Sentenced to Prism

  Something had rebuilt slightly more than half of Martine Ophemert. So deep was the royal blue that it was almost opaque. He could not see the artificial organs that lay inside. He did not have to see them to know they existed. Even the right half of the skull was of blue crystal, smooth and inflexible except for the lighter blue lens which sub­stituted for the missing eye. It swiveled and rotated in tandem with its fleshy companion. He wondered how the brain correlated what must be two entirely different sets of visual messages. For that matter he wondered how much of the original brain was left.

  Cosmetic detail had been attended to along with more practical concerns. From the right side of the head, long blue fibers trailed toward the ground. They were iden­tical in length and diameter to Ophemert's natural black hair, except for their color‑‑and the minute bit of light that danced at the tip of each fiber.

  She stopped when she was barely a meter away and studied him as intently as he was studying her. What the physicians had done to him was wondrous, but Martine Ophemert was a miracle. A blue miracle.

  His friends formed a curious circle around them both. "I see a couple of physicians. Did they do this work on you?" A hand of sapphire reached out to touch the trans­parent skin covering his abdomen.

  "A necessary repair job." He was shaking his head in disbelief. "Nothing compared to what's been done to you. I wouldn't think that that much of human body could be rebuilt if I wasn't looking at the proof of it right now."

  "Neither would I" Again that quirky yet charming half smile. The right side of her face‑ did not move. Whoever had saved her had managed to give her a new heart, half a new body, and more. But they had not been able to rebuild her smile.

  "I went racing through the forest to escape what hap­pened back at the station. Had on my survival suit so I thought I was safe enough." Maybe she could manage only a half smile, but she could still produce a hearty laugh. "A top‑heavy condarite fell on me. My right side was crushed. Members of an Associative found me and, well, you know how they work. They're as curious as they are skillful. In order to ask me questions they had to keep me alive.

  "I can't claim to begin to understand the medical engi­neering that made it possible for me to live. All I can do is marvel at it."

  "The light you used to save us," said library, "we thought it was barrean."

  "Oh, that. They told me about the barrean. I was fas­cinated. That's part of my work. So they offered to make another modification." She turned and raised her right arm again.

  As soon as the tips of all four fingers were brought into alignment the shaft of coherent red light reappeared. It vanished as quickly when she spread the fingers apart.

  "My very own laser. I've got artificial rubies in my fingers and hand‑it's just corundum to them‑and argon gas in my arm. Something in my back collects and stores enough energy to make the whole setup lase when I bring all the elements into proper alignment. They did it because I kept expressing concern for my personal safety. Humula, you know." She lowered the arm and flexed shining blue fingers. "I can vary the intensity by moving my fingers slightly. It's funny. I've always been an admirer of bio­engineering. Just never thought I'd experience it first­hand."

  "Same here," Evan told her.

  She glanced down into the valley. "The Integrator hasn't forgotten you. Let's take a walk." They turned and followed her down the other side of the ridge, leaving the baffling, maddening thing that was the Integrator to rage at their escape.

  "I was sure you were Humula," she told him as they picked their way down the slope. "The only thing that made me hesitate was the presence of Associative mem­bers. I couldn't imagine how someone like him could induce physicians and a library to travel with him."

  "What's the story with this Humula, anyway? I'm pretty sure I've got the basics puzzled out, but I'm still sketchy on the hows and whys."

  "You saw what happened at the station. I imagine when you got over the initial shock you started imagining alien monstrosities running amok." He nodded. "It wasn't, of course, though something the size of the Integrator could have done it. It wasn't Prism's fault, though. We're so clever, we humans, we bring our own monstrosities with us.

  "Naturally you wondered how anything could have surprised the staff, much less wiped it out, what with all the screens and weapons provided. It isn't difficult if all your attention is directed outward. Humula did it. He had it all figured out, disconnected alarms, went to work at night when everyone except the night watch was sleeping. He timed it perfectly." She spoke matter‑of‑factly, without bitterness. The bitterness had faded some time ago.

