Part 3 (2/2)

She had confronted Rhinehart and he had bl.u.s.tered, badly. Yes, for a joke, Marsalis, Andriessen, and Medford would dress up in these outfits and spy on their girlfriends from a distance. Okay, yes, maybe it was a joke in poor taste, but it didn't make them killers. And they hadn't worn the outfits on the nights of the murders, that was nonsense: garbled reporting. But they were afraid, wouldn't you be, and had asked Jack to help. ”He went on and on protesting their innocence, denying that his precious club is a front organization for the lewd practices of the privileged cla.s.s.” Neela had refused to let the subject drop. ”I set out everything I knew, half knew, intuited, and suspected, piled it all up in front of him and told him I wasn't going to let up until he'd said what there was to say.” Finally he'd panicked and cried out, ”You think I'm the kind of man who goes out at night and cuts off the tops of women's heads?” When she'd asked him what that that meant, he'd looked scared to death, and claimed he'd read it in the paper. The swish of the tomahawk. The victorious warrior's taking of the spoils. But she had gone on-line to examine the archives of every paper in the Manhattan area, and she knew. ”It's not there.” meant, he'd looked scared to death, and claimed he'd read it in the paper. The swish of the tomahawk. The victorious warrior's taking of the spoils. But she had gone on-line to examine the archives of every paper in the Manhattan area, and she knew. ”It's not there.”

Neela had dressed for beauty, not for warmth, and the afternoon had lost its glow. Solanka took off his coat and put it over her trembling shoulders. All around them in the park the colors were fading. The world became a place of blacks and grays. Women's clothes-unusually for New York, it had been a season of bright colors-faded to monochrome. Under a gunmetal sky, the green leached out of the spreading trees. Neela needed to get out of this suddenly ghostly environment. ”Let's get a drink,” she proposed, getting up, and in the same instant was off in long strides. ”There's a hotel bar that's okay on Seventy-seventh,” and Solanka hurried after her, ignoring the now familiar shocks and catastrophes she was leaving, like hurricane damage, in her wake.

She had been born ”in the mid-seventies” in Mildendo, the capital of Lilliput-Blefuscu, where her family still lived. They were girmityas girmityas, descendants of one of the original migrants-her great-grandfather-who had signed an indenture agreement, a girmit girmit, back in 1834, the year after the abolition of slavery. Biju Mahendra, from the little Indian village of t.i.tlipur, had traveled with his brothers all the way to this double speck in the remote South Pacific. The Mahendras had gone to work in Blefuscu, the more fertile of the two islands, and the center of the sugar industry. ”As an Indo-Lilly,” she said over her second cosmopolitan, ”my childhood bogeyman was the Coolumber, who was big and white and spoke not in words but in numbers and would eat little girls at night if they didn't do their homework and wash their private parts. As I grew up I learned that the 'coolumbers' were the sugarcane laborers' overseers. The particular one in my family's story was a white man called Mr. Huge-Hughes, really, I suppose-who was 'a devil from Tasmania,' and to whom my great-grandfather and great-uncles were no more than numbers on the list he read out every morning. My ancestors were numbers, the children of numbers. Only the indigenous Elbees were called by their true last names. It took us three generations to retrieve our family names from this numerical tyranny. By then, obviously, things between the Elbees and us had gone badly wrong. 'We eat veggies,' my grandmother used to say, 'but those Elbee fatsos eat human meat.' In fact there is a history of cannibalism in Lilliput-Blefuscu. They are offended when you point this out, but it's just so. And for us the very presence of meat in the kitchen was a defilement. Long pork sounded like the devil's own food.”

Words for drink played a distressingly big part in her back-story. In the matter of grog, yaqona, kava, beer, as in little else, the Indo-Lilliputians and Elbees were as one; both communities suffered from alcoholism and the problems a.s.sociated with it. Her own father was a big boozer, and she had been glad to escape him. There were very few scholars.h.i.+ps to America available in Lilliput-Blefuscu, but she won one of them, and fell for New York at once, as did everybody who needed, and found here, a home away from home among other wanderers who needed exactly the same thing: a haven in which to spread their wings. Yet her roots pulled at her, and she suffered badly from what she called ”the guilt of relief.” She had escaped her drunkard of a father, but her mother and sisters had not. And to her community's cause, too, she remained pa.s.sionately attached. ”The parades are on Sunday,” she said, ordering a third cosmopolitan. ”Will you come with me?” And Solanka-it was Thursday already-inevitably agreed.

