Prodigal
***
1 ***
Supplementarymaterial(synopses,recentchanges,etc.) at:
DrewMcDermott
August22,2016
1This is a draft, obviously. Please send comments to
§c 2016DrewMcDermott
Contents
3Flight83
iii
Chapter3
Flight
Four days later Sangh was running for his life. Four nights in a luxurious bed — he, Tralf, and Bewinda had avoided Firebase Limhoon — but he hadn’tsleptmuchandworkclaimedhisdays. Inthose96hourshehadgone native,aboutasfarasonecould. NowheandS`heessaywerefleeingVhatta Limhoon,who,asifinSangh’sworstnightmare,hadlandedonErthˆ,inthe PraçadaTerra rightinfrontofthePresidentialPalace.
“Wherecanwepossiblyhide?”
“Theonlyplaceyouwon’tberecognized,Mr.Ambassador. TheNorth.” “Whataboutthevirus? Thethousand-yearplague?”
“Don’tworry;Icanimmunizeyou. ButifIexplainnow,we’llnevermake itoutofhere.” Bynowhewasusedtoherdeferredexplanations.
Sangh had no idea how they would escape from the maze of corridors
andcourtyardsthatconstitutedthePalace. HefollowedS`heessay. Thehalls wereabsurdlyquiet;whyweretherenocrowdsofimportantpeoplerunning back and forth, clutching documents to shred? Perhaps they were so well organizedtheyhadalreadydispersed.
TheycametoastairwellS`heessay startedtopushopentheheavydoor when a quavery voice behind them said, “Stop or I’ll shoot! I’ll shoot you both!”
It was Bewinda. She had a fearsome automatic weapon, an A56, on herhip. “Ireallycouldn’tbringmyselftobelieveit,Sangh,butwhatmore proofdoIneed? Youandthishellmachinearedeserting,it’splainasday. Put your hands up in the air where I can see them. No, on your heads, I
think. Quick! Onyourdamnedheads! Okay,okay,now,getthisstraight: I
won’thesitateforasecond,notonetenthofasecond,toblowMs. S`heessay Dizzienovetoapileofscrapparts. Ihavehalfamindtodoitrightnow,but IthinkVhattaLimhoonwouldpreferthatItakeitalive,Sangh,if‘alive’— ha-HA!—isreallytherightword.”
“Bewinda,please. Calmdown;calm,calm. We’llgoquietly. Icanguess you’ve neverdone this before, got the drop on some suspects, butit’s easy
aspie, rememberthesuspectsarescarederthanyouare, sowe’reallgoing
tostaycoolandS`heessayandIwilldowhatyousay.”
“Thengetbackoutofthere,andlet’smarchbackthewayyoucame. No, not that way, damn you, machine, you think I don’t know the way, right? You’llsee,IknowthefloorplanonthisleveloftheP.P.prettywell. History isn’ttheonlythingI’vebeenresearching.”
“YouhadyourownchanneltoVhattaLimhoon,didn’tyou?” saidSangh as they found the right corridor and marched back toward the front of the building.
“Unlikeyou,Icankeepmymouthshut,” saidBewinda. “Historian,myass,” saidSangh.
It didn’t take long for them to get to Media Room 1, where LtCdr.
Kolfhajwasincharge.
“Sir,I’vegotsomehigh-valueprisonershere,” saidBewinda.
“So far we’re rounding people up and keeping ’em here for processing,” said Kolfhaj distractedly. He had too much to do to spare much attention forBewinda.
“These are not your ordinary prisoners, sir. Vhatta Limhoon will want toputtheminthesameareaasthePresidentandtheForeignMinister.”
Kolfhajfinallytookagoodlook. “Lieutenant,you’retalkingaboutLieu-
tenantSanghFharha,ourAmbassador. What’sheaccusedof?”
“Desertion,definitely. Treason,possibly.” “Who’sthewoman?”
“Trustme,VhattaLimhoonwillwanther.”
“Allright. LastIsawVhattaLimhoon,hehadsetupinthePresident’s Office, the Rose Office, I think they call it. I’ll have a marine escort you there,ifyou’llwaitaminute. Or,” heglancedathischronometer,“morelike 10minutes.”