  "Not quite perfectly," Evan pointed out. "He missed you,"

  "Saved by a whim. I couldn't sleep, so I went spar­genox hunting." When he responded with a quizzical shake of his head, she explained. "From the old Latin; spargere for spark, nox for night. Night‑sparks."

  "I called them dancing jewels, I think."

  She nodded. "I went collecting, didn't bother to tell anybody. The team leader, Jo Erlander, didn't approve of solo excursions beyond the perimeter, much less noctur­nal ones. She's dead now too. Poor Mother Hen. We all loved her."

  Evan waited quietly until the tears stopped. They fell only from one eye, of course.

  "I saw Humula kill Eddie Chang myself. He had access to the armory and all I had were the defensive systems in my suit. I knew I didn't have a chance against him. So I ran. I ran like hell, because I knew he'd take a count and come after me when he found I wasn't anywhere in camp. I knew it would take him a while to go through every building and the grounds in detail, so I figured I'd have a pretty good head start. I did. I got away clean ­and then a tree falls on me."

  "He killed everyone?" Evan said slowly.

  "All of them. Eddie, Mother Hen, Rajanshar‑every­one. My friends. My family away from home. He mur­dered them, carefully and efficiently. I'm sure you can guess why as easily as I. He was working for another outfit, a rival concern. It would have to be a big one, big enough to want Prism's resources all to itself. Just like our company does.

  "Once he'd taken care of the staff, Humula would have the station to himself. First he'd pirate the information we'd gathered and ship it off to his employers: then wait for `rescue.' That would be you, Evan. He'd have a couple of options then. He could kill you and hope that would be enough to convince the company to abandon its inter­ests here, or he could have dressed up a nice story about the invulnerable inimical lifeforms that would render any kind of colony here untenable, and how he'd barely man­aged to survive the attacks which had killed everyone else."

  "And I probably would have believed him," Evan mur­mured softly.

  "Why not? I would've believed him myself without anyone or anything to contradict him. That's why he had to come after me. I was the last witness, the last threat to his carefully thought out plan. But Prism got to him first." She shook her head. "If I'd known that I could've gone straight back and called in. I might‑still be all me." She swallowed, sniffed once. "Hell with it. Half of me is history."

  "This other Associative repaired you after the con­darite fell on you?"

  "Shock alone almost killed me. When I finally regained consciousness I was a long way from where the tree caught me. They'd carried me inside their wall and had gone to work. Gradually I got used to it‑as used as anyone can to having half a new body, I guess. Just being alive makes all sorts of changes palatable.

  "They'd saved the beacon, too. Naturally the falling condarite hadn't hurt it. That led to discussions of bat­teries and..."

  "I did the same favor for my friends." Evan indicated the attentive circle of silicate faces surrounding them.

  "So. There's nothing to stop us from going back to the station. That's not going to be easy for me."

  "I'll help as much as I can. Getting a message out isn't going to be easy either, you know. I made a thorough tour of the station before I started following your beacon. The local scavengers have been pretty busy while you've
been away."

  "I can imagine. The native lifeforms treat rare earths, metals, and chemical compounds like candy." She sat down on the frozen skeleton of a yellow‑pink tree. Evan marveled at her fluid movements. The master physicians who had repaired and replaced her crushed right side had done a remarkable job of duplicating human muscle and bone with entirely different materials.

  "I don't know how to ask this," he said finally, "so I'll just ask it. Are you‑comfortable, like that?"

  "Like what? Oh." She laughed easily. "I've progressed beyond comfortable. Actually, I don't give it much thought. I'm not in pain, if that's what you mean. What matters is that I'm alive. In fact, I'm probably subject to less pain than before, since my doctors didn't try to duplicate the density of neural endings except where it really matters, like at the tips of my fingers. Talking is something else that's been hard for me to get used to. My half‑new vocal cords don't mesh quite perfectly with what's left of the old ones, so I tend to whistle sometimes when I make s's. They were concentrating on saving the right side of my brain. Peripherals didn't receive as much attention.