”The Elbees say we are greedy and want everything and will chase them out of their own land. We say they are lazy and if it wasn't for us they would sit around doing nothing and starve. They say that the only end of a soft-boiled egg to break is the little one. Whereas we-or at least those of us who eat eggs-are the Big Endians, from Big Endia.” She cackled again, tickled by her own joke. ”Trouble is coming soon.” It was a question, as so many things were, of the land. Even though the Indo-Lilliputians on Blefuscu now did all the farming, were responsible for most of the country's exports, and therefore earned most of the foreign exchange; even though they had prospered and cared for their own, building their own schools and hospitals, still the land on which all this stood was owned by the ”indigenous” Elbees. ”I hate that word, 'indigenous,'” Neela cried. ”I'm fourth-generation Indo-Lilly. So I'm indigenous too.” The Elbees feared a coup-a revolutionary land grab by the Indo-Lillys, to whom the Elbee const.i.tution still denied the right to own real estate on either island; the Big Endians, for their part, feared the same thing in reverse. They were afraid that when their hundred-year leases expired in the course of the coming decade, the Elbees would simply take back the now valuable farmland for themselves, leaving the Indians, who had developed it, with nothing.

But there was a complication, which Neela, in spite of her ethnic loyalty and three quick cosmopolitans, was honest enough to admit. ”This isn't just a question of ethnic antagonism or even of who owns what,” she said. ”The Elbee culture really is different, and I can see why they are afraid. They're collectivists. The land isn't held by individual landowners but by the Elbee chiefs in trust for the whole Elbee people. And then we Big Endia-wallahs come along with our good business practice, entrepreneurial ac.u.men, free-market mercantilism, and profit mentality. And the world speaks our language now, not theirs. It is the age of numbers, isn't it? So we are numbers and the Elbees are words. We are mathematics and they are poetry. We are winning and they are losing: and so of course they're afraid of us, it's like the struggle inside human nature itself, between what's mechanical and utilitarian in us and the part that loves and dreams. We all fear that the cold, machinelike thing in human nature will destroy our magic and song. So the battle between the Indo-Lillys and the Elbees is also the battle of the human spirit and, d.a.m.nit, with my heart I'm probably on the other side. But my people are my people and justice is justice and after you've worked your b.u.t.ts off for four generations and you're still treated like second-cla.s.s citizens, you've got a right to be angry. If it comes to it I'll go back. I'll fight alongside them if I have to, shoulder to shoulder. I'm not kidding, I really will.” He believed her. And was thinking: how is it that, in the company of this impa.s.sioned woman I barely know, I feel so completely at ease?

The scar was the legacy of a bad car accident on the interstate near Albany; she had almost lost her arm. Neela by her own admission drove ”like a maharani.” It was up to other road users to keep out of her imperious, supra-legal way. In areas where she and her car became known-Blefuscu, or the environs of her smart New England college-motorists, when they saw Neela Mahendra coming, would often abandon their vehicles and run. After a series of small dings and near misses, she experienced the very unfunny Big One. Her survival was a miracle (and a close thing); the preservation of her heartbreaking beauty was an even greater astonishment. ”I'll take the scar,” she said. ”I'm lucky to have it. And it's a reminder of something I shouldn't forget.”

In New York, fortunately, it was unnecessary for her to drive. Her regal att.i.tude-”my mother always told me I was a queen, and I believed her”-meant she preferred to be driven anyway, although she was also a terrible backseat driver, full of yelps and gasps. Her rapid success in television production enabled her to afford a car service, whose drivers quickly grew used to her frequent cries of fear. She had no sense of direction, either, and so-remarkably for a New Yorker-never knew where anything was. Her favorite stores, her preferred restaurants and nightclubs, the location of the recording studios and cutting rooms she regularly used: they could have been anywhere. ”Where the car stops is where they are,” she told Solanka over the fourth c.o.c.ktail, all wide-eyed innocence. ”It's amazing. They're always right there. Right outside the door.”

