it.”
Ouo set her cup down. “In speaking of generations, that reminds me. Before we go, I'd like to get your opinion on something.” She led Aoi to the other side of the room, where there appeared to be a round window looking out over a mountain range. Ouo waved her hand over the surface, and the image changed to flat cerulean blue, covered in tree-like branches of dark green text. She touched a text block with her finger, and next to it a picture of a woman appeared. “As you know, our social status is now high enough to grow a child every four years. Well, I have been in Tier 35 for almost four years.”
Aoi looked more closely at the picture. It was a young woman with medium-gray skin and light brown scalp-fur. Her lipless mouth was curled slightly upward at the corners. “You're designing a daughter?”
“Yes, I think I don't have much time before I achieve enough status points on my Profile Cube to be promoted to the next tier. So I know it's not necessary--but, psychologically, I feel like I want to create a child at each permissible period.”
Aoi nodded. “I can understand that.”
“So I wanted to get your opinion. Maybe I shouldn't vacillate so much, but I'm not sure about some of the details. Some things I can't seem to change much, like the shape of the mouth or the size of the eyes.”
“You already inputted your hereditary material?”
“Yes, this terminal can receive cheek swabs. So this image is based on . . . me. I did start altering some things, like the interpupillary distance and the curvature of the maxilla.”
“Hm.”
“What do you think about the spots? I always thought my mottling was too light, so I made it darker here.” Ouo rotated the model until the back of the head and neck were visible, where the irregular mottling was densest.
“Hm, I think that's good.”
“Okay. What do you think about the profile form?” Ouo rotated it again.
“I don't know, I guess it's good.”
“You don't think the nose is too short? Perhaps I should make the nasal bone longer. Short noses seem to be going out of fashion lately.” Ouo subconsciously felt her own small bump above her nostrils.
“I think it would be okay either way. You should pay attention to the overall aesthetic, not to fashion.”
“Oh Aoi, you're no help. Alright, let's go to the Underrealm.”
Three: Historical Precedent
Aoi and Ouo walked down a tortuous route of high, bright corridors. Near the central axis, they boarded an elevator which would take them all the way down. Gripping a hand-rail in the translucent cylinder, Aoi waited for the doors to shut before requesting the Underrealm. The circular light on the ceiling dimmed, and distorted shapes from beyond the walls slid up as the elevator descended. Ouo stared through the window in the floor, down the shaft whose bottom seemed contracted to a point.
“I feel guilty,” Ouo said.
“Why?”
“I don't know, I just feel like I'm doing something I shouldn't be doing.”
“I feel the opposite. Sometimes doing the right thing takes courage,” Aoi said. They were silent for the rest of the ride.
The door opened to a long corridor buttressed with blocky pillars on either side, too narrow to walk abreast. Each pillar began to glow with multicolored lights as they approached, fading again as they passed.
“So you found something new about these?” Ouo asked. “They're computers, aren't they?”
“Yes. But there's something else you've never seen.” Aoi stopped and gestured to a small hole in the wall.
“What's that?”
Aoi smiled and inserted a finger into the hole. The finger glowed red for a moment, and Ouo could see the shadow of finger bones within.
“Oh my goddess, what are you do--” Ouo cut herself off when the hole expanded between two pillars until it was large enough to fit a person. A chamber with dim blue light lay beyond. Aoi stepped through, and Ouo followed without hesitation.
They were in a forest of massive columns, flaring in parabolic curves toward the ceiling, and extending down into a blue vagueness. At several elevations, the forest was interlaced with black suspension bridges. They stood on one now.
Ouo stiffened. “Great Goddess, what is this place?”
“We're at the base of the tower, underground; and I believe,” Aoi said, “these structures are quantum computers. These walkways have tracks on them which I think at one time ferried people on magnetic platforms. I'll show you one later. But they don't work now, so we have to walk. Follow me.”
They headed for the nearest column. It was lined with thousands of intricate grooves and patches of pyramidal protuberances. The bridge branched off, connecting to a circular platform that wrapped around the column.
