Part 8 (1/2)

9.

There was a pond in front of him, so he stopped.

Frogs, active even at this time of day, croaked ceaselessly. The sun was hot on John's neck and he felt sweat trickling down his back. He swatted irritably at a swarm of midges whining in front of his face.

This isn't Eden. Eden wouldn't have bugs.

Movement caught his eye. A small group of ibises in scarlet plumage stalked sedately from behind a boulder. He thought they were ibises, anyway; he wasn't so big on tropical ornithology. They were ugly birds, he decided, but they moved with a strange grace. He stood watching until they vanished in the reeds.

Eve hadn't said anything lately. He scanned the cliffs, looking for the flash of sun on gla.s.s or steel, but saw nothing. It was vitally important to discover how she could monitor him out here. He suspected either a single high observation platform or a low-orbit geosynchronous satellite. There were still a few operational prewar birds in the Pacific, even though no postwar emerging nation had rebooted its s.p.a.ce program. An AI like Eve could have found her way into one of their feeds and wrested control. John wouldn't put anything past her now.

She might also keep her tabs through an extensive system of grounded cams and mics, but he doubted it. The upkeep and maintenance would be too difficult, especially in a tropical environment, not to mention the juice it would take to keep them all consistently powered. There had been that sensor cam at the fence near the beach that was self-sustaining via solar panel, but it still needed maintenance.

No, there was some very expensive, very omniscient technology around here somewhere, and it enabled her to see and hear most of what she wanted. The key would be finding her blind spots, areas of the island where her eyes and ears didn't or couldn't reach. That would be a trial-and-error job, and might take a long time. And she would guard against that, too. If it was him, he'd have some bot sentries in this valley monitoring any blind spots.

She's smart. Remember that. She's the smartest thing you've ever met. She's got it all figured out. You play her game until you learn more, until she overreaches. Wait for that.

John circled the pond and entered a stand of trees, heavily draped in some sort of flowering vine. The heady scent made his head swim, and he walked faster. Ahead, a flock of small birds burst from the green tangle and arrowed through the trees squawking. He stopped.

Something had scared the birds; he was too far away yet to have startled them into flight. He c.o.c.ked his ears and listened intently. He heard the rustle of leaves as something brushed past them.

A bot or an animal predator would make things difficult, so he turned aside and followed a new course, climbing over the larger roots and ducking dense foliage. Ten minutes later, while scrambling over a downed log, he noticed the smell of rotting meat. He scanned the ground.

There was a young deer, half eaten, lying between the roots of a large tree. It wasn't a type he would have expected to see in a tropical climate, but he supposed that transplanted deer might prove as hardy in a warm, humid climate as they did elsewhere.

His eyes lingered on its torn shoulders and neck for a moment longer. There was something about it that demanded his interest. A second later he noticed it, and looked closer, finally walking over to finger it. A bullet hole, drilled neatly through the base of its neck on a line that would sever its spinal column, and a corresponding exit hole. Small caliber, and probably high velocity, considering the cleanness and size of the exit wound.

Eden's own little game warden. He considered the possibilities. It could be a herd-thinning; he didn't know much about game management, but this valley could only hold so many large ungulates before they ate themselves into starvation. It might have been done to feed scavengers or small predators, but it didn't seem to fit Eve's precious little mythos to have blood and bones scattered over Eden. Probably just thinning the herd, then. Unless it's Nut or someone like him.

”Eve? I've got a dead deer here that's been shot. Your doing?”

There was silence.

”Eve? If there are bullets flying around here, I'd like to know from where.”

”Please continue your test, Adam. We can speak later.” She sounded a little clipped, like she was irritated.

At me, or at the deer killer?

John continued on, hurrying but keeping his eyes and ears open. The trees began to thin out over drier ground. He came across a meter-wide shallow brook and followed its course through the groves.

Coming into a clearer patch, he saw a tree rising above some scrubby undergrowth that was different than the rest. Its drooping branches were a paler shade of green than most, and the little sprigs cl.u.s.tered along each long switch had little white berries. He hadn't seen anything else like it, so he moved toward it.

The tree hung out over a deep section of the brook, its roots forming part of the bank. As John came closer, he confirmed that it was unique, and he suspected that it was the goal of his first test. It was quite tall for such a thin trunk, and its branches spread outward like a series of umbrellas. Close to the trunk about two meters up there hung a small blue melon-looking fruit. It was the only one on the tree, weighing down the twig it hung from and dangling just out of reach for most animals.

Not what I expected the Tree of Life to look like.