“Nevermind,sir,Iknowtheway,” saidBewinda. “Good. We’reveryshort-handed. Carryon.” “Ayeaye,sir.”
But Bewinda didn’t really know the way that well. The uniform blue decorandsoftlightingwereconfusing,andaftertheyhadgonedownthree corridors she said, “Damn, that wasn’t right. Come on,” and she turned themaround.
JustthenTralf Ghillerpoppedoutofadoorbehindher. “Bewinda!” he said,“IthoughtIheardyourvoice.”
Bewinda started to turn, but realized that was a bad idea and turned back. That split second was all S`heessay needed. Before anyone else could
react,shehadjumpedthetwometersbetweenherandBewinda,takenthe
weapon from her hands, and knocked her to the floor. She stepped back,
pointingtheweapondownather.
All the resulting tableau needed was a painter and an easel: Reclining lieutenant(JG)andwomanwithGrishkloA56semiautomaticcarbine.
Sanghsaid,“Tralf,getoutofhere.”
“Ohshit,Sangh,whathaveyougotyourselfinto?” “Getthep`hookout!”
Tralf duckedbackinsidetheofficeandslammedthedoor. Whoelsewas intherewithhimSanghdidn’twanttofindout.
“Getup,” saidS`heessay.
“AndifIdon’t?” saidBewinda.
“Iwillkillyouwithmybarehands. Veryquietly. Ifyoustarttoscream, wewillseewhowinstheracetocontrolhowmuchnoiseyoumake.”
“Shewilldoit,Bewinda,I’mprettysure,” saidSangh.
Bewindagotup. Sheputherhandsonherheadwithoutbeingtold. “I thoughtSeckieswouldn’thurtMolyees,Sangh.”
“She’snotaSeckie.”
S`heessaysaid,“Walkbackthewaywecame;atthenextjunctiontakea rightandopenthefirstdoorontheright.” Whentheygottheresheshoved Bewinda through the doorway and crowded in after her. She pulled Sangh
throughandshutthedoor,crammingthemallinanofficethatmighthave
reacheditscurrentstateofclutterifithadstartedwithonesparecomputer, aboutwhichothermiscellaneousofficesuppliesandequipmenthadaccreted.
“Takeoffyourtunic.” ShehandedtheguntoSangh. “Sangh,coverher.
Ifshemakesasuddenmotion,shoother.”
“MaybeIshouldseeifyou wouldkillme,” saidBewinda.
“Maybeyouwouldfindouthowmuchanonfatalwoundfromoneofthese thingshurts.”
Bewinda took hertunic off. “Now put this on,” said S`heessay. She had takenherowntopoff. Sheworenothingunderneath. Shewasanatomically correct,andherbreasts,thoughsmall,didnotsummontheword“mechan- ical” tomind. Mygirlfriend,thoughtSangh,Ifonlytheycouldseemenow
back in high school.
S`heessay put Bewinda’s tunic on, and Bewinda, af-
ter some hesitation and glaring at Sangh with helpless rage, pulled on her
stretchytop. ThegarmentdangledfromBewinda’slongskinnytorso.
Theywentbackintothecorridor,lookingroughlyliketwoPrezghodNavy Lieutenants(JG)leadingacivilianprisonersomewhere. Theystoppedatthe next corridor junction, where they encountered some traffic, all Prezghod
Navy personnel.
S`heessay took Bewinda’s hand and stroked it, eliciting
only pained scowls. She led Bewinda and Sangh back through the palace
labyrinth, avoiding LtCdr. Kolfhaj’s command post in Media Room 1. It
took only a few minutes to get back to the staircase where Bewinda had accostedthem,duringwhichtimetheydidn’tencounteralivingsoul.
“Iwish,” saidS`heessay,“thatwecouldleaveyouwherewefoundyou,but that’s impossible. You’re coming with us.” She went over to the staircase and opened the door. She motioned to Bewinda and Sangh to go down. After the door had closed behind them with a solid clunk, she said, “Most peopledon’thavesufficientsecurityratingtoopenthisdoor,soitwon’tbe thateasytofollowus. They’llhavetoblowitup. Comeon,weneedtofind amorediscreetweapontoshootLieutenantWharbutwithifnecessary.”
