A Maze of Stars Page 12

  Volar moaned and covered his eyes.

  “It was of course impossible,” he suggested when Ship had reverted to showing him the cleanly stars.

  “Not ‘of course.’ ”

  “No, I suppose not. If it had been, I imagine you’d have stopped them from trying it.”

  “I would have attempted dissuasion, yes.”

  “So there was a chance, no matter how slim. I see. But what exactly went wrong?”

  “I don’t know. I can only make deductions from what I have learned on this visit and see how they fit with what I found out on later occasions that to me were earlier.”

  “What’s the likeliest hypothesis?”

  “That they were impatient. When they chose their island, they neglected to sterilize the soil clear down to bedrock; either that, or rain, sea spray and perhaps the droppings of aerial creatures undermined their efforts before they managed to enclose it completely. The local biology obeys the principle of punctuated equilibrium and is at present at a punctuation point. Given the rate at which evolution is proceeding, it would have taken relatively few organisms to set in train the process of which you have seen the outcome.”

  “Yet they still imagine themselves to be the same shape as their forebears? It’s incredible! How can they not know they’re different? Aren’t there pictures, gene maps, all kinds of hints and clues like—oh—old tools and furniture they can’t make use of anymore?”

  “Partly this appears to be due to the human power of selfdeception, to which experience has not thus far inclined me to set limits. Partly it may be due to a phenomenon known since the very dawn of spaceflight in connection with certain pharmaceutical drugs. They induced adverse psychological effects, including radical changes of mood and personality. However, the fact that they were prescribed by a physician militated against the patient’s chance of deducing that they were the proximate cause of his suffering; indeed, he would be more inclined to ask for further drugs to counteract the first, and since the whole process was extremely profitable for all concerned save the ultimate consumer, they would be provided. In analogous fashion, one may guess, the settlers refused to accept that they were being so to say taken over into the pattern of the dominant native fauna, sharing their lives with macroscopic symbiotes and commensals. They must have said, in effect, ‘Our precautions are flawless, therefore this is not happening.’ Very probably, into the bargain, the to-them alien invaders offered some kind of recompense. One might guess at a feeling of euphoria. But short of finding a corpse and analyzing it, I can do no more than guess. And in some sense they have succeeded. There is no corpse at present on this planet. Death has become a rarity.”

  “You couldn’t analyze their excretions? What about a sample of sewage?”

  “Attempted. But the readings are too coarse.”

  Volar shook his head in mingled sadness and amazement.

  “If there’s one thing I’ve learned from this extraordinary experience, it’s that human beings don’t react sanely to absolute principles. On Klepsit the principle is to combat the local life, sacrificing as many as we must to develop resistance and eventually inherited immunity, but that’s costing us human traits like love and pity. Here it’s to exclude, to shut out, to quarantine oneself from the local life, and that’s cost them their human form. I think …”

  He fell silent for a long moment. When eventually he spoke again, he did so in the tones of one who has reached a firm decision.

  “Fascinating though such a voyage would be, I’m too old to accompany you to the end of the Arm. Some day, I hope, you’ll find a passenger young and vigorous enough not to contemplate settling anywhere. Me, I feel as though I ought already to be dead, which but for your intervention I would have been, or as good as. Now I’ve decided what sort of world I’d like to end my days on, purely for the satisfaction of knowing it exists. A place where there are no absolute rules apart from natural laws, where informed people make the best of their lives according to what it offers. Where knowledge is accumulated and respected, and on the basis of what they can find out people improvise, with luck successfully.”

  He glanced up at the stars.

  “Surely among all the planets where humans have established themselves, there must be one society not bound immovably to this or that unquestionable dictum. Is there?”

  It was Ship’s turn to pause, and when it spoke again its voice was pregnant with sadness.

  “There are several, including as it happens my next port of call but one… There will be little of interest at the next stop. We are still near the commencement of my sweep, where settlements doomed to fail are concentrated.”

  “Is that because you gathered experience as you went?”

  “No. Rather, those who left me earliest were most rash and eager. Those who delayed had time to ponder, analyze, and plan. In general, their descendants managed—or will manage—better.”

  “This is, though, not one of your absolute rules.”

  Volar chuckled, rising to his feet.

  “I like you, Ship! But I suppose you’re making for tachyonic space. Better go through the usual motions, hm?”

  “Your turn of phrase eludes me.”

  “Really? Are you sure you’re not stalling?” Volar stretched and yawned. “What I mean, of course, is that it’s time for me to eat before I sleep away the jump to the next system … By the way, what went wrong there?”

  “It may not yet have gone wrong. If so, the hurt will be the keener.”

  Volar let his hands fall to his sides. “You know, sometimes I wish I were still talking to the projection that looked like Kenia. I’m used to addressing the air by now, but … I’m rambling. Do you mean their hurt—or yours?”

  “You are speaking,” Ship said firmly, “to a machine.”

