Softlight Sinsa short story by Peter F Hamilton

Ghosts drifted through Douglas McEwan’s mind as he drove down the longroad towards the execution.

There were four spectres, the family of AdrianReynolds, his mother, his abominable father, and his two lovely youngsisters. The forensic team’s in situ video had shown them in their beds,captured in a frozen pose that feigned sleep: eyes closed, lips relaxed,fingers splayed like albino starfish. In each case their throats had beenslit open, black yawning gashes that had sprayed thick jets of bloodacross the sheets The phosphene mirage was broken whenDouglas ‘s police escort switched ontheir lights and sirens. The five-car convoy was motoring along a thinribbon of road that cut through the heavily wooded Ling common to thenorth ofKing’s Lynn . Tall pines and slim silver birch trees stoodsentinel duty on either side, their small yellowed leaves swirling throughthe air like a rusty snowstorm, settling on the grass verges where theyformed a soggy mantle. Twin lines of parked press vehicles were backed upa hundred metres from the entrance of the Clinical RehabilitationInstitute A dense knot of people was blocking the road ahead. The media circus. AndtoDouglas ‘s eyes they did look like clowns, dressed in their bulkygarishly coloured parkas, noses and cheeks raw from the chill morning air A double rank of police in blue-grey riot tunics had linked arms, creatinga barrier to hold them back from the road A hundred shouted questions merged into a single unintelligible bawl asDouglasdrove past. Cameras zoomed in Protesters had taken up the prime sites on either side of the Institute’sgate, their stamping feet pounding the mown grass strips into ruckedquagmires. The police were three deep here, forming a funnel down to thegate, both lines visibly wavering from the pressure of the protesters’bodies OnDouglas ‘s right was the LIFE! group, opposing any form of capitalpunishment. From what he could see a majority of them were women. Theyheld hundreds of white candles aloft, ranging from small nightlights toelaborately carved half-metre columns of wax. A ragged chorus of defiantvoices sang Abide With Me

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Gobs of mud pelted the car.Douglas switched his wipers on, smearing thewindscreen with brown streaks. It was the TRUE JUSTICE group on the otherside launching the deluge. Trim young men in the main; hair cut close tothe skull, wearing olive-green military-style sweaters, a red crucifixstitched on the breast. And so much hatred leaking from their hard youngfaces. They were carrying a forest of placards; obscene demands for AdrianReynolds to be hung, fried, shot, gassed, guillotined, poisoned… Thegallows erected next to the Institute fence had a straw-stuffed effigy ofAdriandangling in a noose. As soon asDouglas ‘s car swept through thegates someone put a torch to the wooden structure. A well planned opticalbite for the cameras Then he was through, the gate closing behind him. Something about thesavagery of the protesters bolstered his own determination

And what an irony that is. Me, the man who prides himself on hisliberalism, having to find refuge in the stiff upper lip tradition theminute adversity strikes The Institute building was only three years old, paid for by the EuropeanFederal Criminal Psychology Bureau. A four storey cube, with green-tintedmirror glass that bounced the forest trees back at him, their bareautumn-ravaged trunks long and wavery It was part secure hospital, part research facility. The Bureau hadoriginally hoped the doctors could use laser imprinted subliminal commandsto insert new behaviour patterns into the more stubborn socialrecidivists. A technique that would produce, if not model citizens, atleast reasonably honest ones.

