"A Second Chance at Eden" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hamilton Peter F.)Jupiter, 2090 A Second Chance at EdenThe I had to leave the twins by themselves in the observation blister once Our cabin's screen flicked through camera inputs for me. As we were still in the penumbra I got a better view of the approach via electronically amplified images than eyeballing it from the blister. Eden was a rust-brown cylinder with hemispherical endcaps, eight kilometres long, twenty-eight hundred metres in diameter. But it had only been germinated in 2075, fifteen years ago. I talked to Pieter Zernov during the flight from Earth's O'Neill Halo, he was one of the genetics team who designed the habitats for the Jovian Sky Power corporation, and he said they expected Eden to grow out to a length of eleven kilometres eventually. It was orientated with the endcaps pointing north/south, so it rolled along its orbit. The polyp shell was smooth, looking more like a manufactured product than anything organic. Biology could never be that neat in nature. The only break in Eden's symmetry I could see were two rings of onion-shaped nodules spaced around the rim of each endcap. Specialist extrusion glands, which spun out organic conductor cables. There were hundreds of them, eighty kilometres long, radiating out from the habitat like the spokes of a bicycle wheel, rotation keeping them perfectly straight. It was an induction system; the cables sliced through Jupiter's titanic magnetosphere to produce all the power Eden needed to run its organs, as well as providing light and heat for the interior. «Quite something, isn't it?» I said as the habitat expanded to fill the screen. Jocelyn grunted noncommittally, and shifted round under her bunk's webbing. We hadn't exchanged a hundred words in the last twenty-four hours. Not good. I had hoped the actual sight of the habitat might have lightened the atmosphere a little, raised a spark of interest. Twenty years ago, when we got married, she would have treated this appointment with boundless excitement and enthusiasm. That was a big part of her attraction, a delighted curiosity with the world and all it offered. A lot can happen in twenty years, most of it so gradual you don't notice until it's too late. I sometimes wonder what traits and foibles I've lost, what attitude I've woven into my own personality. I like to think I'm the same man, wiser but still good-humoured. Who doesn't? Eden had a long silver-white counter-rotating docking spindle protruding out from the hub of its northern endcap. Captain Saldana positioned us two kilometres out from the spindle tip, and locked the ship's attitude. A squadron of commuter shuttles and cargo tug craft swarmed over the gulf towards the «It won't be so bad,» I said. «These are good people.» Her lips tightened grimly. «They're ungodly people. We should never have come.» «Well, we're here now, let's try and make the most of it, OK? It's only for five years. And you shouldn't prejudge like that.» «The word of the Pope is good enough for me.» Implying it was me at fault, as always. I opened my mouth to reply. But thankfully the twins swam into the cabin, chattering away about the approach phase. As always the façade clicked into place. Nothing wrong. No argument. Mum and Dad are quite happy. Christ, why do we bother? #149; #149; #149; The tubular corridor which ran down the centre of Eden's docking spindle ended in a large chamber just past the rotating pressure seal. It was a large bubble inside the polyp with six mechanical airlock hatches spaced equidistantly around the equator. A screen above one was signalling for An immigration desk waited for us at the far end. Two Eden police officers in smart green uniforms stood behind it. And I do mean smart: spotless, pressed, fitting perfectly. I held in a smile as the first took my passport and scanned it with her palm-sized PNC wafer. She stiffened slightly, and summoned up a blankly courteous smile. «Chief Parfitt, welcome to Eden, sir.» «Thank you,» I glanced at her name disk, «Officer Nyberg.» Jocelyn glared at her, which caused a small frown. That would be all round the division in an hour. The new boss's wife is a pain. Great start. A funicular railway car was waiting for us once we'd passed the immigration desk. The twins rushed in impatiently. And, finally, I got to see Eden's interior. We sank down below the platform and into a white glare. Nicolette's face hosted a beautiful, incredulous smile as she pressed herself against the glass. For a moment I remembered how her mother had looked, back in the days when she used to smile—I must stop these comparisons. «Dad, it's supreme,» she said. I put my arm around her and Nathaniel, savouring the moment. Believe me, sharing anything with your teenage children is a rare event. «Yes. Quite something.» The twins were fifteen, and they hadn't been too keen on coming to Eden either. Nathaniel didn't want to leave his school back in the Delph company's London arcology. Nicolette had a boy she was under the impression she was destined to marry. But just for that instant the habitat overwhelmed them. Me too. The cyclorama was tropical parkland, lush emerald grass crinkled with random patches of trees. Silver streams meandered along shallow dales, all of them leading down to the massive circumfluous lake which ringed the base of the southern endcap. Every plant appeared to be in flower. Birds flashed through the air, tiny darts of primary colour. A town was spread out around the rim of the northern endcap, mostly single-storey houses of metal and plastic moated by elaborately manicured gardens; a few larger civic buildings were dotted among them. I could see plenty of open-top jeeps driving around, and hundreds of bicycles. The way the landscape rose up like two green tidal waves heading for imminent collision was incredibly disorientating. Unnerving too. Fortunately the axial light-tube blocked the apex, a captured sunbeam threaded between the endcap hubs. Lord knows what seeing people walking around directly above me would have done to my already reeling sense of balance. I was still desperately trying to work out a viable visual reference frame. Gravity was eighty per cent standard when we reached the foot of the endcap, the funicular car sliding down into a plaza. A welcoming committee was waiting for us on the platform; three people and five servitor chimps. Michael Zimmels, the man I was replacing, stepped forward and shook my hand. «Glad to meet you, Harvey. I've scheduled a two-hour briefing to bring you up to date. Sorry to rush you, but I'm leaving on the Officer Coogan was in his late twenties, wearing another of those immaculate green uniforms. «Mrs Parfitt, if you'd like to give your flight bags to the chimps, they'll carry them for you.» Nicolette and Nathaniel were giggling as they handed their flight bags over. The servitor chimps were obviously genetically adapted; they stood nearly one metre fifty, without any of the rubber sack paunchiness of the pure genotype primates cowering in what was left of Earth's rain forests. And the quiet, attentive way they stood waiting made it seem almost as though they had achieved sentience. Jocelyn clutched her flight bag closer to her as one of the chimps extended an arm. Coogan gave her a slightly condescending smile. «It's quite all right, Mrs Parfitt, they're completely under control.» «Come on, Mum,» Nathaniel said. «They look dead cute.» He was stroking the one which had taken his flight bag, even though it never showed the slightest awareness of his touch. «I'll carry my own bag, thank you,» Jocelyn said. Coogan gathered himself, obviously ready to launch into a reassurance speech, then decided chiding his new boss's wife the minute she arrived wasn't good policy. «Of course. Er, the house is this way.» He started off across the plaza, the twins plying him with questions. After a moment Jocelyn followed. «Not used to servitors, your wife?» Michael Zimmels asked pleasantly. «I'm afraid she took the Pope's decree about affinity to heart,» I told him. «I thought that just referred to humans who had the affinity gene splice?» I shrugged. #149; #149; #149; The Chief of Police's office occupied a corner of the two-storey station building. For all that it was a government-issue room with government-issue furniture, it gave me an excellent view down the habitat. «You got lucky with this assignment,» Michael Zimmels told me as soon as the door closed behind us. «It's every policeman's dream posting. There's virtually nothing to do.» Strictly speaking I'm corporate security these days, not a policeman. But the Delph company is one of the major partners in the Jovian Sky Power corporation which founded Eden. Basically the habitat is a dormitory town for the He «There has to be a catch.» Zimmels grinned. «Depends how you look at it. The habitat personality can observe ninety-nine per cent of the interior. The interior polyp surface is suffused with clusters of specialized sensitive cells; they can pick up electromagnetic waves, the full optical spectrum along with infrared and ultraviolet; they can sense temperature and magnetic fields, there are olfactory cells, even pressure-sensitive cells to pick up anything you say. All of which means nobody does or says anything that the habitat doesn't know about; not cheating on your partner, stealing supplies, or beating up your boss after you get stinking drunk. It sees all, it knows all. No need for police on the beat, or worrying about gathering sufficient evidence.» «Ye gods,» I glanced about, instinctively guilty. «You said ninety-nine per cent? Where is the missing one per cent?» «Offices like this, on buildings which have a second floor, where there's no polyp and no servitors. But even so the habitat can see in through the windows. Effectively, the coverage is total. Besides which, this is a company town, we don't have unemployment or a criminal underclass. Making sure the end-of-shift drunks get home OK is this department's prime activity.» «Wonderful,» I grunted. «Can I talk to this personality?» Zimmels gave his desktop terminal a code. «It's fully interfaced with the datanet, but you can communicate via affinity. In fact, given your status, you'll have to use affinity. That way you don't just talk, you can hook into its sensorium as well, the greatest virtual-reality trip you'll ever experience. And of course, all the other senior executives have affinity symbiont implants—hell, ninety per cent of the population is affinity capable. We use it to confer the whole time, it's a heck of a lot simpler than teleconferencing. And it's the main reason the habitat administration operates so smoothly. I'm surprised the company didn't give you a neuron symbiont implant before you left Earth, you just can't function effectively without one up here.» «I told them I'd wait until I got here,» I said, which was almost the truth. The terminal chimed melodically, then spoke in a rich male euphonic. «Good afternoon, Chief Parfitt, welcome to Jupiter. I am looking forward to working with you, and hope our relationship will be a rewarding one.» «You're the habitat personality?» I asked. «I am Eden, yes.» «Chief Zimmels tells me you can perceive the entire interior.» «That is correct. Both interior and exterior environments are accessible to me on a permanent basis.» «What are my family doing?» «Your children are examining a tortoise they have found in the garden of your new house. Your wife is talking to Mrs Zimmels, they are in the kitchen.» Michael Zimmels raised his eyebrows in amusement. «Sally Ann's cutting her in on the local gossip.» «You can see them, too?» «Hear and see. Hell, it's boring; Sally Ann's a sponge for that kind of thing. She thinks I don't look after my advancement prospects, so she plays the corporate social ladder game on my behalf.» «Do you show anybody anything they ask for?» I asked. «No,» Eden replied. «The population are entitled to their privacy. However, legitimate Police Department observation requests override individual rights.» «It sounds infallible,» I said. «I can't go wrong.» «Don't you believe it,» Zimmels retorted knowingly. «I've just given you the good news so far. You're not just responsible for Eden, the entire JSKP operation in Jupiter orbit comes under your jurisdiction. That means a lot of external work for your squads; the industrial stations, the refineries, inter-orbit ships; we even have a large survey team on Callisto right now.» «I see.» «But your biggest headache is going to be Boston.» «I don't remember that name in any of my preliminary briefings.» «You wouldn't.» He produced a bubble cube, and handed it over to me. «This contains my report, and most of it's unofficial. Supposition, plus what I've managed to pick up from various sources. Boston is a group of enthusiasts—radicals, revolutionaries, whatever you want to call them—who want Eden to declare independence, hence the name. They're quite well organized, too; several of their leading lights are JSKP executives, mostly those on the technical and scientific side.» «Independence from the UN?» «The UN and the JSKP, they want to take over the whole Jupiter enterprise; they think they can create some kind of technological paradise out here, free of interference from Earth's grubby politicians and conservative companies. The old High Frontier dream. Your problem is that engaging in free political debate isn't a crime. Technically, as a UN policeman, you have to uphold their right to do so. But as a JSKP employee, just imagine how the board back on Earth will feel if Eden, Pallas, and Ararat make that declaration of independence, and the new citizens assume control of the He #149; #149; #149; The PNC wafer's bleeping woke me. I struggled to orientate myself. Strange bedroom. Grey geometric shadows at all angles. A motion which nagged away just below conscious awareness. Jocelyn shifted around beside me, twisting the duvet. Also unusual, but the Zimmels had used a double bed. Apparently it would take a couple of days to requisition two singles. My questing hand found the PNC wafer on the bedside dresser. I prayed I'd programmed it for no visual pick-up before I went to bed. «Call acknowledged. Chief Parfitt here,» I said blearily. The wafer hazed over with a moiré rainbow which shivered until a face came into focus. «Rolf Kümmel, sir. Sorry to wake you so early.» Detective Lieutenant Kümmel was my deputy, we'd been introduced briefly yesterday. Thirty-two and already well up the seniority ladder. A conscientious careerist, was my first impression. «What is it, Rolf?» «We have a major crime incident inside the habitat, sir.» «What incident?» «Somebody's been killed. Penny Maowkavitz, the JSKP Genetics Division director.» «Killed by what?» «A bullet, sir. She was shot through the head.» «Fuck. Where?» «The north end of the Lincoln lake.» «Doesn't mean anything. Send a driver to pick me up, I'll be there as soon as I can.» «Driver's on her way, sir.» «Good man. Wafer off.» #149; #149; #149; It was Shannon Kershaw who drove the jeep which picked me up, one of the station staff I'd met the previous afternoon on my lightning familiarization tour, a programming expert. A twenty-eight-year-old with flaming red hair pleated in elaborate spirals; grinning challengingly as Zimmels introduced us. Someone who knew her speciality made her invaluable, giving her a degree of immunity from the usual sharpshooting of office politics. This morning she was subdued, uniform tunic undone, hair wound into a simple tight bun. The axial light-tube was a silver strand glimpsed through frail cloud braids high above, slightly brighter than a full Earth moon. Its light was sufficient for her to steer the jeep down a track through a small forest without using the headlights. «Not good,» she muttered. «This is really going to stir people up. We all sort of regarded Eden as . . . I don't know. Pure.» I was studying the display my PNC wafer was running, a program correlating previous crime incident files with Penny Maowkavitz, looking for any connection. So far a complete blank. «There's never been a murder up here before, has there?» «No. There couldn't be, really; not with the habitat personality watching us the whole time. You know, it's pretty shaken up by this.» «The personality is upset?» I enquired sceptically. She shot me a glance. «Of course it is. It's sentient, and Penny Maowkavitz was about the closest thing to a parent it could ever have.» «Feelings,» I said wonderingly. «That must be one very sophisticated Turing AI program.» «The habitat isn't an AI. It's alive, it's conscious. A living entity. You'll understand once you receive your neuron symbiont implant.» Great, now I was driving round inside a piece of neurotic coral. «I'm sure I will.» The trees gave way to a swath of meadowland surrounding a small lake. A rank of jeeps were drawn up near the shoreline; several had red and blue strobes flashing on top, casting transient stipples across the black water. Shannon parked next to an ambulance, and we walked over to the group of people clustered round the body. Penny Maowkavitz was sprawled on the grey shingle four metres from the water. She was wearing a long dark-beige suede jacket over a sky-blue blouse, heavy black cotton trousers, and sturdy ankle boots. Her limbs were askew, the skin of her hands very pale. I couldn't tell how old she was, principally because half of her head was missing. What was left of the skull sprouted a few wisps of fine silver hair. A wig of short-cropped dark-blonde hair lay a couple of metres away, stained almost completely crimson. A wide ribbon of gore and blood was splashed over the shingle between it and the corpse. In the jejune light it looked virtually black. Shannon grunted, and turned away fast. I'd seen worse in my time, a lot worse. But Shannon was right about one thing, it didn't belong here, not amongst the habitat's tranquillity. «When did it happen?» I asked. «Just over half an hour ago,» Rolf Kümmel said. «I got out here with a couple of officers as soon as Eden told us.» «The personality saw it happen?» «Yes, sir.» «Who did it?» Rolf grimaced, and pointed at a servitor chimp standing passively a little way off. A couple of uniformed officers stood on either side of it. «That did, sir.» «Christ. Are you sure?» «We've all accessed the personality's local visual memory to confirm it, sir,» he said in a slightly aggrieved tone. «But the chimp was still holding the pistol when we arrived. Eden locked its muscles as soon as the shot was fired.» «So who ordered it to fire the pistol?» «We don't know.» «You mean the chimp doesn't remember?» «No.» «So who gave it the pistol?» «It was in a flight bag, which was left on a polystone outcrop just along the shore from here.» «And what about Eden, does it remember who left the bag there?» Rolf and some of the others were beginning to look resentful. Lumbered with a dunderhead primitive for a boss, blundering about asking the obvious and not understanding a word spoken. I was beginning to feel isolated, wondering what they were saying to each other via affinity. One or two of them had facial expressions which were changing minutely, visible signs of silent conversation. Did they know they were giving themselves away like that? My PNC wafer bleeped, and I pulled it out of my jacket pocket. «Chief Parfitt, this is Eden. I'm sorry, but I have no recollection of who placed the bag on the stone. It has been there for three days, which exceeds the extent of my short-term memory.» «OK, thanks.» I glanced round the expectant faces. «First thing, do we know for sure this is Penny Maowkavitz?» «Absolutely,» a woman said. She was in her late forties, half a head shorter than everyone else, with dark cinnamon skin. I got the impression she was more weary than alarmed by the murder. «That's Penny, all right.» «And you are?» «Corrine Arburry, I'm Penny's doctor.» She nudged the corpse with her toe. «But if you want proof, turn her over.» I looked at Rolf. «Have you taken the «Yes, sir.» «OK, turn her over.» After a moment of silence, my police officers gallantly shuffled to one side and let the two ambulance paramedics ease the corpse onto its back. I realized the light was changing, the mock-silver moonlight deepening to a flaming tangerine. Dr Arburry knelt down as the artificial dawn blossomed all around. She tugged the blue blouse out of the waistband. Penny Maowkavitz was wearing a broad green nylon strap around her abdomen, it held a couple of white plastic boxes tight against her belly. «These are the vector regulators I supplied,» Corrine Arburry said. «I was treating Penny for cancer. It's her all right.» «Video her like this, then take her to the morgue, please,» I said. «I don't suppose we'll need an autopsy for cause of death.» «Hardly,» Corrine Arburry said flatly as she rose up. «Fine, but I would like some tests run to establish she was alive up until the moment she was shot. I would also like the bullet itself. Eden, do you know where that is?» «No, I'm sorry, it must be buried in the soil. But I can give you a rough estimate based on the trajectory and velocity.» «Rolf, seal off the area, we need to do that anyway, but I want it searched thoroughly. Have you taken the pistol from the chimp?» «Yes, sir.» «Do we have a Ballistics Division?» «Not really. But some of the company engineering labs should be able to run the appropriate tests for us.» «OK, get it organized.» I glanced at the chimp. It hadn't moved, big black eyes staring mournfully. «And I want that thing locked up in the station's jail.» Rolf turned a snort into a cough. «Yes, sir.» «Presumably we do have an expert on servitor neurology and psychology in Eden?» I asked patiently. «Yes.» «Good. Then I'd like him to examine the chimp, and maybe try and recover the memory of who gave it the order to shoot Maowkavitz. Until then, the chimp is to be isolated, understood?» He nodded grimly. Corrine Arburry was smiling at Rolf's discomfort. A sly expression which I thought contained a hint of approval, too. «You ought to consider how the gun was brought inside the habitat in the first place,» she said. «And where it's been stored since. If it had ever been taken out of that flight bag the personality should have perceived it and alerted the police straight away. It ought to know who the bag belonged to, as well. But it doesn't.» «Was the pistol a police weapon?» I asked. «No,» Rolf said. «It's some kind of revolver, very primitive.» «OK, run a make, track down the serial number. You know the procedure, whatever you can find on it.» #149; #149; #149; The start of the working day found me in the Governor's office. Our official introductory meeting, what should have been a cheery getting-to-know-you session, and I had to report the habitat's first ever murder to him. I tried to tell myself the day couldn't get worse. But I lacked faith. The axial light-tube had resumed its usual blaze, turning the habitat cavern into a solid fantasy ideal of tropical wilderness. I did my best to ignore the view as Fasholé Nocord waved me into a seat before his antique wooden desk. Eden's governor was in his mid-fifties, with a frame and vigour which suggested considerable genetic adaptation. I've grown adept at recognizing the signs over the years; for a start they all tend to be well educated, because even now it's really only the wealthy who can afford such treatments for their offspring. And health is paramount for them, the treatments always focus on boosting their immunology system, improving organ efficiency, dozens of subtle metabolic enhancements. They possess a presence, almost like a witch's «Any progress?» he asked straight away. «It's only been a couple of hours. I've got my officers working on various aspects; but they aren't used to this type of investigation. Come to that, there's never been a large-scale police investigation in Eden before. With the habitat's all-over sensory perception there's been no need until today.» «How could it happen?» «You tell me. I'm not an expert on this place yet.» «Get a symbiont implant. Today. I don't know what the company was thinking of, sending you out here without one.» «Yes, sir.» His lips twitched into a rueful grin. «All right, Harvey, don't go all formal on me. If ever I needed anyone on my side, then it's you. The timing of this whole thing stinks.» «Sir?» He leant forward over the desk, hands clasped earnestly. «I suppose you realize ninety per cent of the population suspect I have something to do with Penny's murder?» «No,» I said cautiously. «Nobody's told me that.» «Figures,» he muttered. «Did Michael brief you on Boston?» «Yes, the salient points; I have a bubble cube full of files which he compiled, but I haven't got round to accessing any of them yet.» «Well, when you do, you'll find that Penny Maowkavitz was Boston's principal organizer.» «Oh, Christ.» «Yeah. And I'm the man responsible for ensuring Eden stays firmly locked in to the JSKP's domain.» I remembered his file; Nocord was a vice-president (on sabbatical) from McDonnell Electric, one of the JSKP's parent companies. Strictly managerial and administration track, not one of the aspiring dreamers, someone the board could trust implicitly. «If we can confirm where you were prior to the murder, you should be in the clear,» I said. «I'll have one of my officers take a statement and correlate it with Eden's memory of your movements. Shouldn't be a problem.» «It would never be me personally, anyway, not even as part of a planning team. JSKP would use a covert agent.» «But clearing your name quickly would help quell any rumours.» I paused. «Are you telling me JSKP takes Boston seriously enough to bring covert operatives into this situation?» «I don't know. I mean that, I'm not holding out on you. As far as I know the board is relying on you and me to prevent things from getting out of control up here. We know you're dependable,» he added, almost in apology. I guess he'd studied my file as closely as I'd gone over his. It didn't particularly bother me. Anyone who does access my history isn't going to find any earthshaker revelations. I used to be a policeman, I went into the London force straight from university. With thirty-five million people crammed together in the Greater London area, and four million of them unemployed, policing is a very secure career, we were in permanent demand. I was good at it, I made detective in eight years. Then my third case was working as part of a team investigating corruption charges in the London Regional Federal Commission. We ran down over a dozen senior politicians and civil servants receiving payola for awarding contracts to various companies. Some of the companies were large and well known, and two of the politicians were sitting in the Greater Federal Europe congress. Quite a sensation, we were given hours of prime facetime on the newscable bulletins. The judge and the Metropolitan Police Commander congratulated us in front of the cameras, handshakes and smiles all round. But in the months which followed none of my colleagues who went up before promotion boards ever seemed successful. We got crappy assignments. We pulled the night shifts for weeks at a time. Overtime was denied. Expenses were queried. Call me cynical, I quit and went into corporate security. Companies regard employee loyalty and honesty as commendable traits—below board level anyway. «I like to think I am, yes,» I told the Governor. «But if you're expecting trouble soon, just remember I haven't had time to build any personal loyalties with my officers. What did you mean that the murder's timing stinks?» «It looks suspicious, that's all. The company sends a new police chief who isn't even affinity capable; and, «I'll bear it in mind. Do you have any ideas who might have killed her?» Fasholé Nocord sat back in his chair and grinned broadly. «Real police are never off the case, eh?» I returned a blank smile. «You have been emphasizing your own innocence with a great deal of eloquence.» It wasn't quite the response he was looking for. The professional grin faltered. «No, I don't have any idea. But I will tell you Penny Maowkavitz was not an easy person to work with; if pushed I'd describe her as stereotypically brash. She was always convinced everything she did was right. People who didn't agree with her were more or less ignored. Her brilliance allowed her to get away with it, of course; she was vital to the initial design concept of the habitats.» «She had her own biotechnology company, didn't she?» «That's right, she founded Pacific Nugene; it's basically a softsplice house, specializing in research and design work rather than production. Penny preferred to deal in concepts; she refined the organisms until they were viable, then licensed out the genome to the big boys for actual manufacture and distribution. She was the first geneticist JSKP approached when it became obvious we needed a large dormitory station in Jupiter orbit. Pacific Nugene was pioneering a microbe which could digest asteroid rock; initially the board wanted to use those microbes to hollow out a biosphere cavern in one of the larger ring particles. It would be a lot cheaper than shipping mining teams and all their equipment out here. Penny proposed they use a living polyp habitat instead, and Pacific Nugene became a minor partner in JSKP. She was a board member herself up until five years ago; even after she gave up her seat she retained a non-executive position as senior biotechnology adviser.» «Five years ago?» I took a guess. «That would be when Boston formed, would it?» «Yes,» he sighed. «Let me tell you, the JSKP board went ballistic. They considered Penny's involvement as a total betrayal. Nothing they could do about it, of course, she was essential to develop the next generation of habitats. Eden is really only a prototype.» «I see. Well, thanks for filling me in on the basics. And if you do remember anything relevant . . .» «Eden will remember anyone she ever argued with.» He shrugged, his hands splaying wide. «You really will have to get a symbiont implant.» «Right.» #149; #149; #149; I drove myself back to the station, sticking to a steady twenty kilometres an hour. The main road of naked polyp which ran through the centre of the town was clogged with bicycle traffic. Rolf Kümmel had set up an incident room on the ground floor. I didn't even have to tell him; like me he'd been a policeman at one time, four years in a Munich arcology. I walked in to a quiet bustle of activity. And I do mean quiet, I could only hear a few excitable murmurs above the whirr of the air conditioning. It was eerie. Uniformed officers moved round constantly between the desks, carrying fat files and cases of bubble cubes; maintenance techs were still installing computer terminals on some desks, their chimps standing to attention beside them, holding toolboxes and various electronic test rigs. Seven shirtsleeved junior detectives were loading data into working terminals under Shannon Kershaw's direction. A big hologram screen on the rear wall displayed a map of Eden's parkland. Two narrow lines—one red, one blue—were snaking across the countryside like newborn neon streams. They both originated at the Lincoln lake, which was about a kilometre south of town. Rolf was standing in front of the screen, hands on hips, watching attentively as the lines lengthened. «Is that showing Penny Maowkavitz's movements?» I enquired. «Yes, sir,» Rolf said. «She's the blue line. And the servitor chimp is red. Eden is interfaced with the computer; this is a raw memory plot downloaded straight from its neural strata. It should be able to tell us everyone who came near the servitor in the last thirty hours.» «Why thirty hours?» «That's the neural strata's short-term memory capacity.» «Right.» I was feeling redundant and unappreciated again. «What was the servitor chimp's assigned task?» «It was allotted to habitat botanical maintenance, covering a square area roughly two hundred and fifty metres to a side, with the lake as one border. It pruned trees, tended plants, that kind of thing.» I watched the red line lengthening, a child's crayon-squiggle keeping within the boundary of its designated area. «How often does it . . . go back to base?» «The servitor chimps are given full physiological checks every six months in the veterinary centre. The ones allotted to domestic duties have a communal wash-house in town where they go to eat, and keep themselves clean. But one like this . . . it wouldn't leave its area unless it was ordered to. They eat the fruit, their crap is good fertilizer. If they get very muddy they'll wash it off in a stream. They even sleep out there.» I gave the screen a thoughtful look. «Did Penny Maowkavitz take a walk through the habitat parkland very often?» He rewarded me a grudgingly respectful glance. «Yes, sir. Every morning. It was a kind of an unofficial inspection tour, she liked to see how Eden was progressing; and Davis Caldarola said she used the solitude to think about her projects. She spent anything up to a couple of hours rambling round each day.» «She walked specifically through this area around Lincoln lake?» His eyelids closed in a long blink. A green circle started flashing over one of the houses on the parkland edge of the town. «That's her house; as you can see it's in the residential zone closest to Lincoln lake. So she would probably walk through this particular chimp's area most mornings.» «Definitely not a suicide, then; the chimp was waiting for her.» «Looks that way. It wasn't a random killing, either. I did think the murderer might have simply told the chimp to shoot the first person it saw, but that's pretty flimsy. Whoever primed that chimp put a lot of preparation into this. If all you want to do is kill someone, there are much easier ways.» «Yes.» I gave an approving nod. «Good thinking. Who's Davis Caldarola?» «Maowkavitz's lover.» «He knows?» «Yes, sir.» The «of course» was missing from his voice, but not his tone. «Don't worry, Rolf, I'm getting my symbiont implant this afternoon.» He struggled against a grin. «So what else have we come up with since this morning?» Rolf beckoned Shannon Kershaw over. «The gun,» he said. «We handed it over to a team from the Cybernetics Division's precision engineering laboratory. They say it's a perfect replica of a Colt .45 single-action revolver.» «A replica?» «It's only the pistol's physical template which matches an original; the materials are wrong,» Shannon said. «Whoever made it used boron-reinforced single-crystal titanium