Flinx's Folly (7 page)

The ingenious metamorphosis took a couple of hours. During this time the isolated starship was not observed or hailed. Certain false instrument blisters on its hull vanished while others, differing in shape and color, appeared elsewhere. A pair of dummy gun turrets disappeared, to be replaced by concomitant nonfunctional concavities. A large communications array appeared where none had been before, while a brace of maneuvering thrusters rearranged themselves into an entirely new configuration.

Integrated chromatophoric materials in the substance of the
Teacher
’s hull changed its color from stark ivory to a dull blue striped with maroon. Fake scars and pockmarks suggesting frequent in-system collisions with wandering spatial debris appeared on the ship’s formerly immaculate epidermis. In less than two hours the
Teacher
changed from looking like a wealthy Trading House’s private transport to a battered intrasystem freighter.

Not only could Flinx change his clothes to disguise his appearance; so could his ship. No doubt the Ulru-Ujurrians, who were inordinately fond of elaborate games, had particularly enjoyed integrating that little bit of sleight of ship into the
Teacher
’s abilities.

Satisfied with the alteration, Flinx now contemplated the immense bands of yellow and white that swept across the uninhabitable surface of Goldin XI. By this time, he usually had a destination in mind—yet he hadn’t chosen one. His indecision was not caused by a lack of choices. The Commonwealth was a big place, and there were innumerable worlds he had yet to visit. He found himself unable to choose. A meal failed to help his mood. Music and a visit to the relaxation chamber, with its running water, imported greenery, and small wandering life-forms, did not help either.

He didn’t fear the unknown individuals who had tried to kill him on Goldin IV. He respected but was not afraid of the Qwarm or the Commonwealth authorities. He was even prepared to deal with his disturbing dreams. What he was afraid of, and what was contributing so strongly to his present mood of quiet despair, was a realization that he did not know what to do next. Staying alive was a valid objective, as was trying to find his father. But more and more, he found it difficult to justify either as an end in itself.

He badly needed to talk to someone, someone who could understand, sympathize, and offer a different point of view. Across the bridge, Pip sensed her master’s distress and raised her head.

“If only you could talk,” he murmured affectionately to his constant companion. It was a sentiment he had voiced countless times over the years. But even if Pip could speak, what would she say? That she was hungry, tired, or sorry? She was capable of reading his moods as no one else could, but she was unable to offer advice: only companionship and the occasional tongue caress. Sometimes that was enough. It wasn’t now. Tilting his head back, he rested one hand on his forehead as if the gesture could somehow quiet the turmoil within him. Beyond the port, the monstrous gaseous globe of Goldin XI precessed in stately, indifferent silence.

“Ship, I think I’m going crazy.”

It was an announcement to give even the responsive AI pause. It hesitated lest it misconstrue the meaning of its owner’s words.

Guessing at the reason behind the extended silence, Flinx sighed. “Not literally. At least, I don’t think so.”

“Is it the headaches?” the ship inquired solicitously.

“It’s more than that. These dreams—I hardly ever get a decent sleep anymore. The more I see of people, the more of their emotions I read, the less inclined I am to worry about their eventual fate. And I’m tired of being followed, chased, and being a target for people who want me dead.”

“It’s nice to be popular,” the AI murmured.

I’m definitely going to have to fine-tune the level of programmable sarcasm, he told himself. “It’s not amusing. There are only two intelligences who realize even a little of what’s going on inside me: Pip and you.”

“You are wrong, Flinx,” the voice responded softly. “I don’t understand anything of what is going on inside you. No AI, no matter how sophisticated or advanced, can truly understand a human being. Logic aside, there are too many aspects of human behavior that do not conform to predictable values. Your individuality precludes general comprehension. I know you as well as it is possible for an artificial intelligence to know a human, and there are too many times when I do not understand you at all.”

“That’s reassuring.” The AI wasn’t the only mind on the
Teacher
capable of sarcasm.