That research was still continuing, but forthe last year the Institute had concentrated on developing Softlight

It had been the idea of Doctor Michael Elliot, a neurologist who had beenstudying memory retention to see how long the rectification commands wouldlast What his research uncovered was the amnesia mechanism, the method by whichgrey cells discard the unwanted memories of each day’s events, preventingthe brain from being cluttered up with a billion irrelevant details Elliot isolated the governing neurological code and managed to adapt thelaser imprint technique to transmit the sequence throughout the brain

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Softlight: the total erasure of memory and behaviour patterns. Personalitydeath Anyone committing a capital crime could be mentally executed, leavingbehind a perfectly viable body; an adult infant ready to be named,educated, and returned to the world as fully functional members ofsociety. Capital punishment without death. For the PC politicians of theBrussels Federal Assembly it was a dream solution Adrian Reynolds was about to become the first subject

Barbara Johnson was standing in the Institute’s reception area, her longface taut with agitation.Douglas had met her on several occasions; shewas Dr Elliot’s deputy She led him to an interview room on the third floor where Adrian Reynoldswas waiting. A couple of muscular-looking male orderlies stood patientlyoutside “Ten minutes,Douglas , please,” she said, apparently embarrassed atrushing him. “No more than fifteen.

The judge is already here.““Sure,” he said, and walked into the interview room Most Court Defence Officers tended to develop a sense of responsibilityfor their clients. ButDouglas had taken it to an extreme, always refusingprosecution cases. The price he paid for his quirk came in the form ofpeople like Adrian Reynolds. Twenty years old, with a father who hadabused him from the age of eight - sexually, physically, and mentally Abused him right up until the day he finally snapped, taking a kitchenknife upstairs while the family slept The Reynolds trial hadn’t dealt with guilt, that was beyond question InsteadDouglas had fought to establish the level of culpability; arguingthat a degree of blame must lie with the social services, to let it go onundetected for so long; with the teachers for not spotting the boy’smoodiness; with knowing relatives who had turned a blind eye

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Douglasfully expected to lose the case. The people ofEurope wereachingly tired of psychopaths and terrorists and ideology warriors andstreet gangs. The death penalty had been reintroduced six yearspreviously, the Federal Assembly finally bowing to enormous pressure fromthe electorate. The jury foundAdrian guilty on three charges of murder

He should have been given a painless lethal injection. But withprovidential coincidence Dr Elliot announced Softlight was ready, andDouglas had asked judgeHayward to considerAdrian as an appropriatesubject for the treatment. Judge Hayward agreed

Adrian Reynolds was standing by the window wall, a tall skinny young man,with a weak chin, puffy cheeks, his dark mousy hair lying lank over hisears. One of the Institute’s baggy green overalls hung loosely from hisbody

He turned whenDouglas came in, then dropped his eyes. “They want me dead,don’t they?“Douglasrealised the gate and the mob were just visible from the room

“They don’t know what they want.” It was true enough. TRUE JUSTICE thoughtSoftlight was a liberal/scientific cop out, allowing criminals to escapepunishment once again. LIFE! denounced it as a living death, courtsanctioned zombiism. The only thing they had in common was theiropposition to it

“Is my will sorted out?“Adrian asked

“Yes, half to Barnardo’s, half to the RSPCC.““There’s not very much.““Every little helps.“Douglas was having trouble keeping his voice level

If people could just see him like this, see that he cares. He doesn’tdeserve Softlight. Maybe I should be on the other side of the gate, joinin the chanting. If only it wasn’t so utterly futile

“They asked me if I wanted a priest,“Adrian said. “Last rites and allthat crap. I said no. I said if there was a God then he wouldn’t have mademy father.“Douglashalf smiled. “You said that to the Institute chaplain?“Adriangave a fast wild grin. “No.” The humour faded. “Shall we go now? Idon’t think there’s much point in dragging it out any longer.” Officially it was laboratory complex seven. ButDouglas knew the Institutestaff had taken to calling it the Light Chamber; and the press had somehowgot hold of that title. It resembled a dental surgery, with a bulkyhydraulic chair in the middle of the floor, a glass-topped desk, severalcabinets of electronic equipment, and two voice-activated computerterminals. The Softlight Page 4

imprinter was a triple-segment metal arm standingnext to the chair; it ended in a bulbous plastic strip moulded to fit overthe eyes like an optician’s mask

Judge Theresa Hayward was sitting behind the desk whenDouglas walked in

She was sixty years old, her oval sun-browned face heavily wrinkled,exacerbated by her frown. During the trialDouglas had found her to havean astute mind, in court she was scrupulously impartial, and very aware ofthe political undertones of the case