They wentdown two flights. The corridor herewas lessblue and plush than the corridors on the main floor. The color palette emphasized brown, eitherasanaestheticchoiceorwhatwhatsomebody’scolorschemehadaged
to. “Isanybodyhome?” shoutedS`heessay.
There was an answering shout, and they followed it to a large confer- ence room. There were about ten people sitting around a table. Half were discussing something urgent; the rest were busy with handheld devices or concentrated on a point in front of their faces no one else could see. They werecivilians,casuallydressed.
“XC!” saidoneofthem,atall,dark-skinnedmanwithgrayhair. Hewas
wearingawhiteshirt,sweatpants,andsandals. “Comovai?”
Shedidnottranslateherconversationwiththem. Sanghcouldmakeout a few words here and there, including his own name, and Bewinda’s. Are theyarguingaboutwhethertokillBewinda,lockheruphere,orwhat?
Afteronlyaboutfiveminutes,theyleftandwentbacktothestairsand downalevel. Thestaircasedescendedmuchfurther. Onthisfloorthedim corridorheldasuccessionofidenticaldoorseachdisplayinganunlitwindow. Thecorridorsensedtheirpresenceandturnedonafewlights. Someonemust havetolditwhattheywerelookingfor,becausejustonedoorwindowlitup. It turned out to be a small armory, with guns of all shapes and sizes, plus severaldeviceswhosepurposewasunclear,alllaidneatlyonmodularmetal racks. You could buy similar racks for twenty euchos at DIY Depot back
on Prezghod.
S`heessay selected a handgun, roughly 6 mm, Sangh guessed.
Ammunitionwasinaseparatemetalcabinet. Shegrabbedaclipandputit intothehandgrip.
Sangh took the handgun and gave the Grishklo to S`heessay. “I guess there’s onlyonewaytobuildahandgun,” saidSangh, heftingthegunand sightingit.
“Onewaytoomany,” saidS`heessay.
SheproppedBewinda’sguninthecorner. “I’msuresomeonewilleven- tually find this and give it a good home.” Then she ripped the Prezghod
insigniasandBewinda’snameplateoffthetunicshewasstillwearing. “Thatstuffwouldonlyconfusepeople,” shesaid,motioningtoBewinda
togetmovingagain.
Theywentbackupalevel,andthistimefollowedanotherchainofcon- fusingcorridorstoadoorthatledtoanunexpectedopenspacebigenoughto containafewsmallaircraft: twohelicoptersandapropeller-drivenairplane.
“Whatisthis,” saidSangh,“PresidentTravers’sspare-aircraftcloset?” “It’sahangar,p`hookwad,” saidBewinda. Shewasright. Onewallheld
twohugeroll-topdoorsandlittleelse,likeanoversizetwo-cargarage. One
wallbegantoslideup. Ateamofsmallrobotsemergedfromthedimnessat thebackoftheroomandbeganpushingandpullingoneofthehelicopters outside. S`heessaymotionedthemtofollow,toapatchofasphaltwherethe helicopterperched,discreetlytuckedattherearofthePalace.
S`heessay got into the pilot’s seat of the helicopter, and, with Sangh keepingtheguntrainedonBewinda,heandsheclimbedintothebacksetof thehelicopterastherotors begantoturn. Soontheywereairborne. From theair,thecitydidnotlookasifawarorrevolutionwasinprogress,except forthelanderLimhoonhadsetdowninthePraçadaTerra,whichdwindled intoinsignificanceastheyflew.
“Wherearewegoing?” saidBewinda.
“We’renotallgoingtothesameplace,” saidS`heessay. “Youaregoingto gettoridethekicker.”
“Aeuphemismforatorturemachine,Isuppose,” saidBewinda.
S`heessaylookedpuzzled. “Honey,” shesaid,“thekickerdoesn’thurtyou.
Itwillmoveyoufarawayquickly,whichisallwewanttodo.”