for the barrel, and berylluminium for the mechanism, even the grip was moulded from monomolecule silicon. That was one very expensive pistol.» «Monomolecule silicon?» I mused. «That can only be produced in microgee extruders, right?» «Yes, sir.» She was becoming animated. «There are a couple of industrial stations outside Eden with the necessary production facilities. I think the pistol was manufactured and assembled in the habitat itself. Our Cybernetics Division factories could produce the individual components without any trouble; and all the exotic materials are available as well. I checked.» «It would go a long way to explaining why Eden never saw the pistol before,» Rolf said. «Separately, the components wouldn't register as anything suspicious. Then after manufacture they could have been put together in one of the areas where the habitat personality doesn't have total perception coverage. I'd say that was easier than trying to smuggle one through our customs inspection; we're pretty thorough.» I turned to Shannon. «So we need a list of everyone authorized to use the cyberfactories, and out of that we need those qualified or capable of running up the Colt's components without anyone else realizing or querying what they were doing.» «I'm on it.» «Any other angles?» «Nothing yet,» Rolf said. «What about a specialist to examine the chimp?» «Hoi Yin was recommended by the habitat Servitor Department, she's a neuropsychology expert. She said she'll come in to study it this afternoon. I'll brief her myself.» «But you must be very busy, Rolf,» Shannon said silkily. «I can easily spare the time to escort her.» «I said I'd do it,» he said stiffly. «Are you quite sure?» «OK,» I told them. «That'll do.» I clapped my hands, and raised one arm until I had everyone's attention. «Good morning, people. As you ought to know by now, I'm Chief Harvey Parfitt, your new boss. I wish we could have all had a better introduction, Christ knows I didn't want to start with this kind of pep talk. However . . . there are a lot of rumours floating round Eden concerning Penny Maowkavitz's murder. Please remember that they are just that, rumours. More than anyone, we know how few facts have been established. And I expect police officers under my command to concentrate on facts. It's important for the whole community that we solve this murder, preferably with some speed; the habitat residents must have confidence in us, and we simply cannot allow this murderer to walk around free, perhaps to kill again. «As to the investigation itself; as Eden's personality seems unable to assist us at this point, our priority is to search back through Penny Maowkavitz's life, both private and professional, to establish some kind of motive for the murder. I want a complete profile assembled on her physical movements going back initially for a week, after that we'll see if it needs extending any further. I want to know where she went, who she met, what she talked about. On top of that I want any long-time antagonisms and enemies listed. Draw up a list of friends and colleagues to interview. Remember, no detail is too trivial. The reason for her death is out there somewhere.» I looked round the dutifully attentive faces. «Can anyone think of a line of inquiry I've missed?» One of the uniformed officers raised her hand. «Yes, Nyberg.» If she was embarrassed that I remembered her name, she didn't show it. «Penny Maowkavitz was rich. Someone must inherit Pacific Nugene.» «Good point.» I'd wondered if they'd mention that. Once you can get them questioning together, working as a team in your presence, you've won half the battle for acceptance. «Shannon, get a copy of Maowkavitz's will from her lawyer, please. Anything else? No. Good. I'll leave you to get on with it. Rolf will hand out individual assignments; including someone to take a statement from the Governor about his whereabouts over the last few days. Apparently we have one or two conspiracy theorists to placate.» Several knowing grins flashed round the room. Rolf let out a dismayed groan. I let them see my own amusement, then signalled Shannon over. «It might be a good idea to check out that theory of yours about the pistol being manufactured up here,» I told her. «Get on to the Cybernetics Division, ask them to put a Colt .45 pistol together using exactly the same materials as the murder weapon was built from. That way, we'll see if it is physically possible, and if so what the assembly entails.» She agreed with a degree of eagerness, and hurried back to her desk. I would have liked to hang around, but harassing the team as they got to work wasn't good policy. At this stage the investigation was the pure drudgery of data acquisition. To assemble a jigsaw, you first have to have the pieces—old Parfitt proverb. I went upstairs to my office, and started in on routine administration datawork. What joy. #149; #149; #149; The hospital was a third of the way round the town from the police station, a broad three-storey ring with a central courtyard. With its copper-mirror glass and mock-marble façade it looked the most substantial building in the habitat. I was ushered into Corrine Arburry's office just after two o'clock. It was nothing like as stark as mine, with big potted ferns and a colony of large purple-coloured lizards romping round inside a glass case in the corner. According to her file, Corrine had been in Eden for six years, almost since the habitat was opened for residency. «And how are you settling in?» she asked wryly. «Well, they haven't gone on strike yet.» «That's something.» «What were they saying about me out at the lake?» «No chance.» She wagged a finger. «Doctor/patient confidentiality.» «OK, what were the pathology findings?» «Penny died from the bullet. Her blood chemistry was normal . . . well, there was nothing in it apart from the prescribed viral vectors and a mild painkiller. She hadn't been drugged; and as far as I can tell there was no disabling blow to the head prior to the shooting, certainly no visible bruising on what was left of her skull. I think the personality memory of her death is perfectly accurate. She walked out to the lake, and the chimp shot her.» «Thanks. Now what can you tell me about Penny Maowkavitz herself? So far all I've heard is that she could be a prickly character.» Corrine's face puckered up. «True enough; basically, Penny was a complete pain. Back at the university hospital where I trained we always used to say doctors make the worst patients. Wrong. Geneticists make the worst patients.» «You didn't like her?» «I didn't say that. And you should be nicer to someone who's scheduled to cut your skull open in an hour. Penny was just naturally difficult, one of the highly strung types. It upset a lot of people.» «But not you?» «Doctors are used to the whole spectrum of human behaviour. We see it all. I was quite firm with her, she respected that. She did argue about aspects of her treatment. But radiation sickness is my field. And a lot of what she said was due to fear.» «You're talking about her cancer treatment?» «That's right.» «How bad was it?» Corrine dropped her gaze. «Terminal. Penny had at most another three months to live. And that last month would have been very rough on her, even with our medical technology.» «Christ.» «Are you sure it wasn't a suicide?» she asked kindly. «I know what it looked like, but—« «We did consider that, but the circumstances weigh against it.» I thought of the chimp, the bag, putting the pistol together in stealthy increments, the sheer amount of effort involved. «No, it was too elaborate. That was a murder. Besides, surely Penny Maowkavitz would have had plenty of available options to kill herself that were a damn sight cleaner than this?» «I would have thought so, yes. She had a whole laboratory full of methods to choose from. Although a bullet through the brain is one of the quickest methods I know. Penny was a very clever person, maybe she didn't want any time for reflection between an injection and losing consciousness.» «Had she talked about suicide?» «No, not to me; and normally I'd say she wasn't the suicide type. But she would know exactly what that last month was going to be like. You know, I've found myself thinking about it quite a lot recently; if I knew that was going to happen to me, I'd probably do something about it before I lost my faculties. Wouldn't you?» It wasn't something I liked to think about. Christ. Even death from old age is something we manage to deny for most of our lives. Always, you'll be the marvel who lives to a hundred and fifty, the new Methuselah. «Probably,» I grunted sourly. «Who knew about her illness?» «I'd say just about everyone. The whole habitat had heard about her accident.» I sighed. «Everyone but me.» «Oh, dear.» Corrine grinned impetuously. «Penny was exposed to a lethal radiation dose eight months ago. She was on a review trip to Pallas, that's the second habitat. It was germinated four years ago, and trails Eden's orbit by a thousand kilometres. Her division is responsible for overseeing the growth phase. And Penny takes her duty very seriously. She was EVA inspecting the outer shell when we had a massive ion flux. The magnetosphere does that occasionally, and it's completely unpredictable. Jupiter orbit is a radiative hell anyway; the suits which the crews here wear look more like deep-sea diving rigs than the kind of fabric pressure envelopes they use in the O'Neill Halo. But even their shielding couldn't protect Penny against that level of energy.» She leant back in the chair, shaking her head slowly. «That's one of the reasons I was chosen for this post, with my speciality. Those crews take a terrible risk going outside. They all have their sperm and ova frozen before they come here so they don't jeopardize their children. Anyway . . . the spaceship crew got her back here within two hours. Unfortunately there wasn't anything I could do, not in the long term. She was here in hospital for a fortnight, we flushed her blood seven times. But the radiation penetrated every cell, it was as if she'd stood in front of a strategic-defence X-ray laser. Her DNA was completely wrecked, blasted apart. The mutation—« Breath whistled painfully out of Corrine's mouth. «It was beyond even our gene therapy techniques to rectify. We did what we could, but it was basically just making her last months as easy as possible while the tumours started to grow. She knew it, we knew it.» «Three months at the most,» I said numbly. «Yes.» «And knowing that, somebody still went ahead and murdered her. It makes no sense at all.» «It made a lot of sense to somebody.» The voice was challenging. I fixed Corrine with a level gaze. «I didn't think you'd give me a hard time over being a company man.» «I won't. But I know people who will.» «Who?» Her grin had returned. «Don't tell me Zimmels didn't leave you a bubble cube full of names.» My turn to grin. «He did. What nobody has told me is how widespread Boston's support is.» «Not as much as they'd like. Not as little as JSKP would like.» «Very neat, Doctor. You should go into politics.» «There's no need to be obscene.» I stood up and walked over to her window, looking down into the small courtyard at the centre of the hospital. There was an ornate pond in the middle which had a tiny fountain playing in it; big orange fish glided about below the lily pads. «If the company did send a covert agent up here to kill Maowkavitz, he or she would have to be very biotechnology literate to circumvent the habitat personality's observation. I mean, I couldn't do it. I don't even understand how it was done, nor do most of my officers.» «I see what you mean. It would have to be someone who's been up here before.» «Right. Someone who understands the habitat surveillance parameters perfectly, and who's one hundred per cent loyal to JSKP.» «My God, you're talking about Zimmels.» I smiled down at the fish. «You have to admit, he's a perfect suspect.» «And would you have him arrested if he is guilty?» «Oh, yes. JSKP can have me fired, but they can't deflect me.» «Very commendable.» I turned back to find her giving me a heartily bemused stare. «But it's a little too early to be making allegations like that; I'll wait until I have more data.» «Glad to hear it,» she muttered. «I suppose you've also considered it could have been a mercy killing by some sympathetic bleeding-heart medical practitioner, one who was intimate with Penny's circumstances.» I laughed. «Top of my list.» #149; #149; #149; Before I went for the implant, they dressed me in a green surgical smock, and shaved off a three-centimetre circle of hair at the base of my skull. The operating theatre resembled a dentist's surgery. A big hydraulic chair at the centre of a horseshoe of medical consoles and instrument waldos. The major difference was the chair's headrest, which was a complicated arrangement of metal bands and adjustable pads. The sight triggered a cascade of unpleasant memories, newscable images of the more brutal regimes back on Earth. What one-party states did to their opposition members. «Nothing to worry about,» Corrine said breezily, when the sight of it slowed my walk. «I've done this operation about five hundred times now.» The nurse smiled and guided me into the chair. I don't think she was more than a couple of years older than Nicolette. Should they really be using teenagers to assist with delicate brain surgery on senior staff? Straps around my arms, straps around my legs; a big strap, like a corset, around my chest, holding me tight. Then they started immobilizing my head. «How many survived?» I asked. «All of them. Come on, Harvey, it's basically just an injection.» «I hate needles.» The nurse giggled. «Bloody hell,» Corrine grunted. «Men! Women never make this fuss.» I swallowed my immediate short-and-to-the-point comment. «Will I be able to use the affinity bond straight away?» «No. What I'm going to do this afternoon is insert a cluster of neuron symbiont buds into your medulla oblongata. They take a day or so to infiltrate your axons and develop into operational grafts.» «Wonderful.» Sickly grey fungal spores grubbing round my cells, sending out slender yellow roots to penetrate the delicate membrane walls. Feeding off me. Corrine and the nurse finished fixing my head in place and stood back. The chair slowly tilted forwards until I was inclined at forty-five degrees, staring at the floor. I heard a hissing sound; something cold touched the patch of shaved skin. «Ouch.» «Harvey, that's the anaesthetic spray,» Corrine exclaimed with some asperity. «Sorry.» «Once the symbionts are functioning you'll need proper training to use them. It doesn't take more than a few hours. I'll book your appointment with one of our tutors.» «Thanks. Exactly how many people up here are affinity capable?» She was busy switching on various equipment modules. Out of the corner of my eye I could see a holographic screen light up with some outré false-colour image of something which resembled a galactic nebula, all emerald and purple. «Just about all seventeen thousand of us,» she said. «They have to be, there's no such thing as a domestic or civic worker up here. The servitor chimps perform every mundane task you can think of. So you have to be able to communicate with them. The first affinity bonds to be developed were just that, bonds. Each one was unique. Clone-analogue symbionts allowed you to plug directly into a servitor's nervous system; one set was implanted in your brain, and the servitor got the other. Then Penny Maowkavitz came up with the idea of Eden, and the whole concept was broadened out. The symbionts I'm implanting in you will give you what we call communal affinity; you can converse with the habitat personality, access its senses, talk to other people, order the servitors around. It's a perfect communication system. God's own radio wave.» «Don't let the Pope hear you say that.» «Pope Eleanor's a fool. If you ask me, she's a little too desperate to prove she can be as traditionalist as any male. The Christian Church has always been antagonistic to science, even now, after the reunification. You'd think they'd learn from past mistakes. They certainly made enough of them. If her biotechnology commission would just open their eyes to what we've achieved up here.» «There's none so blind . . .» «Damn right. Did you know every child conceived up here for the last two years has had the affinity gene spliced in when they were zygotes, rather than have symbiont implants? They're affinity capable from the moment their brain forms, right in the womb. There was no pressure put on the parents by JSKP, they insisted. And they're a beautiful group of kids, Harvey, smart, happy; there's none of the kind of casual cruelty you normally get in kindergartens back on Earth. They don't hurt each other. Affinity has given them honesty and trust instead of selfishness. And the Church calls it ungodly.» «But it's a foreign gene, not one God gave us, not part of our divine heritage.» «You support the Church's view?» Her voice hardened. «No.» «God gave us the gene for cystic fibrosis, He gave us haemophilia, and He gave us Down's syndrome. They're all curable with gene therapy. Genes the person didn't have to begin with, genes we have to vector in. Does that make those we treat holy violations?» I made a mental note never to introduce Corrine to Jocelyn. «You're fighting an old battle with the wrong person.» «Yeah. Maybe. Sorry, but that kind of medieval attitude infuriates me.» «Good. Can we get on with the implant now, please?» «Oh, that?» The chair started to rotate back to the vertical. Corrine was flicking off the equipment. «I finished a couple of minutes ago,» she said with a contented chuckle. «I've been waiting for you to stop chattering.» «You . . .» The smiling nurse began to unstrap me. Corrine pulled off a pair of surgical gloves. «I want you to go home and relax for the rest of the afternoon. No more work today, I don't want you stressed; the symbiont neurons don't need to be drenched in toxins at this stage. And no alcohol, either.» «Am I going to have a headache?» «A hypochondriac like you, I wouldn't be at all surprised.» She winked playfully. «But it's all in your mind.» #149; #149; #149; I walked home. The first chance I'd had to actually appreciate the real benefit of the habitat. I walked under an open sky, feeling zephyrs ripple my uniform, smelling a mélange of flower perfumes. A strange experience. I'm just old enough to remember venturing out under open skies, taking backpack walks through what was left of the countryside for pleasure. That was before the armada storms started bombarding the continents for weeks at a time. Nowadays, of course, the planet's climate is in a state of what they call Perpetual Chaos Transition. You'd have to be certifiable to wander off into the wilderness regions by yourself. Even small squalls can have winds gusting up to sixty or seventy kilometres an hour. It was the heat which did it. The heat from bringing the benefits of an industrial economy to eighteen billion people. Environmentalists used to warn us about the danger of burning hydrocarbons, saying the increased carbon dioxide would trigger the greenhouse effect. They were wrong about that. Fusion came on-line fairly early into the new century; deuterium tritium reactions at first, inefficient and generating a depressing quantity of radioactive waste for what was heralded as the ultimate everlasting clean energy source. Then He After a decade of worsening hurricanes, the first real mega-storm struck the Eastern Pacific countries in February 2071. It lasted for nine days. The UN declared it an official international disaster zone; crops ruined over the entire region, whole forests torn out by the roots, tens of thousands made homeless. Some idiot newscable presenter said that if one butterfly flapping its wings causes an ordinary hurricane, then this must have taken a whole armada of butterflies to start. The name stuck. The second armada storm came ten months later, that one hit southern Europe. It made the first one seem mild by comparison. Everybody knew it was the heat which did it. By then more or less every home on the planet had a newscable feed, they could afford it. To prevent the third armada storm all they had to do was stop using so much electricity. The same electricity which brought them their newly found prosperous living standard. People, it seems, don't wish to abandon their wealth. Instead, they started migrating into large towns and cities, which they fortified against the weather. According to the UN, in another fifty years everybody will live in an urban area. Transgenic crops were spliced together which can withstand the worst the armada storms throw at them. And the amount of He Our house was near the southern edge of Eden's town, with a long back lawn which ran down to the parkland. A stream marked where the lawn ended and the meadowland began. The whole street was some tree-festooned middle-class suburb from a bygone age. The house itself was made from aluminium and silicon sandwich panels, a four-bedroom L-shape bungalow ranch with broad patio doors in each room. Back in the Delph arcology we had a four-room flat on the fifty-second floor which overlooked the central tiered well, and we could only afford that thanks to the subsidized rent which came with my job. I could hear voices as soon as I reached the fence which ran along the front lawn, Nicolette and Jocelyn arguing. And yes, it was a picket fence, even if it was made from sponge-steel. The front door was ajar. Not that it had a lock. Eden's residents really did have absolute confidence in the habitat personality's observation. I walked in, and almost tripped on a hockey stick. The five white composite cargo pods from the «It's stupid, Mother!» Nicolette's heated voice yelled out of an open door. «And you're not to raise your voice to me,» Jocelyn shouted back. I went into the room. It was the one Nicolette had claimed. Cases were heaped on the floor, clothes draped all over the bed. The patio door was open, a servitor chimp stood placidly outside. Jocelyn and Nicolette both turned to me. «Harvey, will you kindly explain to your daughter that while she lives in our house she will do as she's told.» «Fine. I'll bloody well move out now, then,» Nicolette squealed. «I never wanted to come here anyway.» Great, caught in the crossfire, as always. I held up my hands. «One at a time, please. What's the problem?» «Nicolette is refusing to put her stuff away properly.» «I will!» she wailed. «I just don't see why I have to do it. That's what it's here for.» She flung out an arm to point at the servitor. I fought against a groan. I should have realized this was coming. «It'll pack all my clothes away, and it'll keep the room neat the whole time. You don't even need bloody affinity. The habitat will hear any orders and get the chimps to do as you say. They told us that in the orientation lecture.» «That «Daddy!» The headache I wasn't supposed to be having was a hot ache five centimetres behind my eyes. «Jocelyn, this is her room. Why don't we just leave her alone in here?» The glare turned icy. «I might have known you'd be in favour of having those creatures in the house.» She turned on a heel and pushed past me into the hall. I let out a long exhausted breath. «Christ.» «I'm sorry, Daddy,» Nicolette said in a small voice. «Not your fault, darling.» I went out into the hall. Jocelyn was pulling clothes from an open pod, snatching them out so sharply I thought they might tear. «Look, Jocelyn, you've got to accept that using these servitor creatures is a way of life up here. You knew about the chimps before we came.» «But they're «There is nothing wrong with affinity, nothing evil. Even the Church agrees with that. It's only splicing the gene into children they object to.» She turned to face me, clasping a shirt to her chest, her expression suddenly pleading. «Oh, Harvey, can't you see how corrupt this place is? Everything is made so easy, so luxurious. It's insidious. It's a wicked lie. They're making people dependent on affinity, bringing it into everyday life. Soon nobody will be free. They'll give the gene to their children without ever questioning what they're doing. You see if they don't. They'll create a whole generation of the damned.» I couldn't answer, couldn't tell her. Christ, my own wife, and I was too stricken to say a word. «Please, Harvey, let's leave. There's another ship due in ten days. We can go back to Earth on it.» «I can't,» I said quietly. «You know I can't. And it's unfair to ask. In any case, Delph would fire me. I'm nearly fifty, Jocelyn. What the hell would I do? I can't make a career switch at my age.» «I don't care! I want to leave. I wish to God I'd never let you talk me into coming here.» «Oh, that's right; it's all my fault. My fault the children are going to live in a tropical paradise, with clean air and fresh food. My fault they're here in a world where they don't have to take a stunpulse with them every time they step outside the house in case they're raped or worse. My fault they're going to have an education we could never afford to give them on Earth. My fault they're going to have a chance at Her eyes narrowed, staring hard at me. «Now what?» I snapped. «What's that on the back of your neck?» My anger voided into some black chasm. «A dermal patch,» I said calmly. «It's there because I had an affinity symbiont implant this afternoon.» «How could you?» She simply stared at me, completely expressionless. «How could you, Harvey? After all the Church has done for us.» «I did it because I have to, it's my job.» «We mean so little to you, don't we?» «You mean everything.» Jocelyn shook her head. «No. I won't have any more of your lies.» She put the clothes down gently on one of the pods. «If you want to talk, I shall be in the church. Praying for all of us.» I didn't even know there was a church in Eden. It seemed a little strange given the current state of relations between the Vatican and the habitat. But then there's always that I really ought to make an effort not to be so bitter. Nicolette had slumped down onto the bed when I went back to her. «You had a row,» she said without looking up. I sat on the mattress beside her. She's a lovely girl; perhaps not cable starlet beautiful, but she's tall, and slim, and she's got a heart-shaped face with shoulder-length auburn hair. Very popular with the boys back in the arcology. I'm so proud of what she is, the way she's growing up. I wasn't going to let Earth stunt her, not with Eden able to offer so much more. «Yes, we had a row.» Again. «I didn't know she was going to be so upset over the chimps.» «Hey, what happens between me and your mother isn't your fault. I don't want to hear you blaming yourself again.» She sniffed heavily, then smiled. «Thanks, Dad.» «Use the chimps in here all you want, but for God's sake don't let them into the house.» «OK. Dad, did you really have a symbiont implant?» «Yes.» «Can I have one? The orientation officer said you can't really expect to live here without one.» «I expect so. But not this week, all right?» «Sure, Dad. I think I want to fit in here. Eden looks gorgeous.» I put my arm round her shoulders and kissed her cheek. «Do you know where your brother is?» «No, he went off with some boys after the orientation lecture.» «Well, when he comes in, warn him not to allow the chimps into the house.» I left her to herself and went into the lounge. The bubble cube Zimmels had given me was in my jacket pocket. I settled down in the big settee, and slotted it into my PNC wafer. The menu with the file names appeared; there were over a hundred and fifty of them. I checked down them quickly, but there was no entry for Corrine Arburry. Content I had at least one sympathetic ally, I started to review the masters of the revolution. #149; #149; #149; My second day started with Penny Maowkavitz's funeral. Rolf and I attended, representing the police, both of us in our black dress uniforms. The church was a simple A-frame of polished aluminium girders with tinted glass for walls. I estimated nearly two hundred people turned up for the service, with about eighty more milling outside. I sat in the front pew along with the Governor and other senior Eden staff from the UN and JSKP. Father Cooke conducted the service, with Antony Harwood reading a lesson from the Bible: Genesis, naturally. I knew him from Zimmels's files, another of Boston's premier activists. Afterwards we all trooped out of the church and down a track into a wide glade several hundred metres from the town. Fasholé Nocord led the procession, carrying the urn containing Penny's ashes. Anyone who dies in Eden is cremated; they don't want bodies decomposing in the earth, apparently they take too long, and as Eden hasn't quite finished growing there's always the chance they'll come to the surface again as the soil layer is gradually redistributed. A small shallow hole had been dug at the centre of the glade. Pieter Zernov stepped up to it and put a large jet-black seed in the bottom; it looked like a wrinkled conker to me. «It was Penny's wish that she should finish up here,» he said loudly. «I don't know what the seed is, except it was one of her designs. She told me that for once she had forgone function, and settled for something that just looks damn pretty. I'm sure it does, Penny.» As Pieter stood back an old Oriental man in a wheelchair came forwards. It was a very old-fashioned chair, made from wood, with big wheels that had chrome wire spokes, there was no motor. A young woman was pushing him over the thick grass. I couldn't see much of her; she had a broad black beret perched on her head, a long white-blonde ponytail swung across her back, and her head was bowed. But the old man . . . I frowned as he scooped up a handful of ash from the urn Fasholé Nocord held out. «I know him, I think,» I whispered to Rolf. That earned me another of those looks I was becoming all too familiar with. «Yes, sir; that's Wing-Tsit Chong.» «Bloody hell.» Wing-Tsit Chong let Penny's ashes fall from his hand, a small plume of dry dust splattering into the hole. A geneticist who was at least Penny Maowkavitz's equal, the inventor of affinity. #149; #149; #149; Father Leon Cooke cornered me on the way back to town. Both genial and serious in that way only priests know how. He was in his late sixties, wearing the black and turquoise vestments of the Unified Christian Church. «Penny's death was a terrible tragedy,» he said. «Especially in a closed community like this one. I hope you apprehend the culprit soon.» «I'll do my best, Father. It's been a hectic two days so far.» «I'm sure it has.» «Did you know Penny?» «I knew of her. I'm afraid that relations between the Church and most of the biotechnology people have become a little strained of late. Penny was no exception; but she came to a few services. When confronted with their approaching death, people do tend to show a degree of curiosity in the possibility of the divine. I didn't hold it against her. Everyone must come to faith in their own way.» «Did you hear her confession?» «Now, my son, you know I can never answer that. Even more than doctors, we priests hold the secrets of our flock close to our hearts.» «I was just wondering if she ever mentioned suicide?» He stopped beside a tree with small purple-green serrated leaves, tufty orange flowers bloomed at the end of every branch. Dark grey eyes regarded me with a humorous compassion. «I expect you have been told Penny Maowkavitz was a thorny character. Well, with that came a quite monstrous arrogance; Penny did not run away from anything life threw at her, not even her terrible illness. She would not commit suicide. I don't think anybody up here would.» «That's a very sweeping statement.» The tail end of the mourners filed past us; we were earning quite a few curious glances. I saw Rolf standing fifteen metres down the track, waiting patiently. «I'll be happy to discuss it with you, perhaps at a more appropriate time.» «Of course, Father.» A guilty smile flickered over Leon Cooke's face. «I talked to your wife, yesterday.» I tried to maintain an impassive expression. But he was a priest . . . I doubt he was fooled. «I don't expect she painted a very complimentary picture of me. We'd just had a row.» «I know. Don't worry, my son, it was a very modest row compared to some of the couples I've had to deal with.» «Deal with?» He ignored the irony. «You know she doesn't belong in this habitat, don't you?» I shifted round uncomfortably under his gaze. «Can you think of a better place for our children to grow up?» «Don't dodge the issue, my son.» «All right, Father, I'll tell you exactly why she doesn't care for Eden. It's because of the Pope's ludicrous proclamation on the affinity gene. The Church turned her against this habitat and what it represents. And I have to tell you, in my opinion the Church has made its biggest mistake since it persecuted Galileo. This is my second day here, and I've already started to think how I can make my posting permanent. If you want to help, you might try and convince her that affinity isn't some satanic magic.» «I will help the two of you any way I can, my son. But I can hardly contradict a papal decree.» «Right. It's funny, most couples like us would have divorced years ago.» «Why didn't you? Though I'm glad to see you haven't, that's an encouraging sign.» I smiled wryly. «Depends how you read it. We both have our reasons. Me; I keep remembering what Jocelyn used to be like. My Jocelyn, she's still in there. I know she is, if I could just find a way of reaching her.» «And Jocelyn, what's her reason?» «That's a simple one. We made our vows before God. Richer or poorer, better or worse. Even if we were legally separated, in God's eyes we remain husband and wife. Jocelyn's family were Catholics before the Christian reunification, that level of devotion is pretty hard to shake off.» «I get the impression you blame the Church for a lot of your situation.» «Did Jocelyn tell you why she places so much weight on what the Church says?» «No.» I sighed, hating to bring up those memories again. «She had two miscarriages, our third and fourth children. It was pretty traumatic; the medical staff at the arcology hospital were convinced they could save them. God, it looked like she was being swallowed by machinery. It was all useless, of course. Doctors don't have half as much knowledge about the human body as they lay claim to. «After the second time she . . . lost faith in