Harvey Boden, the Court Prosecution Officer, was studying a plasma screenon one of the computer terminals. He greetedDouglas with a thin nod

The third person in the laboratory was Dr Michael Elliot. He sharedBarbara Johnson’s air of sheepish eagerness, desperately trying tocamouflage his feelings below a crust of professional detachment Adrianwalked straight over to the chair, not looking round. The orderlieswho were escorting him slipped the restraint straps around his wrists andlegs

The knot of tension inDouglas ‘s stomach twisted sharply when Dr Elliotswung the Softlight imprinter up, manoeuvring the black mask overAdrian ‘seyes

“Will I see anything?“Adrian asked suddenly

“The laser operates predominantly in the green section of the spectrum,“Dr Elliot explained. “It will be quite bright, but not painfully so.““No lasting damage, eh?” there was a quaver inAdrian ‘s voice Dr Elliot managed a sickly smile

Barbara Johnson was voicelining one of the terminals, reeling off a stringof security codes to access the data core which stored the Softlightsequence. Dr Elliot joined her, and added his authorisation code, then heglanced at Judge Hayward. Her face showed nothing but regret. She jerkedher head down Page 5

Douglasclosed his eyes, secretly terrified that a flash of green lightwould spill out from around the black strip, boring its way down his ownoptical nerves, exploding in his brain. Somewhere in the distance he heardDr Elliot voiceline: “Expedite.” The imprinter arm retracted automatically.Adrian ‘s face wore the look ofdocile imbecility, eyes unfocused, every muscle relaxed

Barbara Johnson walked forward carrying a white plastic sensor crown whichshe settled aroundAdrian

‘s head. “No brainwave activity above theautonomic level,” she reported, oh-so careful not to display anysatisfaction

Douglas watched a bead of saliva leak from the corner ofAdrian ‘s mouth,and turned away It worked, punishment and redemption wrapped in one neat package. Takingaway the threat and salvaging our conscience. I ought to be grateful. IfonlyAdrian didn’t look so pitiful, so… wasted. But at least I cannot befaulted for that, I did my best for him

“Abschaum!“The vehement shout electrifiedDouglas . He jerked round to see BarbaraJohnson stumbling back fromAdrian in panic

Adrianstared at them with a covetous birdlike expression, his nostrilsflaring as he sucked down deep breaths. He shouted at them again, thewords making no sense as he snarled and spat Douglasheard Harvey Boden saying, “That’s German.““What’s happening?” Judge Hayward demanded Dr Elliot shook his head, staring atAdrian in numbed consternation

“It didn’t work,“Douglas blurted

“It did work,” Barbara Johnson insisted. “The brainwave function waszero.““Does this sound like he’s empty headed?” Douglas waved his hand angrilyatAdrian

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She appealed to Dr Elliot. “Some kind of residual activity?““I don’t know,” he said in a shaken tone

“What’sAdrian saying?” Judge Hayward asked

“I’ve no idea, I don’t speak German,“Douglas said. “My God, neither doesAdrian.“Judge Hayward gave him a sharp look, then turned to Dr Elliot. “Findsomeone who does, and fast.““Not necessary,” Barbara Johnson told her. She took some headsets from thedesk and handed them round.Douglas slipped his on as she voicelined thecomputer terminal for a translation program. The earplugs muted another ofAdrian’s invectives, then the translator cut in

“…bastard Yankees. No better than fucking Jews. Queers and women,nothing more, we’ll shit on you yet. Your President Roosevelt is dead,from shame, from the pox- “Douglasvoicelined the headset to stand-by mode, an unnerving chillblossoming inside his head

