Castle War! (8 page)

“Excuse me, ladies,” he said.
 

He tried a narrow door and found a broom closet. A door across the hall proved to be a room with metal shelves holding a number of boxes. He rummaged in these and found his clothes. He got dressed in a hurry.
 

He peered out of the storage room. The nurses had gone back to whatever it was they were doing. Neither of them looked to be making frantic phone calls or sending out alarms. He left the room and walked down the corridor, keeping close to the wall.
 

He reached the entrance to a stairwell and entered.
 

It hit him at the top of the steps. First it was just a strange feeling, turning quickly to low-grade nausea. As he went down the stairs, anxiety welled up. It was instant and all-consuming. Stunned, he collapsed on the landing, shaking and sweating.
 

He remained there for several minutes, totally immobilized, the walls closing in, nameless terrors chewing at him.
 

At length he was able to climb back up the stairs. He staggered back to the room and collapsed on the bed.
 

After a while he became aware that someone had entered the room. He turned over and sat up. It was the doctor—or was he just a technician?—and a woman dressed in a shapeless gray suit.
 

“Hello,” the woman said brightly. “How are you feeling?” She wore no makeup and had lines at the corners of her gray eyes. Her salt-and-pepper hair was drawn up into a bun.
 

“What kind of drug is it?” he asked.
 

“We didn't give you any drugs,” the doctor said.
 

“You have InnerVoice,” the woman said. “It tells you when you're doing something wrong.”
 

“What was I doing wrong?”
 

“You were leaving against medical advice,” the woman said. She smiled again. “I'm from the Citizens' Committee for Social Improvement, Orientation Subcommittee. My cognomen is M-D-E-T-F-G. My omnicode is one-dash-seven-oh-nine-oh-six-three-one-two-eight.”
 

“Don't you have a name?”
 

“You can call me M-1.”
 

“Mine's B-7,” the medic said.
 

The woman read from a small recording device: “And
your
cognomen is B-K-F-V-G-D. Your omnicode is—”
 

He waved her silent. “Never mind. Just tell me what you did to me. What is InnerVoice?”
 

“It's a guide to behavior. It tells you—”
 

“I
know
that. What
is
it?”
 

“Can you explain it to him, B-7?”
 

“Sure. When I said we didn't give you any drugs, I was telling the truth. What we did inject you with was a solution, but in that solution were tiny little machines.”
 

“Machines?”
 

“Call them computers, that's what they are, in part. Some of them are no bigger than a bacterium, and most of them are smaller. They're constructed at a very small level of magnitude, the molecular level. Instead of electronic parts, they have protein parts, enzyme parts. Biological parts. But they're computers all the same.”
 

“What do they do?”
 

“Lots of things. But mainly they monitor things in your blood and lymph. Watch your emotional states, look for telltale chemical signs.”
 

Gene said, “Signs of what?”
 

“Well, for instance, when you do something that you shouldn't be doing, your body reacts in certain ways. It changes chemically and electrically. When the monitoring machines detect these changes, they send signals to your glands to secrete certain things. They also send signals to the brain.”
 

“I understand,” Gene said. “So, if I don't do what I'm told, this automatic punishment system goes on-line.”
 

“Oh, it's not punishment. It's your own body's shame and guilt for doing the socially unacceptable thing. The reactions are just amplified, that's all.”
 

“Oh, yes. I got that much.”
 

“If you didn't feel any shame or guilt, InnerVoice couldn't affect you.”
 

“I feel absolutely no shame or guilt, friend. Stop bullshitting.”
 

“Of course you feel it. You have to. You had the reaction, didn't you? InnerVoice was speaking to you.”
 

Gene had no answer.
 

“It will take time,” M-1 said. “You'll get used to it. In time, InnerVoice won't need to guide you at all. You'll guide yourself.”
 

“I bet I will, if I know what's good for me.”
 

She grinned expansively. “You're learning already! I'm so pleased. It will make my job so much easier!”
 

“Yeah. Glad to oblige.”
 

 

 

 

Laboratory

 

Linda sat at the terminal reading Incarnadine's message, which Jeremy had assigned to a file in one of the computer's data storage areas. (The computer had exotic data storage devices as well as conventional ones. One of the former resembled a 1950s jukebox.) She keyed as she read, scrolling the text upscreen.
 

She was a little distracted. Jeremy's new “assistant” was unsettling, to say the least. Computer programs usually didn't wear slinky dresses and have legs that wouldn't quit. Computer programs ordinarily didn't vamp their users. Isis had lots of other handy features; among these was the capability of fetching coffee for the chief of data processing.
 

“How many sugars, Jeremy?”
 

“Uh ... four.”
 

“Ummm, sweet.”
 

“Yeah. Linda? What do you think?”
 

Linda said, “I don't know. It sounds like Incarnadine is going to have problems getting back. Can you write the program he's talking about?”
 

Jeremy shrugged. “You got me. I've been looking through the data from the magic books. Some of these spells are, like, enormous! Translating them into computer language will take ... Jeez, I dunno.”
 

Isis set the coffee cup in front of Jeremy. “We might have compiler programs that will do that automatically,” she said.
 

“We might? I'll have to check the file directory. But the problem for me is the magic part. What spells would be effective? How do you stabilize the whole universe? Lord Incarnadine will have to make it back, or we're sunk.”
 

