Part 26 (1/2)
A longish pause. ”All right. Here you go.”
His inbox filled. The files gave him everything he should need to lay the groundwork. He got started.
Jane wanted to leave the boot lozenge in her office for Aaron to find. But this was no time for lax security. She knocked on Aaron's office door. He worked inwave, murmuring, moving through arcane pantomimes as he furrowed fields of unseen data; planted commands; weeded out phantom icons and displays. She recognized the stress and fatigue on his face from many years and troubles-troubles faced together, faced and overcome.
She floated in and alighted on the floor of his office. He folded his interface away and turned to face her, clinging to the grips on his desk.
”Here.” She took out the lozenge and lofted it across to him. It tumbled, catching the light. ”You'll need this to access the systems.”
His eyes widened; he realized, she saw, what damage she might have done. He s.n.a.t.c.hed it from the air and tucked it into his pocket. ”Thank you.” Then he crooked a finger, tripping an invisible command, and his gla.s.s wall went blank, shutting out the view of employees returning from lunch.
”Marty should be here soon,” she went on. ”I've left instructions-”
”Please, Jane-”
Her hands curled into b.a.l.l.s. ”Don't make this harder for me.”
”I couldn't stop them from doing this to you. But I pray to almighty G.o.d that I can keep things from falling apart until the ice gets here. Keep people from suffering.”
”And you're offering up our friends.h.i.+p as a sacrifice.”
He sighed. ”Would you have me resign in protest?”
”Why not, G.o.ddammit?” He flinched at her profanity. ”I'm the reason you're here! I've opened doors for you. I've s.h.i.+elded you from those who didn't trust you because of your religion. I've made things happen for you. Now this. Now I know what my friends.h.i.+p is worth to you.”
”I don't deny,” he said stiffly, ”that I owe you a lot. But you taught me that the needs of the citizens come first.”
The muscles had tightened across her chest. She drew a breath; two. ”Do what you have to, then. Just don't look to me for absolution.”
They stood there. Aaron broke away first. ”Go, and be d.a.m.ned.”
The laugh that escaped her was not a pleasant one. ”Oh, I'm gone.”
A group of employees had gathered nearby outside Aaron's office, whispering. I I will will be d.a.m.ned, be d.a.m.ned, she thought; she thought; I'll be d.a.m.ned if anyone sees me bleed, I'll be d.a.m.ned if anyone sees me bleed, and she floated toward them, smiling. She brushed hands, wis.h.i.+ng them well, and confirmed the rumor that she had resigned and that Aaron was acting resource commission czar. She made her good-byes and then excused herself-all too conscious of the camera mites that flocked on the walls and ceiling, the spy dust swirling all around. and she floated toward them, smiling. She brushed hands, wis.h.i.+ng them well, and confirmed the rumor that she had resigned and that Aaron was acting resource commission czar. She made her good-byes and then excused herself-all too conscious of the camera mites that flocked on the walls and ceiling, the spy dust swirling all around.
They were hauling out all the stops. Her eyes must have skyrocketed once more. She was sure her thumbs had reached subbenthic levels.
Enjoy the show, you creeps.
Once in the hall, she surveyed the corridor tube, while her former employees and rubberneckers from other departments averted their eyes, floating by. The bathroom came to mind as a refuge. But she would have to brave the public eventually, and though ”Stroiders” and reporters' cameras weren't allowed in, they would be waiting when she emerged. There was no escape. She headed for a lift.
Her mail cache had filled with calls. Sarah had left her a message.
She called her back. After a moment, Sarah's face appeared before her. ”I heard the news. Are you OK?”
For a moment Jane wrestled with how to answer this question. Finally she gave it up. ”We need to talk.”
”Yes. I have a client with me now, but I'm free in about half an hour.”
”I have a doctor's appointment then. How about one-thirty?”
Sarah glanced at her wave display. ”All right. I haven't had lunch. Have you?” Jane shook her head. ”I'll order food, then. I've also arranged for a publicist to meet us here an hour later.”
”Cancel it,” Jane said. ”There's no longer any need.” She cut the call.
”You're as healthy as ever,” Dr. Pollack told her. The diagnostic images of her brain structures and neural behavior were projected into waves.p.a.ce between them. None of it meant anything to Jane, but the doctor had spent several minutes studying a.s.sorted things and rerunning tests before making that p.r.o.nouncement. ”No sign of abnormalities. No protein markers that indicate trouble. Everything appears normal.”
Jane hesitated. ”Is it possible that, well, that something could have been wrong a few days ago but that it's healed since? Perhaps some kind of stress-induced break?”
He sat down and interwove his fingers. ”Jane, what's this about?”
A long silence fell. He looked at her expectantly. No motes in here, no mites. Just say it, Navio. No motes in here, no mites. Just say it, Navio. ”I heard a Voice.” ”I heard a Voice.”
His gaze grew more intense. ”A voice? As in, a voice in your head?”
She nodded.
”I can see why you'd be concerned.” He walked around her diagnostics, frowning. ”Well, I suppose there are hints of anomalies in certain neuron firing patterns in the cortex, but honestly, it's all within normal parameters.” She continued to look at him. He shrugged. ”Yes, it's possible that you had a stress-induced psychotic break. But there's no remaining evidence of it. And everything seems OK now. When was the last time you heard the voice? What was it telling you to do?”
She paused again. ”I've heard it twice. Once the evening before last, commuting home. I was looking at the Earth.”
”s.p.a.ce sickness.”
”That's what I thought, too,” she said, ”but I heard it a second time yesterday morning, after the memorial service.” She paused. ”It just said my name. Both times. But there is something... something it wants me to do.”
”Any idea what?”
She shook her head. ”I just, I sense that something very bad is happening, or is about to happen, and it wants me to intervene somehow...” She fell silent, feeling the press of his gaze.
”Well, some very bad things have have been happening, and you been happening, and you have have been intervening.” been intervening.”
She shook her head. ”It's something else. I don't know what.”
”Hmm. Well.” He scribbled inwave. ”I'm prescribing an antipsychotic, as a prophylactic.” At the dispenser in the wall, tiny tubes came down, and within their mesh a bottle grew. When it had fully formed, he handed it to her. ”I'd like you to take two of these a day: one in the morning and one at night. I'm going to recommend you go to the Emerson Clinic on Ceres for further testing. They have better facilities.”
She eyed the amber bottle in her hand. The fresh smell of newly a.s.sembled cellophane clung to it; spots were still soft. Inside, behind the label, were clear ovoid lozenges in a neat, closest-possible-packing arrangement. ”Can you recommend anyplace on the moon?”
He looked surprised. ”Of course! They have excellent facilities. One moment.” He moved his hands, accessing a file. ”There's Anderson Memorial in Robeston. Dr. Fabio Torricelli. You have a trip planned?”
”To Earths.p.a.ce.”
He lifted eyebrows.
”Retirement package,” she said.
”I bet there's a story in that.”