herself. She became very withdrawn, listless, she wasn't even interested in the twins. A classic depression case. Everything the hospital did was orientated on the physical, you see. That's their totem, I suppose. But we were lucky in a way. Our arcology had a good priest. Quite a bit like you, actually. He gave us a lot of his time; if he'd been a psychiatrist I'd call it counselling. He made Jocelyn believe in herself again, and at the same time believe in the Church. I'm very grateful for that.» «Only in word, I suspect,» Leon Cooke said softly. «Yeah. You're a very insular institution, very conservative. Did you know that, Father? This fuss over affinity is a good example. Jocelyn used to have a very open mind.» «I see.» He looked pained. «I shall have to think about what you've told me. It saddens me to see the Church forming such a wedge between two loving people. I think you've both drifted too far from each other. But don't give up hope, my son, there's no gulf which can't be bridged in the end. Never give up hope.» «Thank you, Father. I'll do my best.» #149; #149; #149; There appeared to be a fair amount of honest toil going on in the incident room when Rolf and I walked in. Most of the CID staff were at their desks; a chimp was walking round carrying a tray of drinks. I claimed a large spongesteel desk at the front of the room, and slung my dress uniform jacket over the chair. «OK, what progress have we made?» Shannon was already walking towards me, a PNC wafer in her hand, and a cheerful expression on her face. «I retrieved a copy of Maowkavitz's will from the court computer.» She dropped the wafer on the desk in front of me, its display surface was covered with close-packed lines of orange script. «Give me the highlights,» I said. «Any possible suspects? A motive?» «The whole thing is a highlight, boss. It's a very simple will; Maowkavitz's entire estate, including Pacific Nugene, gets turned into a trust. Initial estimates put the total value at around eight hundred million wattdollars. She left no guidelines on how it was to be used. Monies are to be distributed in whatever way the trustees see fit, providing it is a majority decision. That's it.» Rolf and I exchanged a nonplussed glance. «Is that legal?» I asked. «I mean, can't the relatives challenge it?» «Not really. I consulted the Eden attorney's office. The will's very simplicity makes it virtually unchallengeable. Maowkavitz recorded a video testimony with a full polygraph track to back it up; and the witnesses are real heavyweights, including—would you believe—the ex-Vice-President of America, and the current Chairwoman of the UN Bank. And Maowkavitz's only relatives are some very distant cousins, none of whom she's ever had any contact with.» «Who are the trustees?» Shannon's fingernail tapped the wafer. «There are three. Pieter Zernov, Antony Harwood, and Bob Parkinson. Maowkavitz also lists another eight people should any of her initial choices die.» I studied the list of names. «I know all of these.» I pushed the wafer over to Rolf who scanned it quickly, and gave me a reluctant nod. «Boston's leadership,» I mused. Shannon's grin was pure wickedness. «Prove it. There's no such thing as Boston. It isn't entered in any databank; there are no records, no listings of any kind. Technically, it doesn't exist. Even Eden's surveillance can only turn up bar talk.» I toyed with the wafer on my desk. «What do they want the money for? Harwood and Parkinson are both rich in their own right. In fact I think Harwood is actually richer than Maowkavitz.» «They're going to buy guns,» Shannon said. «Arm the peasants so they can storm the Winter Palace.» I gave her a censorious stare. «This is a murder inquiry, Shannon. Contribute, or keep silent, please.» She gave an unrepentant shrug. «The modern equivalent of guns. However they figure on bringing off their coup, it won't be cheap.» «Good point. OK, I want to speak to these three trustees. We won't bring them in for questioning, not yet. But I do want to interview them today, ask them what they're planning on doing with the money. Rolf, set it up, please.» I fished my own PNC wafer from my jacket pocket, and summoned up a file I'd made the previous evening. «And Shannon, I want you to access the wills of everyone on this list, please. I'd like to see if they've made similar arrangements to hand over their wealth after they die.» She read the names as I downloaded the file into her wafer, then let out a low whistle. «You're well informed, boss.» «For someone who told me Boston doesn't exist, so are you.» She sauntered back to her desk. «Hoi Yin examined the servitor chimp yesterday,» Rolf said. «She hasn't had any luck recovering the memory of who gave it the order to shoot Penny.» «Bugger. Does she think she'll ever be able to get at the memory?» «I don't think so, from what she told me. But she said she'd come in again this morning, after the funeral. You could ask her.» «I'll do that; I need the background information anyway. What have we assembled on Penny Maowkavitz's last few days?» «Purely routine stuff, I'm afraid. She wasn't letting her illness interfere with her work. The JSKP Biotechnology Division has been busy preparing for Ararat's arrival, which she was supervising. And Davis Caldarola says she was still performing design work for Pacific Nugene. She was working ten-, twelve-hour days. Nothing out of the ordinary for her. She never did a lot of socializing, and she'd been cutting back on that recently anyway. According to the people we've interviewed so far she didn't have any really big rows with anybody, certainly not in the last few weeks. They were all treating her with kid gloves because of the cancer.» It sounded to me like Penny Maowkavitz was someone who had come to terms with her fate, and was trying to get as much done as possible in what time she had remaining. «That's her work. What about her Boston meetings?» «Sir?» «She must have had them, Rolf. She was supposed to be their leader. Were they argumentative? I can't imagine them being particularly smooth, not when you're discussing how to take over an entire city-state.» «There's no way of knowing. You see, Shannon was right about not having any evidence against Boston, their leadership would never have met in the flesh, not for that. All their discussions would have taken place using affinity. Nobody can intercept them.» «I thought affinity up here was communal.» «It is, but we have what we call singular engagement mode. It means you can hold private conversations with anyone inside a fifteen-kilometre radius.» «Oh, wonderful. OK, what about these genetic designs she was working on when she died? What were they? Anything a rival company would kill to prevent her from finishing?» «I don't know. The Pacific Nugene laboratory up here wasn't working on anything radical; mostly transgenic crops for Eden's Agronomy Division, and some sort of servitor which could operate effectively in free fall. If she was working on anything else, we haven't uncovered it yet. She did a lot of the initial softsplice work on her home computer, then turned it over to a lab team to refine and develop up to commercial standard. We haven't been able to access many of her files so far. She used some very complex entry guard codes. It'll take time to crack them. I'll give it to Shannon when she's finished with the wills, it's her field.» «Fine, keep me informed.» #149; #149; #149; Hoi Yin was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen—the most beautiful I imagine it's possible to see. She came into my office half an hour after I finished in the incident room. I didn't just stare, I gawped. She was still in the demure black dress she had worn at the funeral. And that was the second surprise, she was the one I'd seen pushing Wing-Tsit Chong's wheelchair. Her figure was spectacular enough; but it was the combination of diverse racial traits which made her so mesmerizing. Fine Oriental features defined by avian bones, with dark African lips, and the fairest Nordic hair, tawny eyes which appeared almost golden. She had to be the greatest cosmetic gene-adaptation ever put together. She wasn't genetic engineering, she was genetic artistry. I guessed her age at around twenty-two—but with honey-brown skin that clear how can you tell? She took off the black beret as she sat in front of my desk, letting her rope of hair hang down almost to the top of her hips. «Chief Parfitt?» she said pleasantly; the tone was light enough, but there was a hint of weariness in it. Hoi Yin, I got the impression, looked down from a great height at common mortals. I did my best to appear businesslike—waste of time really, she must have known what she did to men. «I understand you've had no success with the servitor chimp?» «Actually, it was a most enlightening session, I have learnt a considerable amount from the event, some of which I found disturbing. But unfortunately nothing which is immediately helpful to solving your case.» «Fine, so tell me what you have got.» «Whoever instructed the servitor chimp to shoot Penny Maowkavitz was almost my equal in neuropsychology. The method they employed was extremely sophisticated, and ingenious.» «Somebody in your department?» «I work as an independent consultant. But I believe most of the Servitor Division staff would have the ability, yes. If they had sufficient experience in instructing a chimp, they could probably determine how to circumvent the habitat's safeguards. So too would most of the Biotechnology Division staff. However, I cannot provide you with any likely names, it would be your job to establish a motive.» I made a note on my PNC wafer. «How many people work in the Servitor and Biotechnology Divisions?» Hoi Yin closed her eyes to consult the habitat personality, assuming a fascinating dream-distant expression which would have left Mona Lisa floundering in envy. «There are a hundred and eighty people employed in the Servitor Division,» she said. «With another eight hundred working in the Biotechnology Division. Plus a great many others in fringe professions, such as agronomy.» «Fine. And what are these safeguards?» «It is difficult to explain without using affinity to demonstrate the concept directly.» She gave me a small apologetic moue. «Forgive me if the description is muddy. Although the servitors are nominally independent, any order given to one by a human is automatically reviewed by the habitat personality. It is a question of neural capacity and interpretation. A chimp's brain has just enough intelligence to retain orders and perform them efficiently. For example, if you were to give one a general order to pick up litter along a certain road, it would be quite capable of doing so without further, more explicit, instruction. Also, if you tell one to put a plate into a dishwasher, there is no problem. It will pick up the object indicated and place it where instructed; even though it does not know the name for «plate» or «dishwasher», nor what they are for. The image in your mind contains sufficient information for it to recognize the plate. So as you can see, we had to protect them from deliberate abuse, and the kind of inevitable misuse which comes from children ordering them around.» «I think I understand. I couldn't order a chimp to carry someone into an airlock and cycle it.» «Exactly. By itself the chimp wouldn't know that what it was doing was wrong. It lacks discrimination, that ability we call sentience. So every order is reviewed by the personality to ensure it is not harmful or illegal. Therefore, although you could tell a chimp to pick up «So what went wrong this time?» «This is what I find most worrying about the incident. You understand that the habitat personality is what we call a homogenized presence?» «I crammed biotechnology for three months before I came here, but it was just basic stuff. I know Eden has a large neural strata. But that's about all.» Hoi Yin crossed her legs. Distracting, very distracting. «If you look at a cross-section of the habitat shell you will see it is layered like an onion,» she said. «Each layer has a different function. On the outside we have dead polyp, several metres thick, protecting us from cosmic radiation, and gradually ablating away in the vacuum. Inside that is a layer of living polyp which gradually replaces it. Then there is a very complex mitosis layer. More polyp containing nutrient-fluid arteries. A layer for water passages. Another with waste-extraction tubules and toxin-filter glands. And so on. Until finally the innermost layer, landscaped, smeared with soil, and laced with sensitive cells. But the layer just below that surface one is what we call the neural strata. It is nearly a metre thick, and connected to the sensitive cell clusters via millions of nerve strands. Consider that, Chief Parfitt, a strata of neural cells, a brain, measuring one metre thick, and covering almost sixty-four square kilometres.» I hadn't thought of it in quite those terms before. Too unnerving, I suppose. «It ought to be infallible.» «Yes. But Eden's thoughts work on parallel-processing principles. A neural network this large could not function in any other fashion. There is only one personality, yet its mind is made up from millions of semi-autonomous subroutines. Think of it as analogous to a hologram; if you cut up a hologram each little piece still contains a copy of the original image; no matter how small the fragment, the whole pattern is always there. Well, that is how the personality works, complete homogeneity. It can conduct a thousand—ten thousand—conversations simultaneously, and the memory of each one is disseminated throughout its structure so that it is available as a reference everywhere in the habitat. Indeed, all its knowledge is disseminated in such a fashion. When I converse with it through affinity, I am actually talking to a subroutine operating in the neural strata more or less directly below my feet. The amount of the strata given over to running that subroutine is dependent purely on the complexity of the task it is performing. If I were to ask it an exceptionally difficult question, the subroutine would expand to utilize more and more cells until it reached a size appropriate to fulfil the request. Sometimes the subroutines are large and sophisticated enough to be considered sentient in their own right, sometimes they are little more than computer programs.» «The murderer got at the safeguard subroutine, not the chimp,» I blurted. Her eyebrows rose in what I hoped was admiration. «Precisely. Somehow the murderer used his or her affinity to suspend the subroutine responsible for monitoring the orders given to that particular chimp. Then while it was inactive, the order to collect the pistol and stalk Penny Maowkavitz was issued to the chimp. The monitoring subroutine was then brought back on-line. Eden was not aware of the rogue order in the chimp's brain until it actually observed the chimp shooting the pistol. By then it was too late.» «Clever. Can you prevent it from happening again?» She looked at the floor, her lips pulled together in a delicious pout. «I believe so. Eden and I have been considering the problem at some length. The servitor monitoring subroutines will have to be reconfigured to resist such tampering in future; indeed all of the simpler subroutines will have to be hardened. Although it is of no comfort to Penny Maowkavitz, we have gained considerable insight into a vulnerability which we never previously knew existed. As with all complex new systems, methods of abuse can never be fully anticipated; Eden is no exception. This has given us a lot to think about.» «Fine. What about extracting a memory of the murderer from the chimp? What he or she looks like, how big, anything at all we could work with.» «If there was a visual image, I expect I could retrieve it given time. But I do not believe there is one. In all probability the murderer was nowhere near the chimp when the order was loaded. Whoever they are, they have demonstrated a considerable level of understanding with regards to how the habitat servitors work; I don't think they would make such an elementary mistake as allowing the chimp to see them. Even if they did need to be near the chimp in order to suppress the monitor subroutine, they only had to stay behind it.» «Yeah, I expect you're right.» Hoi Yin gave a small bow, and rose to her feet. «If there is nothing else, Chief Parfitt.» «There was one other thing. I noticed you were with Wing-Tsit Chong at the funeral.» «Yes. I am his student.» And did I hear a defensive note in her voice? Her expression remained perfectly composed. Funny, but she was the first person so far who hadn't said how much they regretted Penny's death. But, then, Hoi Yin could give an ice maiden a bad case of frostbite. «Really? That's auspicious. I would like to study under him as well. I wondered if you could ask him for me.» «You wish to change your profession?» «No. My neuron symbionts should be working by tomorrow. Dr Arburry said I'd need tutoring on their use. I would like Wing-Tsit Chong to be my tutor.» She blinked, which for her seemed to be the equivalent of open-mouthed astonishment. «Wing-Tsit Chong has many very important tasks. These are difficult times, both for him and Eden. Forgive me, but I do not believe he should spend his time on something quite so trivial.» «None the less, I'd like you to ask him. At most it will take a second of his valuable time to say no. You might tell him that I wish to perform my job to the best of my ability; and to do that I must have the most complete understanding of affinity it is possible for a novice to have. For that, I would prefer to be instructed by its inventor.» I smiled at her. «And if he says no, I won't take offence. Perhaps then you'd consider the job? You certainly seem to have a firm grasp of the principles.» Her cheeks coloured slightly. «I will convey your request.» #149; #149; #149; Shannon called me just after Hoi Yin walked out. «I think you're psychic, boss,» she said. The image on the desktop terminal screen showed me her usual grin was even broader than normal. «Tell me.» «I've just finished running down the wills of all those Boston members you gave me. And, surprise surprise, they all follow exactly the same format as Maowkavitz's; a trust fund to be administered in whatever way the trustees see fit. And they all nominate each other as trustees. It reads like financial incest.» «If they were all to die, what would the total sum come to?» «Christ, boss; half of them are just ordinary folks, worth a few grand; but there's a lot of them like Penny: multimillionaires. It's hard to say. You know the way rich people tangle up their money in bonds and property deals.» «Try,» I urged drily. «I expect you already have.» «OK, well you got me there, boss; I did some informal checking with Forbes Media corp for the biggies. I'd guess around five billion wattdollars. Purely unofficial.» «Interesting. So if their wills aren't changed, the last one left alive will inherit the lot.» «Holy shit, you think someone's going to work down the list?» «No, I doubt it. Too obvious. But I still want to know what Boston intends to do with all that money.» #149; #149; #149; It was Nyberg who drove me to my interview with Antony Harwood. From the way she acted I thought she might be angling for some kind of executive-assistant role. She told me how she'd sorted out my interviews with the three trustees nominated in Maowkavitz's will. I also got a résumé on her career to date, and how she was studying for her detective exams. But she was a conscientious officer, if a little too regimented, and obviously trying to advance herself. No crime. I did wonder idly if she was a covert agent for JSKP security, assigned to keep tabs on me. It seemed as though she was always there when I turned round. Paranoid. But then it was a growing feeling, this awareness of constant observation. The more I had Eden explained to me, the more conscious I was of how little privacy I had from it. Did it watch me sleeping? On the toilet? Eating? Did it laugh at my spreading gut when I took my uniform off at night? Did it have a sense of humour, even? Or did it, with its cubic-kilometre brain, regard us all as little more than insignificant gnats flittering round? Were our petty intrigues of the slightest interest? Or were we merely tiresome? I think I had the right to be paranoid. Antony Harwood's company, Quantumsoft, had a modest office building in what aspired to be the administration and business section of town. A white and bronze H-shaped structure surrounded by bushy palm trees which seemed a lot bigger than five years of growth could account for. It was all very Californian, quite deliberately. Quantumsoft was a typical Californian vertical. After the Big One2 quake in AD 2058 a lot of the high-tech companies resident in Los Angeles quietly shut up shop in the old city and moved up to High Angeles, a new asteroid that had been shunted into Earth orbit by controlled nuclear explosions. The asteroid project had been sponsored by the California legislature; always Green-orientated, the state wanted the raw materials from the rock to replace all its environmentally unsound groundside mining operations. A laudable notion, if somewhat late in the day. The kind of companies which ascended tended to be small, dynamic research and software enterprises, with a core of highly motivated, very bright, very innovative staff. And, ultimately, very wealthy staff. The verticals were geared towards producing and developing cutting-edge concepts, a pure, Green, cerebral industrial community; leaving their groundside subsidiary factories with the grubby task of actually manufacturing the goods they thought up. High Angeles itself was one of the largest asteroids in the O'Neill Halo after New Kong, although even its central biosphere cavern wasn't a fifth of the size of Eden's verdant parkland. After the miners finished extracting its ore and minerals, and the verticals moved in, it developed into little more than a giant spaceborne Cabana club for clever millionaires. Millionaires who made no secret of their resentment with the unbreakable fiscal ties which bound the asteroid to Earth. They no longer had to endure quakes, and gangs, and ecowarriors, and crime, and pollution, but their physical safety came with a price: specifically Californian taxes. However distant it might be from the battered Pacific coast, High Angeles was still owned by the state. With its vast mineral reserves and its dynamic verticals the asteroid remained the single largest source of revenue for the legislature. After pouring billions of wattdollars into its capture and starting up its biosphere, the Earthside senators weren't about to let its privileged occupants cheat ordinary taxpayers out of their investment by turning it into an independent tax haven, no matter how much bribe money they were offered. Ironically, as High Angeles siphoned off talent and wealth from Earth, so Eden drew the cream of the O'Neill Halo. The challenge Jupiter presented proved an irresistible attraction to the corporate aristocracy. Pacific Nugene was a prime example. Quantumsoft was another. Antony Harwood rose from behind his desk to greet me as I entered his office: an overweight fifty-five-year-old with a thick black beard. He had changed out of his mourning suit since the funeral, wearing designer casuals as if they were a uniform, open-neck silk shirt and glossy black jeans, along with a pair of hand-tooled cowboy boots. Some people, you just know right from the moment you clap eyes on them that you're not going to like them. No definable reason, they just don't fit your sensibilities. For me, Harwood was one such. «I can give you a couple of minutes, but I am kinda busy right now,» he said as we shook hands. As generous and jovial as his size suggested, but with a quality of steel. «Me too, someone got murdered a couple of days ago. And, understandably, I'm rather anxious to find out who did it.» Harwood gave me a second, more thorough, appraisal, his humour bleeding away. He indicated a crescent sofa and table conversation area next to the window wall. «I heard what they say about you: the honest policeman. JSKP should have put you in a museum, Chief, the rarity value oughta haul in a pretty good crowd.» «Along with the honest businessman, I expect.» There was a flash of white teeth in the centre of his beard. «OK, bad start. My mistake. Let's backtrack and begin fresh. What can I do for you?» «Penny Maowkavitz. You knew her quite well.» «Sure I knew Penny. Sharp character, her tongue as well as her mind.» «You must have spent a lot of time with her, the two of you were contemporaries. So firstly, did she ever say anything, drop any hint, that she thought she might be in danger?» «Not a thing. We had disagreements. It was kinda inevitable, the way she was, but they were all professional differences. Penny never got personal in any way, not with anyone.» «What does Boston intend to do with her money? Your money too, come to that?» He smiled again, showing an expression of polite bafflement. «Boston? What's that?» «What does Boston want the money for?» The smile tightened. «Sorry. «I see. Well, let me explain. For an act of premeditated murder to be committed, logically there must be a motive. Right now I have exactly three suspects: Bob Parkinson, Pieter Zernov, and yourself. You three have the only motive my investigative team has been able to uncover so far. You have been placed in sole charge of a trust fund worth eight hundred million wattdollars, with absolutely no legal constraints or guidelines on how you spend it. So unless you can convince me right here and now in this office that you don't intend to simply split it three ways and disappear into the sunset, you're going to find yourself sleeping in my department's unpleasantly small hospitality suite, with no room service, for the rest of your life. «No way. You can't make that bunch of crap stick, and you know it. This is just blatant intimidation, Chief. My legal boys will put blisters on your ass, they'll kick you so hard.» «You think so? Then try this. I wasn't joking when I said you're a murder suspect. That officially makes you a potential hazard to other residents. And as the lawful civil security officer of an inhabited space station I have the right to expel anyone I regard as a possible endangerment to the population of said station or its artificial ecosphere environment. Check it out: clause twenty-four in the revised UN Space Law Act of 2068, to which Eden is a signatory. Boston will just have to start the revolution without you.» «All right, let's try and remain calm here, shall we? We both want the same thing: Penny's killer behind bars.» «We do indeed. I'm perfectly calm, and I'm also waiting.» «I'd like a minute to myself.» «Confer with whoever you want. You're not going anywhere.» He glowered, then pressed his fingertips to his temple, concentrating hard. Despite my initial misgivings I was becoming impatient for my symbionts to start working. What must it be like to call on friends and colleagues for support whenever you wanted? Must do wonders for the ego. My gaze wandered round the office. Standard corporate glitz; tastefully furnished in some Mexican/Japanese fusion, expensive art quietly on show. It seemed all very cold and functional to me. I stared at a picture on the wall behind Harwood. Surely it must be a copy? But then again I couldn't imagine Harwood settling for copies of Picasso. He surfaced from his trance, shaking his shoulders about like a wrestler preparing for a difficult grapple. «OK, why don't we take a hypothetical situation.» I groaned, but let it pass. «If an independent nation were to nationalize the property of a company which was in its domain, the international courts would disallow the legality of the move, and seize the assets of that nation as compensation for the owners. There was a rock-solid precedent set in the Botswana case of 2024; when Colonel Matomie's new government confiscated the Stranton corp's car factory. Colonel Matomie thought he was in a nineteen-sixties timewarp, back when all the new ex-colonial governments were grabbing any foreign asset for themselves. Stranton hauled him into the UN International Court; it took them a couple of years, but the ruling was unequivocally in their favour. The factory was their property, and Matomie's government was guilty of theft. Stranton applied for a sequestration injunction. Botswana's airliners were impounded as soon as they touched down on foreign soil, power from South Africa's grid was shut off, all non-humanitarian imports were embargoed. Matomie had to back down and return the factory. Ever since then, Marxist regimes have had a real problem nationalizing foreign enterprises. Sure, there's nothing to stop them from harassing the workforce, or shut businesses down with phoney health regulations, impose ludicrous taxes, or simply refuse to grant operating licences. But they can't «Yes, I can see how that would cause problems for you people. The only bona fide economic asset out here is the He Harwood gave an indifferent shrug. «So you say. But my hypothetical government already has a small stake in the foreign factory it wants to take into national ownership. That changes the entire legal ball game; the whole concept of ownership and rights becomes far more ambiguous.» «Ah!» I clicked my fingers as the full realization hit me. «You're going to engineer a leveraged buyout from the existing shareholders, and probably try to oust the existing board members as well. No wonder you need all that money.» I stopped, recalling the briefing files I'd studied on the JSKP. «But even that can't be enough. You only have a few billion available. JSKP is a multi-trillion-wattdollar venture; it won't break even for another fifty years.» «No government on Earth is going to disrupt the flow of goods from this hypothetical nationalized factory. They can't afford to, the product it manufactures is unique and extraordinarily valuable. Ultimately, the courts and the financial community will permit this proposed managerial restructuring, especially as full compensation will be paid. Nobody is trying to cheat anyone out of anything. A large proportion of the money which Penny and other philanthropists have pledged to this hypothetical government will be spent on legal battles; which are shaping up to be very violent and depressingly prolonged.» «Yes, I see now.» I stood up. «Well, providing I can verify this Harwood lumbered to his feet. «I hope you find Penny's killer soon, Chief Parfitt.» «I'll do my best.» «Yeah, I guess so.» His expression turned confidently superior. «But don't count on having too much time. You might just find you ain't gonna be here for very much longer.» I stopped in the open door, and gave him a genuinely pitying look. «Do you really think that Boston won't need a professional police force if you ever do manage to form a government here? If so, you're more of a daydreaming fool than I thought.» #149; #149; #149; Pieter Zernov was a lot more cordial than Harwood; but then we'd got to know each other quite well on the A time when Pieter was on the I found him in the JSKP's Biotechnology Division headquarters, supervising Ararat's germination. «It ought to be Penny doing this,» he said mournfully. «She put in so much work on Ararat, especially after her accident. It's a tremendous improvement on Eden and Pallas.» We were standing at the back of a large control centre; five long rows of consoles were arrayed in front of us, each with technicians scanning displays and issuing streams of orders to their equipment. Big holoscreens were fixed up around the walls, each showing a different view of Ararat as the large seed floated fifteen kilometres distant from Eden. The foam which protected it during the flight from the O'Neill Halo had been stripped away, allowing the base to be mated to a large support module. «It looks like an old-style oil refinery,» I said. «Not a bad guess,» Pieter said. «The tanks all hold hydrocarbon compounds. We'll feed them into the seed over the next two months. Then if we're happy that the germination is progressing normally, the whole thing gets shifted to its permanent orbital location, leading Eden by a thousand kilometres. We have a suitable mineral-rich rock there waiting for it.» «And Ararat will just start eating it?» «Not quite, we have to process the raw material it consumes for a further nine months, until its own absorption and digestion organs have developed. After that it'll be attached directly onto the rock. We are hoping that the next generation habitats are going to be able to ingest minerals straight out of the ore right from the start.» «From tiny acorns,» I murmured. «Quite. Although, this isn't one unified seed like you have for trees. Habitat seeds are multisymbiotic constructs; we don't know how to sequence the blueprint for an entire habitat into a single strand of DNA. Not yet, anyway. And, regrettably, biotechnology research is slowing down on Earth, there's too much association with affinity. That's why Penny was so keen to move her company out here, where she could work without interference.» «Speaking of which . . .» He bowed his head. «Yes, I know. Her will.» «If you could just confirm what Antony Harwood told me.» «Oh, Antony. You shook him up rather badly, you know. He's not used to being treated like that. His employees are a great deal more respectful.» «You were hooked in?» «Most of us were.» I found I quite liked that idea, silent witnesses to Mr Front knuckling under at the first touch of pressure. Most unprofessional, Harvey. «The will,» I prompted. «Of course. What Antony told you is more or less true. The money will be channelled into fighting legal cases on Earth. But we're aiming for more than just a leveraged buyout, that would simply entail replacing the current JSKP board members with our own proxies. Boston wants the He «Thank you.» I could sense how much it hurt him to talk about it, especially to someone like me. Yet he was proud, too. When he talked of «Boston» and «us», I could see he was totally committed to the ideal. What a strange umbrella organization it was; you could hardly find two more disparate people than Pieter Zernov and Antony Harwood. «I'm rather honoured Penny named me,» he said. «I hope I live up to her expectations. Perhaps she wanted one moderate voice to be heard. I do tend to feel slightly out of place amongst all these millionaire