“All right,” Judge Hayward said. “I want best guesses, and I want themnow.““It’s quite obvious Softlight doesn’t work,” Harvey Boden said. “Itdoesn’t wipe memories, it simply jumbles them up.““There was no primary brainwave activity for two minutes,” Barbara Johnsonsaid stubbornly Harvey Boden shrugged. “People recover from comas. Weeks and months spentlike a vegetable, then they’re up and talking as if nothing had happened.“Douglas knew what Boden was doing. The Prosecution Officer wanted Adriandead. For real

It’s obviously not just my skull those two girls are haunting

“I can’t even pretend to understand what’s happened,“Douglas said asBarbara Johnson and Dr Elliot started whispering together. “And you’recertainly not in a position to give qualified neurological opinions,Harvey. We’ll need a complete assessment made before any decisions aretaken. And we certainly shouldn’t decide anything in haste.“Dr Elliot nodded in agreement with something Barbara Johnson said, andfaced the judge. “I believe we should consider regression as a logicalexplanation for this situation.““Regression?“Douglas asked in confusion

Harvey Boden gave him a contemptuous look. “Past lives,Douglas . Peoplethinking they used to be Napoleon or George Washington, that kind ofthing.““There have been documented cases,” Dr Elliot said.

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“Under hypnosis,subjects have related a wealth of details concerning their previousexistence, details they couldn’t possibly have known without extensiveresearch.““Rubbish,” Harvey Boden said Douglas was inclined to agree, but that would be offeringAdrian up toTRUE JUSTICE. “Are you saying this German personality popped up out ofnowhere to fillAdrian ‘s empty brain?” he asked Dr Elliot

“Yes. A German from the Second World War, judging by the reference toRoosevelt.“Adrianhad fallen silent, glaring round at them, teeth bared

Judge Hayward voicelined the terminal for a two way translation. “What isyour name?” she askedAdrian

The terminal repeated the question in German

“Mentally defective bitch,” he shouted

She backed away, badly disturbed. “WhoeverAdrian believes he is, heremains our problem. The three of us- ” her red fingernail lined up firston Douglas then Harvey Boden, ” -have to decide what to do next.““Is this an official session?“Douglas asked

“We’ll call it an In Chambers consultation, if you and the Prosecutionhave no objection.““After this failure of Softlight, Prosecution has no alternative but toapply for the death penalty,” Harvey Boden said quickly

“On who?“Douglas snapped back. “On Adrian Reynolds, or this German?““There is no German, Douglas, only a mind screwed about by a subliminallaser code. Face facts.““You don’t know that. At the very least I would appeal for an identitycheck first.““Oh yes?” Harvey Boden was scathing. “What kind of check, geneticfingerprinting?““My client, Adrian Reynolds, was sentenced to personality erasure.

Thathas been enacted; successfully, as far as we can tell. The emergence ofthis second personality is outside the court’s jurisdiction.“They glared at each other

“We could try a hypnogenic,” Barbara Johnson suggested

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“Fair enough,” Judge Hayward said. “Any objections? No. Good.“Adrianspat on Dr Elliot as he approached with the spray ampoule. Phlegmdripped down the doctor’s collar as he applied the nozzle toAdrian ‘sneck

Dr Elliot waited until the young man dropped into a waking trance, eyelidsheavy, head drooping. “Can you hear me?” he asked

Adrianmumbled something. “Yes,” the translator program said

“What is your name?““Erich Breuer.““What is your job, Erich?““I am a member of the garrison troop.““Where?““Dachau.“Douglasheard a quick hiss of indrawn breath from Barbara Johnson.