Ouo approached the vertical surface and stretched out her arms, standing flat against it. The grooves were just wide enough to slip her fingers in. “It would take ten people, holding hands, to stand around this thing,” Ouo said. “I've never seen something so large, besides the tower itself.”
“Indeed. This way.” They walked some distance around the circumference until reaching a smoothly reflecting rectangular patch of the surface. Aoi laid her hand on it, and it turned matte black. “The computing power you use to design your child, I believe, resides down here, in these columns. In fact, I think this is the brain for the entire city, including the Custodians. But it's more than that.” She made a swift, circular gesture with her hand, and the black panel lit up with a cataract of colored text. She touched a word, and a new block of text appeared.
Ouo moved her face close to the screen's surface. “These look like words, but the letters are all wrong,” she said. “Are those letters? Their shapes are so strange.”
“Yes, they are. It's a different language.”
Ouo scowled at Aoi. “There is only one language--the language of the Hallowed Scrolls.”
“Well, more precisely, this used to be our language, long ago. At least I think so. Take a closer look at the letters, and you'll see they aren't totally different. There are some similarities with our modern forms.”
Ouo looked again for a minute. “Yes, I suppose I see. But we can't read it, so what good is it?”
“Let me show you the final key. Akran!”
“What?”
“I found a machine that responds to voice commands, like a Custodian. Just a moment. Akran!” Aoi went to the edge of the platform and called the strange word again. After a moment, she pointed into the depths.
Ouo saw a small, dark spot rising toward them; when it was level with their perch, it was an object almost the size of a person. It halted and floated, turning back and forth slightly. “A Custodian? A masterless drone?” Ouo asked.
“Based upon main functions and ability, I am classified as an Akran,” the machine said above its whirring noises. Its oblong, helical form seemed to be made of stone, milky and slightly translucent. Shallow sensor pits and blisters were arranged on its surface in some pattern Ouo could not identify.
Ouo's mouth was open. “It speaks? Machines obey, they do not speak.”
“I do both. I am an Akran.”
“And . . . what does an Akran do?” Ouo asked, looking at Aoi.
Aoi smiled, and the Akran answered. “Currently, our main task is to repair and maintain the Custodians, and repair and maintain the computers.”
“You're custodians for the Custodians,” Ouo said.
“Yes. The Custodians repair and maintain the waste disposal system, repair and maintain the ventilation system, and repair and maintain the nutrition plant.”
“The nutrition plant is also down here,” Aoi said. “It manufactures food and pipes it to the upper levels.”
“Who repairs you?” Ouo asked.
“We self-repair and self-replicate from raw materials.”
“But why do you speak?”
> “Our original function was to provide a remote and more comfortable interface with the computers, as well as to search for and obtain raw manufacturing material from extraterrestrial resources.”
“What does that mean? And why has no one seen you up there, above the Underrealm level?” Ouo demanded.
Aoi gestured for the Akran to approach the computer screen. “Let me show you, Ouo,” she said. The Akran seemed to understand what she wanted. As it got close to the screen, all the text changed to its modern form.
“We are relegated to the Underrealm” the Akran said, “by command of the original theocracy of this city. Exceptions can be made on an individual basis, but Aoi is the first to enter the Eabzu Archives in many generations.”
“Wait a minute,” Ouo said. “What archives?”
Aoi waved at the text on the screen. “That's what I brought you here to show you. These computers not only run the city; they contain a library of data that goes back thousands of years.”
“Though the data are not synchronic,” the Akran said. “We use Eabzu's terminals and Custodians to collect data and add it the Archives; in this way we are able to follow the evolution of your language, for example. But we are not able to monitor conditions in the outside world very far beyond the tower.”
“The Akran used to have a much wider range,” Aoi said, “before the world's five megacities were established.”
“They were not built along with Eabzu?” Ouo asked.
“No. They are much older. They even traveled to other worlds.”
“What do you mean? This is the