James P. Hogan (35 page)

“It is done?” The voice of Korshak, walking alongside Tek, came through on audio.

“For now, Messenger. But much work lies ahead. Meanwhile, let us return. I have meditations and preparations to attend to.”

“I’m amazed that such concepts can take root this easily in an artificial mind,” Lois said as she moved back around to join them.

“I’m amazed myself,” Masumichi confessed. “Trying to understand what’s happening will take a lot of work.”

Lubanov said nothing. He had got what he wanted – a potential observer and listener inside the Dollarian Academy. But the loss of the NC connection meant that they no longer had direct control over Tek, and as yet there hadn’t been an opportunity to spell out to Tek what was required. And even if that could be accomplished and Tek’s cooperation assured, it was by no means certain that anything significant would be learned in the few days they had available.

Lubanov had visited Etanne before, as part of the normal practice he followed of keeping aware of what was going on. Familiar images appeared on the screen of plain, unadorned surroundings with lines of accentuated perpendicularity. Several of the passing figures paused to stare at the two dourly garbed ascetics walking from the core zone; Vogol had obtained a good shot of Korshak rigged out as a Dollarian while he was directing Tek. Lubanov still marveled at the audacity of the scheme Korshak had devised to get himself into the Academy. But it had worked. What else could one say?

Korshak’s voice came again. “The time is close when I must relinquish association with this body that I have used as a vehicle. But I have more yet to say.”

“Yes, Messenger?” Tek replied.

“I have served before as herald to prepare minds inside which Almighty Dollar would choose to speak.”

“Other minds in Etanne?”

“Oh… other places; other ages. Times that once were.”

“The sages of the old world! You knew them!”

The view on the screen showed Korshak as Tek stared at him for a moment, and then shifted to an archway framing a pair of lofty doors bearing $signs. Lubanov had seen the entrance to the Dollarian Academy before from the outside but never entered.

A hand that in close-up could be seen to be a painted, flesh-colored glove pushed one side open to reveal a lobby area, somber in appearance, with a glimpse of a desk to one side. The arrivals evidently paid no heed to it, but proceeded through into a larger space that seemed to be a concourse of some kind.

Korshak’s voice continued, “The experience can be overpowering until a certain familiarity is acquired – even for those of aptitude. Hence, Dollar will not unduly tax the endurance of one who is newly awakened. Therefore, Tek, expect that He will more often communicate His further desires through me until your time of adjustment is completed.”

“I understand.”

“Good move!” Vogol exclaimed. “That guy thinks fast. He’s telling Tek to keep its webcom circuits open.”

“Excellent,” Lubanov breathed to himself.

“And now I must leave,” Korshak said. “But I am directed to charge you with a task that pertains to your further development. Very soon now, the enterprise is due to depart that is known as
Envoy
. Avail yourself of opportunities to become knowledgeable of all aspects of this venture. The reason will become apparent in due course.”

“Shrewd,” Lois complimented.

“I will set myself to the task,” Tek promised.

“Be alert for my calls.”

“How will I know you?” Tek asked.

“By the name of the novice that I have given.”

The view on the screen followed Korshak moving away among the people in the concourse and then disappearing along one of the corridors. Then the field moved to center on the end of another corridor, which began enlarging as Tek moved toward it. Figures flowed off the left and right of the screen. One could almost feel the newfound buoyancy in the robot’s tread as it marched confidently forward to wherever its destination was now. The four people on the observatory deck twenty miles away watched and waited curiously.

“
Shakor, where have you been?
You were due here half an hour ago. What kind of behavior is this? You’ll never make it past novice if this is your idea of developing self-discipline.”

Morgal was on him the moment he appeared inside the workshop. “I’m sorry,” Korshak mumbled. He had stowed the Genhedrin gear in a place he had found to conceal it, and was back in the white tunic that he had been wearing underneath. Not knowing what might take place in his absence, he didn’t risk leaving it in his cell. “I had some affairs to attend to after the meeting. I can stay late to make up.”