Pleasure is the sweetest drug. Neela Mahendra leaned into him in their black leather booth and said, ”I'm having so much fun. I never realized how easy it would be around you, you looked like such a stuffed s.h.i.+rt at Jack's place, watching that stupid game.” Her head tilted toward his shoulder. Her hair was down now, and from where he was sitting it veiled much of her face. She let the back of her right hand move slowly against the back of his left hand. ”Sometimes, when I drink too much, she comes out to play, the other one, and then there's nothing I can do. She takes charge and that's that.” Solanka was lost. She took his hand in hers and kissed the fingertips, sealing their unspoken compact. ”You have scars, too,” she said, ”but you never talk about them. I tell you all my secrets and you don't say one single word. I think, why does this man never talk about his child? Yes, of course Jack told me, you think I didn't ask? Asmaan, Eleanor, that much I know. If I had a little boy, I'd talk about him all the time. You apparently don't even carry his photograph. I think, this man left his wife of many years, the mother of his son, and even his friend doesn't know why. I think, he looks like a good man, a kind man, not a brute, so there must be a good reason, maybe if I open up to him he'll tell me, but, baba, you just keep mum. And then I think, here is this Indian man, Indian from India, not Indo-Lilly like me, a son of the mother country, but apparently that also is a forbidden topic. Born in Bombay, but on the place of his birth he is silent. What are his family circ.u.mstances? Brothers, sisters? Parents dead or alive? n.o.body knows. Does he ever go back to visit? Seems like not. No interest. Why? The answer must be: more scars. Malik, I think you've been in more accidents than me, and maybe you were even more badly hurt somewhere along the line. But if you don't talk, what can I do? I have nothing to say to you. I can only say, here I am, and if human beings can't save you then nothing can. That's all I'm saying. Talk, don't talk, it's up to you. I'm having a good time and anyway now the other one is here, so shut up, I don't know why men always have to talk so much when it's obvious that words are not the thing required. Not required right now at all.”

12.

LET THE FITTEST SURVIVE:.

THE COMING OF THE PUPPET KINGS.

Akasz Kronos, the great, cynical cyberneticist of the Rijk, created the Puppet Kings in response to the terminal crisis of the Rijk civilization, but on account of the flaw in his character that made him unable to consider the general good, he used them to guarantee n.o.body's survival or fortune but his own. In those days the polar ice-caps of Galileo-1, the Rijk's home planet, were in the last stages of melting (a large stretch of open sea had been sighted at the North Pole) and no matter how high the dikes were built, the moment was not far off when the glory of the Rijk, that highest of cultures set in the lowest of lands, which was just then enjoying the richest and most prolonged golden age in its history, would be washed away.

The Rijk fell into decline. Their artists artists put down their brushes for good, for how could art-which relied, like good wine, on the judgment of posterity-be created once posterity had been canceled? put down their brushes for good, for how could art-which relied, like good wine, on the judgment of posterity-be created once posterity had been canceled? Science Science failed the challenge as well. The Galileo solar system lay in a failed the challenge as well. The Galileo solar system lay in a ”dark quadrant” ”dark quadrant” near the rim of our own galaxy, a mysterious area in which few other suns burned, and in spite of their high level of technological achievement, the Rijk had never succeeded in locating an alternative home planet. A cross-section of Rijk society was dispatched, cryogenically frozen, in the near the rim of our own galaxy, a mysterious area in which few other suns burned, and in spite of their high level of technological achievement, the Rijk had never succeeded in locating an alternative home planet. A cross-section of Rijk society was dispatched, cryogenically frozen, in the Max-H Max-H, a computer-controlled s.p.a.cecraft programmed to wake its precious cargo if a suitable planet came within range of its sensors. When this s.p.a.cecraft malfunctioned and exploded a few thousand miles into s.p.a.ce, people lost heart. In that most open, broad-minded, and reasonable of societies there now arose a number of fire-and-brimstone preachers preachers, who blamed the coming catastrophe on the G.o.dlessness of Rijk culture. Many citizens fell under the spell of these new, narrow men. Meanwhile the sea continued to rise. When a dike sprang a leak, the water pushed through with such violence that whole counties were sometimes flooded before repairs were complete. The economy collapsed. Lawlessness increased. People stayed home and waited for the end.

