The Two Worlds (76 page)

In the night, everything lay hidden beneath the blackness of a sky deserted by the gods. Even Pamur, the god whose lantern was the sun, was turning away, reducing Waroth's days to twilight gloom. Snow blanketed the mountains and choked the passes. Herders and hill people were moving into the valleys as cold crept down across the land.

High in the midst of the Rinjussin wilderness, the Master, Shingen-Hu, and a select group of adepts from his school ascended a rocky peak for the ceremony of reconsecrating the Altar of Arising, from whence those who arose with the currents departed from the world. The currents had been running very weak of late, and they were too high to be drawn down. The purpose of the rite was to get Nieru's blessing for better conditions.

The chanting and incantations were of particular significance to Thrax, for Shingen-Hu had chosen him as the next to ascend, when the signs and the currents became favorable. In his devotions he had already, on several occasions, captured the wisps of current that sometimes came low, bringing images into his mind. He recalled the images now, as he stood clad in heavy robes and a cowled cloak upon the peak, gazing at the scattering of remnant stars flickering wanly above, as if beckoning, somehow . . . Images that he had seen of Hyperia.

Of
lawfulness
reigning indefinitely through time and over unimaginably vast regions of space.

Of things that spun.

Of huge cities of permanent matter, sculpted into fantastic shapes that soared into the sky.

Of the strange beings that inhabited them, whose wondrous devices could operate themselves directly, without any intervention of mind.

It would be as one of those strange beings that he would emerge, Shingen-Hu had told him. Most of the abilities that he knew would be lost. But he would find, as he persevered and learned, that he didn't need them. For the inhabitants of Hyperia knew none of the gods that held sway over Waroth. They didn't need to bother with prayer, and the few gods that they did worship in their own mysterious ways were as nothing ever revealed to any Warothian. The Hyperians delegated their powers to complex magic objects, which they were able to fashion as effortlessly as a Master could project a firebolt; thus they freed themselves to devote their time to such higher things as amusement and bodily comforts, without the daily drudgery of cultivating mystical insights and developing powers of unaided thought.

But to begin with, he would feel lost and helpless when he emerged. He would search in vain for reassurance from things that were familiar, knowing that until he developed new powers of comprehension and came to terms with the revelations which those new insights would open up, there would be no way back. That would be when he should seek the security of his own kind among those bearing the emblem of the purple spiral.

But he had been thoroughly trained. He was ready. Others were not so fortunate, Shingen-Hu had said. In former times, when the currents had been abundant and strong, it often happened that new initiates, or even novices, would emerge into Hyperia ignorant and unprepared, without even having glimpsed what lay ahead. Usually they were solitary learners, unschooled and impatient.

Baumer had suggested a tour of the environs of PAC to give Gina a start at getting her bearings in Shiban. After that, he said, he would introduce her to some of the associations of Jevlenese and Terran historians engaged in organizing the information coming to light on past Jevlenese meddlings with Earth. They left PAC by the main entrance and crossed a plaza, where one of the battery of escalators below the transportation terminal took them down several levels to emerge into one of the major thoroughfares traversing the district between PAC and the city center.

They passed an exchange market for used furniture, clothes, and household junk that was situated in an open area between facing lines of dilapidated storefronts and lesser buildings. Above, enormous ribs of an architecture that belonged to a different scale soared and merged, enclosing a space vast enough to hold a small mountain—a monument to a vision in an alien mind that had leapt above the commonplace as surely as the lines seemed to break free from gravity . . . now stark and bare against the pale, orange-smeared green of the sky, their original function long forgotten. A stream connecting ornamental pools built on a series of terraces had run dry and become a trash dump. Jevlenese in blue costumes were dancing to a strange, repetitive chant, vaguely reminiscent of medieval plainsong, while a crowd looked on apathetically. Insensible figures lay sprawled against walls along the sidewalks.

It reminded Gina of a trip she had made to parts of the eastern Mediterranean some years previously, off the regular tourist circuit. There, she had seen peasants tending goats amid the ruins of what had once been splendid temples, and crude village hearths made of stones taken from palaces. Once more she was looking at the promise of genius lost to unreason and sunken into apathy.