HarveyBoden’s face turned blank, unreadable

“What is the last thing you remember before you woke up in this room?“The man’s hands started to tremble slightly. “The Yankees have arrived,their tanks halting by the guard post. There were shots, our officers werekilled. The Yankees, they cried and they vomited when they saw theinmates, the unburied corpses. I am lined up against a wall with mycolleagues, some are bleeding from the beatings. I hear the machine gunfiring. Louder. Louder.” His eyes widened with shock, mouth hanging open Douglasturned away, unable to look at the shell of flesh which had oncebeen Adrian Reynolds

“That’s enough,” Judge Hayward said as Dr Elliot began another question Douglaswalked over to the chair, and studied the now quiescent figure

If Elliot is right about regression, if you are who you now seem to be,then that would prove the existence of men’s souls. That would be so hardfor me to really believe in. It would mean there is a God, that Jesus wasborn and died for us. A long agonising death nailed to a cross of wood And how could we ever be forgiven that? Better we believe in some sharedconsciousness theory; that will be the scientists’ answer. The other istoo much to bear. An afterlife. That you have been sent back Page 9

from Heaven

Or Hell. That life on Earth is nothing more than a penitence to servebefore we can enter God’s Kingdom for all time

“Now what?” Harvey Boden asked,Douglasleft Erich Breuer, wearied by the Prosecution Officer’s unceasingassault. “I maintain the case is closed. We have now proved beyondreasonable doubt that this is no longer Adrian Reynolds. The Instituteshould help Erich Breuer adapt to modern life, and let him go.““I can’t agree with that,” Judge Hayward said. “Douglas, you haven’tthought this through. Suppose this really is Erich Breuer?” She held up ahand to forestall Harvey Boden’s protest. “The body contains ErichBreuer’s memories, camp guard atDachau . Then what?““Oh,“Douglas saw what she was driving at, his mind racing after theimplications. “War Crimes.““Exactly. If you bring an appeal over the question of this body’sidentity, and prove your case that this is Erich Breuer, then he will haveto face the consequences of his actions in World War Two. Do you want thatto happen,Douglas ? Do you want the public spectacle of a trial? Becausethat’s what you’ll get. The Israelis were chasing the originalconcentration camp guards up until the middle of the nineties; old menwhose identities were extremely uncertain. Erich Breuer, who by his ownadmission was part of the holocaust, would never be allowed to walk out ofthe Institute a free man. That’s what your appeal would bring.“Oh God, she’s telling me it’s my decision. Me! Forced into the role ofjudge, and probably executioner by default

“I don’t know,” he said miserably

“Let me see if I can clarify the situation,” Judge Hayward said. “Isentenced all the memories to be wiped from Adrian Reynolds’s brain. Nowwe find a deeper, hidden set of memories.” She narrowed her eyes, andfixed Dr Elliot with a lance-like stare. “Can these Erich Breuer memoriesbe wiped by Softlight?“He looked startled. “Well, yes. I would suppose so. But I don’t think it’sadvisable.““Why not?““We don’t understand how they originated. It opens up an entire new areaof neurology to study. It is quite possible that each of us possesses asimilar mental heritage, a window into the past. Think of the data thatcould be uncovered, the true history we could learn.“That was whenDouglas witnessed the showing of the Judge’s claws for thefirst time. “Dr Elliot,” she said coolly. “Adrian Reynolds is not anexperimental subject, he is a multiple murderer sentenced to personalityerasure. A sentence which this Institute is legally obliged to enact. Youwill either fulfil this function, or tell me you are unable to. Do I makemyself clear?“Dr Elliot considered his options, and settled for a reluctant submission

“Very well, I accept that a penal institution is not the place for anacademic study of this nature.“Judge Hayward glanced at Douglas then Harvey Boden. “Any objections to afurther Softlight administration?““No,” Douglas said, partly ashamed. It was the easy way out The one I always take

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This time he left his eyes open for the whole procedure. Erich Breuerstared placidly ahead as the Softlight imprinter’s moulded strip went overhis eyes

“That’s it,” Dr Elliot announced

The arm retracted, folding back onto its pedestal

Barbara Johnson moved in with the white plastic sensor crown again. Shesettled it on the head. “No primary brainwave activity registering,” shereported

“We’ll wait for a little while,” Judge Hayward said. “See if there’s anychange.” “It’s happening,” Barbara Johnson called. She was hovering around thecomputer terminal which was displaying the sensor crown readings. “Hisbrainwave activity is picking up.“WhenDouglas checked his watch he saw that barely four minutes hadelapsed

