Stand by.
The program finds you are 14 chronological years, with accesses for 16 years. This program finds you an average of 7 points below my scores overall.
Your psych scores are 1 point above my scores.
Your Rezner score has not been updated since age 10.
You are qualified to access files. Stand by.
Ari, this is Ari senior. These files can be read only from Base One Main Terminal. All relevant and resultant files are being stored in your personal archive under voice-lock.
You have used a keyword. You now have access to my working notes. I apologize in advance for their sketchy quality. They’re quite fine when I was younger, but disregard a lot of the things dated pre-2312: they’re useful if you want to see the evolution of thought: psychogenesis was something I was working on as early as 2304, but I didn’t have the key studies in endocrinology until I had studied a good deal more; you can benefit from my study notes in those years, but I wasn’t on the right track until 2312, and I didn’t get the funds I needed until 2331. I benefited a great deal by Poley’s work in that same decade: we disagreed, but it was an academic, not a personal difference. We exchanged considerable correspondence, also in the archives. By the year 2354, at the close of the Company Wars, my notes are much less coherent and a great deal more meaningful.
That you have accessed these notes means something has worked.
You have matched my ability. I hope to hell you have a sense of morality.
Your Base can now access all working notes. Good luck.
AE2: Base One: can my accesses reach data on Bok: keyword, cloning?
B/1: Stand by. Retrieving.
AE2: Try endocrinology: keyword, psychogenesis. Gehenna: keyword, project. Worm: keyword, psych.
B/1: Stand by. Retrieving.
B/1: The Bok clone failed because it was assumed genetics and training would create a genius. It was more than a scientific failure; it was a human tragedy. The project files are now available to your Base…
B/1: Endocrinology is a multitude of files. They are now available to your Base.
B/1: Gehenna is the name of a G5 star. Newport colony at Gehenna was a project I handled for Defense. This program is searching House Archives for outcome.
There is presently human life on the planet.
They have survived there for 65 years.
This indicates *some* chance it is a viable colony.
This was a Defense Bureau operation which I elected to undertake for reasons my notes will make clear to you. It was also, unknown to Defense, but within the parameters of their mission requirements, an experiment.
I designed a very simple program. The operational sentence was: You were sent from space to build a new world: discover its rules, live as long as you can, and teach your children all the things that seem important.
No further tape was sent. This was by design.
Integrating any individual of this population into mainstream cultures poses extreme risks. Examine the environment as well as the program. That was the aspect I could not adequately examine. Consult all files and understand what I have done before attempting any intervention.
Quarantine should be extended until results can be projected through 30 generations.
All relevant files are now available to your Base.
B/1: A worm is a deep-set-linked program which has the capacity to manifest itself in subsequent generations of a population without changing its character.
C H A P T E R
11
i
The lenses crowded close on each other, a solid phalanx of cameras bristling with directional mikes like ancient spears. Behind that, the army of reporters with their Scribers and their individual and zealously securitied com-links.
Behind her, Florian and Catlin, and a miscellaneous assortment of what might be uncle Giraud’s aides and staff; but eight of them were Reseune Security, and armed, under the expensive tailoring.
She had chosen a blue suit, recollecting the public image of the little girl with the cast, the little girl who had lost her mother and caught the sympathy of people the length and breadth of Union. She had thought about sweeping her hair up into Ari senior’s trademark chignon; but she only parted it in the middle, the way it wanted to fall anyway, and swept it up on the sides and let it fall behind, with combs sprigged with tiny white quartz flowers to hold it. A minimum of makeup…just enough for the cameras: her face had lengthened, acquired cheekbones; acquired a maturity that she had consciously to lighten with a little smile at favorite reporters, a little deliberate flicker of recognition as her eyes found them—an intimation of special fondness.
So they might hold back some of the worst q
uestions. People liked to have special importance, and those she favored were the ones who favored her; and old Yevi Hart, who had a hard-nosed reputation and who, in the year after she lost her mother, had turned halfway nice. She had been Working on him for years, a little special look, a little disappointment when he would ask the rough questions. This time she looked at him with a secret between-them glance, knowing he had the first question. All right, Yevi, go, we both know you re just doing a job: you’re still an old dear.