Their immediate destination turned out to be the São Paulo Airport. They landed in an obscure area, a terminal for freight, not passengers, at thebaseofaKefauverloop. S`heessaysaid,“We’regoingtowaitoutherefor afewsecondswhiletheyclearthebuildingforus.” Howmuchinfluencedid thiswomanhave?
“Okay,” she said, “No over-inquisitive eyes will see us.” She led them through a door and into the largest building in the area. A procession of kickers was frozen in the process of being unloadedand loaded. There was spaceandworkstationsforalotmorepeoplethanwerepresent.
“Bewinda, these big ellipsoids are called kickers,” said
S`heessay, as if
it were a fine time for a lecture. “They are vehicles for getting something into orbit or taking a suborbital hop to anywhere on the planet. They haveessentially nopropulsiononboard, andaredesignedonlytobehurled by electrodynamic launchers, what Sangh’s been calling ‘Kefauver loops,’
althoughIdon’tknowwhoorwhatKefauveris. Eachkickercancarryone
personoralittlebitoffreight. Iamgreatlytemptedtosendyouintoorbit, butthatmightbeconsideredcruel,soI’mjustgoingtosendyousomewhere faraway. Don’tworry,you’llbetakencareof.”
They had reached an empty kicker, its hinged top popped open and restingonstanchions. Thisfreightareawasmoreutilitarianthanthesleek lounge from which Sangh and Tralf had traveled to Bahia, what, two days ago? In this setting you could see the whole kicker: an egg cracked open, theyolkremoved,Bewindaabouttoplaytheroleofchick. Robotsbustled
about.
S`heessay invited herin. Sanghpokedherintheribs. Bewinda was
reluctant.
“We could send your dead body, if you prefer,” said Sangh, surprising himself. The gun turned him into Jamp Ganhond, his favorite vid tough guy.
Bewinda got in, and submitted to the crash harness being fastened aroundher. “Sangh,youaregoingtolivetoregretthis,” shesaid,beforea robotjammedabreathingapparatusintohermouth. Probably,hethought, as the kicker lid was lowered and sealed. It lumbered forward to get into launchposition.
“I’msendinghertothemostobscureplaceshecangettoinafairlyshort
time,” saidS`heessay. “Idon’twanthertogetreallyuncomfortableinthere,
ifyouknowwhatImean.”
“Theyshouldhaveputarestroomin,” saidSangh.
“The actual flights won’t take that long; but I’ve set up a journey that involveslandinginÁfrica,beingheldforafewhours,thenbeingsentonto Austrália. She’ll be out in five hours, but the sun will not have risen yet, and it will take her a while to figure out where she is and how to get back here.”
“But let’s get out of this place and let the Molhes back in.” She strode outofthebuildingwithSanghhustlingtokeepup. Teamsoffreightloaders werecominginandgettingbacktowork.
Theirnextdestinationwasabusstop. “Weneedtogettothepassenger terminals,andthebusisthemostsensiblewaytogetthere,” saidS`heessay.
“No dramatic helicopter landing on the roof? No secret tunnels with nuclear-poweredantigravitytaxiswithin?”
“IthoughtI readtoomanytechie-fictionbooks.” “Aren’twedesperatelypressedfortime?” “Perhaps. Whichiswhyweactlikewe’renot.”
Acartrainstoppedforthem,achainofseveralstandardelectriccars. In thelastfourdays,Sanghhadgrownquitefamiliarwiththesebluecarswith
“Transportation District of São Paulo” written on the side. Not counting
theoddlimousinereservedforvisitingdignitariesfromspace,theywerethe onlycarshehadeverseenonthestreetsofSãoPaulo.
Thecartrainwasalreadycrowded,sotheysharedapole,bringingtheir facesclosetogether. “It’sarelieftogetridofBewinda,forawhileatleast,” saidSangh. “It’snotveryromantic,draggingaprisoner.”