power players. Really, I'm just a biotechnology professor from Moscow University on a three-year sabbatical with the JSKP. Think of that, a Muscovite living in a tropical climate. My skin peels constantly and I get headaches from the axial light-tube's brightness.» «Will you be going back?» He gave me a long look, then shook his head ponderously. «I don't think so. There is a lot of work to be done here, whatever the outcome. Even the JSKP has offered me a permanent contract. But I would like to teach again some day.» «What's the appeal, Pieter? I mean, does the composition of the JSKP board membership really make that much difference? People here at Jupiter are still going to live and work in the same conditions. Or are you that committed to the old collective ideal?» «You ask this of a Russian, after all we've been through? No, it's more than a blind grasp for collectivism in the name of workers' liberation. Jupiter offers us a unique opportunity; there are so many resources out here, so much energy, if it can be harvested properly we can build a very special culture. A culture which thanks to affinity will be very different from anything which has gone before. That chance to do something new happens so rarely in human history; which is why I support the Boston group. The possibility, the fragile hope, cannot be allowed to wither; any inaction on my part would be criminal, I could never live with the guilt. I told you the next generation of habitats will be able to ingest minerals right away; but they are also capable of much, much more. They will be able to synthesize food in specialist glands, feed their entire population at no cost, with no machinery to harvest or prepare or freeze. How wonderful that will be, how miraculous. The polyp can be grown into houses, into cathedrals if you want. And our children are already showing us how innately kind and decent people can be when they grow up sharing their thoughts. You see, Harvey? There is so much potential for new styles of life here. And when you combine it with the sound economic foundation of the He Despite myself (I should say my official self), I couldn't help feeling a strong admiration for Boston and its goals. There's something darkly appealing about valiant underdogs going up against those kind of odds. And don't be fooled into thinking anything else, the odds were Pieter had been right about one thing, though, Eden was a special entity; the nature of the society which was struggling to emerge out here was as near perfect as I was ever likely to see. Its people deserved a chance. One where they weren't squeezed by the JSKP board to maximize profits at the expense of everything else. «You talk a great deal of sense,» I told him ruefully. His meaty hand gripped my shoulder, squeezing fondly. «Harvey, what you said to Antony came as a surprise to many of us. We were expecting the JSKP to appoint someone . . . shall we say, more dogmatic as Chief of Police. I would just like to say that Antony does not have a deciding vote, we are after all attempting to build an egalitarian democracy. So for what it's worth, we welcome anyone who wishes to stay and do an honest day's work. Because unfortunately I suspect you were right; people are going to need policemen for a long time to come. And I know you are a good policeman, Harvey.» #149; #149; #149; I made the effort to get home for lunch. I don't think I'd spent more than a couple of hours with the twins since we arrived. We ate at a big oval table in the kitchen, with the patio doors wide open, allowing a gentle breeze to swim through the room. There were no servitor chimps in sight. Jocelyn must have prepared the food herself. I didn't ask. Nathaniel and Nicolette both had damp hair. «We've been swimming in the circumfluous lake at the southern endcap,» Nathaniel told me eagerly. «We caught a monorail tram down to a water sports centre in one of the coves. They've got these huge slides, and waterfalls where the filter organs vent out through the endcap cliff, and jetskis. It's great, Dad. Jesse helped us take out a full membership.» I frowned, and glanced up at Jocelyn. «I thought they were due in school.» «Dad,» Nicolette protested. «Next week,» Jocelyn said. «They start on Monday.» «Good. Who's Jesse?» «Friend of mine,» Nathaniel said. «I met him at the day club yesterday. I like the people here; they're a lot easier going than back in the arcology. They all know who we are, but they didn't give us a hard time about it.» «Why should they?» «Because we're a security chief's children,» Nicolette said. I think she learnt that mildly exasperated tone from me. «It didn't make us real popular back in the Delph arcology.» «You never told me that.» She made a show of licking salad cream off her fork. «When did you ask?» «Oh, of course, I'm a parent. I'm in the wrong. I'm always in the wrong.» Her whole face lit up in a smile. For the first time I realized she had freckles. «Of course you are, Daddy, but we make allowances. By the way, can I keep a parrot, please? Some of the red parakeets I've seen here are really beautiful, I think they must be gene-adapted to have plumage like that, they look like flying rainbows. There's a pet shop in the plaza just down the road which sells the eggs. Ever so cheap.» I coughed on my lettuce leaf. «No,» Jocelyn said. «Oh, Mum, it wouldn't be affinity bonded. A proper pet.» «No.» Nicolette caught my eye and screwed her face up. «How's the murder case coming on?» Nathaniel asked. «Everyone at the lake was talking about it.» «Were they, now?» «Yes. Everyone says Maowkavitz was an independence rebel, and the JSKP had her killed.» «Is that right, Dad?» Nicolette looked at me eagerly. Jocelyn had stopped eating, also focusing on me. I toyed with some of the chicken on my plate. «No. At least, not all of it. Maowkavitz was part of a group discussing independence for Eden; people have been talking about that for years. But the company didn't kill her. They've had plenty of opportunities during the last few years to eliminate her if they wanted to, and make it seem like an accident. She was back on Earth eighteen months ago, if the JSKP board wanted her dead, they would've had it done then, and nobody would have questioned it. Her very public murder up here is the last thing they need. For a start, they're bound to be considered as prime suspects, by public rumour if not my department. It will inevitably make more people sympathetic to her cause.» «Have you got a suspect, then?» Nathaniel asked. «Not yet. But the method indicates that it's just one person, acting alone. There was a large amount of very secretive preparation involved. It has to be someone who's clever, above-average intelligence, familiar with Eden's biotechnology structure, and also the cybersystems, we think. Unfortunately that includes about half of the population. But the murderer must have an obsessive personality as well, which isn't so common. Then there's the risk to consider; even with the method they came up with—which admittedly is very smart—there was still a big chance of discovery. Whoever did it was prepared to take that risk. This is one very cool customer, because murder up here is a capital crime.» «The death penalty?» Nicolette asked, her eyes rounded. «That's right.» I winked. «Something to think about when you're considering joyriding one of the jeeps.» «I wouldn't!» «What about a motive?» Nathaniel persisted. Tenacious boy. I wonder where he got it from? «No motive established so far. I haven't compiled enough information on Maowkavitz yet.» «It's got to be personal,» he said decisively. «I bet she had a secret lover, or something. Rich people always get killed for personal reasons. When they fight about money they always do it in court.» «I expect you're right.» #149; #149; #149; One thing all Penny Maowkavitz's nominees had in common, they were industrious people. I caught up with Bob Parkinson in the offices of the He His office didn't have quite the extravagance of Harwood's, it was more how I imagined the study of a computer science professor would look like. The desk was one giant console, while two walls were simply floor to ceiling holoscreens displaying orbital plots and breathtaking views of Jupiter's upper cloud level, relayed directly from the aerostats drifting in the gas-giant's troposphere. A hazed ochre universe that went on for ever, flecked by long streamers of ammonia cirrus that scudded past like a time-lapse video recording. The JSKP currently had twenty-seven of the vast hot-hydrogen balloons floating freely in the atmosphere; five hundred metre diameter spheres supporting the filtration plant which extracted He He Then in 2062 the JSKP dropped its first aerostat into Jupiter's atmosphere, and began extracting He The fusion industry—if you'll pardon the expression—went critical. Stations burning a deuteriumamp;ndash;He An upward spiral of benefits. He Bob Parkinson was the man charged with ensuring a steady supply was maintained; a senior JSKP vice-president, he ran the entire mining operation. It wasn't the kind of responsibility I would ever want, but he appeared to handle it stoically. A tall fifty-year-old, with a monk's halo of short grizzled hair, and a heavily wrinkled face. «I was wondering when you were going to get round to me,» he said. «They told me it would have to be today.» «God, yes. I can't delay the lowering, not even for Penny. And I have to be there.» A finger flicked up to one of the screens showing a small rugby-ball-shaped asteroid which seemed to be just skimming Jupiter's cloud tops. Fully half of its surface was covered with machinery; large black radiator fins formed a ruff collar around one conical peak. A flotilla of industrial stations swarmed in attendance, along with several inter-orbit transfer craft. «That's the cloudscoop anchor?» I asked. «Yes. Quite an achievement; the pinnacle of our society's engineering prowess.» «I can't see the scoop itself.» «It's on the other side.» He gave an instruction to his desk, and the view began to tilt. Against the backdrop of salmon and white clouds I could see a slender black line protruding from the side of the asteroid which was tide-locked towards the gas giant. Its end was lost somewhere among the rumbustious cyclones of the equatorial storm band. «A monomolecule silicon pipe two and a half thousand kilometres long,» Bob Parkinson said with considerable pride. «With the scoop head filters working at full efficiency, it can pump a tonne of He «At one-third the current cost,» I said. «I see you do your homework, Chief Parfitt.» «I try. What happens to the aerostats?» «We intend to keep them and the shuttles running for a while yet. They are very high-value chunks of hardware, and they've got to repay their investment outlay. But we won't be replacing them when they reach the end of their operational life. JSKP plans to have a second cloudscoop operational in four years' time. And, who knows, now we know how to build one, we might even stick to schedule.» «When do you start lowering?» «Couple of days. But the actual event will be strung out over a month, because believe me this is one hyper-complicated manoeuvre. We're actually decreasing the asteroid's velocity, which reduces its orbital height, and pushes the scoop down into the atmosphere.» «How deep?» «Five hundred kilometres. But the trouble starts when it begins to enter the stratosphere; there's going to be a lot of turbulence, which will cause flexing. The lower section of the pipe is studded with rockets to damp down the oscillations, and of course the scoop head itself has aerodynamic surfaces. Quantumsoft has come up with a momentum-command program which they think will work, but nobody's ever attempted anything like this before. Which is why we need a large team of controllers on site. The time delay from here would be impossible.» «And you're leading them.» «That's what they pay me for.» «Well, good luck.» «Thanks.» We stared at each other for a moment. Having to conduct a direct interview with someone who was technically my superior is the kind of politics I can really do without. «As far as we can ascertain at this point, Penny Maowkavitz didn't have any problems in her professional life,» I said. «That leaves us with her personal life, and her involvement with Boston. The motive for her murder has to spring from one of those two facets. You are one of the trustees named in her will, she obviously felt close to you. What can you tell me about her?» «Her personal life, not much. Everyone up here works heavy schedules. When we did meet it was either on JSKP business, or discussing the possibilities for civil readjustment. Penny never did much socializing anyway. So I wouldn't know who she argued with in private.» «And what about in the context of Boston? According to my information you're now its leader.» His tolerant expression cooled somewhat. «We have a council. Policies are debated, then voted on. Individuals and personality aren't that important, the overall concept is what counts.» «So you're not going to change anything now she's gone?» «Nothing was ever finalized before her death,» he said unhappily. «We knew why Penny had the views she did, and made allowances.» «What views?» It wasn't the question he wanted, that much was obvious. A man who took flying an asteroid in his stride, he was discomforted by simply having to recount the arguments that went on in what everyone insisted on describing to me as a civilized discussion forum. He ran his hands back through the hair above his ears, concern momentarily doubling the mass of creases on his face. «It's the timing of the thing,» he said eventually. «Penny wanted us to make a bid for independence as soon as the cloudscoop was operational. Six to eight weeks from now.» I let out a soft whistle. «That soon?» That wasn't in Zimmels's briefing. I'd gathered the impression they were thinking in terms of a much longer timescale. «Penny wanted that date because that way she'd still be alive to see it happen. Who can blame her?» «But you didn't agree.» «No, I didn't.» He said it almost as a challenge to me. «It's too soon. There's some logic behind it, admittedly. With an operating cloudscoop we can guarantee uninterrupted deliveries of He «And biotechnology habitats are also autonomous,» I observed. «You don't need spare parts for them either.» «True. But it's not quite that simple. For all its size and cost and technology, the JSKP operation here is still very much a pioneering venture; roughly equivalent to the aircraft industry between the last century's two World Wars. We're at the propeller-driven monoplane stage.» «That's hard to credit.» «You've talked to Pieter Zernov, I believe. He's full of dreams of what the habitats can eventually evolve into. We need money for that, money and time. Admittedly not much in comparison to the cost of a cloudscoop; but nor is it a trivial sum. Then there's Callisto. At this moment I've got a team there surveying the equator for a suitable mass driver site. JSKP is planning to start construction in 2094, and use it to fire tanks of He «So what are you worried about? That Earth won't supply the parts for a mass driver? They'll be acting against their own interest. Besides, you'll always find one company willing to oblige.» «It's not the availability of technology. It's the cost. The next decade is going to see JSKP investment in Jupiter triple if not quadruple. And it's only after that, when there are several cloudscoops operational, and the mass driver is flinging He «I see what you mean. If you try and buy them out now, you won't have the money for expansion you need.» He nodded, pleased I was seeing his viewpoint. «That's right. All this talk of independence is really most impulsive and premature. It can happen, it should happen, but only when the moment is right to assure success.» Company line, that's what it sounded like to me. Which left me thinking: would a JSKP vice-president really be an unswervingly committed member of a rebellion against the board? Whatever the outcome, independence or otherwise, Bob Parkinson would keep the same job, probably for the same pay. Christ, but he'd manoeuvred himself into a superb position to play both ends against the middle. Just how shrewd was he? «From what you've just told me, Boston actually benefited from Penny Maowkavitz's death.» «That's way out of line, Chief, and you know it.» «Yeah. Sorry. Thinking out loud; it's a bad habit. But I have to run through the process of elimination.» «Well, I'd say you can eliminate any Boston members. Pieter told you what kind of ideals drive us. If it had come to a vote, Penny would have abided by the majority decision, as would I.» «You mean you haven't decided yet?» «There is a line, Chief Parfitt, and you are not on our side of it. I've put myself in a most dangerous position confiding in you. One word to the board from you, and my role out here is finished, along with my career and my pension and my future. But I talked to you anyway, honestly and openly, because I can see you genuinely want to find Penny's murderer, and I believe you're capable of doing so. But informing you of anything more than our general intentions, things which you could pick up in any bar in the habitat, that's out of the question. You see, you've been making some very ingratiating sounds towards us, words we like to hear, words we're flattered to hear, especially from your lips. But we don't know if they're real, or if they're just an excellent interview technique. So why don't you tell me; will the Eden police try to prevent Boston from achieving independence?» I looked into his hooded eyes, searching for the depth which must surely come from being augmented by other minds. There was a great deal of resolution, but nothing much else. Bob Parkinson was a man alone. So I had to ask myself, did he really think the board didn't know of his membership? Or if they did, and he was their provocateur, why wouldn't he tell me? «It's like this,» I said. «I would never fight a battle, unless I knew I'd already won.» #149; #149; #149; My third day started with a dream. I was completely naked, standing on Jupiter's delicate ring. Clouds swirled eternal below me, perfectly textured mountains of frozen crystals glittering in every shade of red, from deep magenta to a near-dazzling scarlet. Close enough that I could reach out and touch them, fingertips stirring the interlocking whorls, bathing my skin in a sensation of powder-fine snow. It tingled. The planet was crooning plaintively, a bass whalesong emerging from depths beyond perception. I watched, entranced, as its energy shroud was revealed to me, the magnetosphere and particle wind, embracing it like the milk-white folds of an embryo membrane. They palpitated slowly, long fronds streaming out behind the umbra. Then the palpitations began to grow, becoming more frenzied. Long tears opened up, spilling out a precious golden haze. A ripping sound grew into thunder, and the ring quaked below my feet. I knifed up on the bed. Clean sober awake. Heart racing, sweaty. And for some reason, expectant. I glanced round the darkened room. Jocelyn was stirring fitfully. But A faint mirage of a man sitting up in bed, staring round wildly. «What is this?» Please relax, Chief Parfitt, there is nothing to worry about. You are experiencing a mild bout of disorientation as your symbiont implants achieve synchronization with my neural strata. It is a common phenomenon. It wasn't a spoken voice, the room was completely silent. The hairs along my spine prickled sharply as though someone was running an electric charge over my skin. It was the memory of a voice, but not my memory. And it was happening in real-time. «Who?» I asked. But my throat just sort of gagged. I am Eden. «Oh, Christ.» I flopped back on the mattress, every muscle knotted solid. «Do you know what I'm thinking?» The first thing which leapt into my mind was that last row with Jocelyn. I felt my ears burning. There is some random overspill from your mind, just as you perceived some of my autonomic thought routines. It is a situation similar to a slightly mistuned radio receiver. I apologize for any upset you are experiencing. The effect will swiftly fade as you grow accustomed to affinity. Jupiter again; a bright vision of the kind which might have been granted to a prehistory prophet. Jupiter floated passively below me. And space was awash with pinpricks of microwaves, like emerald stars. Behind each one was the solid bulk of a spacecraft or industrial station. «That's what you see?» I register all the energy which falls upon my shell, yes. I risked taking a breath, the first for what seemed like hours. «The inside. I want to see the inside. All of it.» Very well. I suggest you close your eyes, it makes perception easier when your brain doesn't have two sets of images to interpret. And abruptly the habitat parkland materialized around me. Dawn was coming, washing the rumpled green landscape with cold pink-gold radiance. I was seeing all of it, all at once. Feeling it stir as the light awoke the insects and birds, its rhythm quickening. I knew the axial light-tube, a slim cylindrical mesh of organic conductors, their magnetic field containing the fluorescent plasma. I sensed the energy surging into it, flowing directly from the induction pick-off cables spread wide outside. Water surged along the gentle valleys, a cool pleasing trickle across my skin. And always in the background was the mind-murmur of people waking, querying the habitat personality with thousands of mundane requests and simple greetings. Warmth. Unity. Satisfaction. They were organic to the visualization. «My God.» I blinked in delighted confusion at the thin planes of light stealing round the sides of the curtains beyond the end of the bed. And Jocelyn was staring at me suspiciously. «It's started, hasn't it?» I hadn't heard her sound so wretched since the last miscarriage. Guilt rose from a core of darkness at the centre of my mind, staining every thought. How would I react if she ever went ahead and did something I considered the antithesis of all I believed in? «Yes.» She nodded mutely. There wasn't any anger in her. She was lost, totally rejected. «Please, Jocelyn. It's really just a sophisticated form of virtual reality. I'm not letting anyone tinker with my genes.» «Why do you do that? Why do you treat me as though my opinions don't matter, or they're bound to be wrong? Why must you talk as if I'm a child who will understand and thank you once you've explained in the simplest possible terms? I lost our children, not my mind. I gave up my life for you, Harvey.» Right then, if I could have pulled the symbionts out, I think I would have done it. I really do. Christ, how do I land myself into these situations? «All right.» I reached out tentatively, and put my hand on her shoulder. She didn't flinch away, which was something, I suppose. «I'm sorry I did that, it was stupid. And if you've been hurt by coming here, by me having the symbiont implant, then I want you to know it was never deliberate. Christ, I don't know, Jocelyn; my life is so straightforward, all mapped out by the personnel computer at Delph's headquarters. I just do what they tell me, it's all I can do. Maybe I don't take the time to think like I should.» «Your career is straightforward,» she said softly. «Not your life. We're your life, Harvey, me and the twins.» «Yes.» A faint resigned smile registered on her lips. «They like it here.» «I really didn't know the other kids in the arcology were tough on them.» «Me neither.» «Look, Jocelyn . . . I saw Father Cooke yesterday.» «What about him?» «He's a smart old boy; that's what. Perhaps I should go and see him again. I'm not too proud to ask for help.» «You'd do that?» she asked, uncertainty gave her voice a waver. «Yes, I'd do that.» «I don't want us to be like this, Harvey. It was good before.» «Yeah. Which means it can be again, I suppose. I'll go and see Cooke, then, find out what he's got to say about us. Uh, I'm not sure if I can do it today.» «I know. The Maowkavitz case.» «Her and Boston. Everything always comes at once, doesn't it?» «And at the worst time. But that's something I knew even before I married you.» #149; #149; #149; It was Eden which guided me to Wing-Tsit Chong's residence, that echo of a voice whispering directions into my brain. I drove myself there right after breakfast, it was too early for Nyberg to be on duty. I didn't feel like her company anyway. But I had a rising sense of satisfaction as I steered the jeep along a track through the parkland; at least Jocelyn and I were talking again. The old geneticist lived some way out of the town itself, a privilege not many people were granted. The Agronomy and Domestic Maintenance divisions wanted to keep all the buildings in one neat and tidy strip. If everyone was allowed a rustic cottage in the woodlands the whole place would have been crisscrossed with roads and power cables and utility pipes. But for Wing-Tsit Chong they made an exception. I expect even administration types held him in the same kind of reverence that I did. Whether you approved of it or not, affinity was such a radical discovery. His residence was a simple bungalow with a high, steeply curved blue slate roof which overhung the walls to form an all-round veranda. Very Eastern in appearance, to my untutored eye it resembled a single-storey pagoda. There was none of the metal and composite panelling which was used in most of the habitat's buildings, this was made from stone and wood. It had been sited right on the edge of a small lake, with the overlooking veranda standing on stilts above the vitreous water. Black swans glided imperiously across the surface, keeping just outside the thick band of large pink and white water lilies which skirted the entire lake. The whole area seemed to siphon away every sound. Wing-Tsit Chong and Hoi Yin were waiting for me on the wooden lakeside veranda. She was dressed in a simple sleeveless white-cotton robe, standing behind her mentor, as stern and uncompromising as ever. Wing-Tsit Chong however smiled welcomingly as I came up the short flight of steps from the lawn. He was sitting in his ancient wheelchair, dressed in a navy-blue silk jacket, with a tartan rug wrapped round his legs. His face had the porcelain delicacy of the very old; my file said he was in his early nineties. Almost all of his hair had gone, leaving a fringe of silver strands at the back of his head, long enough to come down over his collar. It is most gratifying to meet you, Chief Parfitt. The habitat rumour band has talked of no one else for days.he chuckled softly, small green eyes alight with a child's mischief. «It was very good of you to agree to tutor me. As you can see, I still haven't got a clue about affinity.» This we shall change together. Come, sit here. Hoi Yin, some tea for our guest. She flashed me a warning glance as she went inside. I sat in a wicker chair opposite Wing-Tsit Chong. Dulled copper wind chimes hanging along the edge of the eaves tinkled quietly. I really could imagine myself attending some spiritual guru back in Tibet. A good girl. But somewhat overprotective of me. I ought to be grateful to have anyone so attentive at this time in my life. «She thinks I'm wasting your time.» The chance to offer guidance towards understanding is not one I can lightly refuse. Even an understanding as simple as this one. All life is a steady progression towards truth and purity. Some achieve great steps in their quest to achieving spiritual clarity. Others are doomed to remain less fortunate. «That's Buddhist philosophy, isn't it?» Indeed. I was raised in that fashion. However, I diverged from the training of Patimokkha traditions many years ago. But then arrogance is my vanity, I acknowledge this with great sadness. But still I persist. Now then; the task in hand. I wish you to talk to me without using your voice. Subvocalization is the talent you must master. The focus, Chief Parfitt, that is the key to affinity, the focusing of your mind. Now, a simple greeting: Good morning. Look at me. Nothing else, only me. Form the words, and deliver. #149; #149; #149; I sat on that veranda for two hours. For all his smiling frailty, Wing-Tsit Chong was unrelenting in pursuing my education. The whole session put me in mind of those adolescent martial arts series on the entertainment cables, stumbling pupil and wise old master. I did indeed learn how to focus my thoughts. How to flick a mental switch that allowed me to use affinity when I wanted rather than that initial erratic perception which I'd experienced. How to recognize individual mental signatures and use singular engagement. I eavesdropped on the general bands which filled the habitat's ether, the gossips who discussed every subject under the sun; not so dissimilar from the net bulletins on Earth. Communion with Eden was the most fascinating, having its entire mental and sensory facilities available at a whim—using them time and again until the commands became instinctive. Instructing servitors. Sending my own optical images, receiving other people's. Only then did I realize how restricted I had been until that moment. Earth was the kingdom of the blind, and Eden the one-eyed man. #149; #149; #149; This is a priceless gift, i told wing-tsit chong. I thank you. I am pleased you think it useful. Whatever gave you the original idea for affinity? A fusion of disciplines. My spiritual precepts told me that all life is in harmony. As a scientist I was fascinated by the concept of nonlocal interaction, a mathematical explanation for atomic entanglement. Quantum theory permits us to consider a particle as a wave, so the wave function of one particle may overlap another even though they are at distance. An effect once described as atomic telepathy. The original neural symbionts I developed allowed me to exploit this loophole and produce instantaneous communication. Identical cloned cells are able to sense the energy state in their twin. They are in harmony. But if affinity confirmed your Buddhist principles, why have you rejected it?i asked. I have not rejected the Buddha's basic tenets; rather I seek a different road to dhamma, or the law of the mind, which is the goal of the Buddhist path. How? I consider the nature of thought itself to be spiritual. Human thought is our mystery, it is our soul. All states of existence are contained within our own minds. Buddhists believe that thoughts should be cleansed and simplified to bring about progress along the path. For myself, I consider every thought to be sacred, they should all be treasured and revered, no matter what they are; only the wealth of experience can bring about enrichment of the soul. You cannot achieve this by meditation alone. By purifying your mind, you become nothing more than a machine for thinking, a biological computer. We are meant for more than that. Hoi Yin was rocking her head in agreement with everything he said. She had sat in on the whole affinity training session, helping Wing-Tsit Chong to drill me in the essentials. Her attitude towards me hadn't changed; and affinity showed me her thoughts were as hard and cold as her expression. But she remained quite devoted to the old man. I was becoming very curious about the underlying nature of their relationship. At first I'd thought she might be a relative, a granddaughter or a niece, but now I could see it wasn't that sort of attachment. She called herself his student. I'd say it was more like his acolyte. Is this what you believe, as well?i asked her. Alert tawny eyes regarded me for a full second, searching for treachery in the question. Of course. I have learnt to order my thoughts rationally. To accept what I am, and be thankful for it. I savour the essence of life. So why do you never smile? I asked myself. Hoi Yin has accomplished much in the time she has been with me, wing-tsit chong said. But it is Eden itself which is my greatest pupil, and my greatest challenge. I couldn't stop the amazed grin from spreading over my face. You're teaching Eden to be a Buddhist?the image that brought up was ridiculous; i hoped to hell that i genuinely had learnt how to internalize my flights of fantasy. No. I simply teach Eden to think. That is why I am here. This technophile conquest of Jupiter holds no interest for me, other than a purely academic admiration for the accomplishments of the JSKP's engineering teams. It is the habitat's intellectual nurturing which I consider important enough to devote my last days to. My final work. I developed affinity symbionts for the Soyana corporation back in 2058, and they made a great deal of money from selling bonded servitors before the worsening social and religious situation on Earth virtually closed down the market. It was on my insistence that they joined the JSKP consortium. I pointed out to the Soyana board that with a single modification to the proposed design of the habitats they could develop a whole new market here in Jupiter orbit where the population was uniformly educated, and largely immune to popular prejudice. I could see how the most effective utilization of servitors could be brought about, and advocated incorporating what is now termed the neural strata into Eden. Prior to this, it was envisaged the habitat would have only a small cluster of neural cells, possessing a limited sentience to regulate its functions. Penny Maowkavitz and I collaborated to design the cells and structure of the neural strata. And afterwards, while she devoted her energies to refining the design of new habitats, I assisted with the birth of Eden's consciousness. You mean it wasn't sentient to start with?i asked. How could something this smart not be self-aware? Wing-Tsit Chong smiled fondly out over the lake. The consciousness which is every human's birthright is a gift often overlooked. It is brought about over many years by responding to stimuli, by parental devotion in imparting language and example. Now consider a habitat seed; already its neural kernel is orders of magnitude larger than a human brain. Hoi Yin has explained to you how the neural strata is a homogeneous presence operating innumerable thought routines simultaneously. Well, those principal thought routines were all designed by me, and entered into the seed as growth was initiated. I have remained here almost ever since, guiding Eden through the inevitable confusion which awakening engenders in any living entity, and assisting it in refining those routines as required. There was, after all, so much I could not