He looked at her and seemed to lose the thread of his question a split second. His dour face looked worried. He took another breath, wadded up his question-slip and shoved his hand in his coat pocket. “Young sera,—”
“I’m still Ari, Yevi.” A tilt of her head, a little sad smile. “I’m sorry. Go on.”
Third breath. “Ari, you’re applying for majority. The Centrists are suing the Science Bureau to prevent the grant. How do you answer their charge that you’ve been deep-taught and primed to perform by Reseune staff, that you were created specifically as a legal device to give Reseune and your relatives control of Emory’s property?”
She outright laughed. She was amused. “One: I’ve never had deep-tape at all; I learn like any CIT. Two: if—”
“Follow-up.”
“Let me get just through these things, Yevi, and then the follow-up. Okay?”
A grim nod.
“Two,” she said, holding up fingers, and smiled. “I think they must have meant I was primed for the specific answers to reporters’ questions, because if we had tape that could teach me my courses just like that, it would be wonderful—we could sell it all over Union and that would give my relatives a ton of money; but the Centrists have to know that’s not so, so they must mean primed for the questions, and that means you’re letting Reseune see the questions at least a day in advance. That’s not the case, is it?”
“Absolutely not.” Yevi looked a little cornered. “But if—”
“Three.” Another finger. A chorus of blurted questions. “Just a second. I don’t want to skip a question. Ser Corain says my relatives created me as a puppet to let them control my predecessor’s estate; they say I shouldn’t have my majority because it’s just a trick to maintain a cover-up about Emory’s involvement in Gehenna. That’s really two questions. A, if I get my majority I own the rights, my relatives don’t, and that means they actually lose their control of them, legally; they will go on advising me, but any businessperson gets advice in technical things like investments and research, and that doesn’t mean the advisers own him. There’s more than my relatives at Reseune—there are thousands and thousands of people I need to listen to—the way my predecessor did even when she was sitting in Council. B,—”
“Ari,—”
“Just let me get the other part of the question. Then the follow-up. I want to do all of them. B, that getting me my majority is a trick to cover Emory’s involvement in Gehenna. I have access to the Gehenna notes, and I’m perfectly willing to testify to the Council as soon as I have my majority. Until then I’m a minor and I can’t. So it seems to me that the Centrists’ suit is covering up things, because if they really want to know what I know, why are they trying to keep me from being able to go under oath? Those files are under my voice-lock, and not even computer techs could get them out without messing things up and maybe losing real important pieces of it, just gone, for good. Not even my relatives have read the Gehenna files. I’m the only one who has them, and ser Corain is filing suit to keep me from being able to testify.”
The reporters all started yelling. She pointed at Yevi. “Yevi still has his follow-up.”
Yevi said: “What would be the reason?” Which was not his original follow-up, and some of the other reporters objected.
“I wish I could ask ser Corain,” she said. “Maybe there’s something in there.”
“Follow-up.”
“Yevi, I have to get to this m’sera, she’s been waiting.”
“What keeps your uncles from reading the files?”
Ouch. Good question. “Me. I have a special program my predecessor left for me. My voice is a lot like hers, and my geneset is hers, so when I was old enough to identify myself to the computer, it opened up these areas; but it’s got a lot of security arrangements, and it won’t let me access if there’s anybody else going to hear; and it can tell.”
“Follow-up!” the woman yelled over the shouting. “Can’t you record it with a tape or something?”
Another good question. Remember this woman and be careful. “I could if I was going to allow it, but I’m not going to. My predecessor went to a lot of trouble about security and she warned me right in the program that I had to take that very seriously, even about people I might trust. I did, even if I didn’t understand, and nobody at Reseune tried to get me to tell what was there either. Now I think it was a good idea, because it seems to be something real important, and I think the Council ought to be the ones to decide who gets to hear it, not any fifteen-year-old kid and not just any one part of the government either, because there’s too much fighting going on about it and I don’t know how to decide who to tell. The Council is supposed to decide things like that. That’s the way I understand it.—Ser Ibanez.”
“Can you tell us if there’s anything in the files that you think would damage the reputation of your predecessor?”
“I can tell you this, because if anything happened to me it’s terribly important people should know if. Gehenna has to stay quarantined. My predecessor was under Defense Bureau orders, but it scared her; and that was why she left things sealed for me.—Ser Hannah.”