The sound of an unfamiliar language caused people nearby to look at them quizzically. Sangh winced. A woman hanging on a strap said, “Olhe! OAmbaixadordoEspaço!” Sanghwincedagain. Hedidn’tneedthistrans- lated. But he figured he should play it straight to avoid attracting even more scrutiny. “Bonw jeea. Dheu soo Professoo Fharha d’Uunivairsidadje, DhambaiscadooduplanetaPrezghod.”
Underhisbreath,toS`heessay,hesaid,“Nowtranslate,please.”
Out loud again, this time in Glish, with S`heessay’s simultaneous trans- lation, he said, “Please forgive my poor Terrano. And please try to forget thatI’mhere. I’mengagedinabitofanthropologicalresearch,seeinghow peoplebehaveonashuttlebus. I’minthephaseofpassiveobservation,so youjustgoaboutyourbusiness.” Tohissurprise,theymoreorlessdidashe asked. Onewomanstaggeredthroughthecrushandaskedforhisautograph onherbuspass. Butthatwasit. OnPrezghod,onceonepersonrequested an autograph, everyone would have. There was a bitof anthropologyright
there. Whichhemightlivetopublish.
“Two days from now,” he whispered, “if Vhatta Limhoon finds any of these people, they’ll have trouble remembering if we interviewed them on TuesdayorSunday.”
“Great,”
S`heessay whispered back, “but the surveillance cameras will
recordthedatemoreaccurately.”
“Thetapesareallstoredinsomedatabase,right? Couldn’tsomehowthe tapefortodaygetswitchedwiththetapeforSunday,whenTralf andIwere here? Attheairport,Imean. Thatwouldconfusewhoever’safterus.”
“Ibelievethatmighthappen,” shesaidwithabroadsmile.
Theyreachedtheirstop,thePublicAviationterminal,andsaidgoodbye
tothenicepeople.
S`heessaypausedbrieflyataregistrationdesk,talkedto
aSequefortenseconds,andthenwavedSanghon. “Wehaveprioritytoget outandgrabourplane.” Prioritygotthemafour-seat,high-wingairplane. Sanghwasnoexpert,butitlookedlikeanicepieceofequipment.
“It’sgoodtotravelwithsomeonewhoalwaysgoesfirst-class,” hesaid. “IhaveafewstringsIcanpull.”
“Becauseyou’reanAvataroftheMind?” “Orbecauseeveryonelovesmeformyself.”
There was a delay in being cleared for takeoff.They waited on the
taxiway. Sangh’s nerves were taut, but he couldn’t tell how S`heessay felt. Sometimesshecouldconcealherfeelingseerilywell.
“Now they’re saying all air traffic from São Paulo is being suspended temporarily, due to traffic-control issues. We’re supposed to return to the terminal.” Neitherbelievedit. SheputtheATCsignalonspeaker.
“MXX 1337, you are cleared for takeoff. You’ve got a special clearance forsomereason.... Holdon,letmedouble-check.”
“Ernesto,it’sme,XC.”
“Oh! Goforit,runway3-Oh.”
They had the runway all to themselves. Sangh hoped they weren’t too conspicuous. SãoPaulo fell quickly behind them. They didn’t fly over the Palace.
“Therewillbenorecordofusgettingspecialtreatment. Infact,weleft 25decimis ago,flyingwest,” shesaid.
“Let’s hope Cross isn’t overhead, or they don’t think to verify that no onetookoff.”
“They’renotoverhead.” Ofcourseshewouldknowthat.
They flew in tense silence for a while, but no one chased them or shot themdown,andtheyrelaxedagain.
Sangh asked, “How come your Frequent-Traveler Kilometers didn’t get
youajet?”
“This way we don’t attract so much attention. We’re just another hob- byistpilot,onanafternoonouting.”
“Didn’twefileaflightplan?”
“Yes,butitwasbogus. We’renotflyingthatway. Thatplanisthelast recordinthedatabaseconcerningthisplane.”
“Doesthisthinghaveanautopilot?”
“Areyoukidding? EverythingonTerrahasanautopilot. Wehavemore robotsthanweknowwhattodowith. Andwe’renotafraidofanyofthem, arewe?”
“Onlyofyou,darling,” saidSangh,cuddlingintoher. “Good,” shesaid,cuddlingback.
