s [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

Athen Lindia."
Yallos blinked. "Pagan?" she asked.
"Rhodian," Rhita replied. "It's my birthright."
"Oh."
Rhita shut the door and faced her squalid cell. So much for her reception in
the Mouseion. Her grandmother's shadow obviously did not stretch this far. Was
this the queen's doing, or was Kleopatra even aware of Rhita's arrival?
She sat for a while, shivering in the gloom. A single electric light over the
bed cast a yellow glow over that corner and little else. It was already midday
and the room was just beginning to warm. How much risk should she take with
the Objects, not to mention her own safety? How much risk would she take
before---if--she reached her goal?
Prying at a shutter jammed over one small, deep-set window, she broke an
already-short fingernail to the quick. She swore beneath her breath, one green
eye bright in her meager success, a thin line of indirect sunlight.
Rhita wiped gritty dust from the desk, used a frayed withy broom to sweep the
floor, and opened her trunk to put her clothes away. In the late afternoon,
the guides had told her, she would meet with the bibliophylax.
She did not look forward to it.
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ET E R N ITY · 67
ELEVEN
Earth
The Russian--so it was most convenient to think of him, at least for the
moment stood with Lanier on the porch, waiting for the wink of a shuttle's
lights. The night sky was a smear of aluminum dust across solid black, depth
upon depth of stars. The air had cleared since the Death, Earth's natural
healing mechanisms removing most atmospheric traces of the conflagration.
There were few pollution sources anywhere now, even with the Recovery well
along. Hexamon Technology was non-polluting, self-contained
The first lights they saw were not in the sky, but along the road leading up
the side of the valley to the cabin. Lanier pursed his lips and met the
Russian's glance with a shrug. "My wife," he said. He had hoped to get the
Russian away before her arrival.
The rugged All-Terrain Vehicle, modeled after types used by the first
investigators on the Stone, ground its tires along the gravel drive to one
side of the cabin and stopped, its electrical motors cutting abruptly.
Karen swung down from the cabin in the automatic glare of the outdoor
floodlights, saw Lanier on the porch and waved at him. He waved back, feeling
older just looking at her.
In their life together, he had seen her age a decade or two, grow from along
with me, then regress under therapy, the same therapy he had turned down. She
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looked a youthful forty at most.
"I've been in town,'~ she called out in Chinese as she dragged her duffel from
the rear of the ATV. "We're setting up an artificial social network, so
the---" She saw the Russian and stopped on the porch steps, biting her lower
lip. She looked over her shoulder at the drive; no other vehicles.
Then she queried Lanier with one raised eyebrow.
"This is a visitor. His name is Pavel," he said.
"We have not met," the Russian Said, stepping forward and extending his hand.
"I am Pavel Mirsky."
Karcn smiled politely, but her instincts had been aroused.
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· GREG BEAR
"How are you feeling?" she asked, shifting her eyes to her husband.
She glanced between them quickly, brow furrowed.
"I'm fine. His name," Lanier repeated with some deliberate drama, "is
Pavel Mirsky."
"I know the name," she said. "Wasn't that the Russian commander on the Stone?
Went with the precincts down the Way . . didn't he?" Her eyes fell accusingly
on Lanier: What is this? She had seen pictures of
Mirsky in the history tapes. The game was up. She recognized him. "You look
just like him."
"I hope I haven't disturbed you," the Russian said.
"He's a son, a look-alike?" she asked Lanier.
He shook his head.
She stood on the top step, hands clasped before her. "You're sure everything
is all right? You're joking with me." She climbed up one step, paused again.
Then, in Chinese, she asked Lanier, "Who is this man?"
In Chinese, Lanier responded, "He's a good imitation, if not the real thing.
I'm taking him to meet with Korzenowski."
Karen walked slowly before them, examining the Russian, biting her lower lip.
"Where did you come from?"
The Russian looked between them. "I have not explained that yet," he said.
"Better to wait until it all comes out."
"You can't be Mirsky," Karen said. "If you're trying to hoodwink my husband .
. All we heard would have to be a lie."
Surprisingly, Lanier hadn't considered that possibility. He had not, of
course, actually seen Mirsky go down the Way.
"No lies," the Russian said. "I am pleased to finally meet you. I have always
thought your husband a fine man, a true leader, with sound judgment.
I congratulate both of you."
"Why?" Lainier asked.
"On having found each other," the Russian explained.
"Thank you," Karen said sharply. "Have you offered our guest any refreshment,
Garry?" She carded her duffel into the cabin. Her suspicion had turned into
anger.
"We're expecting the shuttle any minute," he answered. "We've eaten a little,
and had a beer."
The Russian smiled at the mention of the beer. His enjoyment had been obvious.
Karen made various small noises in the kitchen, then continued her interrupted
conversation through the screened window opening onto the porch. "We're going
to get twenty or thirty village leaders and political science students from
Christchurch and fly them to Axis Thoreau. It's
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ETERNITY · Sg going to be a kind of conference, all in city memory, to
establish social ties it would take years to make otherwise. They'll all act
as if they were family afterwards, if it goes well. Think of all politicians
having family ties with each other, and their constituents? It could be
wonderful." Her tone had changed; now she was ignoring the mystery.
Lanier suddenly felt exhausted. All he wanted was to lie back on the old couch
before the cabin's fireplace and close his eyes.
"Here comes the shuttle," the Russian said, pointing. A blip of white soared
across the opposite side of the valley, then swooped in low, just above the
trees. Karen returned to the porch, face strained, and looked up at her
husband.
"What in hell you are doing?" she demanded in an undertone. "Where are you
going?"
Lanier shook his head. "To the Stone." Everything was losing its edge of
reality. Nothing seemed very probable. "I don't know when we'll be back."
"You shouldn't go alone. I can't go with you," she said. "I have to be in
Christchurch tomorrow."
She glanced at Lanier. Karen was no fool, but she was having a difficult time
shifting gears. Her expression said that she knew just how odd this really
was; and how important it might be.
"Maybe you can explain to me after you get to the Stone?"
"I'll try," Lanier said.
"I am sorry for the disruption," the Russian said quietly.
"You shut up," Karen cried, turning on him. "You're just a goddamned ghost."
At that, Lanier smiled. He put his hand on Karen's shoulder, both to reassure
her and stop her from saying more. The gestures come easily enough, he
thought. Why not the feeling?
They were off, cushioned in the free-form white interior of the shuttle, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]