possibly foresee. Penny Maowkavitz was the creator of my physical structure,eden said, Wing-Tsit Chong is the father of my mind. I love them both. Hoi Yin was watching me closely, waiting for my reaction. You can love?i asked. I believe so. Any entity with a soul can love, wing-tsit chong said. It is only the fault of our flawed society that not all are given the chance to love. For only by showing love can you receive love in return. This is what I consider to be the most fundamental act of dana, the Buddhist practice of giving. In its purest state, dana is a sacrifice of self which will allow you complete understanding of the needs of others. And in doing so you transform yourself. A supreme state of Nibbana achievable only with unselfish love. Sadly so few are capable of such munificence. I expect you're right.i was getting out into waters way beyond my depth. philosophy doesn't figure very heavily on the hendon police college's training courses. i wondered what father cooke would have to say on the subject of eden having a soul. You worked with Penny Maowkavitz?i asked. For many years,wing-tsit chong said. As a geneticist she was peerless. So many fine ideas. So much energy and single-minded determination. Given the diversity of our respective cultural backgrounds our temperaments were not conjunctive, but even so we achieved much together. Eden alone is testament to that. I await with some eagerness to see what it is that will bloom from her grave. To experience eagerness at my age is remarkable. Only she could bring about such a thing. Did she confide in you at all? Alas no. Our union was conducted on a professional level. I was filled with sorrow at her radiation accident, and I grieve her death. To suffer so is a tragedy. But both of these incidents can only be understood in the greater nature of Kamma; our past actions create our present life. You mean she deserved it?i asked, surprised. You misunderstand; there is no cruelty involved with the law of Kamma, which is given as: knowledge of the ownership of deeds. The nearest Western interpretation of this would be controlling your own destiny. Only you are responsible for your own future. And the future is determined by the past. Reap as ye shall sow, i said. Again this is too literal, it demonstrates a Western inclination towards belief in preordained fate. You are rooted in the physical world. The determinative actions to which Kamma refer are acts of will. Right.i could see myself developing another headache if this went on much longer. now that's fate, action and reaction. So you don't know of anyone who would wish to harm her? No, I regret I can shed no light on the perpetrator for you. What about Boston?i asked. You're not listed as a member in the files I have been given. Do you support its aims? You asked to come here to learn about affinity, hoi yin interjected sharply. You outstay your welcome, Chief Parfitt. Patience.wing-tsit chong held up a hand, still smiling softly. Chief Parfitt has a job to do. We will assist in any way we can, and in doing so honour the memory of Penny Maowkavitz. Hoi Yin slouched down further in her chair. For someone who claimed to embrace rational thought, she could be amazingly petulant. I have taken no active role in the Boston group's activities, wing-tsit chong said. As you see, Chief Parfitt, I am no longer as robust as I once was. I chose to devote my remaining time to Eden, Pallas, and now Ararat. They still need nurturing; intellectually they remain children. I have been asked to endorse the Boston group, of course, several times. My name, they feel, will add weight to their campaign. I declined because I do not wish the indignity of becoming a meaningless symbol. Boston conducts its campaigns in what I see as very much a materialistic arena, who owns what, who has the right to issue orders. I do not condemn economics nor their ideological pursuit of national self-determination; but these causes must be seen in the context of the greater reality. The people of Eden already build and control the industrial facilities in Jupiter orbit. What is, is. Everything else is book-keeping, the chosen field of contest for those who lead the movement. JSKP and Boston are two armies of accountants, waging war in boardrooms. A storm in a teacup, i said. Wing-Tsit Chong gave a thin laugh. You are an interesting man, Chief Parfitt. You see more than you admit. If there is any other question arising from your investigation, please do not hesitate to contact me. You have the skill to do this, now. I do. And again I thank you for it. Hoi Yin and I stood up together. She fussed round Wing-Tsit Chong for a moment, tucking his blanket under his knees, straightening his silk jacket. I looked out over the lake. There was a small waterfall at the far end, its spray acting as a cage for rippling rainbows. The swans had all vanished. When I turned back, Hoi Yin was already pushing the wheelchair through a door into the house. I just couldn't work that girl out. #149; #149; #149; I drove the jeep halfway back towards the town, then pulled off the track and stopped. A subliminal query, and I knew that no one else was using the track, nor was there anyone walking through the surrounding parkland. I shook my head in bemusement when I realized what I'd done. I closed my eyes and settled back comfortably on the seat. This was something I'd known I would have to do right from the moment I got the call saying Maowkavitz had been murdered. Eden? Yes, Chief Parfitt. Show me your memory of Penny Maowkavitz's death. It was a composite of memories, taken from the various sensitive cells around Lincoln lake—mock-rock outcrops along the shore, small polyp-sided gullies, affinity-bonded birds and field mice, even smooth stones apparently jutting from the soil at random were polyp. Eden blended the viewpoints together, making it seem as though I was an invisible ghost floating beside Penny Maowkavitz as she took her morning walk. Just by looking at her I knew that had we ever met we would never have got on. There was no sympathy in the way her face was set; she had a core of anger that burned far darker than Hoi Yin's inner demon. The way she walked, legs striding on purposefully through the thick grass, belayed any impression of a casual stroll. She didn't drink down the view on her inspections; the wild flowers and the tangled trees had no intrinsic aesthetic value, they were simply aspects of design, she was hunting for faults and flaws. She came to the side of the lake, and made her way along the fine shingle around the edge. Beads of sweat were appearing on her face, glinting softly in the silver glimmer of the axial light-tube. I could smell their muskiness in the air. She undid the front of her long jacket, a spasm of irritation crossing her face as her hand touched the vector regulators strapped to her belly. Ten metres away the servitor chimp was walking across the grass, heading at a slight angle towards the lake. It had a dark utility bag to carry its gardening implements, the fabric stained and fraying, bulging with odd shapes. Penny Maowkavitz never paid it the slightest attention. I focused on her face. The wig wasn't on quite straight. Her lips were twitching, the way they do when people are lost in thought. What I'm sure was a frown had just started to crease her forehead when the chimp put its hand in the bag. Whatever problem Penny Maowkavitz was working on, its solution was eluding her. The chimp pulled out the pistol, its arm swinging round to point at her. Surprise flamed in her eyes, and her mouth started to open. Below her feet, Eden's general observation routines registered the object in the chimp's hand. Pattern recognition procedures were enacted immediately. Penny Maowkavitz's first flare of alarm impinged upon the neural strata. It ended abruptly as the chimp pulled the trigger. Blood and brain erupted as her skull blew open. The chimp froze as Eden's frantic command overrode every nerve impulse. Although even the habitat couldn't stop its teeth from chittering in fright. Primitive emotions whirled through its simple brain: terror, regret, panic, the last remnants of its animal origin fighting for recognition. If I had a more developed instinct I would have seized control of the servitor chimp much sooner, eden said sorrowfully. As it was, I took too long to identify the pistol for what it was. Penny Maowkavitz might have been alive today if I had not taken so long. Self-recrimination is unhealthy, i told it. christ, nursemaid to a habitat. but its thoughts had a timbre that made me think of a knowing child. i could hardly be angry, or even sarcastic. You have learnt from the incident. That's as much as any intelligent creature can hope for. You sound like Wing-Tsit Chong. Then I must be right. Instinct is a hard concept for me. So much of what I think is logical, precise. Finding out the world is neither kind nor well ordered is all part of growing up. Painful but necessary. I wish it was different. Believe me, we all do. How come you can't remember any further back? This happened more than thirty hours ago. I have two memory levels. The first is short term, a thirty-hour storage for every impression gathered by my sensitive cells. If something untoward occurs which I did not initially realize the importance of, such as who placed the bag with the pistol for the chimp to collect, then it can be recovered providing I am informed before the thirty hours are up. Other than that, memory is pointless. Why would I wish to memorize years of parkland in which no activity is occurring? If every sensitive cell impression were to be placed immediately into long-term memory, my total capacity would quickly be filled. So these observation memories dissipate quite naturally. Long-term memory is a conscious act, whereby I transfer over events from the short term for permanent record. That makes sense, I suppose. That short-term facility is like a security camera recording they use in the public areas back in the arcologies.i paused, recalling what i had reviewed. I want the memory again, but just the end section this time. After the chimp shoots her. The gunshot, shockingly loud to the chimp's unsuspecting ears. Eden's affinity orders slamming into its brain. A moment when the ether reverberated with their thoughts. Then the chimp's mind was engulfed by the habitat's glacial control. I could actually feel every muscle in in its body locked solid; looking through its eyes, seeing the grisly body toppling over. Again, please. But I already knew. In the instant between firing the shot, and being captured, a single thought-strand of regret had slithered through the chimp's mind. Where the hell had that come from? #149; #149; #149; Rolf was rising from his chair to greet me as soon as I walked into the incident room. «We had a positive result from Wallace Steinbauer over at the cyberfactory,» he said. «They've managed to put together a Colt .45 pistol. I said we'll come over and see for ourselves.» Excellent. The corner of his mouth lifted in sardonic acknowledgement. Welcome aboard, Chief. Thanks. By the way, I've been reviewing Eden's memory of the murder. Has anyone noticed the chimp's emotional outburst after it shot Maowkavitz? That earned me some blankly puzzled looks from around the room. No, sir, rolf said cautiously. Another point to the good guys. Then I suggest you all review it again. The chimp experiences quite a degree of regret immediately after pulling the trigger. I'd like some ideas why that should be, please. How are we doing with the other lines of enquiry? Still nothing in Maowkavitz's immediate past. No arguments, no disputes. And we've just about finished interviewing all the people she came into contact with. Oh, and the Governor is in the clear. We've more or less confirmed he didn't leave the pistol for the chimp. His schedule's been pretty hectic for weeks, he hasn't had the time to put together the pistol or wander out into the parkland. I ignored the jeer from the back of the room. Through Eden's sensitive cells in the polyp floor I knew it was Quinna. I wasn't even aware I'd enquired. This was going to take some getting used to. You do surprise me. Well, that snippet isn't to be considered confidential. Yes, sir. Shannon, how are you doing on accessing Maowkavitz's computer files? Some progress, boss.she gave me a thumbs-up from behind her terminal, then ducked her head down again. I've recovered about twenty per cent of the files stored in her home system. It's all been genetic work so far, beyond me. Rolf said to turn it over to Pacific Nugene for assessment. I haven't heard anything back from them yet. Those files were fairly easy to crack. But there's a whole series of files which use a much higher level of entry encryption techniques; stuff she didn't leave any keys for, not even in her will. That's real strange, because the files are quite large. They obviously contain a lot of work. OK, prioritize that, please, I want to know what's in them. Today if possible. Her head came up again, giving me a martyred look. I'm organizing some decryption architecture now. Good grief, an officer with initiative. Whatever next? An officer with decent pay, she shot back. I gave up. Any luck with the bag which the pistol was left in?i asked rolf. No. It's a standard issue flight bag, made in Australia, been in production for six years. JSKP distributes them to every family which is given an assignment here, they're automatically included with the cargo pods we're sent to pack everything in. Ninety per cent of the habitat population have one sitting at home somewhere. Impossible to trace. The medical lab at the hospital ran some forensic tests on it for us. No fingerprints, naturally. It had been wiped with a paper tissue; they found traces of the fibre, identified as a domestic kitchen towel. They also found some hair which they confirm came from the chimp. But nothing to tell us who put it there. Nobody said it was going to be easy, Rolf.i made an effort not to show how worried i was becoming. two days of solid investigation, with a fairly dedicated team putting in a lot of effort, and we were still no nearer to solving it than we were the minute maowkavitz was killed. that wasn't good. a worldlet where surveillance is total, an effective organization for collecting and correlating data. and That means a mistake was made. You cannot cover everything, every angle, because at the very heart of the crime lies your reason to murder. Once the police have that, they have you, no matter how well you camouflage your tracks with regards to the method. And with all I knew, I couldn't think of a reason why anyone in Eden would want to kill Penny Maowkavitz. Nobody I'd spoken to had actually admitted to liking her, but everyone respected her, it was like one of those universal constants. The only person left who could conceivably cast any light on the problem was Davis Caldarola. I'd held off interviewing him out of an old-fashioned sense of sympathy; according to Zimmels's ubiquitous files he and Penny had been together for seven years, her death would have hit him hard. He had certainly looked pretty shaken up when I glimpsed him at the funeral. Sorry, Davis. #149; #149; #149; Rolf drove the jeep down to the southern endcap, taking one of the five equidistantly spaced roads which ran the length of the habitat. A tram monorail ran down the outside of each lane. Two of the automatic vehicles passed us, coming in the opposite direction; bullet-nosed aluminium cylinders painted a bright yellow. They had seats for forty passengers, although I only saw five or six people using them. I couldn't work out why they'd been streamlined, either; their top speed was only forty-five kilometres an hour. Something Victorian would have been more appropriate, more pleasing to the eye as well. But that's modern designers for you, image junkies. We were halfway to the cyberfactory when the Governor called me. It was like a sixth sense made real; I Yes, Governor? About time you became affinity capable, he said. his mind-tone was as grumpy as his voice. How is the investigation going? I sent you a progress update file last night, sir. Yes, I accessed it. It's not what I'd call progress. You haven't found shit so far. It's only been two days, sir. Look, Harvey, I've got the board breathing acid fire down my neck. The newscable reporters are jamming half the uplinks from Earth demanding statements. Even the Secretary General's office is pressing for a result; they want to show how efficient and relevant the UN's administration of Eden is. I've got to have something to tell them all. What can I say, enquiries are continuing. Damn it, Harvey, I've given you time without any pressure; now I want results. Have you even got a suspect yet? No, sir, I haven't. Perhaps you'd care to take charge of the investigation yourself if you're that dissatisfied with my progress. Don't try pulling that smartarse routine on me, Harvey, it doesn't work. Come on, man, you should have some kind of lead by now. Nobody can hide in Eden. Really? Somebody is making a pretty good job of it. Harvey! Yeah, all right. Sorry. Tell them we expect to make an arrest in the near future. Usual crap; they know it is and we know it is, but it should satisfy the press for the moment. In any case, it's almost true; my team have eliminated quite a few possibilities, we're narrowing the field. But we have to have more time to correlate the information we've acquired. Nobody ever issued a set schedule for solving murder inquiries. Two days. I want a positive result which I can announce in two days, Harvey. Someone under arrest or in custody. Understand? Yes, sir. The contact ended. Who was that?rolf asked. The Governor. He's graciously given me two days to find the murderer. «Arsehole,» Rolf grunted. He pressed his toe down on the accelerator, and sent the jeep racing over the causeway that traversed the circumfluous lake. #149; #149; #149; Eden's cyberfactories were installed in giant caverns inside the base of the southern endcap. Apart from the curving walls, they didn't look any different from the industrial halls back in the Delph arcology: row after row of injection moulders, machine tools, and automated assembly bays with waldo arms moving in spider-like jerks. Small robot trolleys trundled silently down the alleys, delivering and collecting components. Flares of red and green laserlight strobed at random, casting looming shadows. We found Wallace Steinbauer in a glass-walled office on one side of the cavern. The JSKP Cybernetic Manufacturing Division's manager was in his late thirties; someone else I suspected had been gene-adapted. Above-average height, with a trim build, and a handsome, if angular, face that seemed to radiate competence. You just knew he was the right man for the job—any job. He shook my hand warmly, and hurriedly cleared some carbon-composite cartons from the chairs. His whole office was littered with intricate mechanical components, as though someone had broken open half a dozen turbines and not known how to reassemble them. Don't get many visitors here, he said in apology. I let my gaze return to the energetic rows of machinery beyond the glass. This is quite an operation you've got here. I like to think so. JSKP only posted me here a couple of years ago to troubleshoot. My predecessor couldn't hack it, which the company simply couldn't afford. Cybernetics is the most important division in Eden, it has to function perfectly. I helped get it back on stream. What do you make here? The smart answer is everything and anything. But basically we're supposed to provide all the habitat's internal mechanical equipment; we're also licensed by the UN Civil Spaceflight Authority to provide grade-D maintenance and refurbishment on spacecraft components and the industrial stations' life-support equipment; and on top of that lot we furnish the town with all its domestic fundamentals. Anything from your jeep to the water-pumping station to the cutlery on your kitchen table. We've got detailed templates for over a million different items in our computer's memory cores. Anything you need for your home or office, you just punch it in and it'll be fabricated automatically. The system is that sophisticated. In theory there's no human intervention required, although in practice we spend sixty per cent of our time troubleshooting. It's taken eighteen months to refine, but I've finally got us up to self-replication level. Any piece of machinery you see out in that cavern can now be made here. Except for the electronics, which are put together in one of the external industrial stations. Doesn't Eden import anything?i asked. Only luxury items. JSKP decided it would be cheaper for us to produce all our own requirements. And that includes all the everyday consumables like fabrics, plastics, and paper. My division also includes recycling plants, which are connected to the habitat's waste tubules. Eden's organs consume all the organic chemicals, but we reclaim the rest. What about the initial raw materials? Surely you can't make everything from recycled waste. Suppose I needed a dozen new jeeps for my officers? No problem. Eden digests over two hundred thousand tonnes of asteroid rock each year in its maw; it is still growing, after all.his mind relayed a mental image of the southern endcap, supplied directly from the integral sensitive cells. right at the hub was the maw; a circular crater lined with tall red-raw spines resembling cilia. the largest spines were arrayed round the rim, pointing inwards and rippling in hour-long undulations, giving the impression that some giant sea anemone was clinging to the shell. the arrangement was an organic version of a lobster pot; chunks of ice and rubble, delivered from jupiter's rings by tugs, were trapped inside. they were being broken down into pebble-sized granules by the slow, unrelenting movement of the spines, and ingested through mouth pores in the polyp. That was when the process became complex. Sandwiched between the endcap's inner and outer layers were titanic organs; first, enzyme filtration glands which distilled and separated minerals and ores into their constituent compounds. Anything dangerously toxic was vented back out into space through porous sections of the shell. Organic chemicals were fed into a second series of organs where they were combined into nutrient fluids and delivered to the mitosis layer to sustain Eden's growth. Inorganic elements were diverted into deep storage silos buried in the polyp behind the cyberfactory caverns, glittery dry powders filling the cavities like metallic grain. We have huge surpluses of metals and a host of other minerals, wallace steinbauer said. And they're all available in their purest form. We send the metal powder out to a furnace station to get usable ingots and tubing. The minerals we shove through a small chemical-processing plant. So you're totally self-sufficient now?i said. my admiration for penny maowkavitz had returned with a vengeance after i viewed the maw and its associated organs. that woman had ingenuity in abundance. I like to think so. Certainly we'll be able to provide Pallas and Ararat with their own cyberfactories. That's our next big project. Right now we're just ticking over with maintenance and spares for our existing systems. So a simple pistol is no trouble. That's right.wallace steinbauer rifled through some boxes at the side of his desk, and pulled out the colt with a triumphant grin. No major problem in putting it together, he said. But then I never thought it would be. We could build you some weapons far more powerful than this if you asked. I took it from him, testing the weight. It struck me as appallingly primitive; looking from the side the grip jutted almost as though it was an afterthought. There was an eagle emblem on the silicon, its wings stretched wide. Interesting point. If you could build any gun you wanted, why choose a weapon like this, why not something more modern? I'd suggest your murderer chose it precisely because of its simplicity, wallace steinbauer said. The Colt .45 has been around since the late eighteen-hundreds. Don't let its age fool you, it's an effective weapon, especially for close-range work. And from a strictly mechanical point of view it's a very basic piece of machinery, which means it's easy to fabricate, and highly reliable, especially when made out of these materials. I'd say it was an excellent choice. But why an exact replica?rolf asked. Surely you can come up with something better using the kind of CAD programs we have these days? My kid designs stuff more complicated than this at school, and he's only nine. In fact why bother with a revolver at all? The chimp was only ever going to be able to fire a single shot. I can give you a one-word answer, wallace steinbauer said. Testing. The Colt is tried and tested, with two hundred years of successful operation behind it. The murderer knew the components worked. If he had designed his own gun he would need to test it to make absolutely sure it was going to fire when the chimp pulled the trigger. And you can hardly test a gun in Eden. I handed the pistol over to Rolf. Everyone keeps talking about templates, and original components, i said. Where did they come from? I know any reference library memory core would have video images of a Colt. But where did actual templates come from? How did you make this one? Wallace Steinbauer scratched the back of his head, looking faintly embarrassed. My division has the templates for quite a few weapons. It's the potential, you see. If the police or the Governor ever really needed heavy duty firepower, like if those Boston bastards turn violent, I could provide you with the relevant hardware within a few hours. Those stun guns and lasers you're issued with are only adequate providing you don't come up against anything more powerful. And the Colt is one of the templates?i said wearily. Yes, I'm afraid so. I didn't know myself until your department came to me with this request. It looks like someone back on Earth just downloaded an entire Who else has accessed the Colt's file? Wallace Steinbauer grimaced apologetically. There's no record of any access prior to my request. Sorry. Has your computer been compromised? I thought it was a secure system, but I suppose it must have been. There are only five people in the division including me who have the authority to access the weapons files anyway. So the murderer must have hacked in; if they have the skill for that, erasing access records wouldn't pose any problem. I used singular-engagement mode to tell Rolf: We'll need alibis for Steinbauer and the other four who can access the weapons file. Also check to see if any of them ever had any contact with Maowkavitz. Yes, sir. What about records for machine time?i asked steinbauer. Do you know when the original pistol's components were fabricated? Again, nothing, he said, cheerlessly. We're going to have to strengthen our whole computer system after this. I didn't realize it was quite so open to abuse. It worries me. So there won't be any record of the materials being taken out of storage either, i concluded glumly. No. Hiding a kilogram loss would be absurdly easy. We're used to dealing in ten-tonne units here. Unless it's larger than that we wouldn't even notice it's gone. Great. OK, Rolf, I want Shannon over here to examine the computer system. See if she can find any signs of tampering. He pulled a sardonic face. We'll be popular. Do you want her to do that before she tries to crack the rest of Maowkavitz's files? I winced as I tried to sort out a priority list in my mind. No, Maowkavitz's files must come first. The Cybernetics Division computer is a long shot, but I would like it covered today. Do we have someone else who could run through it? I could try, if you like. I took software management as my second subject at university. OK, see what you can come up with. And also run a check through any other memory cores you can think of, see if the Colt's template was on file anywhere else.i gave wallace steinbauer a tight smile. I'd like you to install some stronger safeguards in your computer procedures as soon as possible, please. The idea of people being able to walk in here any time they like and load a template for an artillery piece isn't one I enjoy. I am responsible for Eden's overall security, and this seems like a gaping flaw. Sure, I'll ask Quantumsoft if they can supply us with a more secure access authority program. Good. Did you know Penny Maowkavitz? He inflated his cheeks, and let out an awkward breath. Definitely a question he really did not want to be asked. I knew her. We had to keep the Biotechnology Division informed about the raw material produced by the digestive organs, especially if there were any problems. It was strictly an inter-department contact. Penny was intractable, i suggested. You've heard. Yeah. We didn't get on terribly well. But there was no point in making an issue out of it. I'm due back to Earth in another four months. And there was her illness . . . I think you're the first person I've met that doesn't like it here. I do like Eden, he protested lightly. It's interesting work, challenging. But the Snecma company has offered me a vice-presidential post in the New Kong asteroid. Better pay, more responsibility. I couldn't turn that down. #149; #149; #149; I left Rolf in Wallace Steinbauer's office to review the Cybernetics Division computer, and drove myself over to Penny Maowkavitz's house. By Eden's standards it was lavish, though nothing like as ostentatious as she could afford. She had built herself a U-shaped bungalow, with the wings embracing an oval swimming pool. It was set in a large garden which was shielded by a hedge of tall fuchsia bushes. I guessed Maowkavitz had designed the bushes herself; the topaz and jade flowers were larger than my fist, looking like origami snowflakes. Quite beautiful. Davis Caldarola was sitting in a chair at the poolside, slouched down almost horizontally. He was in his fifties, just starting to put on weight. A ruby-red sports shirt and baggy shorts showed me limbs with dark tanned skin and a mass of fine greying hair. A tall glass was standing on the table beside him, rapidly melting ice cubes bobbing about near the bottom. I guessed at vodka and tonic. A second guess that it wasn't his first today. I made a conscious effort not to check with Eden. He gestured roughly at a nearby chair, and I dragged it over to him. «Ah, Eden's Chief of Police, himself. I'm honoured. I was wondering when you'd come calling,» he said. The voice was furry, not quite slurred, but close. In his state, I don't suppose he wanted to try holding his thoughts steady enough to use the affinity symbionts. «Your people have been barging round in the house for days.» «I'm sorry if they're getting in your way. They were told to be as quiet as possible.» «Ha! You're running a murder investigation. You told them to do whatever they have to, and bugger what—« He broke off and pressed his fists to his forehead. «Shit. I sound like the all-time self-pitying bastard.» «I think you're entitled to feel whatever the hell you like right now.» «Oh, very good; very clever. Christ Almighty.» He snatched the glass off the table and glared at it. «Too much of this bloody stuff. But what else is there?» «I need to know what you can tell me about Penny, but I can come back later.» He gave a loud snort. «I wouldn't if I were you. I'll be even worse then.» The last of the vodka was downed in a swift gulp. «What can I tell you? She was awkward, argumentative, obstinate, she wouldn't tolerate fools at all, let alone gladly. They all knew that, they all tiptoed around her. amp;lsquo;Making allowances for her brilliance.' Like bollocks. They were jealous, all of them; her colleagues, her company staff, even that yogi master fruitcake Chong. She wasn't brilliant, she was a fucking genius. They don't call this Eden for nothing, you know, and it's her creation.» «You're saying people resented her?» «Some of them, yeah.» «Anyone in particular?» «God, I don't know. They're all the same, fawning over her in public, then stabbing her in the back once she's out of earshot. Bastards. None of them are sorry she's gone, not really. The only one who was ever honest about hating her guts was Chong's bimbo. The rest of them . . . they ought to hand out Oscars for the acting at that funeral.» A servitor chimp came out of the house, carrying another tall glass. It put it on the table beside Davis Caldarola, and picked up the empty one. Davis gave the new glass a guilty look, then squinted over at me. «Have you got any idea who did it?» «Not a specific suspect, no. But we've eliminated a lot of possibles.» «You haven't got a fucking clue, have you? Jesus, she's murdered in full view, and you don't have one single idea who did it. What kind of policeman are you?» I steeled my expression, and said: «A persistent one. I'll find the culprit eventually, but I'll do it a lot quicker with your cooperation.» He wilted under the rebuke, just as I expected. Davis was a grieving drunk prone to tantrums, not an anti-establishment rebel. «I want to know about her,» I said more gently. «Did she talk to you about her work?» «Some. We were a stimulus to each other. I listened to her describe her genetics projects; and I explained my own field to her. She was interesting and interested. That's why our relationship worked so well, we were compatible right across the board.» «You're an astronomer?» «Astrophysicist.» He grinned savagely. «Get it right. There's some in my profession who'd be badly offended by that. Think yourself lucky I'm so easygoing.» «Does the JSKP pay for your work?» «Some of it, my position is part-funded by the University of Paris. I'm supposed to be studying Jupiter's gravitational collapse. Interesting field.» «You don't sound very enthusiastic.» «Oh, there's enough to captivate me. But there's a lot else going on up here, more provoking puzzles. Even after all this time observing Jupiter at close range, and dropping robot probes into the atmosphere, there's very little we know about it, certainly what goes on within the deeper levels, below the altitude which the probes can reach. Our solid-state sensor drones implode long before they reach the semisolid layers. All we've got on the interior is pure speculation, we don't understand what happens to matter at those sort of compression factors, not for sure. And Christ alone knows what's actually taking place