Adrian’s head had been bowed limply ever since the arm had retracted. NowDouglaswatched him lift his chin, his expression perfectly calm. Then hebegan to hunch in on himself, bending his shoulders round as far as thestraps allowed

“Why doesn’t he say anything?“Douglas whispered to Barbara Johnson

“Because we haven’t told him to,” she whispered back. “The hypnogeniclasts for about three hours, he’s still well under.““Can you hear me?” Judge Hayward asked. “What is your name?“He blinked slowly. “I hear you, miss. Please, they call me Deaf Willy,miss.“It was an American accent, a slow rich twang, setting off an unwelcometrain of thought inDouglas ‘s mind. It was the servile manner which hecouldn’t ignore

“Why Deaf Willy?” Barbara Johnson asked impulsively

“Cos I ran when the sheriff shouted me to stop, miss. I didn’t hear him, Iswear. Boxed my ears when he Page 11

caught me. Said I must’ve been born deaf.““Are you black?“Douglas asked. He ignored the looks the others gave him

Deaf Willy’s mouth split into a wide grin. “Yes sir. I surely am.““How old are you, Deaf Willy?““Sir, maybe sixteen, seventeen. Don’t rightly know for sure.““Do you know what year it is?““Year, sir? No sir, I don’t know that, sir.““Who is the president?” Harvey Boden asked

“Why, it’s Mr Harrison, sir. Mr Benjamin Harrison.“Barbara Johnson started to voiceline the terminal, calling up a list ofAmerican Presidents

“Where do you live?” Judge Hayward asked

“Mississippistate, miss.““Benjamin Harrison served one term,” Barbara Johnson said

“Eighteen-eighty-nine to ninety-three.““What is the last thing you remember before you woke up here?”

Dr Elliotasked

“Sir, it’s the horses, sir. They’s riding all around the house, sir. Mustbe twenty or thirty of them. They’s got torches, razing everything as theygo. Flames is rising halfway to heaven.” Beads of sweat began to prick hisforehead. “Little Jose, she’s inside. I can hear her. Lord, I can’t seeher. Oh Jesus almighty, I’m on fire. Jose’s still screaming. I’ll get hermomma, I will.” Thick chords of muscle rose on his throat. He began togurgle, a thick liquid sound as if he was choking

Dr Elliot rushed forward. “Forget! Forget that, go back, right back. Whenyou were a little boy. Think of that. When you were little. What do youremember when you were little?“Judge Hayward pumped her cheeks out as Dr Elliot soothed Deaf Willy downwith calming words, encouraging murmurs. “At least we haven’t got a zealotthis time,” she said

“No,” Harvey Boden said carefully. “But you did rule that Softlight shouldbe used until it was successful.“Douglascouldn’t believe what the Prosecution Officer had said. “Are youtelling me you want this Deaf Willy personality wiped?““Prosecution does have a valid point,” Judge Hayward said. She lookedunhappy at what she was having to say. “If I order a halt now, then thatjudgement will have to be reviewed by an appeal court. And it wouldn’thold up, it’s abysmally arbitrary; we didn’t like Erich Breuer so he waswiped, but we felt sorry for a downtrodden cotton picker boy so he wasallowed to stay. What kind of legal basis is that? NoDouglas , wecommitted ourselves when we wiped Erich Breuer. Either this Page 12