  SO THIS TOO WILL BE A PARTING. ALREADY I KNOW YOU WELL enough, Volar, to realize your decision will in no way be affected when you learn of Hybe, whose people now enjoy fantastic water carnivals along canals that web their cities, to the music of the singing nenuphars. You dared to ask: “my” hurt? When I think what’s to become of Hybe …

  No one would wish to leave it now. In a century or so everyone would wish already to have left it, because of the burning that began in the eyes and ears and spread inexorably to the brain.

  No, you will be overwhelmed by Shreng and what it represents, so close to your ideal. And indeed it will be where you end your days—I trust more happily than Stripe.

  But am I predicting this, or recollecting it?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  SHRENG

  DEAN FARUZ HOW OF THE UNIVERSITY OF INSHAR SWOOPED and darted along the main avenue of campus, relishing how closely the view resembled what could have been found long ago on the birthworld. The plants might be yellow-pinnaed frondiferns, the creatures that fluttered on the afternoon breeze not birds but emples and crythes; nonetheless that avenue retained the indefinable, archetypal hallmark of academe despite being lined with buildings in twenty different styles, from a timber-built copy of an emergency longhouse such as the first settlers had made do with, to a vast fishlike structure that had to be tethered because it was kept on the verge of floating away by the warmth of its occupants. Some people muttered “old-fashioned”; Dean How preferred “traditional.” Was that not appropriate for a center of higher education?

  Besides, just visible beyond the far end of the avenue, silhouetted against clouds that warned of impending rain, loomed a permanent reminder of modem times: the spaceport with its huge reception grid. And, naturally, every one of the buildings was walled and roofed with solid circuitry. How otherwise could he be flying over them—and into them—without leaving his bureau?

  Normally at this hour there were few people in sight. All or nearly all the students would be in class. But today was the eve of the Landing Day holiday, and everyone who could was physically going home. Hundreds of young people laden with bags and boxes and even over-shoulder poles from which hung brightly wrapped g
ifts were awaiting pickup by the licensed carriers who would take them to automatic planes or trains. Very much unlicensed, but tolerated by custom, there were also scores of peddlers offering star-view image cubes, dancing dolls, cut diamonds, and suchlike trinkets to customers who had forgotten to purchase or not found suitable presents for everyone back home. They scattered as a carrier buzzed to ground.

  Now and then conners pushing bootleg knowledge capsules took advantage of the holiday crowds, following the scent of anxiety and whispering, “You got course trouble? What you need? I got science, history, art, music, medicine, all best-quality ingestible data!” But the autoproctors were programmed to detect the emanations from their wares, and none of the pushers came back a second time, nor was anyone fool enough to make such a purchase, on campus or off, allowed to remain at Inshar. Such rubbish might suffice the general public, but students at this university learned in the ancient manner, and what they learned stayed learned. In exceptional circumstances, under supervision, they might be permitted to imbibe a preparation imparting not information but the ability to organize information; the rest was sheer hard work. The effect of those home-brewed shortcuts evaporated like as not within a year, and their presence in a human body could be detected almost without instruments. Inshar was better off without idiots prepared to resort to them.

  Landing Day …

  Responsive to his fleeting whisper, the circuits superimposed images of the scene tomorrow in countless homes around the world, with parents and children, relatives and friends assembled before the traditional model of a landing dinghy set on a tray filled with yellow sand to represent the desert of Touchdown and surrounded by piles of gifts. As so often in the past, Dean How was driven to marvel at how fortunate Shreng’s first settlers had been to hit on this world. Few native life-forms could infect human tissue; there were few large fauna to compete for resources with the new arrivals and none at all that showed any sign of intelligence, so they could be exploited without qualms; the climate was temperate and the weather normally benign—in short, they had drawn an ace of planets.

  Even the fact that they had not yet built a starship of their own was not entirely a disadvantage. It being impossible to transmit data tachyonically between systems, those worlds that had opted to invest in starflight had done so in quest less of goods than of information. Naturally, since the ships existed, there was some trade in curios, handicrafts, and works of art, but knowledge was a thousand times more precious.

  And, as it so happened, the University of Inshar was located literally on the edge of the vast flat expanse of granitelike rock which, after a careful survey, their first off-world visitors had chosen as well suited for a spaceport.

  Since the outset the colonists on Shreng had been determined to create an open society. Had their world been less hospitable, it might have been impossible; from the spacefarers they had learned of many other planets where the sheer necessity of survival had led to oppressive, even totalitarian regimes. Free of such pressures, Shreng had rapidly developed a number of independent settlements, some coastal, some inland, but each enterprising in its own way. One feature, however, they all had in common. The focal point of every not-quite-city—for although many had the equivalent of a city’s population, there was land enough for each more to resemble a cluster of villages—was invariably a center of learning: a university, in other words. Some specialized in science, especially biology, others in the humanities—few planets, so their visitors reported, possessed so complete a knowledge of the race’s past. Others again devoted themselves to electronics and mechanics or the performing arts, above all music.