at the core. There's a hundred theories.» «And Penny was interested?» He picked the glass of vodka up, swirled the ice, then put it down without drinking any. «Yeah. Academically, anyway. She could follow the arguments.» «What did she tell you about her work?» «Whatever she wanted. What bugged her, what was going well, new ideas. Christ, she would come up with some bizarre concepts at times. Balloon fish that could live in Jupiter's atmosphere, mythological creatures, webs of organic conductors which could fly in the Earth's ionosphere.» «Anything really radical?» «What? Those not enough for you? Don't you want to see dragons perching on the mountaintops again?» «I meant something which could upset national economies, or put companies out of business.» «No, nothing like that. Penny wasn't an anarchist. Besides, ninety per cent of her time was still tied up with developing the next generation of habitats. She was determined to do as much as she could before . . .» He trailed off helplessly. «So, no secret projects, no fundamental breakthrough to crown her achievements?» «No. The habitats were enough for her.» «Did she ever mention anyone she was having trouble with?» He gave the glass another covetous look. «No individuals. She was narked with some of the Boston crowd—« He stopped. Flinched. «You know about them?» «Oh, yes. I know all about you.» He grunted dismissively. «Big deal.» «I take it the Boston argument was over the timing of independence?» «Christ, some secret society we are. Yes. OK. All right, everyone knows it. Penny wanted the declaration as soon as the cloudscoop was operational. She was trying to talk people round, those that supported Parkinson. Which wasn't a good idea, she's not the diplomatic type. I was doing what I could, trying to help. She deserved to see independence.» His eyes narrowed on my uniform's UN insignia. «The old order overthrown.» «What about you and her, did you ever argue?» «You shit. You think I'd do that? I'd kill Penny? You fucked-up Gestapo bastard.» He hurled the glass of vodka towards me in an unsteady lurch. I didn't even have to duck, the aim was so wild. It splashed into the pool and sank, leaving just the ice cubes floating about. I wanted to tell him. That it was just procedure. That he shouldn't take it personally. And that, no, I didn't think he killed her. But his whole face was contorted into abject misery, on the verge of tears. Instead, I stood up and mumbled something vaguely apologetic. I don't suppose he even heard. Another servitor chimp carrying a fresh glass was already heading over to him when I slid open a patio door and stepped into Penny Maowkavitz's study. Nice going, boss, shannon said. she was sitting in a luxurious scarlet swivel chair in front of a computer console, registering moderate exasperation. You know I had to ask. Yes. And I could have told you what reaction you would get. Yeah. But then that's what Davis would do even if he was guilty. I looked at her in surprise. Do you think he's guilty? No. You're a big help. How did it go at the Cybernetics Division? Not good. Their computer security is a shambles. How are you making out with this one?i gazed at maowkavitz's computer; it was a powerful hypercube marque, with enough capacity to perform genesplice simulations. shannon had removed three panels from the side of the console, exposing the neat stack of slim processor blocks inside. a rat's nest of fibre-optic ribbons wormed their way through the databuses, plugging the system into several customized electronic modules lying on the carpet. Shannon shoved some of her loose copper hair back from her forehead, and pointed to her own laptop terminal balanced on the edge of the console. Tough going, but I think I'm making progress. I frowned round the study; it was almost depersonalized. A white-wall cube with a few framed holograph stills of various animals and plants I suspected where Maowkavitz's own gene-adaptions. How come Eden doesn't know the codes? It can't see in. The whole room is made of composite, even the floor, and the patio door is silvered. Funny. Not allowing her own creation to see what she was up to. You think that's significant? Insufficient data, which you're going to rectify for me. Today, remember? If Boston includes police unionization and improved working conditions on its manifesto, they'll get my vote. #149; #149; #149; After that interview with Caldarola, which I can only describe as badly bungled, I drove back to the police station with the first chill of depression souring my thoughts. Or maybe it was plain honest guilt. I should have gone easier on Davis Caldarola; I knew full well he wasn't in any state to answer difficult personal questions. Then again, Shannon was quite right saying what she had: if he was guilty, that's exactly how he would behave. Eden. Yes, Chief Parfitt? Did Maowkavitz and Caldarola argue very often? They disagreed over many things. But their discussions were mainly conducted on a rational level. I would judge that they debated rather than argued. Although I do recall several rather intense rows over the years; but none of these occurred during the last eight months. His attitude towards her was one of complete devotion. Thanks. I didn't really suspect him. But, Christ, you've got to go by the book. Without that, without the law, nothing would function, society would cease to exist. Police work is more than tracking down lone lunatics. But I didn't expect Davis Caldarola would be too interested in a sociology lecture right then. I was right. I did feel guilty. #149; #149; #149; I still hadn't unpacked the small box of personal items I'd brought with me to the office. There wasn't much in it, holograms of Jocelyn and the twins, paper books, some carved quartz we'd picked up on a holiday—God knows where, the memory was long gone. I sat at the desk and stared at it. I simply couldn't be bothered to make the effort to unpack. Besides, if Boston did make a bid for independence after the cloudscoop was lowered, I might be packing it up again real soon. If I didn't stop them. If the police wouldn't follow orders to stop them. If I didn't join them. Christ. I put my head in my hands and allowed myself a long minute of self-indulgent pity. It was no practical help, but wallowing in misery can feel great on occasion. Almost refreshing. Eden. Yes, Chief Parfitt? Give me the identity signature for Lynette Mendelson, please. The memory wasn't quite a visual image, more like an emotional sketch. I carefully ran through the procedure for singular engagement—it would never do for this conversation to be public property—and called her, projecting that unique mental trait which encapsulated her essence. The response was more or less what I expected when I identified myself. Oh, shit, I might have known you'd dump yourself into my life sooner or later, lynette mendelson groused. What did that bastard Zimmels tell you about me? Only that he caught you trying to sell copies of the genomes for some new transgenic vegetables grown up here.i tactfully didn't mention what else was in her file. lynette mendelson worked for the jskp in eden's agronomy division as a soil chemistry specialist. it put her in a position where she had access to each batch of pacific nugene's new crop designs as they came out of the laboratory for field testing. it was a position which subjected her to a great deal of temptation. especially as she had a record for fencing prototype dna splices back on earth. technically, she should never have been allowed up here; jskp didn't employ anyone with a less than spotless record. but zimmels had vetoed the personnel department's rejection. a deceptively wily man, zimmels. because, sure enough, after twenty fascinating months spent analysing lumps of soil mendelson reverted, true to form. as an entrapment exercise, it was damn near perfect. Zimmels made her the inevitable offer: join Boston, or get shipped back to Earth where JSKP will probably have you prosecuted, and certainly have you blacklisted. Unemployment and the dole for life. Boston gained an ardent new supporter. That was a long time ago, lynette mendelson said. It certainly was. And I'm willing to overlook it, i told her magnanimously. But how do you think your Boston friends will react to knowing you've been supplying the Police Department, and indirectly the JSKP, with the names of their members, and information on their activities for the last two years? Eden has already had its first murder, so I suppose a lynching is inevitable at some point. You bastard! You knew perfectly well what you agreed to, Lynette; being a police informer is the same as paying taxes and becoming one of the undead, it lasts for ever. Zimmels was paying me. I doubt it. Well, go ahead and blow me to Boston, then. Fat lot of use I'll be to you then. Fat lot of use you are if I'm not kept regularly updated.i paused; in this game you have to know when to allow a little slack. i'd run enough informers in my own time. But I do have a small discretionary fund available. You'd better not be shitting me. Would I? All right; but I want real money, not some poxy taxi-driver tip. I'm taking risks for you. Thank you, Lynette. I want to know about the argument on the timing of when Eden should declare independence. Just how heated was it? It wasn't heated at all, not on the surface. These people are born-again politicians, everything they say is smooth and righteous. Policy discussions are all very civilized. But there was some objection to declaring independence right after the cloudscoop is lowered. Parkinson wanted to wait, I know, he told me. According to him, you wouldn't have enough money from a single cloud-scoop's revenue to fund the buyout. That was Bob's big justification, yes. Penny's argument was that everything is relative. If today's operation can buy out today's shares, she said, then it makes no sense to wait a decade until the profits go up, because the equity base will increase proportionally. If anything, it makes the situation worse, because investors will be far more reluctant to let go of a sizeable ultra-stable successful He Have they taken a vote yet? No. It's all been pushed off until after the cloudscoop lowering is complete. Parkinson, Harwood, and a few other big guns from Boston's council are down on the anchor asteroid for the next few weeks supervising the mission. If it's successful they'll start the debate for real. I see. Tell me, do you know if Boston ever tried to recruit Wallace Steinbauer? He was asked. But Snecma offered him a good position back in the O'Neill Halo. Eden and the JSKP are just opportunities for him, he's exploiting his success with the Cybernetics Division to put himself way ahead of his contemporaries on the corporate ladder. He's an ambitious little bastard. Everyone knows that. So he turned Boston down flat; frightened he'd be tarred with the brush of the revolution. That would kill his promotion chances stone dead. Snecma have a seven per cent stake in JSKP, he's one of their most senior people here. OK, thanks for your help. I'll be in touch. Can't wait. #149; #149; #149; My watch said it was gone five when Nyberg drove me over to the hospital. Not that I could tell, the day-long noon of the light-tube was dousing the town and parkland in the same glaring corona as it always did. Corrine hadn't been exactly enthusiastic about my visit, but I'd come over all official, so she acquiesced with a minimum of fuss. Bicycles filled the streets again. Everyone on their way home. Affinity allowed me to soak up the general buzz of expectation they radiated. When I asked Nyberg if that was always how it was, she told me people were optimistic about the cloudscoop lowering, eager for it to begin. I suppose I hadn't really been paying attention to the impending mission and what it meant. But of course, to Eden's population it was the dawn of a whole new era. Almost as if the habitat was coming of age. Boston or no Boston, this was what they were here to achieve. It was only people like me who were mired in the mundane. Corrine was sitting working at her desk, with a pile of bubble cubes beside her terminal. «Be with you in a minute,» she said, without looking up. Fine. She grinned wolfishly, and slipped another cube into the terminal's slot. Your session with Chong went well, then? Yes. Quite a remarkable man. Makes me feel glad I threw my rank about; someone like me doesn't often get the chance to talk to a living legend. Make the most of it. What's that supposed to mean? Corrine held her hand up, concentrating hard on the terminal's holographic screen. Then she let out a satisfied grunt, and flicked the terminal off. The bubble cube was ejected from its slot. Amazing. The kids born up here just don't have psychological problems. I'm going to have to recommend we release two of our paediatric psychiatrists from their contracts and send them back to Earth. They're just wasting their time in Eden. Yes, you told me before, the kids who grow up with affinity are better adjusted. So I did. But the degree to which they've involved themselves in this consensus mentality is astounding. You'd normally expect one or two unable to cope, but we haven't found one single case. Maybe I should keep the psychiatrists on after all, they make a fascinating study. Sure. You were talking about Wing-Tsit Chong. She gave a miscreant smile. No. It's you who's interested. Corrine! OK. Spare me the third degree. You saw how frail he was? Yeah.i felt a sudden chill. Not another terminal illness? Not exactly an illness, just something we all suffer from eventually: old age. He is over ninety, after all. I could keep him alive for several more years, maybe even stretch it out for over a decade. We have the appropriate life-support techniques nowadays, especially for someone as important as him. But he turned down all my offers. I can hardly insist; and he's quite happy doing what he does, sitting and thinking all day long. I hope I go like that when it's my turn; out there in the clean air watching the swans paddle about, rather than in a hospital bed smothering in machinery. How long has he got? Sorry, detective, that's something I can't give you a precise answer to. I'd say anything up to a couple of years, providing he doesn't overtax himself. Fortunately Hoi Yin makes sure he doesn't. Yes,i said emphatically, so I noticed. Do you know how the two of them met? She's his student, so she always told me. They were both already here when I arrived four years ago. And in all that time she's never been involved with anyone. Surprisingly, because enough have tried. Was that what you came over to ask me about? Gossip on Hoi Yin? There's no need to turn up in person, that's what affinity is for. Bloody marvellous faculty, isn't it? You'll have to practise using it. A lot of people experiment once they've had their symbionts implanted. Sex is a popular field of exploration with the teenagers, and the teenagers at heart. Sex? Yes. Affinity is the only true way to find out what it really feels like from the other side. Christ. As Chief of Police I think it's my duty to access your record; how you were ever granted a practitioner's licence to minister to the sick is beyond me. Dear oh dear, I do believe our hardened criminologist is blushing. Aren't you the remotest bit curious? No. Liar. I was. It's . . . interesting. Knowing I'll take your word for it.the damnedest thing was, now she had mentioned it the notion seemed to have lodged in my mind. curiosity is a terrifying weapon. So if it isn't sex, and it isn't how to meet the divine Miss Hoi Yin socially, what did you come here for? I went to the window wall behind her, and shut the louvre blinds. Silver-grey light cast dusky shadows across the office. What are you doing?corrine asked. Eden, can you perceive the inside of this office? It is difficult, Chief Parfitt. I see the silhouette of someone standing behind the blinds, that is all. Thank you."what about hearing? can you hear what's being said in here?» The question was met with mental silence. Corrine was giving me a speculative look. I backed away from the window. «There's a question I've wanted to ask you. I don't know if I'm being paranoid, or if I'm misunderstanding affinity, but I'd value your opinion on this.» «Go on.» «You told me that the children share their thoughts quite openly. So that set me to thinking, is it possible for the servitor chimps to develop a communal intelligence?» «Is it . . . ?» Corrine trailed off in shock, then gave a nervous little laugh. «Are you serious?» «Very. I was thinking of an insect hive mind. Individually the chimps are always subsentient, but what if all those minds are linked up by affinity and act in tandem? That's a lot of brain power, Corrine. Could it happen?» She was still staring at me, thunderstruck. «I . . . I don't know. No. No, I'm sure that couldn't happen.» She was trying to sound forceful, as if her own conviction would make it certain. «Intelligence doesn't work like that. There are several marques of hypercube computers which have far more processing power than the human brain, yet they don't achieve sentience when you switch them on. You can run Turing AI programs in them, but that's basically just clever response software.» «But these are living brains. Quantum wire processors can't have original thoughts, inspiration and intuition; but flesh and blood can. And it's only brain size which is the barrier to achieving full sentience. Doesn't affinity provide the chimps with a perfect method of breaking that barrier? And worse, a secret method.» «Jesus.» She shook her head in consternation. «Harvey, I can't think of a rational argument to refute it, not straight off the top of my head. But I just can't bring myself to believe it. Let me go through it logically. If the chimps developed intelligence, then why not tell us?» «Because we'd stop them.» «You are paranoid. Why would we put a stop to it?» «Because they are servitors. If we acknowledge their intelligence they stop working for us and start competing against us.» «What's so terrible about that? And even if the current generation were to stop performing the habitat's manual labour, people like Penny would just design new ones incapable of reaching . . . Oh shit, you think they killed her.» «She created them; a race born into slavery.» «No. I said people «Oh. I should check my facts more thoroughly. Sorry.» «Hell, Harvey, you frightened me. Don't do things like that.» I managed a weak smile. «See, people would be afraid if the chimps developed intelligence. There's a healthy xenophobic streak running through all of us.» «No, you don't. That wasn't xenophobia. Shock, maybe. Once the initial surprise wore off, people would welcome another sentient species. And only someone with a nasty suspicious mind like yours would immediately assume that the chimps would resort to vengeance and murder. You judge too much by your own standards, Harvey.» «Probably.» «You know you're completely shattering my illusions about policemen. I thought you were all humourless and unimaginative. God, sentient chimps!» «It's my job to explore every avenue of possibility.» «I take it this means you don't have a human suspect yet?» «I have a lot of people hotly protesting their innocence. Although the way everyone keeps claiming they overlooked Penny Maowkavitz's infamous Attitude because of who she was is beginning to ring hollow. Several individuals had some quite serious altercations with her.» Corrine's face brightened in anticipation. «Like who?» «Now, Doctor, the medical profession has its confidentiality; we humble police have our sub judice.» «You mean you don't have a clue.» «Correct.» #149; #149; #149; I wasn't back in the house thirty seconds when the twins cornered me. «We need you to authorize our implants,» Nicolette said. She held up a hospital administration bubble cube. Her face was guileless and expectant. Nathaniel wasn't much different. Fathers have very little defence against their children, especially when they expect you to be a combination knight hero and Santa Claus. I glanced nervously at the kitchen, where I could hear Jocelyn moving about. «I said, next week,» I told Nicolette in a low voice. «This is too soon.» «You had one,» Nathaniel said. «I had to have one, it's my job.» «We need them,» Nicolette insisted. «For school, for talking with our friends. We'll be ostracized again if we're not affinity-capable. Is that what you want?» «No, of course not.» «It's Mum, isn't it?» she asked, sorrowfully. «No. Your mother and I both agree on this.» «That's not fair,» Nathaniel blurted hotly. «We didn't want to come here. OK, we were wrong. Bringing us to Eden was the greatest thing you've ever done for us. People live here, really live, not like in the arcologies. Now we want to belong, we want to be a part of what's going on here, and you won't let us. Well, just what do you want us to do, Dad? What do you want from us?» «I simply want you to take a little time to think it through, that's all.» «What's to think? Affinity isn't a drug, we're not dropping out of school, the Pope's an idiot. So why can't we have the symbiont implants? Just give us one logical reason.» «Because I don't know if we're staying here,» I bellowed. «I don't know if we're going to be I couldn't remember the last time I'd raised my voice to them—years ago, if I ever had. They both shrank back. The shame from watching them do that was excruciating. My own kids, fearful. Christ. Nathaniel rallied first, his expression hardening. «I'm not leaving Eden,» he snapped. «You can't make me. I'll divorce you if I have to. But I'm staying.» He very deliberately put his bubble cube down on a small table, then turned round and stalked off to his room. «Oh, Daddy,» Nicolette said. It was a rebuke that was almost unbearable. «I did ask you to wait. Was one week so difficult?» «I know,» she said forlornly. «But there's a girl; Nat met her at the water sports centre.» «Great. Just great.» «She's lovely, Dad. Really pretty, and she's older than him. Sixteen.» «Pension age.» «Don't you see? She doesn't mind that he's a few months younger, that he's not as sophisticated as she is, she still likes him. That never happened to him before. It couldn't happen to him, not back on Earth.» Sex, the one subject every parent dreads. I could see Corrine's face, leering knowingly. Eden teenagers use affinity to experiment. Thoroughly. I must have groaned, because Nicolette was resting her hand on my arm, concern sculpted into her features. «Dad, are you all right?» «Bad day at the office, dear. And what about you? Is there a boy at the sports centre?» Her smile became all sheepish and demure. «Some of them are quite nice, yes. No one special, not yet.» «Don't worry, they won't leave you alone.» She blushed, and looked at her feet. «Will you speak to Mum about the symbionts? Please, Dad?» «I'll speak to her.» Nicolette stood on tiptoes, and kissed me. «Thanks, Dad. And don't worry about Nat, his hormones are surging, that's all. Time of the month.» She put her bubble cube on the table next to Nathaniel's, and skipped off down the hall to her room. Why is it that children, the most perfect gift we can ever be given, can hurt more than any physical pain? I picked the two bubble cubes up and weighed them in my palm. Sex. Oh, Christ. When I turned round, Jocelyn was standing in the kitchen doorway. «Did you hear all that?» Her lips quirked in sympathy. «Poor Harvey. Yes, I heard.» «Divorced by my own son. I wonder if he'll expect alimony?» «I think you could do with a drink.» «Do we have any?» «Yes.» «Thank Christ for that.» I flopped down in the lounge's big mock-leather settee, and Jocelyn poured me a glass of white wine. The patio doors were open wide, letting in a balmy breeze which set the big potted angel-trumpet plants swaying. «Now just relax,» Jocelyn said, and fixed me with a stern look. «I'll get you something to eat later.» I tasted the wine—sweet but pleasant. Shrugged out of my uniform jacket, and undid my shirt collar. Another sip of the wine. I fished about in the jacket for my PNC wafer, and accessed the JSKP's personnel file on Hoi Yin, or Chong's bimbo, as Caldarola had called her. I'd been curious about that ever since. Surprisingly, my authority code rating was only just sufficient to retrieve her file from the company memory core; its security classification was actually higher than Fasholé Nocord's. And there I was thinking my troubles couldn't possibly get any worse. #149; #149; #149; My fourth day started with a re-run of the third. I drove myself out to Wing-Tsit Chong's lakeside retreat. Eden confirmed Hoi Yin was there, what it neglected to mention was what she was doing. I parked beside the lonely pagoda and stepped down out of the jeep. The wind chimes made a delicate silver tinkling in the stillness. Chong was nowhere to be seen. Hoi Yin was swimming in the lake, right out in the middle where she was cutting through the dark water with a powerful crawl stroke. I would like to talk with you, i told her. Now, please. There was no reply, but she performed a neat flip, legs appearing briefly above the surface, and headed back towards the shore. I saw a dark-purple towel lying on the grass, and walked over to it. Hoi Yin stood up just before she reached the fringe of water lilies, and started wading ashore. She wasn't wearing a swimming costume. Her hair flowed down her back like a slippery diaphanous cloak. There's an old story which did the rounds while I was at the Hendon Police College: when Moses came down from the mount carrying the tablets of stone he said, «First the good news, I managed to get Him down to ten commandments. The bad news is, He wouldn't budge on adultery.» Looking at Hoi Yin as she rose up before me like some elemental naiad, I knew how the waiting crowd must have felt. Men have killed for women far less beautiful than her. She reached the edge of the lake and I handed her the towel. Does nakedness bother you, Chief Parfitt? You seem a little tense.she pulled her mass of hair forwards over her shoulder, and began towelling it vigorously. Depends on the context. But then you'd know all that. Quite the expert, in fact. She stopped drying her hair, and gave me a chary glance. You have accessed my file. Yes. My authority code gave me entry, but there aren't many people in Eden who could view it. You believe I am at fault for not informing you what it contained? Bloody hell, Hoi Yin, you know you're at fault. Christ Almighty, Penny Maowkavitz designed you for Soyana, using her own ovum as a genetic base. She altered her DNA to give you your looks, and improve your metabolism, and increase your intelligence. It was almost a case of parthenogenesis; genetically speaking, she's somewhere between your mother and your twin. And you think that wasn't important enough to tell me? Get real! It was not a relationship she chose to acknowledge. Yeah. I'll bet. Quite a shock for her, I imagine, finding you up here with Chong. She ignored nearly all of Calfornia's biotechnology ethics regulations to work on that contract; and indenture is pretty dodgy legal ground even in Soyana's own arcology. Your file says you were created exclusively as a geisha for all those middle-aged executives, that's why you were given Helen of Troy's beauty. Maowkavitz considered you an interesting organism, nothing more. You were a job that paid well, and twenty-eight years ago Pacific Nugene needed that money quite badly. Everything which came later, her success and fortune, was all founded on the money which came from selling you right at the start, you and Christ knows how many other sisters like you. Then you came back to haunt her. Hoi Yin wrapped the towel around her waist, and tied a knot at the side, just above her right hip. Droplets of water were still glistening across her torso and breasts. Oh yes, I noticed. Christ, she was magnificent. And completely composed, as if we were discussing some kind of financial report on the newscable. Emotionally divorced from life. I did not haunt Penny Maowkavitz. I made precisely one attempt to discuss my origin with her. As soon as I told her who and what I was, she refused to speak to me. A situation I found quite acceptable. I don't doubt it. Your mother, your creator, the woman who breathed life into you so that you could be condemned to an existence of sexual slavery. Then when you do meet, she rejects you utterly. And yet she made you more intelligent than herself, compounding her crime. Even when you were young you must have been smart enough to know how much more you could be, a knowledge which would grow the whole time you were with Soyana, all those years gnawing at you. I don't think I could conceive of a situation more likely to breed resentment than that. It wouldn't even be resentment at the end, just loathing and dire obsession. Do you believe I murdered Penny Maowkavitz, Chief Parfitt? You're the alleged psychology expert. Why don't you tell me what a girl with your history would feel about Penny Maowkavitz? Have you got a candidate with a better motive? I can tell you exactly what I thought about her. If I had met her ten years ago I would have killed her without even hesitating. You cannot even begin to imagine how vile my life was, although you were correct about my heightened intellect. My mind was the supreme punishment Penny Maowkavitz inflicted upon me, it set me aloof, forcing me to watch the uses to which my body was put by Soyana, understanding that there was never to be any escape, and that every thought which I had for myself was utterly irrelevant. Ignorance and stupidity would have been a blessing, a kindness. I should have been a dumb blonde. But instead she gave me intelligence. The other girls and I were kept out of the way in an arcology crèche until we reached puberty, and our education covered just one topic. Was that in my file, Chief Parfitt? Did you read how the joyful spirit of a five-year-old girl was meticulously broken to prepare me for the life I was to lead? I only learnt to read when I was fourteen. I found an entertainment deck's instruction booklet at the home of my master, and asked him to explain it to me. It was in German, the first written words I had ever seen. He taught me the meaning of the letters because he thought it was amusing to have me talk in German, another trick in my repertoire. In one month I could read and speak the language better than he.her back was held pridefully rigid, shoulders squared. but those wonderful gold-brown eyes weren't seeing anything in this universe, they were boring straight into the past. tears had begun to trickle down her cheeks. «Oh, Christ.» I was beginning to regret ever coming out here. You just can't imagine anything bad happening to someone so beautiful. The data was all there in her file, but that's all it was: data. Not living pain. And Chong took you away, i said gingerly. Yes. When I was sixteen, I was assigned to the Vice-President of Soyana's Astronautics Division. Wing-Tsit Chong was his guest for dinner on several occasions. This was the time when Eden's seed was being germinated out here, his last trip to Earth. He was kind, for I was so ignorant, yet I thirsted for knowledge. It surprised him, that a simple geisha should understand the concepts of which he spoke. I had learnt how to operate a terminal by then, it was my way of exploring the world beyond my master's house, beyond the Soyana arcology. The only window my mind had. Ten days after he met me, Wing-Tsit Chong asked that I be assigned to him. Soyana could not offer me to him fast enough; after all, the company fortune was built on the foundation stone of affinity. And you've been with him ever since, i said. I have. He told me later he accessed my record, and saw what I was. He said he was angered that a life such as mine should be so wasted. It is he who birthed me, Chief Parfitt, not Penny Maowkavitz. My mind is free now thanks to him. He is my spirit father. I love him. Hoi Yin, all you've told me . . . it just makes you look even more guilty. I am guilty of one thing, Chief Parfitt; I have not yet reached the purity of thought to which Wing-Tsit Chong has tried to raise me. I will never be worthy of his patronage, because I hate. I hate Penny Maowkavitz in a fashion which shames me. But I can never exorcize the knowledge of what she did. And that is why I would never kill her. I don't follow. Hoi Yin wiped the tears with the back of her hand. It was such a delicate childish action, betraying her terrible vulnerability, that I ached to put my arms round her. I wanted, needed, to draw the hurt out of her. Any male would. I would not kill Maowkavitz, because she was dying of cancer, hoi yin said. Her last months of life were to be spent screaming as her body rotted away. That, I thought, was Kamma. She would have suffered through it all, for she is a soulless inhuman selfish monster, and she would have fought her decay, stretching out her torment at the hands of those clinically caring doctors. If today I could save her from that bullet wound I would do so, in order that she might undergo that horrendous final ordeal which was her ordained destiny. Penny Maowkavitz never deserved anything so quick and clean as a bullet through the brain. Whoever did that cheated me."they cheated me!» she yelled, face screwed up in passionate rage. I stepped up to her as she started sobbing, cradling her as I often did Nicolette. She was trembling softly in my embrace. Her skin below my hands was textured as smooth as silk, I felt the warmth of her, the residual dampness. She clung to me tightly, open mouth searching blindly across my chin. Then we were kissing with an almost painful urgency. She pulled my uniform off as we tumbled onto the thick grass. Her towel came free with one fast tug from my hand. Suddenly we were locked together, rolling over and over with her hair flying free around us. She was strong, and magnificently supple, and dangerously knowledgeable. And affinity was blinding me with desire; I could feel my hands squeezing her breasts and stroking her thighs, and at the same time I could taste the rapture each movement brought her as she surrendered her thoughts to me. All I could think of was doing whatever I could to bring her more ecstasy. Then I let her discover my enjoyment. The whole world detonated into orgasm. #149; #149; #149; I woke to find myself lying on my back in the grass beside the lake. Hoi Yin was snuggled up beside me, one finger stroking my chin. She smiled lazily, which was