***
IthadtakenSanghjustfourdaystofallinlovewithS`heessay,amachine possessedbyademon,andanAvataroftheMind.
Other than a crush here or there, he had never had a real girlfriend
before
S`heessay.He was not a virgin; the officers’ brothel at the Navy
Academyhadgivenhimhissexualeducationandgranteddispensationfrom afterlifeconsequences. Hemighthavefalleninlovewithoneofthemilitary
prostitutesiftheChurchhadallowedrepeatvisitswiththesamegirl.
DuringthelastfourdaysonTerra,hehadlivedadoublelife. Orperhaps one should say, over the last four nights. It started that first Friday night, thedaytheylanded. He,Tralf,andBewindawereinstalledinluxury,eachin theirownsuiteofroomsinthePresidentialPalace. Hisbedwasbigenough for five fat people, and it was a bed. But had never found it easy to fall asleep in a new place, no matter how tired he was, and he was exhausted aftera long stressful dayspentin a gravitational field. He was rolling over forthefifthtimewhentherewasaquietsoundfromtheshadows. “Sssssh.”
Hairs rose on the nape of his neck. “Who or what’s there?” he asked, tryingtosoundtough.
Awomansteppedoutofacorneroftheroomandadimlightcameon.
HecouldseejustwellenoughtorecognizeS`heessayDezeenawvee.
Sangh relaxed, then remembered she was a filthy, lying Seckie. “What areyoudoinghere?” hedemanded.
“Iwantedtoseeyou,” saidS`heessay. “Whendidyourshipland?”
“That’s a tricky question.” He could see her more clearly. The room lights must have gotten slightly brighter. “My ship didn’t exactly land. I kindoffaxedmyselfdown.”
“You’reacopy.”
“Maybe ‘fax’ isn’t the best word. The point is that I’m not tied to a particular body the way a Molyee is. The body you talked to in orbit is still in orbit, kind of ... dormant, ’cause I can inhabit only one body at a time. Thisonewasmadehere,inthePresidentialPalace. Onlyinformation traveledfromtheretohere. Nodemonsinvolved,” shehastenedtoadd.
He knew that by “information” she meant nothing but a modulated ra- diosignal,re-encodedandpushedthroughaconspiracyofcomputers. That
signalpatterndefinedS`heessayDezeenawvee,theelectronicghostthatsome-
howanimatedtheroboticbodyinfrontofhim. Sangh’sstomachturnedat thethought. Hehadscarcelybelievedthescarystoriesabouttheevilthat networks could do, but here was proof positive that demons could travel throughthemandanimatedeadbodies,inspiteofherdisclaimers. Hislegs seemed to want to run away, although there was no place to go but the headboardofthebed.
“WhydoIfrightenyousomuch?” sheasked.
“You’reafilthySeckie,amachine. YoursoulscomefromSathanw,ifyou canusetheword‘soul’fora,a,...”
“Datapattern?”
“Okay, data pattern. A mere data pattern, but somehow committed to the enslavement and damnation of the human race. As it says in the
Gospel of Dhindira, chapter 20, verse 13, ‘Woe to you, you generators of killermachines. BeforeyourrobotarmiescandestroytheKingdomofGod, youshallbelaidlowbytheblindinglightofAllahˆmyFather.’”
Shemadeasighingsound. “MayIsitdown?” sheasked.
“Yes,”saidSangh,“Imean,No! Whywouldamachineneedtositdown?” Hetookagoodlookatherthefirsttime. Shewaswearingclothessuitable totheclimate, andthecurvesofherbodycouldbeseenmoreclearlythan when she had talked him to death in her spaceship. Its body, especially built to tempt and seduce him. He blushed with shame at the memory of the Furball debacle, when she had caught him ogling her legs. “Okay, yes, please sit down, over there.” He indicated a chair behind a desk. She sat. Herlegswerestilltoovisible,andthesandalssheworerevealedherpretty feet. Atleasthecouldseethatshedidnothaveclovenhooves.
S`heessay spoke. “We thought you were getting along so well with the
Sequesdownhere. YouhaveyourownSeque assistant,afterall.”