Chaos broke out. Everyone was shouting.
“Wasn’t that irresponsible of your predecessor—if it was that important? Why did she keep it secret?”
“It was a Defense secret and it was quarantined. She did tell some people. But a lot of them are dead, and some of them probably don’t understand what she did. I don’t know it all yet. That’s the bad thing: you have to be as smart as she was before you can work with the problem. She’s dead and nobody else understands what she understood. That’s why they made me. I’m not a Bok-clone situation. I am a Special, and someday I’m going to be able to understand what happened there. Right now nobody does. But she did leave instructions, and I’m not giving them to anybody until Council asks me under oath, because I’m not going to muddy up the waters by talking until I can swear to what I’m saying and the whole universe knows I’m an adult and I’m not lying. If I did it any other way, people could question whether I was telling the truth or whether I knew what I was doing.”
They shouted and pushed and shoved each other. She felt Florian and Catlin move up on either side, anxious.
But she Had them. She was sure of it. She had gotten out exactly what she wanted to say.
ii
“Release the damn broadcast!” Corain yelled into the securitied phone, at Khalid’s chief of staff, who swore Khalid was not available. “God! I don’t care if he’s in hell, get hold of him and get that release, you damn fool, it’s gotten to my office, and thirty-five top reporters sent it downline—what do you mean security hold?”
“This is Khalid,” the Councillor cut in, displacing the aide. “Councillor Corain, in light of the content of the interview we’ve requested a security delay of thirty minutes for the child’s own protection. We seem to have a major problem.”
“We have a major problem. The longer that hold stays on, the more that hold is going to become news, Councillor, and the longer it stays, the more they’re going to ask why. We can’t stop that broadcast.”
“Assuredly we can’t. There were too many news-feeds. I told you not to allow the interview. A minor child is making irresponsible charges on extremely sensitive matters, with international implications. I suggest we answer this with a categorical denial.”
“It would have been foolhardy not to allow it. You can’t keep the newsservices away from the kid, and you saw what she can do with innu
endo.”
“She’s obviously well-instructed.”
“Instructed, hell, Khalid. Take that damned hold off!”
There was long silence on the other end. “The hold will go off in fifteen minutes. I strongly suggest you use the time to prepare an official statement.”
“On what? We have nothing to do with these charges.”
Again a silence. “Neither have we, Councillor. I think this will require investigation.”
It was a securitied line. Any communication could be penetrated if one could get access to the installers; or to the other end of the transmission.
“I think it will, Admiral. There will be a Centrist caucus in one hour. I hope you will be prepared to explain your position.”
“It’s completely without substantiation,” Khalid said to the cameras, on the office vid, while Corain rested his chin on his hand, glancing between the image on the screen and the news-feed that an aide slipped under his view: NP: DEFENSE BUREAU SPOKESMAN DECLINES COMMENT ON ACTION and CP: KHALID CALLS CHARGES FABRICATION.
“…nothing in those files to substantiate any continued quarantine order. It’s exactly what I say: Giraud Nye has come up with a piece of fiction, an absolute piece of fiction, and tape-fed it to a minor child who is in no wise fit or competent to understand the potential international repercussions. This is a reprehensible tactic which seeks to use the free press to its own advantage—utterly, utterly fabricated. I ask you, consider whether we will ever see documentation of the child’s representations—files which a fifteen-year-old girl maintains she alone has seen, which she cannot—I say cannot produce—unless others produce these putative files for her—files which an impressionable fifteen-year-old child maintains were left for her by her predecessor. I will tell you, seri, I have grave suspicions that no such secret files ever were made by Ariane Emory, that no such program was ever created by Ariane Emory to give ghostly guidance to her successor. I suspect that any such program was written much closer to hand, that the child has been programmed, indeed, programmed—a process in which Reseune is absolutely expert, and in which Councillor Nye himself is an acknowledged authority—in fact a Special who gained his status as a result of his expertise in that very field. The child is a pawn created by Reseune to place legal and emotional obstacles in the way of matters of paramount national interest, and callously used and manipulated to maintain the privilege of a moneyed few whose machiavellian tactics now bid fair to jeopardize the peace…”