  And because of its fortunate location, Inshar had become the greatest of them. Students flocked to it from all over.the globe, and indeed from space as well. Few of the millions who dreamed of studying on Shreng could afford the fare, but governments on many other planets recognized the benefit of sending at least a handful of their brightest young people to Inshar, even if only for a year, so that on their return they could become teachers or administrators. Accordingly, a full one percent of the student body was now foreign, and it would soon be double that.

  Governments …

  There was no formal government here, but de facto Dean How had become the most powerful man on the planet. It was to him and his colleagues that the councils of every not-quite-city turned when in need of advice or guidance or suggestions for future projects. Many of the university staff regretted what had happened, grousing that they no longer had enough time for teaching or research because they were forever being called upon. Dean How, on the contrary, reveled in his prestigious position. Some said he had an atavistic—or at least un-Shrengian—taste for power and cited the fact that he lived alone, conducted no liaisons, had neglected his duty to found a family; others, more charitable, opined that it was as well someone enjoyed the tasks he coped with so efficiently.

  In truth, he did enjoy his work. Nothing, neither wife nor family nor intimate friends, could have given him greater satisfaction than being—as he was—the sole person permitted to enter link with all the university’s circuits… which effectively meant all the circuits on the planet. To have the only key to such a storehouse of knowledge—! Better still, to live in the one place on all of Shreng where unauthorized intrusion was impossible—!

  Unfortunately, the same was not true of his bureau. The projection of the avenue froze, and a soft voice announced that he was wanted urgently. Much annoyed, he demanded who wanted him and why. The deepscreen showed a dark, rather plump young man captioned as Menlee Ashiru, a medical aide at the campus infirmary. A pheromone sensor reported that he was in a state of genuine agitation.

  Today of all days? Oh, well… How authorized access to his standard image for callers, seated behind a large bare pseudoantique desk. That was real. He had had it constructed from an ancient design because, like the main campus avenue, it expressed an archetypal, almost prehistoric, image: that of the totally competent manager who never falls behind with his work.

  Menlee’s stored image melted into a real-time one. He was mopping his forehead with a yellow cloth. He started and made haste to tuck it back in his belt pouch as he realized that the august dean had accepted his call.

  “Well, what is it?” How demanded frostily.

  Menlee drew a deep breath. “Dean, it seems we’ve found someone not born on Shreng who doesn’t appear on the passenger manifest of any visiting starship.”

  The words ran down How’s spine like electricity. Jolted forward in his seat, he shot a passing order at the circuitry, expecting that before Menlee could utter another word he would be furnished with all the relevant data.

  Nothing happened.

  He’s fitted a lock. He must be serious!

  After a moment another real-time image joined Menlee’s, backgrounded so as to be slightly out of focus—echo from the lock, perhaps. A bearded man was sitting talking to a young woman. The latter was instantly captioned by the circuitry—

  Annica Slore, junior medical aide, who together with Menlee had volunteered for duty over the holiday because they both lived too far away to get home and back except by superflight, which they could not afford.

  But the former might as well not have existed.

  A good solid lock too! How thought. Of course, there was no conceivable lock the dean could not arrange to break sooner or later, but if the implications of what Menlee had just said were to be believed, it might make better sense to postpone a decision for the time being.

  And the younger man was still talking.

  “An autoproctor noticed this unknown wandering around and looking lost. He was presumably too old to be a student, and the proctor didn’t recognize him as faculty. At first it took him for a peddler who’d sold his entire stock, but he didn’t look cheerful enough. So it asked how it could help, and the man said he was hungry and looking for a public refectory. The proctor explained that there aren’t any on campus but he could find a restaurant in town, a
nd when it turned out he didn’t know his way, the proctor began to get puzzled. I mean, he must have come from town—unless he came from the spaceport.”

  How thought of the distant silhouette of the reception grid.

  “Go on,” he encouraged.

  “And then he almost passed out,” the young man resumed. “He apologized and said he really was very hungry, not having eaten anything all day. So the proctor dropped into emergency routine and brought him to the infirmary.”

  “How many other people have seen this person?”

  Menlee shrugged. “Three or four, I suppose. Casually.”

  “But you were the one who examined him?”

  “Yes. Along with Annica Slore, who’s with him now.”

  The circuits appended a comment to the effect that the two were lovers. Well, that wasn’t a crime—though How had never understood why one-to-one relationships should be regarded as important. Growing impatient because he had to receive the data slowly and verbally, he snapped, “And?”

  “Taking him at his word, because he seemed quite calm and unaggressive, I administered glucose solution and asked Annica to fetch solid food. His pulse was weak, and he was a little feverish, though nothing serious. But when the food arrived, he seemed not to know what to do with it. For instance, he didn’t know how to peel a goldeneye. And he tried to cut a scorium with a knife, and of course it burst and sprayed juice all over the place.”

  “Very odd,” the dean murmured. “Very odd indeed!”

  “I thought so,” Menlee said, preening a little. “So while Annica was helping him to finish his meal, I started asking a few questions. Pretty soon I decided either he was being evasive or else he was amnesiac.”

  “It’s an odd kind of amnesia that extends to forgetting how to eat common foods.”