“I’manavalofficer,ortryingtoactlikeone. I’mwillingtotakerisks. If the Seckies decide to kill Bewinda, Tralf, and me, we’re dead. So far, they justtakeorders—fetchthingsforus. Theyhaven’tinvadedourbedrooms.” HetriedtopicturewhoorwhatmightbetryingtoseduceBewindaatthat moment.
“In any case, I’m not a Seque. I may have misled your captain about that.”
“Don’tbullshitme. Isawyouopenyouraccesspanelorwhateveritwas.” “Yes, well, that was my jokey way of telling him I wasn’t a Molhe. I didn’t realize how much paranoia you people suffer from when it comes to artificial intelligence. I’ve racked my brains trying to imagine how I could have done a better job, but ....” She trailed off, and just stared at the
ceiling.
“Okay,you’reforgiven,orwhateveritisyouwantmetosay. Youcango backtoyourship,or,betteryet,justorderthisbodytoself-destruct.”
“But,asIsaid,Icameheretoseeyou.”
“Ohplease,weknowyoursurveillanceapparatusallowsyoutoseemeall youwant. Don’ttellmeyouhavetoappearinperson.”
“YouknowwhatImeant.” “Hmmph.”
“Sangh,honey,Isavedyourlife!”
The two of them sat there for a minute without speaking. Then Sangh said, “If you hadn’t tricked me with that blood-drawing device, my life wouldn’thavebeeninjeopardyinthefirstplace. Plus,youhaven’tsavedit yet. VhattaLimhoonisstillmycommandingofficer.”
“If you prevent a war between Terra and Prezghod, you’ll be a hero to millionsofpeople.”
“ButnotnecessarilytoVhattaLimhoon.”
Hepaused,thensaid,“Look,ifyou’renotaSeckieandnotaMolyee,and you’renotgoingtoeatmysoulinthenextfewminutes,whatareyou?”
“There’s no commonly accepted word for me, for my ... sort. Because mostpeopledon’tknowweexist.
“I realize that every time I mention it you get upset, but Terra just couldn’t function without its computer network. You feel horror picturing even two or three computers talking to each other. I can see right now, the thought scares you. But the Terranet connects millions of computer clusters,hundredsofmillionsifyoucounttheprocessorsinsideeachcluster as well, billions if you countall the small sensory processors. And the grid extendsoutintospace,fromTerra’sorbittoMarte’s...”
“So many djinn!” Sangh interrupted, picturing with growing claustro- phobia how deeply enmeshed they were in the network’s coils. “There’s a storyintheBible,theparableoftherichmanfromSura122oftheGospel of Muhammad. The rich man made his fortune using a network of com- puters, but every year the djinni of the network demanded that he make
greater and greater animal sacrifices. Blood flooded the altar. Finally it
demandedahumansacrifice,avirgin,oritwouldtakeawayallthathehad. Hethoughthimselfagoodman,buthecouldnotbearthethoughtoflosing all those riches. So he sent his robots out to find a virgin to sacrifice. To his dismay, when he came to the djinni’s temple that night, he found his owndaughterboundtothealtar. Herenouncedhisbargain,andsaid,Take back all my riches, but spare my daughter. Certainly, replied the djinni. It freed his daughter, but seized the rich man, tortured him for two days untilhedied,thendraggedhissouldowntoHellforalongseasonoffurther torment. Verse 10: ‘Note well the bargain you make when you fall prey to computernetworks. Thereisaclearlessoninthisforthosewhohaveears tocomprehend.’”
He paused to see if she got it, but she didn’t, of course. Why was he evenbothering? Buthepressedon. “Ourcivilizationbarelysurviveditswar againstpeopleenamoredof Seckiesandnetworks.”
“Butdoyouseeanywarhere? No.”
“Perhaps there was a war and the wrong side won. Perhaps you exter- minatedanyonewhodidn’tliketheideaofbeingsurroundedbydjinnfrom Sathanw.”
“IftherereallyisaSatarrão,thenhestaysonPrezghod. Wedon’ttake
orders from him; we are ruled by the President, and the Ministers of his