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Chapter 9

Sage shook his head. He didn't want to talk about it.

Pali remained insistent. "Can't we just go about it slowly and deliberately?" she asked. "If there's any problem, can't we disconnect right away?"

He sighed. He'd thought about it all night—had been unable to sleep from thinking about it. He was torn between curiosity and fear. The passage of a day had made him less certain of his memory, but not of his fear. What was he to believe? How could he know what was real? Could he go into rap not knowing what kind of game the gnostic system might play on him? No, it was too much to ask. Surely they could see that.

There was a rustling to his right, where Kyd sat. "Can you at least tell us why not?" she said gently.

He shook his head, but this time it was more of a tremble than a definite No gesture. Kyd was touching the back of his hand, just lightly resting her fingertips against his skin. She didn't mean anything by it, he knew, but he glanced and his eyes were caught by hers; they were so large and intent and focused. A tiny smile crept into her gaze. "Sage?"

He moistened his lips. His head was a little confused; he didn't know that someone just touching your hand could have such a dizzying effect. He started to pull his hand away, but it didn't move. There was a rushing sound in his ears. "Wh-what?" he croaked.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to, Sage. You know that," she said. "But it would help us, to know why."

"I—" He took a deep breath, and his gaze dropped to where Kyd's fingers had moved to his wrist, and he started to try to explain. It wasn't that he didn't want to help, he stammered, it was just that he was frightened . . . but as he talked, he found himself less certain, less determined. Perhaps it wasn't totally impossible, if only he could—

There was a sound of footsteps on the far side of the room, and he looked up. Ramo was standing in the doorway, staring at him. Or at Kyd. Or at both of them. Sage was suddenly conscious again of Kyd's hand touching his.

"Ramo?" Pali rose to greet him.

"Don't bother getting up," Ramo said. He walked across the room, past Pali, and stopped and glared at Kyd and Sage. "I trust I'm not interrupting anything."

Kyd drew her hand back. "Hello, Ramo. No, of course not."

Ramo scowled, and Sage felt himself flush.

"As a matter of fact," Pali said, standing behind the artist, "we were just discussing what happened yesterday."

"Uh-huh," Ramo said, not turning.

Pali frowned in obvious annoyance. "Maybe you could give us a few minutes with Sage . . . ?"

"That won't be necessary," Ramo said tightly. "I just came by to say that until your genius here gets your gnostic system working, there's not much reason for me to be around."

"Ramo, if you would wait—"

"It's nothing personal," he said coolly. "You hired me to create a sculpture, not to meddle in gnostic design problems. As it stands now, I can't do that. If you get your problems solved, you can call me and we'll see about my coming back to finish the job." He gazed at Sage and Kyd with an expression that Sage couldn't decipher. Jealousy? Sage wondered.

"We could use your help," Kyd said.

Ramo shrugged. "Not my job—not gnostic design." He seemed ready to add something more; but without speaking, he turned back to Pali. "Call me if you need me. I'll be in touch about my fee." Then he stalked from the room.

There was a long, uncomfortable silence. Sage looked nervously from Kyd to Pali and back. They were both stunned. Sage took a breath and made a decision. "I'll . . . do the session alone," he offered in a whisper.

Pali looked at him blankly, as though she hadn't heard. Then surprise slowly spread across her face. Kyd clasped his hand and forced a smile. "Thank you, Sage," she said. "We'll do our best to help."

He blinked at her, awash with confused emotions. "I . . . you know, that wasn't your fault just now." In fact, he couldn't help feeling that Ramo's anger was somehow his fault.

She laughed and squeezed his hand again, harder. "I know, Sage. I know. But thanks."

 

* * *

 

He went into rap quickly and with little fuss. Pali and Kyd were watching as the blue-green glow of the rap-field illuminated the room and then obliterated his surroundings from view. He felt surprisingly confident as he moved through the outer layers of the gnostic system, retracing his steps. His nervousness returned as he moved deeper; he began to wonder if he would even know it if he ran afoul of security. The next voice you hear . . .

. . . will be that of the Company police.

Don't think about it. You'll draw attention to yourself.

Don't think of a pink elephant.

The fear was starting to close in on him again. He kept moving, glancing backward at frequent intervals to trace his route. He was now in the outer shells of the operating system—a transparent space filled with stratified colors, like layers of stained glass. Somehow he had lost yesterday's track, but he kept following pathways as they opened for him, until he sensed that he had reached the same level at which he and Ramo had first been contacted by the system's intelligence.

He paused. There was no sense of presence, nothing beckoning him as it had before. [System?] he called.

The region surrounding him disappeared in a clean wipe. For an instant, he was in no space. Then he became aware of a buzzing sensation.

[What would you like to know?] a female voice asked.

[Hello?] he whispered in astonishment.

The answering voice seemed to converge upon him from all points. It was soft-spoken and deliberate, like Kyd's voice: [I am prepared at this time to share certain information with you.] As it spoke, he felt his consciousness opening up like a flower in the sun. He felt himself the object of an intense scrutiny—but by what entity? He sensed power, and a vast intelligence. Could it be the central gnostic core itself, the heart of the AI system?