The sole surviving portrait portrait of Akasz Kronos shows a man with a full head of long silver hair framing a soft, round, surprisingly boyish face dominated by a wine-dark Cupid's bow of a mouth. He wears a floor-length gray tunic, with gold embroidery at the cuffs and neckline, over a frilled white high-collared s.h.i.+rt: the very picture of the dignified genius. But the eyes are mad. As we peer into the darkness around him, we make out fine white filaments floating from his fingertips. Only after much study do we notice the small bronze-colored figure of a puppet man at the bottom left of the picture, and even then it takes a while before we realize that the puppet has broken free of the puppeteer's control. The homunculus turns its back on its maker and sets off to forge its own destiny, while Kronos, the abandoned creator, takes leave not only of his creation but of his senses, too. of Akasz Kronos shows a man with a full head of long silver hair framing a soft, round, surprisingly boyish face dominated by a wine-dark Cupid's bow of a mouth. He wears a floor-length gray tunic, with gold embroidery at the cuffs and neckline, over a frilled white high-collared s.h.i.+rt: the very picture of the dignified genius. But the eyes are mad. As we peer into the darkness around him, we make out fine white filaments floating from his fingertips. Only after much study do we notice the small bronze-colored figure of a puppet man at the bottom left of the picture, and even then it takes a while before we realize that the puppet has broken free of the puppeteer's control. The homunculus turns its back on its maker and sets off to forge its own destiny, while Kronos, the abandoned creator, takes leave not only of his creation but of his senses, too.

Professor Kronos was not only a great scientist but an entrepreneur of Machiavellian daring and skill. As the Rijk lands drowned, he quietly moved his center of operations to the two small mountain-islands that formed the primitive but independent nation of Baburia Baburia, at the Galilean antipodes. Here he negotiated and signed an advantageous treaty with the local ruler, the Mogol Mogol. The Baburians would retain owners.h.i.+p of their territory, but Kronos would be granted long leases over the high mountain pastures, for which he agreed to pay what seemed to the Mogol a very high rent indeed: an annual pair of wooden shoes for every Baburian man, woman, and child. In addition, Kronos undertook to guarantee the defense of Baburia against the a.s.sault that must certainly come as the Rijk's lands sank below the rising waves. For this he was accorded the t.i.tle of National Savior National Savior and granted and granted droit de seigneur droit de seigneur over all the islands' new brides. Having come to terms, Kronos proceeded with the creation of the masterpieces that would prove his undoing, the so-called over all the islands' new brides. Having come to terms, Kronos proceeded with the creation of the masterpieces that would prove his undoing, the so-called Monstrous Dynasty of Puppet Caesars Monstrous Dynasty of Puppet Caesars, also known as Professor Kronos's No-Strings Puppet Kings Professor Kronos's No-Strings Puppet Kings.

His own lover, Zameen Zameen, the legendary beauty of the Rijk and the only scientist whom Kronos regarded as his peer, refused to accompany him to his new antipodean world. Her place was with her people, she said, and she would die with them if that was what destiny decreed. Akasz Kronos abandoned her without a second thought, perhaps preferring the s.e.xual multiplicity available on the other side of the world.

The broken strings in the Kronos portrait are purely metaphorical. The Professor's artificial life-forms were string-free from the start. They walked and talked; they had ”stomachs,” ”stomachs,” sophisticated fueling centers that could process ordinary food and drink, with solar-cell sophisticated fueling centers that could process ordinary food and drink, with solar-cell backup systems backup systems that enabled them to stay alert, and work, for longer hours than any flesh-and-blood human being. They were faster, stronger, smarter-”better,” Kronos told them-than their human, antipodean hosts. ”You are kings and queens,” he taught his creatures. ”Carry yourselves well. You are the masters now.” He even gave them the power to reproduce themselves. Each cyborg was given his or her own blueprint so that it could, in theory, endlessly re-create itself in its own image. But in the master program Kronos added a that enabled them to stay alert, and work, for longer hours than any flesh-and-blood human being. They were faster, stronger, smarter-”better,” Kronos told them-than their human, antipodean hosts. ”You are kings and queens,” he taught his creatures. ”Carry yourselves well. You are the masters now.” He even gave them the power to reproduce themselves. Each cyborg was given his or her own blueprint so that it could, in theory, endlessly re-create itself in its own image. But in the master program Kronos added a Prime Directive: Prime Directive: whatever order he gave, the cyborgs and their replicas were obliged to obey, even to the point of acquiescing in their own destruction, should he deem that necessary. He dressed them in finery and gave them the illusion of freedom, but they were his slaves. He gave them no names. There were whatever order he gave, the cyborgs and their replicas were obliged to obey, even to the point of acquiescing in their own destruction, should he deem that necessary. He dressed them in finery and gave them the illusion of freedom, but they were his slaves. He gave them no names. There were seven-digit numbers seven-digit numbers branded on their wrists, and they were known by these. branded on their wrists, and they were known by these.