body is wipedclean of all its memories, or it is physically executed.““But we have neither the moral nor legal authority to order the death ofan innocent like Deaf Willy,“Douglas insisted. “And that is what we arediscussing here; Softlight is a death penalty for Deaf Willy. He isnothing like Erich Breuer, he doesn’t deserve to be erased. I contend thatwhat we’ve found in this instance is an eminently suitable replacementpersonality for Adrian Reynolds’s body. As you originally ruled, Judge.““Not quite,” Barbara Johnson said. “Examine that idea from a practicalstandpoint,Douglas . You will have one hell of a problem trying tointegrate an illiterate nineteenth century black boy into modern Europeansociety, not to mention acclimatising him to a white body. Without suchconditioning he would be totally adrift in time, no family to love him,nothing he can understand, let alone relate to. In order to survive, hisantique behaviour patterns would all have to be suppressed. The memoriestoo, I imagine. Could you stay sane with the memory of your own death inyour mind? In fact you would probably wind up having to junk about ninetyper cent of his memories. Only the name would be left. You wouldn’t besaving him at all.” She appeared saddened by the prospect. “Our era wouldbe as cruel to Deaf Willy as his own.“Douglasthought about it, and couldn’t see an out. “Very well,” he said

“I have no objection to clearingAdrian ‘s brain entirely.““You want me to wipe every past life?” Dr Elliot asked in astonishment

“But that will probably mean going back down to pre-sentience, Neanderthalman, that’s the Palaeolithic age. And from what we’ve seen so far thereare about two or three lives per century. If that holds constant, you aretalking about four-hundred-plus incarnations. It’ll take a week.““Did you have anything else planned?” Judge Hayward asked icily

The third personality was called Rosin, another slave fromMississippi . Hedied from a whipping while James Monroe was President. He was stilluttering little dog-like whines when Dr Elliot lowered the Softlightimprinter over his eyes

Number four was French, a peasant killed at the start of the revolution

They had some trouble coaxing number five to speak, there was no responseto any European language.

Barbara Johnson solved it by accessing CambridgeUniversity’s linguistics department computer, and requesting a list ofgreetings in all the languages known to be in use around seventeenhundred

“If we have to do this each time, the whole process is going to take amonth,” Dr Elliot said as the terminal droned through the catalogue. “AndI doubt that the university’s memory cores will be able to help us when weenter pre-Roman history.“The man sitting in the chair mumbled something in response to theterminal

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“African,” Barbara Johnson said triumphantly

His name was Ingombe, a member of the Fon tribe; they were migrants basedin Abomey, prey to the coastal slavers. He remembered the Ardra war canoescoming upstream to attack his village, a fight.Listening to him, and the ones that followed, it seemed to Douglas asthoughAdrian had turned the tables on them, condemning them to witness aseemingly endless litany of misery, a refined torment for the empathic

They had lunch delivered to the laboratory, compartmentalisedairline-style trays from the canteen.Douglas just ate the cheese andbiscuits, staring out through the window. The mist which swirled throughthe woodland outside was thickening, it already obscured the yellow-browncarpet of dead bracken

Incarnations ten to twenty were mainly European -Portuguese, English,Dutch, German. Two of them awoke screaming and pleading in Spanish, theiranguish so deep set it was beyond even the hypnogenic’s ability to quell

Harvey Boden grimaced while Dr Elliot hurriedly manoeuvred the Softlightimprinter over the first.

“Spanish Inquisition,” he said softly. “The timefits.““And LIFE! thinks Softlight is medieval,” Barbara Johnson said grimly

Douglasabandoned his cheese and biscuits. He walked over to the windowwall, only half listening to a man called John Diker give an account ofCambridge in the thirteen-forties; his job as a freemason, how he lost hismother, wife, and five children to the Black Death before succumbinghimself. The autumn frost seemed to reach in through the thick glass tofrostDouglas ‘s body to the core Why are there no memories of what happens between his lives? God’scensorship? Or is it simply that the afterlife cannot be interpretedthrough human senses, the brain cannot hold it? Maybe Dr Elliot will chosethat as his next area of study. If he does, I’d like him to fail utterly Even before this we regarded life too cheaply. Now Softlight will reduceits value still further. In that respect it has already been a tragicfailure. Perhaps that is our punishment for meddling with the substance ofour own souls. But what kind of God would that give us? One who showslittle compassion, one who will hold us to account for each of our actionson this Earth, one who is prepared to turn us away from the gates of theHolyCity. An Old Testament God. He cannot be like that. He cannot Page 14