“I try.” Though he knew it could not be, the AI managed to sound hurt. “Bear in mind, Philip Lynx, that while it is a truism among machine intelligences that no human is entirely comprehensible, you are less comprehensible than most.” Then it said something unexpected and surprising. “Perhaps if I could share the dreams that so trouble you.”

“I relate them to you.” Unlike many people who dealt regularly with AI’s, Flinx had not constructed a face to go with the voice.

“No—I mean
share
them. Perhaps then I would understand the confusion and distress they cause you.”

“Machines don’t dream.” He gazed at the ceiling. “Do they?”

“No. In order to dream, an entity must first be able to sleep. AI’s do not sleep. Being turned off is different. Humans sleep. Thranx sleep. Even AAnn sleep. Machines—when we are turned off we die, and when we are turned back on we are reborn.”

“Sounds exciting,” he murmured absently.

“Not really. It’s quite straightforward. I wish I could be more helpful, Flinx. As you know, in the course of our travels together since I was made, it has been occasionally necessary for me to communicate with other AI’s. It became apparent to me some time ago that you are an unusual example of your species.”

“I know,” he replied dryly. “I wish I weren’t.”

“Wishing. Something else humans can do that is denied to machines. In the course of learning about other humans, I have become aware of your generally gregarious nature. You usually seek the companionship of your own kind. Yet you have spent much of the past years traveling alone in me, with only your flying snake for company. I believe this may be the source of at least some of your present discomfort. You need to talk to other humans, Flinx, and I think also to confide in them concerning your uncertainties.”

It was silent on the bridge for long moments. Either the
Teacher
knew more about human nature than it claimed or the AI was being disingenuous. Either way, the truth of what it had said forced its way into his consciousness and wouldn’t let go.

Maybe it was right. Maybe what he needed more than anything was to talk to someone. But who? There was no one he could confide in, no one who would understand the nature and gravity of his disturbing dreams as well as sympathize with his personal problems and the emptiness that always traveled with him. There was Mother Mastiff—but she was getting on in years. She could listen but would not really understand. Empathetic as she was, she did not possess the necessary intellectual referents to comprehend what was going on inside of him. Pip could make him feel warm inside but could not talk. The
Teacher
, as it had just wisely observed, could provide erudite conversation but not simple humanity.

Furthermore, not only did he need someone he could talk to about everything that was going on inside him, that person also had to be trustworthy. Conversation and understanding, he had long since learned, were far easier to find than trust.

Actually, he realized with a start, there was someone. One someone. Maybe.

Where to go looking? Obviously, the place where they had last seen each other. He hesitated. Was he doing the right thing? The possibility of betrayal was always uppermost in his mind. For many years it had prevented him from seeking to share intimately of himself. But the
Teacher
was right, he knew. He had gone without confiding in another human being for far longer than was healthy. For better or worse, he had to find a way to unburden himself to someone who would not only listen but also might respond with something deeper and more emotive than machine logic.

Still uncertain he was doing the right thing but unable to decide what else to do—and desperate to do
something
—he raised his voice to finally supply the
Teacher
with a destination.

New Riviera was not just a beautiful, accommodating, and pleasant world. In all of mankind’s more than seven hundred years of exploring and spreading itself through the Orion Arm of the galaxy, it was still the best place humans had ever found. Some planets were rated comfortable and others livable. But out of the hundreds that had been catalogued by humans and thranx alike, only “Nur,” as it was often called, was considered even more hospitable than Mother Earth.

It was as if Nature had chosen—in a particularly languid, relaxed, and contented moment—to design a place for human beings to live. Nur was not paradise. It was, for example, home to hostile creatures. Just not very many of them. There were endemic diseases. They just weren’t very serious or common. The planet had seasons, but winter, as humans were used to thinking of it, was confined to the far north and south poles. Thanks to a remarkably stable orbit and axis, weather tended to the consistently tropic or temperate over the majority of the planet’s surface. In the absence of dramatic mountain ranges, rain tended to fall predictably and in moderate amounts except in the extreme tropics, where it served as a welcome diversion.