“Maybe we can hold on till he does,” Linda said. “Gene's okay, and we should be finding out about Mr. Dalton and Thaxton soon. The guards at Halfway should be all right, too. I mean, I can't believe anything's happened to Earth. The castle's temporarily cut off, but we can live with that. And Sheila's world is fine, too. I checked that out myself.”
 

“I hope we can hold on,” Jeremy said. “Because it's gonna be a while before I can get this gadget working.”
 

Osmirik came in carrying a stack of loose sheets. He went to the sheet feeder and loaded it, then started the machine. The first sheet slid into the scanner, which began to hum softly.
 

“That is the last of the cosmology texts,” he said.
 

“Okay. Isis, can you analyze all that stuff and come up with the technical parameters?”
 

“I can try, Jeremy,” she said, lightly running her fingers through his hair.
 

“Uh, good. Can you get started on it?”
 

“I've already started, Jeremy. Did you know you had a lot of red in your hair?”
 

“I do?”
 

“Red highlights. I like red hair.”
 

“Yeah. Well.”
 

Linda stared uncomfortably at the screen. Really, she thought.
 

Osmirik said, “Jeremy, if I can be of further assistance...”
 

“Uh, I think that just about does it for the data input, Ozzie. If I can think of anything, I'll let you know.”
 

“Please do. I shall be in the library.”
 

“Right.”
 

Osmirik bowed to Linda. “If I may take my leave, your ladyship?”
 

“Huh? Oh, sure, Ozzie.”
 

Bowing toward Isis, he said, “Farewell, madam.”
 

“Goodbye, Osmirik. So nice to have met you.”
 

“Madam, the pleasure has been entirely mine.”
 

As the lab door closed in Osmirik's wake, the printer began chattering.
 

Isis said, “Jeremy, I'm outputting a flowchart of the general shape the spell would have to take. It would probably be best if we followed the form of a spell for quieting the various humors in a human body. A healing spell, basically.”
 

“Really? That's weird.”
 

“Mind you, that's only the
form
the spell might take. The content would be entirely different. But for all intents and purposes, it's the cosmos that's all upset and in need of equalization.”
 

“If you say so. Do you think we can get the content right?”
 

“That's going to be the problem. What we need are data on the energy state of the cosmos. Especially on the condition of the interuniversal medium, what Incarnadine's cosmology texts call the ‘interstitial etherium.'”
 

“Hell, how do we get that?”
 

Isis sat on an empty wooden packing crate and crossed her beautiful legs. “That I don't know. Have any ideas?”
 

Jeremy glanced at the alarming level the hem of her dress had risen to. “Uh ... not really. That's Incarnadine's department. There were all kinds of instruments here in the lab before it blew up. Some of them survived, but I don't really know what they're for.”
 

“If only we could contact Lord Incarnadine,” Linda said.
 

“He said he'd try to call in. Boy, if only we could use the
Sidewise Voyager
. We could just go and pick him up.”
 

“Could you get to Merydion easily?” Linda asked.
 

“Well, yeah, if the coordinates are in the files. We don't have coordinates for all universes. But it doesn't matter, since we can't use the
Voyager
, anyway.”
 

“The traveler would be the ideal way to get readings from the interuniversal medium,” Isis said.
 

“Yeah, I guess so. But Incarnadine said it would be dangerous.”
 

“We really need those readings.”
 

“Sure we do,” Jeremy said. “But if we were going to chance it, we might as well chance picking up Incarnadine.”
 

Linda said, “Once you got to Merydion, how would you find him?”
 

“Like we found Snowclaw that one time. We used Osmirik's locater spell.”
 

“But that was geared to Earth magic,” Linda said. “It might not work in another world. I've never heard of Merydion. It must be one of the castle's more obscure aspects, so there's probably no one around here who would know the magic.”
 

“Sheila?”
 

“Sheila might. She's good with strange magic, but she'd have to go to Merydion to figure it out.”
 

“So we're back to square one.”
 

“I could use the traveler,” Isis said.
 

Jeremy blinked. “Huh?”
 

“I could be loaded into the
Voyager'
s computer—I assume it has one.”
 

“Uh, sort of. What it does have is strange and kind of alien, but it's interfaced with my Toshiba laptop.”
 

Isis frowned. “I don't think I can fit into a Toshiba laptop.”
 

“No, you're mainframe software. So forget it.”
 

“It was just a thought.”
 

“If anyone is going to do anything with the traveler, it's going to be me.”
 

Isis rose, came to him, and cradled his head in her hands. “My brave little hero.”
 

Linda's eyes rolled to the ceiling.
 

Jeremy looked up at her, eyes glazing over.
 

“Yeah, well, look,” Linda said, “we'd better do something fast. If we need readings on the interuniversal whaddyacallit, we better get them.”
 

“She's right,” Isis said, seating herself on the tabletop next to the terminal.
 

“There's gotta be a way to use the
Voyager
,” Jeremy said. “I just have to figure something out.”
 

“We could use it as a probe,” Isis said.
 

“No, the Toshiba doesn't have the brains to pilot the traveler all by itself.” Jeremy lowered his voice. “I wouldn't dare say that to its face. It probably wouldn't ever speak to me again.”
 

“It wouldn't be necessary to stay in the interuniversal medium long to get a reading,” Isis said.
 

Jeremy snapped his fingers. “Hey, I got it. I could program the Toshiba to fly into the medium and get the readings, then reverse thrust and get the hell out of there real fast.”