  "On the other hand, they made some improvements. My new right eye sees things the left never dreamed existed. I have a food storage system that lets me go without eating for quite a while. And then there's this little toy, courtesy of some intensive barrean study." She raised her right hand and brought her fingers halfway together, drew them over her left leg. The blue silicate skin picked up the light and dispersed it harmlessly.

  She looked into his eyes."So I guess you could say I'm comfortable with the way I turned out. Now, are you comfortable with the way I am?"

  Evan licked his lips. "Blue becomes you."

  She laughed harder than ever. Now that it had been mentioned, Evan noticed the faint whistling overtones. It didn't detract from the beauty of her laugh at all.

  "A diplomat. I like you, Evan Orgell."

  "Just Evan."

  "Then, just Martine. Even if you aren't entirely human anymore."

  He glanced down at his transparent torso. "Just miss­ing some meat, and who's to say its replacement isn't more durable? The problem now is, do we wash or pol­ish?" They laughed together.

  "Prism has refashioned us in its own image. Partly, anyway." She turned serious. "You know, this world is going to make some wondrous things possible if the people who come here to learn approach what it has to offer with open minds. These changes have been forced on you and me by necessity, but there's no reason why they couldn't be performed on volunteers. Imagine what the physicians of the Associatives could do for severely deformed or damaged people if they were given access to Common­wealth medical technology. Look what they've done with­out it." She waved toward the now safely distant ridge.

  "Even the Integrator has potential. Maybe a use cars be found for it someday, if it can be contained and cured." Half her face was alive with excitement. "Evan, Prism's the most important discovery since mankind met up with the thranx!"

  He shook his head slowly, wondering if he could have coped with such extensive changes as well as she had. "You're beautiful when you're half angry. All of you."

  She grinned. "Maybe more than just a diplomat. You've either been away from women too long or else you're afflicted with a severe gemophilia fetish."

  "Blue seems to be the predominant color here. I won­der why."

  "Predominance of copper in the silicates. Preliminary research had time to confirm that much. Add minute amounts of chromium and you get bright red trees. Fas­cinating."

  "It is nothing like that," Azure piped up. "It is just that the physicians who helped you clearly possessed a supe­rior sense of design. You are blue because blue is by far the most attractive natural coloring."

  That set off an argument between Azure and two of the black‑sheened warriors. The warriors were outclassed but made up for it with sheer stubbornness. Gradually the rest of the party joined the discussion. Except for library, who remained aloof from such silliness.

  "Tell me," Marline asked quietly during a lull in the sparring, "did you bury any of the staff?"

  Evan shook his head. "I was too busy trying to find out if anyone was still alive to worry about the dead. We can bury them when we get back, if you want, and if we can get the remains away from the scavengers."

  She nodded, sighed. The left side of her body heaved while the right gave a little twitch. She was all at once an alien, pitiable, and exotic figure.

  "I've considered my own situation carefully. I've had plenty of time to think. I've been on my own here for some time now and I've gotten used to Prism. Comfort­able, even. Once we contact the company and explain what's happened here I'm sure they'll want to stay and expand the station. The newcomers will need someone to explain things to them and keep them from making fools of themselves. For obvious reasons I don't think I'd be able to slip smoothly back into the everyday flow of life on Samstead‑or anywhere else, for that matter. So ­I'm thinking of staying here if the company will let me continue with my work."

  "Staying. I think you're wrong about being able to fit in back home. That's just where you would be able to fit in, on Samstead. Because you'd be in a suit all the tine. As for the right side of your face, there are ways to cam­ouflage that."

  "Word would leak out sooner or later. People, the media, would start seeking out the freak."

