Absorption (19 page)

“Thank you for agreeing to communicate with me, Mr. Peters.”

Gregory replied, “You’ve been, uh, persistent. You’re good at persuading people to give me messages. I decided talking to you would be less of a nuisance.”

The voice was surly and resentful, matching the words, seeming too petulant for a twenty five year old man. Brett deemed it genuine. Gregory had no real motive to sound artificially childish.

The boy-man Brett faced wasn’t especially muscular or handsome, but the casual neatness jarred slightly. It might conceal nothing more than a lazy fellow who hung around in his underwear all day.

Motions of the mouth and face exactly matched the words and looked natural, which was rather hard to fake in real time. Brett would pay attention to the facial expressions, which might be real.

Brett spoke before his subject could become impatient.

“I don’t work for your father.”

“So you’re saying you wouldn’t take me back if you could?”

Brett would have cheerfully shoved the little smart ass in a box and shipped him home as cargo. He didn’t feel like lying about it.

“I’m not thinking about it, since you’ve cleverly arranged circumstances to make it impossible. Since you’re here, I assume you don’t mind helping me out provided it doesn’t cost you anything. I’d appreciate if you’d start by telling me why you decided to come to Oceania.”

Gregory scowled. “Why? I could just leave. You couldn’t trace me.”

Brett knew this to be true, after unsuccessful attempts to make it otherwise. Brett repressed all traces of his annoyance. “You’re right. That was a silly way for me to start. Tell me what the best place to begin would be.”

“I guess we could start with my deciding to come here. I have nothing to be ashamed of.”

Did Gregory have a secret to deny, hopefully of more than personal interest? Or did he merely refer to the fact that most people from home believed those who emigrated to Oceania and voluntarily put little machines in their veins had something wrong with them? Either way, Brett would make no mention of the childish behavior, of having agreed to the conference and then arguing with Brett over where to begin, then repeating Brett’s suggestion because Gregory had no better ideas.

The boy finally got started. “Nothing I’ve ever done had been good enough for my father. For a long time I didn’t know if I wanted to become rich or famous or powerful, but I didn’t really want any of those. All I’ve really ever wanted is to get away from the shouting and demands. Him and his damn espionage fiction! You’d think a politician wouldn’t romanticize it so much. He talked about political horse trading and corporate donors often enough.

“I admit I had the wrong idea when I came to this world. I sort of thought you just came and got absorbed into a planetary supermind, something like enlightenment but without all the meditating. That’s hard too, you know.”

“Most things worth doing are,” Brett thought but did not say. The kid must really enjoy complaining about his father. He had gone from complete refusal to speak to making personal confidences in a couple of minutes.

Brett resumed the conversation. “I’m sure it is. Please continue.”

Gregory did. “Apparently it’s not like that. It’s more like getting a double Masters degree in neurology and cybernetic computing if you want to pull your weight. A few people with useful specialized knowledge can get intensive assistance.

“I got over it. My work doesn’t pay that much, but I have friends, and this is a nice place to live, and nobody bothers me or wants to know why I’m not like my father. Go ahead and tell me how impressed you are with my lack of ambition.”

Brett was momentarily silent. Why would Gregory invent all these things about his father? Had Brett misjudged Peterson entirely? The Senator’s determination still inspired Brett’s trust. He decided to reserve judgment, but he had nothing to gain by criticizing Gregory, and the fellow might possibly be useful in the future if he abstained. “You have what you want and you don’t kid yourself. Good for you.”

Oddly enough, Gregory seemed slightly let down. “Telling you this isn’t going to be as much fun as I expected, but you still ought to know. One thing I do is follow political and entertainment gossip.”

Brett didn’t stop listening, but he wasn’t interested in gossip. Maybe it would give him a key to getting something useful out of Gregory later.

Gregory continued. “Many people are occasional participants in the Oceanian supermind, but only a few do so consistently. These are specially trained, in some ways some of the most important people on the planet. These people are called Neurons with capital N’s.”

Brett’s attention quickened slightly. This might possibly be useful, although it didn’t seem related to celebrity gossip.

The Senator’s son said, “One of the most important of the young generation of Neurons is Ariel Lilac. She’s sort of a celebrity.”

Muriel had mentioned something about her playing an important role – hadn’t she? She didn’t have an entourage though. The ball where he had met her had probably been mostly rich or famous or powerful people, but still. She would have told him … she had suggested a relationship wouldn’t be a good idea for him … but when he had -”

Gregory continued, “For awhile she was in a romantic relationship with Michael Waterborne …”

Hopefully Brett’s appearance in the gossip columns wouldn’t have a negative impact on negotiations. Ariel had probably assumed Brett understood what he was getting involved with. In retrospect several conversations now made more sense. Brett hadn’t even asked Ariel not to tell her friends.

Gregory finished speaking, “- a politician who currently holds no elective office, but is very popular with the anti Federalist wing of the opposition party.”

Brett began to have a bad feeling.

Gregory was on a roll. “On Oceania amateur paparazzi don’t need a recording device. Memories can be bought and sold. As a rule Ariel Lilac is careful in her choice of friends, and manages to preserve her privacy except for a few memories of casual acquaintances or short conversations. Although most traces of the originator have been removed from the memories in circulation, some suspect Michael Waterborne due to the initial, ah, slant on the Federalist Space Force Major who -”

“Oh Shit,” Brett said aloud involuntarily. Not good technique in questioning the subject, but barely significant beside his other screw-ups.

What had he done? Although he had been primarily selected because of his neurological knowledge and as a counterweight to Williams, he had been given a diplomatic briefing. Clearly it hadn’t taken. He had turned a politician opposed to compromise into a personal enemy.