No two Kronosian creations were the same. Each was given its own sharply delineated personality traits: the Aristocratic Philosopher; the Promiscuous Child-Woman; the First, Rich Ex-Wife (a b.i.t.c.h); the Aging Groupie; the Pope's Driver; the Underwater Plumber; the Traumatized Quarterback; the Blackballed Golfer; the Three Society Girls; the Playboys; the Golden Child and His Ideal Mother; the Deceitful Publisher; the Angry Professor; the G.o.ddess of Victory the Aristocratic Philosopher; the Promiscuous Child-Woman; the First, Rich Ex-Wife (a b.i.t.c.h); the Aging Groupie; the Pope's Driver; the Underwater Plumber; the Traumatized Quarterback; the Blackballed Golfer; the Three Society Girls; the Playboys; the Golden Child and His Ideal Mother; the Deceitful Publisher; the Angry Professor; the G.o.ddess of Victory (an exceptionally beautiful cyborg modeled after Kronos's abandoned lover, Zameen of Rijk); (an exceptionally beautiful cyborg modeled after Kronos's abandoned lover, Zameen of Rijk); the Runners; the Cell-Phone Woman; the Cell-Phone Man; the Human Spiders; the Woman Who Saw Visions; the Astro-Adman; the Runners; the Cell-Phone Woman; the Cell-Phone Man; the Human Spiders; the Woman Who Saw Visions; the Astro-Adman; even a even a Dollmaker Dollmaker. And as well as characters-strengths, weaknesses, habits, memories, allergies, l.u.s.ts-he gave them a value system value system by which to live. The greatness of Akasz Kronos, which was also his downfall, may be judged by this: that the virtues and vices he inculcated in his creations were not wholly, or not only, his own. Self-serving, opportunistic, unscrupulous, he nevertheless permitted his cybernetic life-forms a degree of ethical independence. The possibility of idealism was allowed. by which to live. The greatness of Akasz Kronos, which was also his downfall, may be judged by this: that the virtues and vices he inculcated in his creations were not wholly, or not only, his own. Self-serving, opportunistic, unscrupulous, he nevertheless permitted his cybernetic life-forms a degree of ethical independence. The possibility of idealism was allowed.

Lightness, quickness, exact.i.tude, visibility, multiplicity, consistency: these were the six high Kronosian values, but instead of embedding single definitions of these principles in the cyborgs' default programs, he offered his creations a series of multiple-choice options. Thus these were the six high Kronosian values, but instead of embedding single definitions of these principles in the cyborgs' default programs, he offered his creations a series of multiple-choice options. Thus ”lightness” ”lightness” might be defined as ”doing lightly what is in reality a heavy duty,” that is to say, grace; but it might also be ”treating frivolously what is serious,” or even ”making light of what is grave,” that is, amorality. And might be defined as ”doing lightly what is in reality a heavy duty,” that is to say, grace; but it might also be ”treating frivolously what is serious,” or even ”making light of what is grave,” that is, amorality. And ”quickness” ”quickness” could be ”doing swiftly whatever is necessary,” in other words, efficiency; however, if the emphasis were to be placed on the second part of that phrase, a kind of ruthlessness could result. could be ”doing swiftly whatever is necessary,” in other words, efficiency; however, if the emphasis were to be placed on the second part of that phrase, a kind of ruthlessness could result. ”Exact.i.tude” ”Exact.i.tude” could tend toward ”precision” or ”tyranny,” could tend toward ”precision” or ”tyranny,” ”visibility” ”visibility” might be ”clarity of action” or ”attention-seeking,” might be ”clarity of action” or ”attention-seeking,” ”multiplicity” ”multiplicity” was capable of being both ”open-mindedness” and ”duplicity,” and was capable of being both ”open-mindedness” and ”duplicity,” and ”consistency,” ”consistency,” the most important of the six, could mean either ”trustworthiness” or ”obsessiveness”-the consistency of-we may use our own world's models here, for the sake of easy comparison-Bartleby the Scrivener, who preferred not to, or of Michael Kohlhaas, with his inexorable and world-shattering search for redress. Sancho Panza is consistent in the ”reliable” sense of the word, but so, contrariwise, is erratic, fixated, chivalry-maddened Quixote. And note, too, the tragic consistency of the Land Surveyor, eternally yearning toward what he can never attain, or of Ahab in his pursuit of the whale. This is the consistency that destroys the consistent; for the Ahabs perish, while the inconsistent, the Ishmaels, survive. ”The fullness of a living self is inexpressible, obscure,” Kronos told his mechanical fictions. ”In that mystery is freedom, which is what I have given you. In that obscurity is light.” the most important of the six, could mean either ”trustworthiness” or ”obsessiveness”-the consistency of-we may use our own world's models here, for the sake of easy comparison-Bartleby the Scrivener, who preferred not to, or of Michael Kohlhaas, with his inexorable and world-shattering search for redress. Sancho Panza is consistent in the ”reliable” sense of the word, but so, contrariwise, is erratic, fixated, chivalry-maddened Quixote. And note, too, the tragic consistency of the Land Surveyor, eternally yearning toward what he can never attain, or of Ahab in his pursuit of the whale. This is the consistency that destroys the consistent; for the Ahabs perish, while the inconsistent, the Ishmaels, survive. ”The fullness of a living self is inexpressible, obscure,” Kronos told his mechanical fictions. ”In that mystery is freedom, which is what I have given you. In that obscurity is light.”