The agitators and cult leaders who talked to the people blamed it all on the Ganymeans. It was the result of withdrawing the services performed by jevex, they said, and they called for the full functionality of the system to be restored. In fact, the stagnation had begun long before the events that led to jevex's being shut down. But the people had been conditioned to have short memories, and they believed what the demagogues told them.

"This is what you get when degeneracy sets into a society," Baumer told her. "There's never been any order or discipline. I blame it on the Thuriens for not instituting any proper system of control. But then, they don't have any concept of the word themselves."

The reason for Baumer's sudden change of mood still was not clear. He had no interest in the kind of work that Gina had described, and he didn't come across as the kind of person who would rush to do favors for strangers, or who would put any great value on sociability. Her first inclination had been to assume the attraction to be therefore mainly physical—he had, after all, been away from home and his own kind for almost half a year; but his manner showed no hint of it, and the passion in his eyes when he spoke burned only for visions of Jevlen's future. So if Baumer didn't have a reason, the reason had to be someone else's—and that could only be the Jevlenese that Baumer was working for. Del Cullen had asked her to try and find out what it was that gave them a hold over him.

Her approach was still to affect a more sympathetic attitude toward his views than she felt. "Maybe the Federation people had the right idea," she said. "But they only played at being leaders. They never had to learn about real survival. They only had Thuriens to deal with."

"Absolutely," Baumer agreed.

At one point he stopped and pointed at the entrance to a solid-looking frontage on the thoroughfare that they were passing along. It had large double doors, and two men who looked like guards could be seen inside. One of them was in the act of opening an inner door to admit a man carrying a wrapped bundle under his arm. "People are getting nervous," Baumer said to Gina. "They're putting their valuables in deposit banks that are springing up, like that one, and the receipts are becoming negotiable currency." Evidently he didn't approve. "A few profit from the insecurity of many. Manipulators of money 
. . . We
know what it leads to. We've seen it all before, on Earth."

With jevex no longer coordinating the planet's distribution system, the flow of supplies and commodities into Shiban and its vicinity had become erratic. However, some entrepreneurial spirits were emerging among the Jevlenese, and had organized workforces of mechanics to recover and fix all kinds of defunct vehicles from the piles abandoned around the city. Others were setting up retail outlets and building up a growing trade with various sources, near and far, that they had sought out and worked deals with. "Exploiting people's needs," Baumer sneered. "Everyone has a right to eat. The Ganymeans should be taking care of all that."

Looking into a store displaying extravagant jewelry and clothes in what appeared to be a fashionable quarter, he seethed. "They could have been building a just society, based on equality. But everyone has to be
made
to work together for it to succeed. The Ganymeans can't see it. They haven't got the background. Somehow we have to get the authority to put the right people in control."

Gina had heard it all before. It was the envy and rage of the frustrated intellectual at the capriciousness with which a system based on free choice bestowed its rewards. Traditional patterns of privilege, right, and might didn't matter. Who would succeed and who would fail was decided, often with little discernible logic or reason, by the collective whims and preferences of everyone. But those who could produce nothing that would sell in the marketplace, and who had nothing of appeal to offer at the ballot box, were unable to compete. Their only recourse was coercion. If their worth and wisdom went unrecognized, they would use the state and its legislative power to
make
people need them.

They bought a couple of hot, crisp breads filled with chopped meat and vegetables in a spicy sauce from a corner vendor. Baumer said they were called
grinils.
They ate them sitting on a low wall nearby, drinking from mugs of a dark, bitterish brew tolerably close to coffee, and watching the life in the street pass by.

"What kinds of Jevlenese have you gotten to know in the time you've been here?" Gina asked absently.

"Besides the historical societies, you mean? There's one character at the university here that I think you should meet."

Gina shook her head. "No, I didn't mean in connection with what I'm here for, particularly. Just in general. Socially, when you're off-duty. That kind of thing."