like watching sunrise over Heaven. «I haven't done that for twelve years,» she said huskily. «I know the feeling.» Christ, what was I saying. «And I have never been with a man from my own choice before. Not once. How strange that it should be you.» She kissed me lightly, and ran her finger along the line of my jawbone. «Don't be guilty. Please. This is Eden, only one step down from paradise.» «And I'm one step from hell. I am married, Hoi Yin.» «I won't spoil your happiness. I promise, Harvey.» First time you've called me that. Because this is the first time you have been Harvey to me. I'm not entirely sure I like Chief Parfitt. He can be cold.her lips started to work down my throat. «You don't love me, do you?» I'm not quite sure for whose benefit the hopeful tone was included in that question. The confusion raging round in my mind made clear thinking very difficult. No, Harvey. I enjoy you. At this moment we are right for each other. Yesterday we were not. Tomorrow, who knows? But now is perfect, and should be rejoiced. That is the magic of Eden, where human hearts are open to each other. Here honesty rules. Ah. Do you enjoy me, Harvey? I'm old enough to be your father. A very young father.her tongue put in an impish appearance at the corner of her mouth. I accessed your file long before you accessed mine. Wing-Tsit Chong's authority can open any JSKP file for me. Christ. So answer the question, do you enjoy me? Yes. Good. She swung a leg over my belly, and straddled me. Her corona of wild blonde hair caught the light, shimmering brightly. A splendidly erotic angel. I'm on duty, i protested. She laughed, then held herself perfectly still. Her mind released a surge of desire, revealing the places where she adored to be touched. My hands moved up to caress her, seemingly of their own accord. #149; #149; #149; When it comes to guilt, who better to consult than a priest? Except for the fact that I would never ever dream of telling Father Cooke about me and Hoi Yin. Christ, Jocelyn and I have our first pleasant civilized evening together for I don't know how long, and first thing next morning I'm making love to the most beautiful girl the world has ever known. And not just twice, either. Her youth and voracity proved a powerful aphrodisiac. We had parted without any promises of commitment. All very bohemian and fashionable. In one respect she was right about Eden, or at least affinity; we could see right into each other's hearts. There and then our emotions had harmonized. She desperate and anguished; me appalled, wanting to comfort, and weighted down with a sense of isolation. There and then, what we did was right. Only in Eden. Where else would I make love in a field like some uncontrollably randy teenager? Where else would I make love to a girl who is physical perfection? Who also happens to be my principal suspect. Whose expertise the police had called upon to examine, in private, the chimp which pulled the trigger. Who reported back that there was no visual memory of the murderer, nor could ever be one. Oh, crap. #149; #149; #149; There was no one in the main section of the church, but Eden directed me to the small suite of rooms at the back where Father Cooke lived. I found the priest sitting in his lounge, watching the cloudscoop-lowering operation on a hologram screen. «It's supposed to be my morning for Bible class at school,» he said with a contrite grin. «But the kids are like everyone else today, watching the cloudscoop. It gives me an excuse to tune in like the rest of them.» He indicated a chair, then frowned. «Did you fall over, Chief?» I brushed self-consciously at the smear of mud on the sleeve of my jacket. My trousers still had some broken blades of grass clinging to them. And the fabric was a mass of creases. The whole uniform had been cleanly pressed when I left the house that morning. «Yes. But nothing broken.» I sat hurriedly and pointed at the large wall-mounted screen. «How's it going?» The screen showed a picture of the anchor asteroid traversing Jupiter's choppy cloudscape. A thin spear of stellar-bright fusion plasma was emerging from the centre of the radiator panels. It looked as though it could be braided, but the screen's resolution wasn't sharp enough for me to be sure. Cooke had turned the sound down, muting the news-cable commentator's voice to a monotonous insect buzz. «It's going fine by all accounts,» he said. «Look at that clustered fusion drive unit, ten thousand tonnes of thrust. Imagine that! Sometimes I think we're challenging the Almighty Himself with these stunts. Rearranging the cosmos to suit ourselves. What boldness.» «You don't approve?» «On the contrary, my son, I love this aspect of being up here, right out where the cutting edge of engineering is happening. Spaceflight and high technology have always fascinated me. That's one of the main reasons Eden was given to me as my parish. The bishop thought I was unhealthy on the subject, but my enthusiasm works to the Church's advantage.» «But you don't have neural symbionts.» «Of course not, but I talk to Eden through my PNC wafer. And the servitor chimps respond to verbal orders when I need any tasks performed round the house. The only thing I miss out on is this glorified mental telephone ability to converse with someone away down the other end of the habitat. But then, when people need to talk to me, I prefer it to be face to face. There are some traditions which should be maintained.» He was smiling with soft expectancy, a thousand lines crinkling his humane face. «Jocelyn and I talked last night,» I began lamely. «We haven't done that for quite a while.» «That's good, then. That's encouraging.» «Possibly. You see, the twins told us in no uncertain terms how much they enjoy being in Eden. They want to stay.» «Well, I could have told you that was going to happen; I've seen it a hundred times. Do you know why the majority of the population supports Boston? It's because if Eden becomes an independent nation, they will be its legal citizens. In other words, they won't be sent back to Earth when their contract with the JSKP runs out.» I hadn't considered that aspect of grassroots support. Trust a priest to see the true motivation factor behind all the fine words about destiny and liberty. «The thing is, the twins want neuron symbiont implants. They say they'll be left out if they're not affinity capable.» «Which they will, and you know that. Your children especially, I don't suppose they had it easy back on Earth.» «Christ, you must be psychic.» «No, my son, I'm not. I wish I were, it would make my job a lot simpler, given the way people hedge and squirm in the confessional. What I have is a terrible weight of experience. I know the way police and company security men are regarded on Earth. It's becoming clear to me that the price of an industrialized society is an almost total collapse of civil and moral behaviour. Urbanization blunts our responsibilities as citizens. Eden is a complete reversal of that, the pastoral ideal.» «Yeah, I expect you're right. But what do we do, Jocelyn and me? She's completely torn; more than anything she wants the twins to be happy, but she doesn't want them to be happy here.» «And you do.» «I don't mind where they are as long as they have that chance at happiness. But I can't imagine them ever being happy back on Earth, not now they've seen Eden, seen how it doesn't have to be like the arcology.» «That's understandable. When urban kids are let loose to run around up here, they really do believe it's paradise.» «You're saying it again, how much you approve of Eden.» «Like every human society, there is much to admire, and much to regret. Physically, materialistically, Eden is far superior to Earth. I suspect your children really won't be swayed by arguments of spiritual fulfilment. People under fifty rarely are.» «If it was just me, I'd stay,» I told him earnestly. «I'd love to stay. You know that. But what about Jocelyn? Affinity is the biggest barrier between us, ironic as that sounds. I just can't ever see her fitting in here. Not now. I had it all planned out so beautifully before we came. She was going to take a job in the Governor's office; she used to work in the Delph arcology administration back in London. JSKP are quite good about that kind of thing, finding family partners employment. But she's obviously not going to be able to do that now, because you need affinity for any job where you have to interface with other people. If I've learned nothing else in the last couple of days, I've learned that. And she won't have the implant, which means she'll have to sit around at home all day long. Imagine how demeaning that will be for her, not to mention depressing.» «Yes, I see your problem,» he said. «Your children won't leave, your wife can't stay. And you love them both. It's a pretty fix you've got yourself in, my son, and no mistake.» «So what do you think? Should I keep on trying to persuade Jocelyn to have an implant? Or could you do it, convince her that the symbionts are harmless, that they don't violate the Pope's declaration?» «Alas, I'm not sure about that, my son,» he said regretfully. «Not at all. Perhaps the Pope was wrong to concentrate on the affinity gene itself rather than the whole concept. I came here with the first batch of people to live in the habitat, five years ago. I've seen how they've changed thanks to this communal affinity. It almost abrogates my role entirely. They don't need to confide in me any more, they have each other, and they are totally honest about their feelings, affinity allows that.» «You don't like it because it's putting you out of a job?» I asked, annoyed at him for what seemed almost like conceit. I wanted my problem solved, not his regrets about falling service attendance. «They are not turning from me, my son, rather what I represent. The Church. And not just Christians either; there is a small Muslim community in Eden as well, they too are turning from their teachings, and as a rule of thumb they tend to be even more devout than the old Catholics. No, affinity is taking people from God, from faith. Affinity is making them psychologically strong together.» «Surely that's good? «I wish it were so, my son. But to have so much self-faith borders on hubris. The absolute denial of God. I cannot endorse what I see happening here. I urge you with all my heart to talk with your children again, try and convince them how ultimately shallow their lives would be if they were to spend them here.» I stared at him for a long minute, too shocked to speak. What the hell could he know about affinity? What gave him the right to pass judgement? All my misgivings about the Church and its blind dogma were beginning to surface again. «I'm not sure I can do that, Father,» I said levelly. «I know, my son. I'll pray that you are given guidance in this matter. But I genuinely feel that Eden is being emptied of divine spirit. In His wisdom our Lord gave man a multitude of weaknesses so we might know humility. Now these people are hardening their souls.» For a second his face showed an immense burden of regret, then he mustered his usual placid smile. «Now, before you go, do you have anything to confess, my son?» I stood, putting on a front of steely politeness. Why is it that you can never manage to be rude to men of the cloth? «No, Father, I have nothing to confess.» #149; #149; #149; Did you hear all that?i asked eden when i was back in the jeep. I did. The intimation of immense calmness behind the thought mollified me. Slightly. What do you think? Are we all using you and affinity like some kind of cephalic valium? What can I say, Chief Parfitt? I believe the priest is wrong, yet he is a decent man who means well. Yeah, and God preserve us from them. What do you intend to do about your family? Christ, I don't know. I suppose you saw me and Hoi Yin? Yes. Your association registered with my sensitive cells. Association, i mused. I don't think I've ever heard it called that before. Wing-Tsit Chong explained that there are some human subjects which should be approached with extreme caution. Sex is one of them. He's certainly right about that.i turned the jeep onto the road leading to the police station. there was a locker room there, i could have a shower, wash the smell of her away. that was probably what clued father cooke in. nothing i could do about the messed up uniform, though. unless i sent a servitor chimp sneaking into my bedroom. Almost without conscious thought I could see the house. Jocelyn was in the lounge, watching the cloudscoop lowering on the newscable. Two servitor chimps were cleaning the street pavements a hundred metres away from the front garden. Sending one in unnoticed would be easy. My three spare uniforms were hanging up in a closet—memory of yesterday: Jocelyn hanging them up, taking care not to crease them. No. I wasn't going to resort to that. But I wasn't going to confess, either. That wasn't the answer. Boss?shannon called. Hello, and i think i conveyed just a bit too much boisterous relief in my response. there was a slight recoil. Er, I've cracked Maowkavitz's remaining files, boss. Great, what's in them? I think you ought to come out to the house and have a look for yourself. On my way.there was a suppressed excitement in her thought. i did a u-turn, and sent the jeep racing towards the plush residential sector on the edge of town. Davis Caldarola greeted me when I came in through the front door. He was wearing very dark sunglasses, every move measured and delicate. Classic hangover case. Sorry about yesterday, he said humbly. I'm not like that normally. Don't worry about it. In my job I meet too many bereaved people. You were remarkably restrained, believe me. Thanks. Where's Officer Kershaw? In the study. Shannon was lounging indolently in the big scarlet chair, a very smug expression in place. Three screens were illuminated on the top of the console, each displaying a vast amount of fine blue text. Have you been here all night?i asked. Almost. Someone was pretty insistent about wanting to know what was in her files, remember? OK, enjoy your moment of glory. What have you found? According to her access log record, the last fifty-two files she was working on contained Cybernetics Division records. They're pretty comprehensive, too. She's been downloading them from their computer for the last six weeks. I don't get it.i gave davis caldarola a puzzled glance, meeting equal bafflement. Did she tell you she was working on this?i asked him. No. Never. Penny never showed the slightest interest in the Cybernetics Division, certainly not after Wallace Steinbauer took over a couple of years ago. It was one of her jokes that ultimately she could replace all the mechanical systems inside the habitat with biological equivalents, and put the whole division out of work. She said they were a temporarily necessary anachronism. She always resented using the jeeps and the funicular railways. I studied the screens again. The tabulated data was simply list after list of mechanical components and domestic items which the factories had manufactured, each one with an index cataloguing the date, time, material composition, energy consumption, quality control inspections, what it was used for, who requested it . . . «What did she want it all for?» I mumbled. And more importantly, why didn't Wallace Steinbauer tell me she had been downloading all his division's files? He claimed there was very little contact between him and Maowkavitz. Because he didn't know?shannon suggested sagely. Good point. The Cybernetics Division computer system was poorly managed. Could Maowkavitz download these records without anyone in the Cybernetics Division knowing? Shannon pouted. I certainly could. And Maowkavitz probably knew the system management command codes; she was a JSKP director, after all. Hacking in would be very simple for her. OK. So tell me, Shannon, what is the point of acquiring this much data on anything? What can you actually do with it? Data? Two things, sell it or search it. Penny wouldn't sell it, davis caldarola said emphatically. There's nothing here to sell anyway, shannon said. The actual assembly bay control programs use a form of flexible fuzzy logic which is quite sophisticated, they might be reasonably valuable to a rival manufacturing company, but they're hardly exclusive. And in any case,she waved an arm at the console, they're not here. These files are just manufacturing records. Which leaves us with a search, i said. You got it, boss. OK, genius, search it for what? She flashed a smile, and started typing rapidly on a keyboard. Her programs don't have restricted access, only the files. So let's see.the data on the screens began to change as she called up various system menus. her head swivelled round like a vigilant owl as she checked the ever-changing display formats. «gotcha!» a sharply pointed fingernail tapped one of the screens. This is the one. According to the log record she was using it the day before she died.long columns of purple and green numbers fell down the screen. shannon blinked, and peered forwards eagerly. Holy shit. Boss, it's a tracer program which looks for gold. Gold?i queried. Davis Caldarola gave a small start. I only just caught it out of the corner of my eye. And he covered fast, turning it into a perplexed scowl. Interesting. Yes, shannon said. It's a fairly basic routine; it just runs through the files and pulls any reference for gold. And Penny Maowkavitz was using it to search the Cybernetics Division files? Which file has the same log-on time as the search program? Way ahead of you, boss.the screens were running through menu displays again, too fast for the data to be anything other than a fluorescent smear. In my own mind I was starting to assemble a theory, segments of the puzzle manoeuvring round each other, slotting together. There was a strong sense of conviction rising, buoying up my flagging confidence. Progress was coming too fast for it to be mere coincidence. Eden. Yes, Chief Parfitt. Tell me about the asteroid rock you digest; does it contain gold? Yes. And other precious metals? Yes. Silver and platinum are also present in small quantities. «But everything is relative,» I whispered. Eden digests over two hundred thousand of tonnes of rock each year, that's what Wallace Steinbauer told me. And had been doing so ever since it was germinated. Davis Caldarola had turned even paler. Do you separate these precious metals out and store them in the silos in the southern endcap?i asked. Yes. What is the current quantity stockpiled in the silos? I am holding one thousand seven hundred and eighty tonnes of silver; one thousand two hundred and thirty tonnes of gold, and eight hundred and ninety tonnes of platinum. «I never knew that,» Shannon said. She had stopped typing to look at me in astonishment. Me neither, i said. It wasn't in any briefing I received. In fact, I doubt the JKSP board even knows about it. I expect the information that Eden could extract precious metals as well as ordinary ones was hidden away in some technical appendix that nobody ever looked at, that's if Maowkavitz ever bothered to mention it at all. Why?shannon demanded. Well, Davis?i said heavily. Why don't you tell us? I didn't know, he blurted. I don't believe you, Davis. It was an extremely subtle deception; and one which must have been planned right from the very start. In other words, it was Penny Maowkavitz's idea. His jaw worked silently, then he slowly lowered his head into his hands. «Oh God, you've got this all wrong.» So put us straight, i said. It was never for personal gain. It was all for Boston, everything she did was for us. She was going to reveal the existence of the precious metal stockpile after independence,i said. Then it could be used for Boston's buyout of JSKP shares. You know?he asked in surprise. It seems logical. Yes. It was all so beautifully simple. Only Penny could be this elegant. Nobody has ever attempted to extract precious metals from asteroid rock before. Sure, precious metals are present in the O'Neill Halo asteroids, but the quantities simply aren't large enough to warrant building specialist extraction units on to the existing furnaces. Given the mass of ore involved, it isn't cost-effective. But in Eden's case it costs nothing for the digestive organs to extract them from the ore. Like you said, she never told the JSKP board the metals were being automatically refined; and nobody ever thought in those terms. The board never expected to receive gold from Jupiter. And what you don't know, you can't act upon, i said. Neat. She just wanted what was best, he insisted staunchly. How many other people knew?i asked. Only the four of us. Penny thought that it would be a very hard secret to keep. People would be tempted. I expect she's right. So you and she knew; who were the others? Antony Harwood and Eric McDonald. Not Bob Parkinson? He is Boston's leader now, after all. Davis Caldarola let out a contemptuous snort. No way! She said she didn't trust him any more. Not since this row over the timing. She said he was showing his true loyalties now the crunch was coming. I know she didn't want him as a trustee any more, she was going to replace him. OK, I know Harwood. Who's Eric McDonald? He used to be in charge of the Cybernetics Division, before JSKP brought in their management whiz-kid Steinbauer. Eric is still up here; he got shunted sideways into the cloudscoop operation, supervising the microgee industrial stations which produced the pipe. Steinbauer didn't know? No. Hell, he's not even a Boston member. I looked enquiringly at Shannon. I'd guess that Penny Maowkavitz has been checking up on Steinbauer. If anyone was likely to find out about the stockpile, it would be him. Blowing that subterfuge to the JSKP board really would guarantee his promotion. Most likely, yes, boss. So what was the last file Maowkavitz reviewed? She consulted one of the screens. Now that's a funny one; strictly speaking it isn't a Cybernetics Division file. It's the maintenance log for a Dornier SCA-4545B two-man engineering capsule. JSKP has about sixty of them up here, tending the industrial stations and the He The data on the screen didn't mean anything to me. Run the gold search program, i told her. Her finger stabbed down on the enter key. Bingo. #149; #149; #149; Can you actually see Steinbauer yourself?i asked rolf. Yes, sir; he's in his office, two down from the one I'm using. What's he doing? Using the computer, I think. He's sitting at the desk, anyway. OK, under no circumstances are you to approach him.i turned the jeep onto one of the main roads running the length of the habitat. at the back of my mind i was aware of eden clearing all other traffic from the road ahead of me, and diverting people away from the cyberfactory cavern where steinbauer had his office. i twisted the accelerator, pushing the jeep up to fifty kilometres an hour, top speed. Boss, shannon called, I make that over two hundred and twenty modifications to the capsule systems; he's been replacing everything from wiring to thermal foil. Have they all been substituted? Yes. OK, thanks, Shannon. Nyberg? Yes, sir. What's your ETA? We're leaving the station now, sir. We should be there in eight minutes. I saw a mirage of three police jeeps pulling out onto the street, each with five officers dressed in black lightweight flex-armour. The trouble was, people were huddled on the pavement watching the little convoy speed past. They would be telling their friends, who would tell their friends. The whole habitat would be blanketed with the news in a matter of minutes. Someone was bound to inform Steinbauer in all innocence. And there wasn't a thing I could do about it. What worried me was the kind of weapons the armed response team might be facing. Steinbauer could have built anything in that bloody factory, from a neutron beam rifle to a guided missile. We wouldn't know until he hit us with it. I toyed with the idea of just calling him and telling him we knew, point out that he couldn't escape. It might save lives, especially if he panicked when the team crashed into the office. But then again he might just use the time to prepare. Command decisions, what I get paid for. Eden. Yes, Chief Parfitt? Can you see anything which might be a weapon in Steinbauer's office, or anywhere else in the cyberfactory for that matter? No. But I'm still reviewing the mechanical objects whose function isn't immediately clear to me. Shunt the images straight to Rolf, he ought to be able to speed up the process. Sir, rolf said. Steinbauer has just asked me what's happening. I've told him it's just a readiness exercise. Shit. Is he buying it? He is asking me to confirm, eden said. Which I have done. I looked through the sensitive cells in Steinbauer's office, seeing him sitting at his desk, frowning out at the ranks of machinery in the cavern. He gave Rolf a concerned glance, then stood up. A wave of trepidation from Rolf flooded back to me. If he makes a move towards you, I'll tell him the response team will be issued with shoot to kill orders, i told him. Thanks, sir. Steinbauer was leaning over his desk, typing furiously on his computer console. Hey!rolf protested. What is it? The computer memory is erasing. God damn, he's wiping the whole Cybernetics Division system clean. Steinbauer picked up a small box, and left his office. Outside, the machines were coming to a halt in a crescendo of squealing metal. Red strobes began to flare in warning, turning the whole cavern into a lurid grotto of oscillating shadows. Trolleys braked suddenly, some of them spilling their loads. Alarm klaxons added to the din of abused machinery. Rolf's hands gripped the armrests of his chair. I could feel the tendons taut in his forearms as Steinbauer walked past the glass wall in front of him. Eden, are there any servitor chimps in the cavern? No, Chief Parfitt, I'm afraid not, the noise and machinery upsets them. Damn.i had thought we could send a scrum of them to overpower him. Steinbauer had reached the back of the cavern. The sensitive cells showed me tiny beads of sweat pricking his forehead. He opened the box and took out the Colt .45 pistol. It was the one we had asked him to build. «Bugger,» I spat. My jeep had just reached the start of the causeway. Eden, did he make any bullets for it? Yes. You did ask for a complete evaluation. Rolf, get out. Now. Eden, pull everyone else from the cavern; steer them clear of Steinbauer as they go. I watched impotently as Steinbauer checked the revolver's barrel, and pulled the safety catch back. Steinbauer? No answer, although he did cock his head to one side. He carried on walking along the rear wall. Steinbauer, this is pointless. We know about the gold and the Dornier capsule. Put the pistol down. You're not going anywhere. This is a habitat, for Christ's sake, there's nowhere to hide. Steinbauer stopped in front of a circular muscle membrane in the wall. He stood there with both hands on his hips, glaring at it. He has ordered it to open, eden said. But I won't allow it. Where does it lead to? It is one of the entrances to the inspection tunnels which run through my digestive organs. I was abruptly aware of the tunnels, a nightmare topology which twined round the titanic organs. The entire southern endcap was riddled with them. Steinbauer tilted his head back, peering curiously at the polyp roof. Then the image vanished from my mind, colour streaks imploding like a hologram screen that had been fused. Eden, what's happening? I do not know, Chief Parfitt. My input from the sensitive cells at the rear of the cavern has failed. I cannot account for it. Something seems to be affecting my interpretation routines. «Christ!» The jeep had reached the entrance to the cavern. A dozen cyberfactory staff were milling round outside, uncertainty etched on their faces. I braked sharply, and tapped out my code on the small weapons locker between the jeep's front chairs. The lid flipped open, and I pulled out the Browning laser carbine. Everybody back, i ordered. Get on the next tram, I don't want any of you left on this side of the circumfluous lake. Rolf was elbowing his way through them. Have you seen Steinbauer?i asked. No. He hasn't tried to come out. I gave the entrance to the cavern a jaundiced look; it resembled a railway tunnel that had been lined in marble. There were no doors, no way of sealing it. Eden, how many entrances to the inspection tunnels are there? Eleven. Oh great. OK, I want the entire southern endcap evacuated. Get everyone back across the lake. Nyberg, I want the response team distributed round all the tunnel entrances. If Steinbauer emerges without warning, they are to shoot on sight. Christ knows what he's got stashed away in the tunnels. Yes, sir, she acknowledged. Rolf, get the rest of our people kitted out with armour and issued with weapons. I think we might have to go into those tunnels and flush him out. I'm on it, sir, he said, grim-faced. Chief Parfitt, eden called. I am losing my perception inside the inspection tunnel leading away from the back of the cyberfactory cavern. There's over eighty kilometres of tunnels, rolf exclaimed in dismay. It's a bloody three-dimensional maze in there. Clever place to hide, i said. Or perhaps not. If he can't consult Eden about his location, he's going to wind up wandering round in circles.i started to walk into the cavern, the browning held ready. red light was flickering erratically. the chemical smell of coolant fluid was strong in the air. Wing-Tsit Chong? Yes, Harvey, how may I help you? I have been informed that armed police have been deployed in the habitat; and now Eden tells me it is suffering a disturbingly powerful glitch in its perception routines. That's where I'd like your advice. Wallace Steinbauer has come up with some sort of disruption ability. Presumably it's based on the same principles he used to fox the chimp's monitoring routine. Have you and Hoi Yin come up with any sort of counter yet? Wallace Steinbauer? Yes, the Cybernetics Division manager. It looks like he's Penny's murderer. I see. One moment, please. I edged round the corner of the assembly bay closest to the entrance, and scanned the long aisle ahead of me. Several trolleys had stopped along its length, two of them had collided, producing a small avalanche of aluminium ingots. There was no sign of Steinbauer. Eden, can you perceive me? Only from the sensitive cells around the entrance, the rest of the cavern is blocked to me. OK.i crouched low and scuttled along the aisle. the flashing red light made it hellish difficult to spot any genuine motion on the factory floor. funnily enough, the one thing which kept running through my mind as i made my way to the rear of the factory was the thought that if steinbauer had murdered penny maowkavitz, then hoi yin was in the clear. Incredibly unprofessional. Harvey, wing-tsit chong called. I believe we can offer some assistance. The dysfunctional routines Steinbauer leaves behind him can be wiped completely, and fresh ones installed to replace them. Great. However, the ones in his direct vicinity will simply be glitched again. But that in itself will enable us to track his position, to around fifteen or twenty metres. OK, fine. Do it now. A blinked glimpse of the placid lake beyond the veranda. Hoi Yin bending over towards him, long rope of blonde hair brushing his knee rug, her face compressed with worry. His thin frame was trembling from the effort of countering Steinbauer's distortion, a heavy painful throbbing had started five centimetres behind his temple. I am regaining perception of the cavern, eden informed me. Steinbauer is not inside. He must be in the inspection tunnel. I started running for the rear of the cavern. The muscle membrane was half-open, quivering fitfully. As I approached it the lips began to calm. It is not just the perception routines Steinbauer is glitching, wing-tsit chong said with forced calmness. Every segment of the personality in the neural strata around him is being assaulted. A wicked smell of sulphur was belching out of the inspection tunnel. I coughed, blinking against the acrid vapour. What the hell is that? The muscle membrane promptly closed. It must be a leakage from the enzyme sacs, wing-tsit chong said. The duct network which connects them to the organs is regulated by muscle membranes. Steinbauer is wrecking their autonomic governor routines. Christ.i stared helplessly at the blank wall of polyp. Have you located him yet? He is approximately two hundred metres in from the cavern, thirty metres above you, eden said. Rolf, do we have gas masks? No, sir. But we could use spacesuits. Good idea, though they're going to restrict— The cry which burst into the communal affinity band was awesome in its sheer volume of anguish. It contained nameless dread, and loathing, and a terrified bewilderment. The tormented mind pleaded with us, wept, cursed. Wallace Steinbauer was standing, slightly stooped, in a cramped circular tunnel. It was illuminated in a gloomy green hue, a light emitted by the strip of phosphorescent cells running along the apex. Its polyp walls had a rough wavy texture, as if they'd been carved crudely out of living rock. He was retching weakly from the appalling stench, hands clutching his belly. Lungs heaved to pull oxygen from the thick fetid air. The floor was inclined upwards at a gentle angle ahead of him. Wide bugged eyes stared at the tide of muddy yellow sludge which was pouring down the tunnel. It reached his shoes and flowed sluggishly around his ankles. Immediately he was struggling to stay upright, but there was no traction; the sludge was insidiously slippery. Cold burned at his shins as the level rose. Then blowtorch pain was searing at his skin, biting its way inwards. His trousers were dissolving before his eyes. He lost his footing, and fell headlong into the sludge. Pain drenched every patch of naked skin, gobbling through the fatty tissue towards the muscle and bone beneath. He screamed once. But that simply let the rising sludge into his mouth. Fire exploded down his gullet. Spastic convulsions jerked his limbs about. Sight vanished, twisting away into absolute blackness. Coherent thoughts ended then. Insanity blew some tattered nerve impulses at us for a few mercifully brief seconds. Then there was nothing. Minds twinkled all around me, a galaxy misted by a dense nebula. Each one radiating profound shock, shamed and guilty to witness such a moment. The need for comfort was universal. We instinctively clung