Part 32 (1/2)
”But an thou hadst access to the programming o' the machine? Thou canst verify that we have touched it not, lacking in such expertise.”
”If you let me modify the programming, then I can be sure of the security of the data.”
”We will let thee do what thou choosest, and thou willst be welcome in these Demesnes meanwhile.”
Lysander nodded. ”Then I can tackle the problem.”
”Give us an hour to access the sealed panels-”
”No need. I can verify the status and programming from a keyboard.”
”A keyboard?”
”You really have no experience with computers!” Lysander exclaimed. ”All your dealings have been verbal!”
”Aye. We be Phaze folk.”
”You know I could completely ruin your system?”
”An thou choose to help us not, there be no difference; all will be destroyed.”
True enough. ”Where is the keyboard?”
”Mischief, tell him.”
A light flashed. A panel slid open. There was a standard work station access, with keyboard and screen and accessories.
Lysander sat down before it and began typing. In a moment he was lost in the intricacies of the very type of work for which he had been trained.
”Lysander?”
He looked up from the screen, blinking. It was Echo.
For a moment he was at a loss. ”I-I should have sought you,” he said. ”To explain-”
”Weva explained. I accepted her offer.”
”That seems best. But I want you to know I did not seek-”
”I know. But we both know that love potion was a contrivance, intended to influence you. That failed, and there was no further purpose. Now we are both free of what was perhaps an imperfect a.s.sociation.”
”Perhaps.” He looked at her. He still found her beautiful. ”But I found no fault with it. I never loved before, and was happier in that state than now. If it was imperfect, it remained good enough for me.”
”For me also,” she said. ”It was a nice time. But now it is over, and-”
”Does it have to be over?”
She shrugged. ”What is the point, without love?”
”What was pleasurable in love, may be so also without it. We do not need to break off our a.s.sociation-”
”Oh. s.e.x without obligation. Forget it.”
”I didn't mean-”
But she was already sweeping out of the chamber. She had misunderstood him, but perhaps not completely. He had been thinking of s.e.x-but also of the a.s.sociation. It would have been nice to discover whether their compatibility had been wholly the product of the love potion, or had a natural underpinning. Perhaps, if they had given it a chance...
Well, she wasn't interested, and that might be answer enough. He had loved her, and through her the culture of the planet. But she was, in her Phaze aspect, a harpy, and they were not known for sweetness. If the potion had reversed that portion of her nature, and the nullification had restored it, it was pointless to speculate further.
Too bad Jod'e had been taken by the Tan Adept! There had been no love magic there, and she was a most intriguing woman. In fact too bad that Alyc had been an enemy agent. Though he was also one, he no longer respected her, but if even she could have been here...
He put such thoughts from his mind. The intrigue of the challenge that had defeated the computer was here for him, and he intended to lose himself in it.
It wasn't long before he ascertained the nature of the problem: they hoped to slide the merged frames as a unit around the black hole to the fantasy side. For the distortion in the vicinity of the black hole was not just physical, so that light bent at a right angle; it represented a tangential connection between the science and the magic frames themselves. When the sh.e.l.l had been a perfect sphere, the curtain had transported some people from the science hemisphere to the magic hemisphere and back; now the two were melded and could not be separated without destroying the whole. But they might be moved together, like a tectonic plate, if there was a sufficient shove.
That shove was to be provided by the explosion of the Magic Bomb. If conditions were right, it would move the frames into the magic realm, and there would be nothing remaining in the science realm except an apparent black hole, unapproachable by any ordinary means. If the conditions were wrong, it would simply break up the sh.e.l.l, and the fragments would fall into the hole. In either case, the apparent planet would be gone from the science universe. But in only one case would it move intact to the magic universe.
If it moved intact, science and magic would work here. But away from this sh.e.l.l, only magic would work. Perhaps there would be exploitive creatures who came to take advantage of the unique qualities of science, or to steal the Phazite that powered the magic locally. But there had been no sign of such intrusion in the three preceding centuries. All the colonization, both animal and plant, had been from the science realm, crossing over. So it seemed likely that the inhabitants would be left alone. That was what they wanted.
If it slid around intact, the Hectare would be brought with it. But they would be cut off from their home planet and their section of the galaxy. They might be able to retain control, but that would be pointless, because they had not taken over the planet for themselves, but as part of the reorganization of this sector of the galaxy. They would do the practical thing, and yield power to the local authorities, trusting them to act in a practical way. To find ways to use the special abilities of the Hectare. It could be a richer society than it had been, because of that infusion of new talent.
It was a good plan. It should work. If the sh.e.l.l could be rotated intact.
The problem was that there was a virtually infinite number of connections to be made, to channel the stresses of the push correctly. A path had to be charted for every atom individually. Any that were not charted would go astray, and not make it to the magic realm. Any that were inaccurately charted would interfere with their neighbors that were on course. There would be overlapping and friction. In effect, there would be sand in the gears, and the whole thing would be brought to a halt. That would be disaster. There was only one chance, when the Magic Bomb took effect; it had to be done exactly right, or all was lost.
The Game Computer was a fine machine, but it simply wasn't up to this calculation. It had been working on it for a hundred and fifty years, and was less than halfway through. It had a scant five years to go, by local time, and it wasn't nearly enough. The paths had to be at least ninety-nine per cent charted and correct, or there would be destruction. The Book of Magic could not a.s.sist in this, because this was basically a science problem.
There was a way to speed it up, he saw. What was required was an algorithm: a set of rules for solving each case in a finite number of steps. A way to reduce the parameters so that the Game Computer-Mischief-could handle the simplified problem in the time allowed. A good algorithm could enhance effective calculation velocity a thousandfold. Even an indifferent one could speed things up thirtyfold, which was what was required.
Mischief was not advanced enough to devise such an algorithm. But Lysander, with his Hectare brain and training, could. Oh, it would be a challenge, and it might take him months to complete it, but he had that time. He could, indeed, save the frames.
And he could secure Mischief against any other intrusion. It hardly mattered; the untrained elves could barely comprehend the mathematics even if he gave a course in it. It was his decision.
His mind was already coming to grips with the problem, for this was the nature of the Hectare brain. He had to solve it, for his own satisfaction, even if that solution were never used. Since he could do so without risking his mission, he would indulge himself.
There was however one detail he had to find out about. The calculations could be made, and the courses set-but a connection had to be made between the two. There had to be a mechanism to tell the atoms where to go, in effect. The elves surely had something in mind, but it wasn't evident in the computer.
He got up. His shoulders were aching; he had concentrated so hard he had been hunching over. ”Where is the Chief?” he asked Mischief.
”On the way, Lysan.”
Indeed, in a moment Chief Oresmite appeared. ”Thou has need o' me?”
”I can solve your problem. But I need to know the mode of communication between the-”
”The flutes.”