The bulk of Nur’s indigenous plant and animal life was attractive and harmless. With an abundance of easy-to-catch prey, even the local carnivores were a bit on the lazy side. Imported life-forms tended to thrive in the planet’s exceptionally congenial surroundings. Everything from multiwheats imported from Kansastan to tropical fruits from Humus and Eurmet grew almost without effort.

Instead of vast oceans, the waters of Nur were divided into more than forty seas of varying size. Dotted with welcoming islands and archipelagoes, they made for comfortable sailing and cheap water-based transportation. Thousands of rivers supplied fresh water to tens of thousands of sparkling lakes.

It was not surprising that immigration to New Riviera was among the most tightly controlled in the Commonwealth. True, not everyone wanted to live there. There were those who found it too static, even too civilized. There was no edge to this paradise, and many humans and thranx needed an edge to keep them going. But most of those fortunate enough to be citizens could not conceive of living anywhere else, and those that could so conceive did not want to.

The choice of landing sites was extensive. There was Soothal, in the center of one of the eight northern continents, or Nelaxis, on the sandy shore of the Andrama Sea. The shuttleport outside indolent Tharalaia, near the equator, was said to be bedecked with an astonishing variety of tropical flowers whose rainbow of colors changed naturally every week, while Gaudi was the most famous Nurian center for the arts.

Thanks to the singular modifications and advances integrated into its Caplis generator by the Ulru-Ujurrians, the
Teacher
could land on a planetary surface without its drive field interacting lethally with the planet’s gravity. Flinx knew it could do so because it had done so—but only on sparsely inhabited or empty worlds. A very few suspected his ship’s unique ability and had been actively trying to confirm it and track him down.

So whenever he visited a populated world, he descended and returned via shuttlecraft, in the conventional fashion. Seeking as always to preserve his anonymity he decided to land and pass through Customs and Immigration at Sphene, renowned as the planet’s center of commerce. Among traders and manufacturers, businessfolk and apprentices, students and machiavels, he was least likely to draw attention. People who were focused on money and its acquisition, he had learned, had little time for those who were not.

It would also be as good a place as any to begin searching for the person he sought. Whether that individual was still on New Riviera he had no way of knowing. It was the last place they had talked. And if the many kudos to the planet that filled space-minus were to be believed, why would anyone leave Nur for somewhere else? Furthermore, preliminary research had already revealed that the one he sought would easily be able to access appropriate employment opportunities on Nur. That seemed as promising a way and place to start as any.

Metropolitan Sphene was large enough to be served by four shuttleports. Only two handled passengers, the other two being reserved for commercial activities. As the sole occupant of a privately owned shuttle, even one originating from so disreputable-looking a craft as the presently camouflaged
Teacher
, he was directed and guided into the executive landing area. The mild disdain of port control was palpable.

“Use arrival lane four oh three,” the voice declared firmly, “and be certain to comply with all fumigation and decontamination procedures prior to disembarkation.”

Flinx had to smile as the shuttle slowed and its internal AI guided it to the designated parking slot. The Nurians were a famously fastidious lot.

Customs insisted on running a separate scan on Pip, not only to ensure that she was free of diseases and parasites but also to make certain she was not pregnant. New Riviera was entirely too accommodating to imported species to allow anything out into the wild without official approval, where it would like as not reproduce and thrive like mad. With Flinx close by to keep her calm, the irritated flying snake tolerated the process. It helped that the well-trained personnel assigned to perform the necessary procedures were calm and unafraid. They were shielded by their ignorance, Flinx knew.

As soon as the last of the efficient but extensive landing and arrival procedures had been completed, Flinx shouldered his travel satchel and made his way down the succession of access corridors into the main terminal. The first thing that struck him was the unmistakably high degree of general affluence. That, and the general contentment that filled his mind. The majority of emotions that touched him were happy ones. Not all—the port was full of human beings, after all—but most. It was a refreshing change from places like Goldin IV and Earth, where humanity still struggled harder with itself than against anything else.