  "You could be completely camouflaged. Syntheflesh everywhere and you'd look like everyone else. That's what I'm going to have done to me." He slapped his stomach.

  "Maybe I could be fixed to look like everyone else, Evan, but I wouldn't be like everyone else. There's no way to fix that. And the media would still hunt me down. I couldn't cope with that. I'm a very private person, Evan. That's one reason why I chose the profession I did. I'm a loner, better at dealing with two people in a lab than two hundred at company offices. No, I made up my mind weeks ago, out in the forest. I'm staying here. I think the company will be delighted. Who else can work freely out in the wilds of this world without a suit? I'm adapted to this place, more so than any other human being."

  She nearly left out the "other," Evan noticed.

  "I'm not the girl down the street anymore. I never really was. Prism's made the condition permanent, that's all."

  They were both silent for a long moment. Then that quirky smile returned. "As a loner I never dressed up much. I didn't care much for jewelry and now I can't leave it at home because it's become a part of me."

  He smiled. "Once your friends armed you‑pardon the pun‑how come you never went looking for Humula?"

  "Two reasons: I was afraid I'd never be able to surprise him if he stayed within the station's defensive perimeter, and I didn't know how to find my way back to the station without my suit."

  "You couldn't judge from the position of the sun?"

  "That may be part of your job. It wasn't part of mine. Who worried about such things inside a suit? Your sur­vival suit took care of everything, including getting you home if you got lost. Hell, you couldn't get lost in a suit."

  Evan nodded, remembering his own reliance on the MHW Maybe it was time a few of Samstead's enlightened citizens considered doing without suits for a while. Maybe there was some basis to the criticism its citizens heard from the other inhabitants of the Commonwealth. Could one rely too heavily on technology to get through every­day life? A disturbing thought‑and a promising one.

  "You talk of returning to your Associative," a new voice said, unable to keep silent any longer.

  "Excuse me." Evan gestured with his left hand. "This is my friend Azure."

  "A Surface of Fine Azure‑Tinted Reflection With Pyroxine Dendritic Inclusions‑if you don't mind." Impressions of a mental sigh. "But since you humans have this inexplicable aversion to proper names, you may refer to me by the same stunted identification my companion uses."

  "I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, scout."

  Evan looked startled. "You know, Azure's the only one whose name I've bot
hered to ask." He looked back at the rest of his friends, who had ceased their arguing to watch and listen. "Library, what are you called?"

  "`Library' will do, since it would take you until evening to hear my entire name. When we wish to pass such information among ourselves we can do so far faster than you can comprehend."

  "If you want to return to your camp we can do that anytime," Azure informed his friend.

  "How? Without my suit I'm all turned around. We'll have to rely on my sun sightings and go slowly and care­fully so I don't lose my way. Even so, that'll only get us back to where my suit died. From there back to the station will take some guesswork."

  Azure made a disgusted sound. "For you, perhaps. I do not function according to `guesswork.' Why do you think I am called a scout?"

  Evan smiled. "Do you remember every place you've ever been?"

  "Certainly. It's my job."

  "If you do not object the rest of us would like to accom­pany you." Evan turned to face library. "There is much to be learned from the continued study of human things."

  "That's what the physicians who fixed me said," Mar­tine commented, "but they were beginning a migratory and couldn't deviate from their planned course in any case."

  "Of course you're welcome to join us," Evan told him. He shifted his attention back to Azure. "You think you can find your way from my suit back to the station?"

  "You still do not fully comprehend the abilities of a scout. I will take you where we all wish to go."

  "All right then. Let's go there."

  Chapter Fourteen

  There was plenty of time for conversation during the long march back to the Associative and a great deal of information was exchanged between silicates and organics. Their return was greeted quietly and with­out fanfare, the members of the Associative not being the overly demonstrative type. But the presence of Martine, who was as much silicate as soft, provoked so much com­ment that the work of the Associative suffered.