"Oh, different kinds, you know," Baumer replied vaguely. "Why? What kind were you interested in?"

"No kind especially. I just wondered what people get up to here. I might have come to research a book, but there's life to live, too. You don't exactly get to visit another world every day." She munched her
grinil
and sipped casually. "You've got some pretty strong views on the way Jevlen should be organized. I'd have thought you'd try getting to know Jevlenese who think the same way."

He looked at her oddly. "Are you interested in meeting people like that?"

"Maybe, if you know any. What they're heading for is a mess. Who wouldn't be interested in trying to do something about it?"

Baumer continued staring at her for a few seconds longer, but then changed the subject. "You're spending a lot of time with those UNSA scientists at PAC, I notice," he said.

"They're an island of something that's familiar, I suppose," Gina answered. "But it's not the same as getting out and seeing Jevlen, is it? And I don't really follow what they're talking about most of the time, anyway."

"How far do you think they'll go?" Baumer asked her. "I mean, how far will they go in importing Ganymean science to Earth? I take it that's what their mission here is all about."

"Oh, I wouldn't put it as strongly as that," Gina replied. "They're just sifting through the basics, as far as I can tell. I haven't heard anything about plans for a firm program. What did you mean? Setting up something comprehensive there, planetwide, like jevex was here?"

"I suppose it's a question that will have to be asked sooner or later," Baumer said. "In fact I'd be amazed if it hadn't been asked already."

"Do you think it would be a good thing? I mean, look at the situation it's resulted in here. And we're still a long way from solving that."

"Then bring it back. What good has taking it away done? None. It's only made everything worse."

"You think so?"

"Oh, no question."

"So you'd have no qualms about switching jevex on again tomorrow," Gina concluded.

"It should be available freely everywhere," Baumer said. "Part of the Ganymeans' task should be to provide it."

"You don't have any reservations about jevex, then?" Gina asked.

"Reservations? Why should I?" A strange, distant light came into Baumer's eyes, and his face softened into one of its rare smiles. "jevex is wonderful. It solves all needs and problems. It's the people's right. Isn't it their property?"

Gina looked at him curiously. "How do you know so much about it? Surely it was switched off before you got here."

Baumer's attention returned suddenly to present. He seemed confused. "Well, yes, of course. It's what I hear from the Jevlenese—the ones that I talk to in my studies." He took her empty mug and stood up. Gina watched as he returned both the mugs to the stall, but when he returned she decided to drop the subject.

A group of about a dozen or so zanily dressed youths, with vivid purple makeup and orange hair molded into spikes and rings, was gathering on an opposite corner. "Come on," Baumer said, sounding wary. "Let's be moving on."

But as he and Gina moved away along the street, the group began moving also. After they had turned two corners and crossed a shabby court beneath the supports of a traffic flyover, it was clear that they were being followed. Baumer quickened the pace but said nothing.

"What's going on?" Gina muttered.

"I'm not sure."

"Who are the punks?"

"It could be any one of the cults that you find in this place. There are scores of them."

They were in a distinctly run-down area now, entering a dingy alley with premises closed down and deserted, few people about, and little chance of help if things turned ugly. Gina wondered fleetingly why Baumer should have come this way. Surely historical societies weren't to be found in such surroundings.

Behind, the pursuers were getting closer and were uttering a chorus of murmuring that grew into a chant, punctuated by jeers.

"Do you understand what they're saying?" Gina asked, scared.

"They've spotted us as Terrans. Apparently we're not popular. It sounds like the equivalent of `Yanks go home.'"

They came out of a foot passage into a narrow alley that joined a wider road farther on. A black automobile was parked in the alley, facing the other way, with barely enough room on each side for someone to squeeze past. Two men, both looking unremarkable in plain, gray overcoats, were standing by the back of it. Baumer didn't recognize them as any he had dealt with before. They seemed in a different league, not flashy or brash. Gina registered in an absent kind of way that there was something odd about them, but just at that moment her attention was too focused on the pursuers behind, who were making their way along the foot passage, for her to care. But at the sight of the car and the two men waiting by it, the punks halted.