Why did he permit the Puppet Kings such psychological and moral liberty? Perhaps because the scientist and scholar in him could not resist seeing how these new life-forms resolved the battle that rages within all sentient creatures, between light and dark, heart and mind, spirit and machine.

At first the Puppet Kings served Kronos well. They made the shoes that paid for the land leases, tended the livestock, and tilled the soil. He had dressed them all in court finery, but their long brocaded skirts and dress uniforms quickly grew soiled and torn, and they made themselves new clothes more suited to their labors. As the ice-caps continued to melt and the water levels rose, they prepared to defend their shrinking new home against the foretold Rijk attack Rijk attack. By now they had learned how to modify their own systems without Kronos's help, and they added new skills and apt.i.tudes by the day. One such innovation enabled them to use the local firewater as flying fuel flying fuel. Carrying bottles of the toddy with them in case they wanted topping up, the cyborg air force took flight without any need for airplanes, and caught and destroyed the incoming Rijk craft in spydernets spydernets, the giant b.o.o.by-trapped metal webs that they hung across the sky. Underwater Underwater, too, they laid similar spidery traps (they had modified their ”lungs” for submarine use and were therefore able to sabotage and scuttle the entire Rijk fleet from below). The so-called Battle of the Antipodes Battle of the Antipodes was won, and the skies and seas fell silent. On the far side of Galileo-1, flood-waters engulfed the Rijk. If Akasz Kronos felt any compa.s.sion as his countrymen drowned, he did not record it. was won, and the skies and seas fell silent. On the far side of Galileo-1, flood-waters engulfed the Rijk. If Akasz Kronos felt any compa.s.sion as his countrymen drowned, he did not record it.

After the victory, however, things changed. The Puppet Kings returned from the wars with a new sense of individual worth, even of ”rights.” To bring them into line, Kronos announced an urgent maintenance-and-repair schedule. Many cyborgs failed to keep their appointments at his workshop, preferring-in the case of those damaged in battle-to live with their disabilities: their malfunctioning servo-mechanisms and partially burned-out circuitry. Groups of the Puppet Kings became secretive, conspiratorial, surly. Kronos suspected that they were meeting covertly to plot against him and heard rumors that at these meetings they addressed one another not by number but by new names, which they had chosen for themselves. He became tyrannical, and when one of the Three Society Girls was insolent to his face, he made an example of her, turning against her his much feared ”master blaster,” which caused an instant, irreversible deletion of all programs: in other words, cybernetic death.

The execution was counterproductive. Dissension grew more rapidly than before. Many cyborgs went underground, erecting, around their hideouts, sophisticated anti-surveillance electronic s.h.i.+elds, which even Kronos could not easily penetrate

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