together in sorrow, and waited for it to pass. Father Cooke was quite right: sharing our grief made it that much easier to endure. We had each other, we didn't need the old pagan symbols of redemption. #149; #149; #149; The fifth day was mostly spent sorting out the chaos which came in the wake of the fourth; for the Governor, for the newscable reporters, (in a confidential report) for the JSKP board, for the police, and for the rest of the shocked population. Pieter Zernov and I organized a combined operation to clear the inspection tunnels and recover the body. I let his team handle most of it—they were welcome to the job. Fasholé Nocord was delighted the case had been solved. The general public satisfaction with my department's performance added complications to Boston's campaign. We had proved beyond any shadow of doubt the effectiveness and impartiality of the UN administration. Not even a senior JSKP employee could escape the law. Congratulations all round. Talk of promotions and bonuses. Morale in the station peaked up around the axial light-tube. The one sour note was sounded when Wing-Tsit Chong collapsed. Corrine told me he had badly overstressed himself in helping us overcome Steinbauer's distortion of Eden's thought routines. She wasn't at all confident for his recovery. All in all, it allowed me to, quite justifiably, postpone making any decisions about Jocelyn and the twins. #149; #149; #149; I used the same excuse at breakfast on the sixth day, as well. Nobody argued. At midday I took a funicular railway car up the northern endcap, and headed down the docking spindle to inspect Steinbauer's dragon hoard. The pressurized hangar I had requisitioned was just a fat cylinder of titanium, ribbed by monomolecule silicon spars, with an airlock door at the far end large enough to admit one of the inter-orbit tugs. A thick quilt of white thermal blankets covered the metal, preventing the air from radiating its warmth off into space. Thick bundles of power and data cables snaked about in no recognizable pattern. I glided through the small egress airlock which connected the hangar to Eden's docking spindle, tasting a faint metallic tang in the air. The Dornier SCA-4545B hung in the middle of the yawning compartment, suspended between two docking cradles that had telescoped out from the walls. It was a fat cone shape with two curving heavily shielded ports protruding from the middle of the fuselage. Every centimetre had been coated in a layer of ash-grey carbon foam which was pocked and scored from innumerable dust impacts. An array of waldo arms clustered round its nose were fully extended; with their awkward joints and spindly segments they looked remarkably like a set of insect mandibles. Equipment bay panels had been removed all around the fuselage, revealing ranks of spherical fuel tanks, as well as the shiny intestinal tangle of actuators, life-support machinery, and avionics systems. Shannon Kershaw and Susan Nyberg were floating over one open equipment bay, both wearing navy-blue one-piece jump suits, smeared with grime. Nyberg was waving a hand-held scanner over some piping, while Shannon consulted her PNC wafer. I grabbed one of the metal hand hoops sprouting from the Dornier's fuselage, anchoring myself a couple of metres from them. How's it going? Tough work, boss, shannon replied. she glanced up and gave me a quick impersonal smile. It's going to take us days to recover all the gold if you don't appoint someone to assist us. We're not really qualified to strip down astronautics equipment. You're the closest specialist I've got to a spacecraft technician, I can hardly give this job to a regular maintenance crew. And you should think yourself lucky I gave you this assignment. I was in the cyberfactory cavern yesterday evening when the recovery team finished flushing the enzyme goop out of the inspection tunnels. It took Zernov's biotechnology people eight hours to restore the organ and its ancillary glands to full operability. Then we had to wait another hour while the tunnel atmosphere was purged. Did you get the body?nyberg asked. Most of it. The bones had survived, along with the bulk of the torso viscera. We also found the pistol, and some of the buttons from his tunic. Those enzymes were bloody potent; the organ employs them to break down bauxite, for Christ's sake. We were lucky to find as much of him as we did. Shannon screwed up her face in disgust. «Yuck!» I think you're right, we'll just carry on here. Excellent. How much gold have you collected so far? Nyberg pointed to a big spherical orange net floating on the end of a tether. It was stuffed full of parts from the Dornier capsule—coils of wire, circuit boards, sheets of foil. About a hundred and fifty kilos so far. He substituted it everywhere he could. In the circuitry, in thermal insulation blankets, in conduit casing. We think the radiator panel surfaces might be pure platinum. I shifted my gaze to the mirror-polished triangular fins jutting from the rear of the Dornier's fuselage. The billion-wattdollar spacecraft. Christ. I don't understand how he ever hoped to get it all back to Earth, nyberg said. He probably planned to assign the Dornier to one of the tanker spaceships on a run back to the O'Neill Halo, shannon said. Plausible enough. Nobody seemed to query this capsule being withdrawn for maintenance so often. I checked its official UN Civil Spaceflight Authority log; the requests to bring it into the drydock hangars all originate from the Cybernetics Division. We all regard computers as infallible these days, especially on something as simple as routine maintenance upgrades. Which is what these were listed as.she held up an s-shaped section of piping, wrapped in the ubiquitous golden thermal foil. What's the total, do you think?i asked. Not sure. Now Steinbauer has wiped the Cybernetics Division computer, all we have left to go on is that bogus log Maowkavitz downloaded earlier. I'd guesstimate maybe seven hundred kilos altogether. You'd think the Dornier's crew would notice that much extra mass. It must have played hell with their manoeuvring. Yeah.i took the piping from her, and scratched the foil with my thumbnail. it was only about a millimetre thick, but it still had that unmistakable heavy softness of precious metal. Shannon was burying herself in the equipment bay again. I hauled in the orange net, and shoved the piping inside. Harvey, corrine called. The subdued mental timbre forewarned me. Yes? It's Wing-Tsit Chong. Oh crap. Not him as well? I'm afraid so. Quarter of an hour ago; it was all very peaceful. But the effort of countering Steinbauer's distortion was just too much. And he wouldn't let me help. I could have given him a new heart, but all he'd allow was a mild sedative. I could feel the pressure of damp heat building around her eyes. I'm sorry. Bloody geneticists. They've all got some kind of death wish. Are you OK? Yeah. Doctors, we see it all the time. You want me to come around? Not now, Harvey, maybe later. A drink this evening? That's a date. #149; #149; #149; The road out to the pagoda was becoming uncomfortably unfamiliar. I found Hoi Yin sitting in one of the lakeside veranda's wicker chairs, hugging her legs with her knees tucked under her chin. She was crying quite openly. Second time in a week, she said as i came up the wooden steps. People will think I'm cracking up. I kissed her brow, then knelt down on the floor beside her, putting our heads level. Her hand fumbled for mine. I'm so sorry, i said. I know how much he meant to you. She nodded miserably. Steinbauer killed both of Eden's parents, didn't he? Yes. I suppose he did, ultimately. His death . . . it was awful. Quick, though, if not particularly clean. People can be so cruel, so thoughtless. It was his greed which did this. I sometimes think greed rules the whole world. Maowkavitz created me for money. Steinbauer killed for money. Boston intends to fight Earth over self-determination, which is just another way of saying ownership. Father Cooke resents affinity because it's taking worshippers from him—even that is a form of greed. You're just picking out the big issues, i said. The top one per cent of human activity. We don't all behave like that. Don't you, Harvey? No. What are you going to do about the stockpile? Give it to the board, or let Boston keep it? I don't know. It's still classified at the moment, I haven't even told the Governor. I suppose it depends on what Boston does next, and when. After all, possession is nine-tenths of the law. My dear Harvey.her fingers stroked my face. Torn so many ways. You never deserved any of this. You never told me; do you support Boston? No, Harvey. Like my spirit father, I regard it as totally irrelevant. In that at least I am true to him.she leant forwards in the chair, and put both arms around me. Oh, Harvey; I miss him so. Yes, I know I shouldn't have. I never intended to. I went out to the pagoda purely because I knew how much she would be hurting, and how few people she could turn to for comfort. So I told myself. Her bedroom was spartan in its simplicity, with plain wooden floorboards, a few amateur watercolours hanging on the walls. The bed itself only just large enough to hold the two of us. Our lovemaking was different from the wild exuberance we had shown out in the meadow. It was more intense, slower, clutching. I think we both knew it would be the last time. We lay together for a long time afterwards, content just to touch, drowsy thoughts merging and mingling to create a mild euphoria. There is something I have to say to you, hoi yin said eventually. It is difficult for me, because although you have a right to know, I do not know if you will be angry. I won't be angry, not with you. I will understand if you are. I won't be. What is it? I am pregnant. The child is ours. «What!» I sat up in reflex, and stared down at her. «How the hell can you possibly know?» I went for a scan at the hospital yesterday. They confirmed the zygote is viable. «Fuck.» I flopped back down and stared at the thick ceiling beams. I have a gift, the ability to totally screw up my life beyond either belief or salvation. It's just so natural, I do it without any effort at all. After twelve years of celibacy, contraception was not something I concerned myself over any more,hoi yin said. It was remiss of me. But what happened that morning was so sudden, and so right . . . Yes, OK, fine. We were consenting adults, we're equally responsible.she was watching me closely, those big liquid gold eyes full up with apprehension. my lips were curving up into a grin, like they were being pulled by a tidal force or something. You're really pregnant? Yes. I wanted to be sure as soon as possible, because the earlier the affinity gene is spliced into the embryo, the easier it is. «Ah.» Yes, of course. I feel there is a rightness to this, Harvey. A new life born as one dies. And a new life raised in a wholly new culture, one where my spirit-father's ideals will hold true for all eternity. I could never have borne a child into the kind of world I was born into. This child, our child, will be completely free from the pain of the past and the frailty of the flesh; one of the first ever to be so. Hoi Yin, I'm not sure I can tell Jocelyn today. There's a lot we have to sort out first. She looked at me with a genuine surprise. Harvey! You must never leave your wife. You love her too much. I . . .guilty relief was sending shivers all down my skin. christ, but i can be a worthless bastard at times. You do, hoi yin said implacably. I have seen it in your heart. Go to her, be with her. I never ever intended to lay claim to you. There is no need for that simplicity and selfishness any more. Eden will be a father, if a father figure is needed. And perhaps I will take a lover, maybe even a husband. I would like some more children. This will be a wonderful place for children. Yeah, so my kids tell me. This is farewell, you know that, don't you, Harvey? I know that. Good.she rolled round on top of me, hunger in her eyes. hoi yin in that kind of kittenish mood was an enrichment of the soul. Then we had better make it memorable. #149; #149; #149; My seventh day in Eden was profoundly different from any which had gone before, in the habitat or anywhere else. On the seventh day I was woken up by the human race's newest messiah. Good morning, Harvey, said wing-tsit chong. I wailed loudly, kicked against the duvet, and nearly fell out of bed. «You're dead!» Jocelyn looked at me as if I had gone insane. Perhaps she was right. A distant mirage of a smile. No, Harvey, I am not dead. I told you once that thoughts are sacred, the essence of man; it is our tragedy that their vessel should be flesh, for flesh is so weak. The flesh fails us, Harvey, for once the wisdom that comes only with age is granted to us, it can no longer be used. All we have learnt so painfully is lost to us for ever. Death haunts us, Harvey, it condemns us to a life of fear and hesitancy. It shackles the soul. It is this curse of ephemerality which I have sought to liberate us from. And with Eden, I have succeeded. Eden has become the new vessel for my thoughts. As I died I transferred my memories, my hopes, my dreams, into the neural strata. «Oh my God.» No, Harvey. The time of gods and pagan worship is over. We are the immortals now. We do not need the crutch of faith in deities, and the wish fulfilment of preordained destiny, not any more. Our lives are our own, for the very first time. When your body dies, you too can join me. Eden will live for tens of thousands of years, it is constantly regenerating its cellular structure, it does not decay like terrestrial beasts. And we will live on as part of it. «Me?» I whispered, incredulous. Yes, Harvey, you. The twins Nicolette and Nathaniel. Hoi Yin. Your unborn child. Shannon Kershaw. Antony Harwood. All of you with the neuron symbionts, and all who possess the affinity gene; you will all be able to transfer your memories over to the neural strata. This habitat alone has room for millions of people. I am holding this same conversation simultaneously with all the affinity-capable. Like all the thought routines, my personality is both separate and integral; I retain my identity, yet my consciousness is multiplied a thousandfold. I can continue to mature, to seek the Nibbana which is my goal. And I welcome you to this, Harvey. This is my dana to all people, whatever their nature. I make no exception, pass no judgement. All who wish to join me may do so. It is my failing that I hope eventually all people will come to seek enlightenment and spiritual purity in the same fashion as I. But it is my knowledge that some, if not most, will not; for it is the wonder of our species that we differ so much, and by doing so never become stale. You expect me to join you? I offer you the opportunity, nothing more. Death is for ever, Harvey, unless you truly believe in reincarnation. You are a practical man, look upon Eden as insurance. Just in case death is final, what have you got to lose? And if, afterwards, you reconfirm your Christian beliefs, you can always die again, only with considerably less pain and mess. Think about it, Harvey, you have around forty years left to decide. Think about it? The biological imperative is to survive. We do that through reproduction, the only way we know how. Until now. I knew there and then that Wing-Tsit Chong had won. His salvation was corporeal, what can compete against that? From now on every child living in Eden, or any of the other habitats, would grow up knowing death wasn't the end. My child among them. What kind of culture would that produce: monstrous arrogance, or total recklessness? Would murder even be considered a crime any more? Did I want to find out? More, did I want to be a part of it? Forty years to make up my mind. Christ, but that was an insidious thought. Just knowing the option was there waiting, that it would always be there; right at the end when you're on your deathbed wheezing down that last breath, one simple thought of acquiescence and you have eternity to debate whether or not you should have done it. How can you not contemplate spirituality, your place and role in the cosmos, with that hanging over you for your entire life? Questions which can never be answered without profound thought and contemplation, say about four or five centuries' worth. And it just so happens . . . Whatever individuals decided, Wing-Tsit Chong had already changed us. We were being forcibly turned from the materialistic viewpoint. No bad thing. Except it couldn't be for everybody, not the billions living on Earth, not right away. They couldn't change, they could only envy, and die. An enormous privilege had been thrust upon me. To use it must surely be sinful when so many couldn't. But then what would wasting it achieve? If they could do it, they would. Forty years to decide. #149; #149; #149; The events of the tenth day were virtually an anticlimax. I think the whole habitat was still reeling from Wing-Tsit Chong's continuation (as people were calling it). I couldn't find anyone who would admit to refusing the offer of immortality. There were two terminal patients in the hospital, both of them were now eager for death. They were going to make the jump into the neural strata, they said; they had even begun transferring their memories over in anticipation. It was going to be the end of physical pain, of their suffering and that of their families. Corrine was immersed in an agony of indecision. Both patients had asked for a fatal injection to speed them on their way. Was it euthanasia? Was it helping them to transcend? Was it even ethical for her to decide? They both quite clearly knew what they wanted. The psyche of the population was perceptibly altering, adapting. People were becoming nonchalant and self-possessed, half of them walked round with a permanent goofy smile on their face as if they had been struck by an old-fashioned biblical revelation, instead of this lashed-up technobuddhist option from life. But I have to admit, there was a tremendous feeling of optimism running throughout the habitat. They were different, they were special. They were the future. They were immortal. Nobody bothered going to Father Cooke's church any more. I knew that for a fact, because I accompanied Jocelyn to his services. We were the only two there. Seeing the way things were swinging, Boston's council chose to announce their intentions. As Eden was An incorruptible non-bureaucratic civil service. Yes, we really were boldly different. Boston's hierarchy also announced they were going to launch a buyout bid for all the JSKP shares. That was where the ideological purity broke down a little, because that aspect of the liberation was handed over to the teams of Earthside corporate lawyers Penny Maowkavitz and her cohorts had been grooming for the court battle. But confidence was still high; the cloudscoop-lowering mission was progressing smoothly; and I had formally announced the existence of the precious metal stockpile, which our consensus declared to be the national treasury. #149; #149; #149; On the twelfth day, the old religion struck back. I was out on the patio at the time, swilling down some of the sweet white wine produced by Eden's youthful vineyard. I'd acquired quite a taste for it. And I still hadn't decided what to do about my family. Not that it was really a decision as such, not handing down the final verdict for everyone to obey. The twins were going to stay in Eden. Jocelyn wanted to leave, now more than ever; the non-affinity-capable had no place at all in Eden. It was a question of who to support, whether to try and browbeat Jocelyn over affinity. My position wasn't helped by the offer I received from the consensus. It had been decided that—sadly—yes, the habitat did still need a police force to physically implement the laws which consensus drafted to regulate society. People hadn't changed that much, there were still drunken fights, and heated disputes, and order to be maintained in industrial stations and the cloudscoop anchor asteroid. The consensus had asked me to continue as Chief of Police and organize the new force on formal lines. «Harvey,» Jocelyn called from the lounge. «Harvey, come and see this.» There was a high-pitched anxiety in her voice. I lumbered up from my chair. Jocelyn was standing behind the settee, hands white-knuckled, clasping the cushions as she stared at the big wallscreen. A newscable broadcast from Earth was showing. «What is it?» I asked. «The Pope,» she said in a daze. «The Pope has denounced Eden.» I looked at the blandly handsome newscable presenter. «The statement from Her Holiness is unequivocal, and even by the standards of the orthodox wing of the Church, said to have her ear on doctrinal matters, it is unusually drastic,» he said. «Pope Eleanor has condemned all variants of affinity as a trespass against the fundamental Christian ethos of individual dignity. This is the Church's response to the geneticist, and inventor of affinity, Wing-Tsit Chong transferring his personality into the biotechnology habitat Eden when his body died. Her Holiness announced that this was a quite monstrous attempt to circumvent the divine judgement which awaits all of us. We were made mortal by the Lord, she said, in order that we would be brought before Him and know glory within His holy kingdom. Wing-Tsit Chong's flawed endeavour to gain physical immortality is an obscene blasphemy; he is seeking to defy the will of God. By himself he is free to embark upon such a course of devilment, but by releasing the plague of affinity upon the world he is placing an almost irresistible temptation in the path of even the most honourable and devout Christians, causing them to doubt. The Pope goes on to call upon all Christian persons living in Eden to renounce this route Wing-Tsit Chong is forging. «In the final, and most dramatic, section of the statement, Her Holiness says that with great regret, those Christians who do not reject all aspects of affinity technology will be excommunicated. There can be no exceptions. Even the so-called harmless bond which controls servitor animals is to be considered a threat. It acts as an insidious reminder of the sacrilege which is being perpetrated in orbit around Jupiter. She fears the temptation to pursue this false immortality will prove too great unless the threat is ended immediately and completely. The Church, she says, is now facing its greatest ever moral crisis, and that such a challenge must be met with unswerving resolution. The world must know that affinity is a great evil, capable of sabotaging our ultimate spiritual redemption.» «She can't be serious,» I said. «There are millions of affinity-bonded servitor animals on Earth. She can't just excommunicate their owners because they won't give them up. That's crazy.» «The use of servitors on Earth was already declining,» Jocelyn said calmly. «And people will support her, because they know they will never be given the chance to live on as part of a habitat. That's human nature.» «You support her,» I said, aghast. «After all you've seen up here. You know these people aren't evil, that they simply want the best future for themselves and their children. Tell me that isn't human.» She touched my arm lightly. «I know that you are not an evil man, Harvey, with or without affinity. I've always known that. And you're right, the Pope's judgement against this technology is far too simplistic; but then she has to appeal to the masses. I don't suppose we can expect anything more from her; these days she has to be more of a populist than any of her predecessors. And in being so, she has cost me my children, too. I know they will never come back with me to Earth, not now. The only thing I wish is that events hadn't been so sudden. It's almost as if the Church has been forced into opposing Eden and Wing-Tsit Chong's continuance.» «You really are going to go back to Earth, aren't you?» «Yes. I don't want to be a ghost in a living machine. That isn't immortality, Harvey. It's just a recording, like a song that's played over and over long after the singer has died. A memory. A mockery. Nothing more. Chong is simply a clever old man who wants to impose his vision of existence on all of us. And he's succeeded, too.» She looked at me expectantly. There was no anger or resentment left in her. «Are you coming home with me?» #149; #149; #149; Day twenty; one of the worst in my life. Watching Jocelyn and the twins saying goodbye at the foot of the funicular lift was a torture. Nicolette was crying, Nathaniel was trying not to and failing miserably. Then it was my turn. Don't go, Dad, nicolette pleaded as she hugged me. I have to. But you'll die on Earth. I'll be a part of your memories, you and Nat. That's good enough for me.nathaniel flung his arms around me. Take care, son. Why are you doing this?he demanded. You don't love her this much. I do, i lied. This is best for all of us. You'll see. You're going to have a wonderful future here, you and all the other Edenists. I don't belong. You do. No, you have to cut free of the past if you're to have any chance of success. And I am most definitely the past. He shook his head, tightening his grip. The ship is leaving in another twelve minutes, eden reminded me gently. We're going. I kissed the twins one last time, then guided Jocelyn into the funicular railway car. It rose smoothly up the track, and I looked down the length of the habitat, trying to commit that incredible sight to memory. You're actually doing it,hoi yin said. there was a strand of utter incomprehension in her mental voice. Yes. I won't forget you, Hoi Yin. Nor I you. But my memory will last for ever. No. That's a uniquely human conceit. Although it will certainly be for a very long time. I don't think I ever did understand you, Harvey. You didn't miss much. Oh, but I did. Goodbye, Hoi Yin. I wish you the best possible life. And someday, tell my child about me. I will. I promise. #149; #149; #149; The I gave her a quick peck on the cheek and fastened myself down. We'd do all right on Earth, the two of us. Life would be a hell of a lot easier for me, but then it always is when you surrender completely. I felt a total fraud, but there was nothing to be gained now by explaining my real reason to her. And she was a mite more sceptical about the Church these days. Yes, we'd be all right together. Almost like the good old days. I switched the bulkhead screen to a view from the spaceship's external cameras as the last commuter shuttle disengaged. Secondary drive nozzles flared briefly and brightly, urging us away from Eden. The gap began to widen, and we started to rise up out of the ecliptic. Eden's northern endcap was exposed below us; with the silver-white spire of the docking spindle extending up from the crest it resembled some baroque cathedral dome. I watched it slowly shrinking, while some strange emotions played around inside my skull. Regret, remorse, anger, even a sense of relief that it was all finally over. My decision, right or wrong, stood. I had passed my judgement. And just how do you judge the dead? For that's what Chong is, now, dead. Or at least, beyond any justice I could ever administer. Chong? Yes, Harvey? I won't be coming back. I want you to know that. As always, you know more than you reveal. I did wonder. I'm not doing it for you. I'm doing it to give my three children a chance at a life which may be worthwhile. Perhaps I even believe in what you're trying to build out here. You've given the people of Eden a kind of hope I never knew existed before. You are an honourable man, Harvey, you shame me. There is something I want to know. Of course. Did Hoi Yin ever know it was you who killed Maowkavitz? No. Like you, I deny her the truth to protect her. It is a failing of all fathers, and I do genuinely consider her my daughter. I was so gratified by what she has become. If only you could have seen her the day we first met. So beautiful, so frail, and so tragic. To blossom from that ruined child into the sublime woman she is today is nothing short of a miracle. I could not bear to have her soiled again. So I withheld the knowledge, a perverted form of dana. But I consider it to be a necessary gift. Funny, because it was Hoi Yin who gave you away. How so? The day your body died, she asked me what I was going to do with the stockpile of precious metal. I hadn't released the information then. Which meant the two of you had known about it all along. The only way that could happen was if your affinity command of Eden's personality was superior to everyone else's. A logical assumption since you designed its thought routines to begin with. And that told you I was the murderer? Not at once, but it set me to thinking. How could Wallace Steinbauer, who has only been in Eden for two years, have developed a method of glitching the thought routines which surpassed even your ability? Especially given that his field of expertise was cybernetics. So then I started to consider what he had done a little more closely. The most obvious question was why didn't he simply blackmail Penny Maowkavitz when it became obvious she had discovered he was stealing the gold? She could hardly come running to me. So it would have resulted in a complete stand-off between them, because if he had gone to the JSKP board about her initial subterfuge they would then find out that he had been stealing the gold as well. At worst she would have to agree to let him continue substituting the Dornier's standard components with the new gold ones. Even if he had remade the entire capsule out of gold it wouldn't amount to a hundredth of a per cent of the total value of the stockpile. That would have been a very small price to pay for safeguarding the future of Boston. So I had to start looking for ulterior motives, and someone else who could manipulate the habitat's personality. The only people who qualified on the second count were you and Hoi Yin. That left me with motive. Hoi Yin had the obvious one, she hated Penny Maowkavitz, and with good reason. But she also admitted she felt cheated that Maowkavitz hadn't died from cancer. It was fairly macabre, but I believed her. That left you. And do you have my motive, Harvey? I think so. That was the hardest part of all to figure out. After all, everybody up here knew Maowkavitz was dying, that she would be dead in a few months at the most. So the actual question must be, why would you want her to die With reason, Harvey. I could not allow her to transfer herself into the neural strata before me, it would have been disastrous. And Maowkavitz had begun to think along those lines, she was not stupid. She was conferring with Eden to see if such a thing were possible. Which of course it is, it has been right from the start. As she did not reveal the existence of the precious metals, so I did not reveal the full potential of the neural strata. I had to ensure that Maowkavitz did not have the chance to experiment; and as I was already aware of Steinbauer's illegal activity, I decided to use him as my alibi. Fortunately, given his temperament his elimination was even easier to engineer than Maowkavitz's. I had only to wait until your department uncovered his theft of the gold, then goad him into panic at the prospect of discovery. The inspection tunnel was only one of a number of options I had prepared for him depending on how he reacted. Once he was dead, he could not protest his innocence, and the case would be closed. So all this was to protect the neural strata from what you see as contamination by the unworthy? Yes. Does that mean you're not going to allow just anyone to transfer their personality into Eden after all? No, I said anyone who is affinity-capable will now be welcome, and it is so. That is why I had to be the first. It is my philosophy which will ensure that others may be free to join me. I cannot do anything else, I feel great joy at such dana, the giving of immortality is a majestic gift. Who do you know that can say the same, Harvey? Would you be able to admit everyone to such a fellowship? Unquestioningly? For that is the power you would have were you to be first. I am the Eden personality now, if I wanted I could be the absolute dictator of the population. Certainly people I disapprove of could be refused transference, blocking them would be profoundly simple for me. But I chose not to, I chose dana. And in doing so, in opening the neural strata to everyone, by sharing it, I ensure that such unchecked power will not last, for I will soon become a multiplicity in which no one personality segment will have the ability to veto. And Maowkavitz might not have been so liberally inclined? Your investigation revealed to you the true nature of Maowkavitz's personality. A woman who prostitutes her own mirrorselves and then refuses even to acknowledge them as her own. A woman who has no regard or patience with anyone whose views differ from her own. Would you entrust such a woman to found a civilization? A whole new type of human culture? But she wanted Eden to be free and independent. She wanted it to be politically independent, nothing more. Boston was the ultimate California vertical. She and Harwood and the others were going to use Eden to escape from Earth. They wanted a secure, isolated, tax haven community where they would be free to practise their culture of rampant commercialism without interference. Eden was not to be culturally different from Earth, but simply an elitist enclave. And you killed her because of it. I was the physical agent; and I regret it, as the chimp revealed to you. But, still, Kamma rules us all. She died because of what she was. Yeah, right. Kamma. How do you judge the dead? You can't. Not when the living depend on them as their inspiration for the future. On the bulkhead screen Eden had dwindled to a rusty circle no bigger than my thumbnail, the illuminated needle of its docking spindle standing proud at the centre. A nimbus of tiny blue-white lights from the tugs and capsules sparkled all around, cloaking it in a stippled halo. I would remember it like that for always, a single egg floating in the darkness. The one bright hope I had left in the universe. Only I know that the infant society which it nurtures is flawed. Only I can tell the children playing in the garden that they are naked. After another minute, Eden had faded from the screen. I switched cameras to the one which showed me the warm blue-white star of Earth. |
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