What had he done?

Brett could detect movement from the steady breeze, though he couldn’t tell by looking at the ocean far below. Sunlight glinted off the ever shifting swells and waves.

He and Ariel lounged in deck chairs. Above them floated the giant multi-chambered helium balloon of the dirigible. Ariel wore a loosely woven dress that protected her from the sun while letting cool air circulate.

She lifted her head and told him, “This is the most efficient means of travel ever invented.”

Brett considered. It wasn’t fast enough to be efficient in terms of time. Energy then? There was an engine pushing them forward, and sailing would have required no power at all.

“OK, I give up. How do you figure that?”

She replied, “We’re traveling for pleasure, and this form of transportation has the highest pleasure per hour, and pleasure per mile, of any I’ve tried.”

Brett nodded agreement. He had told his superiors he was taking time to practice with the Oceanian nannies, and it was true, but he wasn’t sure this trip optimized his hourly learning rate. On the other hand, he didn’t care.

For awhile the silence resumed. Then Ariel spoke in a drowsy murmur. “Are you still worried about having your individuality stolen somehow?”

Sometimes he was. He sent a daily diary of both what he learned and his ideas and thinking to Barr. The Colonel would follow the changes in his opinions, and look for anything suspicious.

Contrary fellow that Brett was, the act of continuous scrutiny made itself seem paranoid and silly.

He answered frivolously. “That was the other Brett. I was born when his soul got stolen. I’m gonna kick his ass if he tries to return, and these here nannies are going to help me. It’s like the night I was kidnapped and replaced by an exact duplicate with the same memories. I rigged a camera and alarm system in case he tried to sneak back and get rid of me.”

Brett’s other concerns seemed increasingly unlikely as well. Michael had nothing to gain by making a public fuss – least of all Ariel. Nothing of his private life had come up in negotiations so far, and what would be the point of saving it for a surprise?

Ariel laughed. “Good for you. So, no more fears and no regrets?”

Brett was feeling very relaxed now, not in the mood for worries, but some things he needed to talk about. “A couple of days ago I started wondering why I had been so scared of the nanny infusion beforehand when I knew so little about it. I became aware of some possible answers, Oceanian theories about psychological reasons for certain fears.”

Ariel nodded. “Exactly. You’re doing very well on verbal learning now, and you automatically become aware of whole new worlds of knowledge available on subjects you’ve just begun to think about.”

Brett continued, “It’s not like brainwashing, I’m aware that they’re all theories, and if I’m interested I need to research them.”

Ariel responded to his tone. “Since you need to say it’s not like brainwashing, you think it could be.”

Brett agreed. “Even with all I’ve learned about safeguards, multiple people who don’t know each other and have incentives to find errors in each others’ work, it could.”

Ariel waited for him to continue.

“What about errors everyone agrees on? History is full of societies which agree on ‘facts’ that are wrong.”

Ariel furrowed her brow in thought a moment before responding. “Most without nannies to directly transfer wrong ideas.”

She was right but also wrong. They hadn’t quite touched the core of what was bothering him.

“Ariel, what’s it like to be part of the overmind?”

She frowned, perhaps choosing her words. “It can be absorbing, but it’s not something that happens to you like getting eaten, it’s something that you do.”

“But you’re less aware of yourself as an individual while you participate?”

She nodded. “In some ways.”

“You have gaps in your memory?”

She held up a hand as if to slow him down. “Sure, but it’s not sinister or anything. The supermind uses all our knowledge, and some things have to be forgotten for privacy’s sake. I explained how the brain is stimulated to make chemicals that inhibit memory.”

Seeing Ariel before him, more human and alive than anyone he had ever known, was almost enough to dispel his fears. Yet what he had seen on Roundhouse was still seared into his brain. On the point of asking Ariel about it, he asked himself instead.

In a blimp above the ocean, he hovered far from any major data hubs. It took several seconds for any answers to pop into his brain. Some Oceanian historians did blame Oceanian technology for what had happened on Roundhouse. He would study them when his trip was ended. There would be yet another negotiating session after he got back, but he would work it in afterwards.

The day was still beautiful, but Brett was no longer at peace.

Brett finished his last bite of Sunflare fish. He resisted the impulse to order dessert, since the other three men had only ordered wine.

Brett now knew the name of this restaurant, the Aerie. It was the same place where he and Williams had met Ambassador Nocker and his assistant Ames shortly after arriving on Oceania, and for all subsequent negotiations. They had the best table in one of the best restaurants on the planet, and they didn’t even order food. Talk about conspicuous consumption. Sure there was plenty to talk about, but it got pretty repetitive, and Brett had decided to order lunch in fairness to the management.

The weather had cooled, and presumably the bird clinging to the outside of the screen was migrating from somewhere to somewhere else. Was it really Fall already? The Oceanian year was a tiny bit shorter than back home, but that would still mean they had been here almost six months. The time available to avert war was running out. In a sense they were literally where they had started. This was the same screened porch where negotiations had started. The seating might even be the same, with Brett next to his boss Williams and across from Ambassador Nocker and Ames.

Williams told Nocker and Ames, “We believe you. We just need more to take back to our government.”

The little bird was red with black markings on its head. It was worrying at the edge where two screens joined with its beak.

Nocker moistened his lips with wine before replying. “No other supermind was ever instrumental in a war crime. I can assure you the conditions were specific to Roundhouse.”

That unproven assurance wouldn’t do. Although there was only beer and wine on the table, the bird struggled tenaciously. Tired of futile talk, Brett stood up and said, “Excuse me while I stretch my legs.”