“Never mind that for now.” Morgal turned and spoke over his shoulder as he led the way across to Korshak’s workbench. “I have an urgent job for you that’s just come up. Banker Lareda has asked for it personally. It must be done immediately. Forget everything else for now.”

At his own bench nearby, Accountant Trewany was cutting and trimming pieces from a roll of some black matted-fiber material. Morgal picked up the ones that were done and brought them over to Korshak. Along with them he had a piece of paper with the roughly sketched outline of what looked like a riding cape with sleeves, extending far enough above the shoulders to sit over the head like a hood, but without need of accurate shaping – all the signs of a rush job dreamed up at the last moment.

“Needed by the first thing this afternoon,” Morgal said. “Nothing fancy. It’s not meant to last. You can use fast-bonding adhesive for the seams. And we need ties to close the front and a pull-cord around the face. Okay? The edge is to seal down all the way around onto a surface of similar material. Accountant Trewany will make up cling patches to take care of that. Any questions?”

“It seems straightforward enough,” Korshak said. He knew better than to ask Morgal what this was for.

“Get to it, then,” Morgal told him.

In the observatory deck on
Aurora
, Vogol leaned back in his chair, and the others relaxed their attention from the screen where they had been following Tek’s progress. After entering the Dollarian Academy, the robot had made its way to the rear part, used a peculiar form of open, moving-belt elevator to ascend several levels, and retired to a room that appeared to be its quarters. From Korshak’s communications, it seemed that the presence of a robot had not been made general knowledge. The image on the screen was fixed unmovingly on the opposite wall and had gone out of focus. What might be going on in the circuits that constituted Tek’s mind – if that was the correct term – was anybody’s guess.

Masumichi had been following the succession of views with interest. “A solemn sort of place, by the look of it,” he remarked. “Not where I’d choose to go to take a break. What is it, exactly? An attempt at resurrecting some kind of old-world religion? A political indoctrination center? An educational college? Or what?”

“You could probably say all of the above,” Lubanov replied. “It’s designed to be all things to all people. You see in it what you want.”

“Based on a worldwide economic doctrine or something, wasn’t it?” Masumichi said. “I confess I’ve never spent much time studying these things.”

“I can’t say that surprises me,” Vogol threw in. “Where would you find the time?”

“It empowered an elite by pitting everyone else against each other,” Lubanov said. “So they were prevented from organizing to defend their common interests. Thus, at root the system was inherently destructive.”

“How so?” Masumichi asked.

“They advanced themselves by eliminating their rivals, but that meant they were also destroying each other’s customers and business. So what seemed good for each one considering only its own interests was disastrous for the whole.”

“They’ve gotten it the wrong way around,” Lois Iles said. She had picked up the NC harness that Vogol had set aside and was studying it curiously.

“Who?” Lubanov asked.

“The Dollarians. They’re confusing cause with effect.”

“How do you mean?”

“Yes, the obsession with conflict and competition spread worldwide – exactly why, we’ll probably never know. But it led to the discovery of what organized human labor and inventiveness is capable of achieving – the transformation of an entire planet,
despite
the system’s inherent destructiveness. But the Dollarians confuse the power with the belief system that stumbled on it.” She laid the harness back down and turned to face the others fully. “Imagine what that power could have achieved if it had been directed differently. They could have made Earth an idyllic place for everyone. A planet with its natural qualities preserved and the toil taken out of life; a setting for what human existence ought to be, instead of a rat race that consumes lives in pointless strife.”

Lubanov was about to comment, when a chime sounded over the audio channel connected to Tek. The image on the screen cleared and moved to center on the door. A small screen set into it showed the head and shoulders of a formidable-looking, bearded, black-haired man with huge eyebrows.

“Voice on. Open,” Tek’s voice instructed.

“Something’s happening,” Vogol said, straightening up again in his chair. The others converged around him again to follow on the screen.

The door opened, and the visitor entered. He was wearing a gray robe over a dark shirtlike garment. “Where have you been?” he demanded. “I’ve been looking for you since the end of the Meeting.”