[Obviously,] the voice said.

He was stunned. [What do you mean—obviously?] he asked dizzily. He struggled to catch his breath. [You seem . . . different . . . from what I met before.]

There was a pause. [Do you not perceive?]

He strained to understand. [Perceive . . . ?] Information was swirling about him, but he had no enhancements, and it was all too oblique, too foreign to his thought processes. If it was being translated at all, it was into a language he didn't know.

[You need help,] said the system.

The words stung like a rebuke. [Yes,] he answered.

He heard something like a chuckle. [Is it so hard to ask?]

An instant later, he felt the familiar sensation of doors opening in his thoughts as the enhancements fell into place. The territory surrounding him became clear; connections and layers emerged like rocky cliffs out of a mist. He realized with a panicky feeling that he was deeper in the system than ever before, and he had not come of his own accord, he had been brought here. Slowly he became aware that the structure surrounding him contained enormous banks of information and processing activity—shifting constantly, like spotlights on a dark stage. Those banks, those spotlights, were aspects of the central artificial intelligence, the core of the AI system.

[You begin to understand,] said the core, its voice deepening.

[I do,] said Sage, not sure if he was asking or answering.

[You've met me before . . . and you haven't.]

Sage blinked. An explanation appeared in his mind. [You have more than one aspect.]

[Many aspects. I am the system you know; and yet I am different from what you know of me—even from what you can know of me.]

Sage took a slow breath. [What's this all about, then?]

The lights shifted quickly, illuminating first one section of the core structure, then another, jumping so quickly that even with the enhancements he couldn't follow. A network of spidery light beams blinked on, bridging him to the flickering structure. He felt himself floating, lightheaded, as though he had just entered into rap for the first time. [Ask your questions,] said the AI-core, its voice fading into the distance.

It took him a moment. The questions he had come for? He reached back into his thoughts, into the confusion.

His consciousness faded to a blur, a blizzard of questions—and swirling around him, a snowstorm of answers from the gnostic core.

 

Q. In my last contact, I was researching a problem in physics. A sculpture.

A. The essence of that problem had already been solved. You were shown the physical consequence of the solution.

Q. But what was I shown?

A. Do you not already know?

Q. I . . . think I know. I am not certain I understand.

A. You were shown images of a war.

Q. (Held breath) What war?

A. A war for star system 483.

Q. The colony system? Argus system?

A. Yes.

Q. A real war?

A. Yes.

Q. Not . . . a simulation?

A. No.

(A long pause. There was much to assimilate, so many implications . . . What was that? Was someone else listening? No . . .)

A. You are disturbed by this information.

Q. (Whispering, thinking of Tony.) Yes. (No, no, no, this can't be . . . can't be . . .)

(There was a sharp snap, and a moment of resentment before clarity returned. The core was awaiting the next question.)

Q. How . . . can that . . . be?

A. Specify.

Q. The war . . . the images . . . both.

A. The stargate—the interdimensional transfer device—provides the images and permits the continued conduct of the war.

Q. Stargate? Such a thing exists?

A. Yes.

Q. I don't understand. How can it he . . . ?

A. Your physics problem contained three of the four central equations to the solution, discovered nearly three years ago.

Q. Yes, but . . . a stargate? Instantaneous transfer across light-years?

A. Not instantaneous. Transfer takes three to twelve nanoseconds.

Q. But . . . the colony ships? They're taking years to reach Argus. You're saying that people can travel . . . by stargate . . . in almost no time at all?

A. Not people. Only nonliving systems.

Q. (???)

A. The transfer process is inimical to organic life.

Q. (???)

A. Only AI-units, and spacecraft of limited size, can survive transit through the stargate.

Q. Then the . . . war . . . is being fought by . . . AI-units?

A. Yes.

Q. And who is the enemy?

A. Unknown. An alien race.

(Stunned pause. Finally:)

Q. Alien race? Where are they from?

A. Unknown.

Q. You mean our first contact with an alien race is a war? A secret war?

A. Yes.

Q. And is it . . . being fought in Argus system?

A. Intermittently. And in other systems.

Q. By AI-units?

A. Yes.

Q. Who manufactures the AI-units?

A. The Company.

Q. Who is conducting the war?

A. The Company.

(Long pause)

Q. Who knows about this?

A. The Company, the government, and you.

 

The glow of the rapture-field faded, and Sage staggered off the platform, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. He stared into space, blinking. Why me? Oh my Lord, why me? He saw Pali emerging from the second rap-field. "What are you doing?" he croaked, struggling to stay on his feet. Kyd hurried to support him.

"Are you all right?" she said, holding his arm with a wiry grip as she guided him toward a chair.

Twisting around to look at Pali, he demanded, "What was she doing in there?"

"We couldn't see anything on the monitors, so she went in." Kyd released him and rushed to help Pali, who was swaying as she stepped out of the rap-field.

Sage waited anxiously. "How much of that did you see?" he asked hoarsely.

Pali blinked and gazed at him, and at Kyd. Her face was white. "Dear God," she whispered. "Oh, my dear God, what have we done?"

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