The evening wore on without respite, one tale of woe following another asthe incarnations came and went

WhenDouglas stood beside the window wall he could see the tiny yellowflames of the candles the LIFE! women were using for their vigil, a smalldim galaxy lost at the end of time. Their flames held an unknowingpoignancy; if they had lit one for every mortal deathAdrian ‘s soul hadundergone they would have the number about right

Douglasstrode over to the chair as Dr Elliot was lowering the Softlightimprinter over Decius Tactus, a Roman centurion, and Christian, condemnedto death by a local magistrate. His family had been butchered by soldiers,blaming the bad harvest on their alien God

The man’s eyes gazed back at him through a hazy chemical veil

“What did he do?“Douglas whispered hoarsely. He met the blank faces ofthe others

“Christians were blamed for everything,” Barbara Johnson said. “It wasconvenient.““No, not Tactus.

Originally. What sin could possibly be so bad, so brutal,to deserve this?““What do you mean

‘originally’Douglas ?” Judge Hayward asked, there was adegree of petulance in the question. It was midnight, they had been in thelaboratory for a straight fourteen hours

“This man’s soul has been sent back from the afterlife forty times in twothousand years. And each time he has suffered the most appallingdegradations, known nothing but war, pestilence, and slavery; seen hisfamilies murdered, his homes razed, whole cultures wiped out. Tormentwithout end. This is Hell for him, not Dante’s Inferno, Hell on Earth

Every single time. Why? What did he do that God would subject him tothis?“He saw Judge Hayward and Harvey Boden exchange a heavy glance

“Look,Douglas- ” Harvey Boden began

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“Don’t,” he said angrily. “Don’t you tell me it’s been a long day, don’ttell me I need to go home and get some sleep.““Probability,” said Dr Elliot. “That’s all it is,Douglas . So far we’veseen less than ten per cent of his incarnations. Apart from the lastcouple of centuries the vast majority of the human race has lived shortmiserable lives in unhygienic squalor. In any given historical era thenumber of aristocrats is a minute fraction. It always has been.““No. He did something. Something terrible.“Douglas could sense theconviction growing inside him. It was one of the most frighteningexperiences he had ever known. A precognition that could look into thepast

“Genghis Khan?” Barbara Johnson suggested

“He was late tenth century,” Judge Hayward said thoughtfully. “We’veregressed well past that now.“We have another half hour before this hypnogenic wears off,” Dr Elliotsaid. “Do you want me to go on?““Yes,” Judge Hayward said beforeDouglas could voice a protest Should I object? I want to know who he was, what he did. And I don’t wantto know. That is the way my life goes, always unable to decide. Well itends now. Taken out of my hands. I could have stopped it, right at thestart, I could have said no, stood firm. But I did what appeared best atthe time. I cannot be blamed for that. It is not I who is stained byguilt

They waited in restless silence while the forty-first incarnation floodedinto the body of Adrian Reynolds.

His eyes narrowed, the irises appearingto blacken, receding to some indefinable depth. For one supremelydisconcerting momentDouglas thought he was looking directly into adistance beyond that of galactic night

I know that man, that look; he holds a terror from which even insanity isno refuge. I have seen it once before, so long ago. But where?Douglasheard the terminal start with a Hebrew greeting; the man answeredstraight away

“What is your name?” Dr Elliot asked

The man blinked, his lips quivering as he fought against the words thehypnogenic was tearing from his mind. “I am named Judas Iscariot.” Hiswounded gaze swept round the five of them in a voiceless plea.

Then he sawDouglas, and a confounded light of recognition flared. “Pilate,” he cried

“Pontius Pilate.“Douglasstared back at him in mute horror while time quietly dissolvedinside his brain Page 16

© Peter F Hamilton 1997, 1998. This story first appeared as a Novacon chapbook, published by theBirmingham Science Fiction Group in a limited edition of 350 copies.

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