“Ambulating and communing with inner voices,” Tek replied.

“We are recording?” Lubanov queried.

“Check,” Vogol confirmed.

“Get all of this.”

The bearded man closed the door behind him and assumed a magisterial pose, arms clasped horizontally inside his sleeves. “The time has come for your mission to be revealed, Tek,” he announced.

“So the revelations from Dollar have informed me,” Tek answered.

Lubanov rested an arm on the back of Vogol’s chair and leaned closer. So, finally, maybe they would learn the reason why Tek had been brought to Etanne.

The man went on, “You have attended well and learned much since joining us. In choosing you for this task, we were indeed guided.”

“It is not my place to question,” Tek replied.

“It is the design of Almighty Dollar that the world which is one day to be on Hera shall be founded from its beginnings on principles that will avoid the tragedy suffered by Earth. But in the years since our departure from Earth, other ambitions have come into play that would cause us to stray from the path that was intended. Our future rests in the hands of ones whose policies are not wisely decided. The ineptness of those who are exalted by being accepted as leaders is exposed by the folly of the venture known as
Envoy
. It is now my honor to reveal to you the role that has been assigned.”

Lubanov could hardly believe his good luck. Only minutes ago he had been doubting if there might be time to brief Tek on what they wanted him to look and listen for on Etanne – the Dollarians’ plans concerning
Envoy
. Now, all of a sudden, it seemed that the information was about to be volunteered. It was too good an opportunity to just leave Tek there to relay passively whatever the visitor chose to divulge. They needed to be able to prompt him for more. “Get the line open to Korshak,” he told Vogol. “This wants an input channel, too.”

“Korshak had reservations about that,” Masumichi reminded them. Whether the Dollarians were tapping communications from inside the Academy was unknown.

“We’ll risk it,” Lubanov said. “This could tell us everything we need to know.” Vogol reached to the side to draw a viewpad closer. On the screen, the dialog on Etanne continued.

“You say you have communicated with Dollar directly?”

“I have.”

The other’s eyebrows rose momentarily in a flicker of disbelief. It was moot whether Tek would have registered the significance. “Which would imply that your knowledge of the more-enduring realm that lies beyond this transient one is affirmed.”

“I have no doubt of it.”

“So, you would accept the end of your service here on this material plane as an entry into the greater reality?”

“Indeed, I would welcome it gladly!”

Vogol looked up. “I’m not getting through. Korshak isn’t answering.”

Lubanov cursed inwardly. “We can’t let this pass without having any control,” he declared. “Connect through to Tek yourself. Korshak set him up to expect more inputs from the Messenger. It will just have to be you. Try to get this guy’s name.”

Vogol turned back to the panel.

Tek was overcome with admiration for the alacrity with which the plan was unfolding. It had barely returned from its mystical theophany, and already Banker Lareda had appeared.

“I will take you now to a place that you have not been to before, where the preparations have been made,” Lareda said. “There you will be shown the means by which your task is to be accomplished, and undergo instruction in its execution.”

Just then, an interrupt occurred in the web channel that Tek had been told to keep open. The robot acknowledged with a flip of a mental switch.

“This is the Messenger,”
a voice in its head informed it.

Tek injected a silent vocalization into the circuit. “The servant hears.”

“It is the desire of Dollar to follow you through your task. I shall be His witness.”

“I obey as commanded,” Tek responded. Although the robot did find it mildly surprising. Why would Dollar have to depend on the feeble senses of one such as Tek to follow anything?

Lareda turned to open the door again, and ushered Tek through into the corridor from which he had entered. “Your name will be immortalized through ages to come, until the time of Hera and long afterward,” he promised.

“The Banker’s words cause me to rejoice,” Tek said.

“They are not mine, but Sorba’s. I merely convey them.”

They came back to the elevator. Lareda stepped into the next compartment on the side going down, and Tek took the following one. As soon as Tek was alone, the Messenger spoke again.
“Almighty Dollar has directed that I am to learn through you, for the instruction of those who will came after.”