He began to reach for it, but stopped. It seemed a shame to pick the fruit; it didn't look particularly edible, and it was the only one he could see. It was probably rare and difficult to replace. He decided to leave it undisturbed for now. Eve wouldn't like him messing with the prize of her garden, and he had no use for the fruit personally.

”All right, Eve. I think this is it,” he said.

”Congratulations, Adam, and well done,” came Eve's reply, and she sounded genuinely excited.

”If I eat the fruit do I become immortal?”

”Not this fruit, Adam. If you touch this one, you die instantly. The fruit itself might help you live longer, yes-in fact, pharmaceutical companies almost harvested it to extinction several decades ago. But had you attempted to pick the fruit, you would have triggered an electrode arc field that surrounds it, powered by the laser projectors you see on the ground at the base of the tree and on the far side of the bank, and your body would have fallen into the stream partly disintegrated by the force. Again, I congratulate you.”

”Nice of you to tell me,” John said, edging backward. ”I'll make sure not to brush it as I go by.” He almost kicked himself for not spotting the little black nozzles hidden on the ground. If this arc field was anything like the ones he had seen around high-security military compounds, Eve was understating it. The arc would probably have enough power to fry him out of existence.

Eve continued as if the dangerous security measure were nothing to be concerned about. ”This tree is the last known specimen of its type. It represents new possibilities in medical science, an invaluable source of cellular regeneration crafted over millions of years of evolution. We are very fortunate to have it here, and will go to any lengths necessary to protect it. It only bears fruit once in several years, depending on the climate and nutrient levels of the soil. By recognizing and then refraining from disturbing it, you have demonstrated your level of concern for endangered flora. I knew you would make the right choice!”

”Yeah,” John said. There's no way to antic.i.p.ate her whims. I'm treading on thin ice.

”You are now ready for the second test,” Eve announced. ”This time you must find the Fruit of Knowledge. It isn't an actual fruit this time, but rather a piece of knowledge I want you to recover; permit me my little bon mot. On the far side of the valley against the cliff base you will find a small observation hut overlooking a cl.u.s.ter of tamarind trees. I need you to recover a portable datacard there. This is the Fruit of Knowledge. You may begin.”

It took John an hour to cross the valley. He gave the deeper part of the marshes a wide berth to avoid the crocs. There was a solitary rhinoceros standing in the middle of a large meadow that he also skirted. It looked small as rhinos went, but rhinos were infamous for their unpredictability. Or had been, when they were around. This little fellow's got to be one of a mere handful left in the world. Eve really has something going on here.

The terrain was more open on this side of the valley, almost savannah-like. Tall trees and bushes dotted the landscape and gave plenty of cover to wildlife, but it was easy to see where he was going and he made good time. He spotted the hut easily from a kilometer away. Directly behind it the gray rock towered a hundred meters into the sky.

He approached the hut through the tamarind groves, prompting furious rebukes from swarms of little monkeys in the trees. The hut itself was fifteen meters above the valley floor, set on a talus slope with stilts supporting the front porch and the back resting on the rock slope. It held a strategic view of the tamarinds and the valley beyond.

He didn't see any sign of security measures here, and there weren't many places to hide them anyway. He climbed a small path up through the scree to the hut and stepped onto its porch. There was no door and the windows gaped emptily. It was a simple, flat-roofed structure made of the same synthetic fiberboard as the walkways near the Facility.

”Any hidden surprises you want to let me know about, Eve?”

No answer, of course. She's probably enjoying this. As much as an ultra-intelligent AI that's a few pickles shy of a full jar can enjoy something.

He stepped inside and stood there, waiting for his eyes to adjust completely. There was a chair in front of the window table. In the back there were a few boxes and a desk. Everything else appeared to have been stripped from the room by the monkeys, which had also left some less-than-savory signs of their presence. There was no sign that anyone human or machine had disturbed the dirty floor of the shack in a long time.

Maybe there was something in the boxes at the back. He stepped gingerly, trying to avoid the monkey droppings and lengths of discarded cable that lay strewn across the floor.

One of the longer cables spontaneously coiled.

John froze. No, no, no.

Bitis arietans, an old friend from his tours in sub-Saharan Africa. The puff adders were thick and heavily built, with distinctive stripes mottling their brown backs. There were probably fifteen of them in the hut, all gathered toward the back, away from the sunlight. The boxes in the corner were probably full of them, maybe even nests full of young.

None of them were hissing yet, which was a good sign. John backed slowly away toward the door.

Where was the datacard? Darting glances at the floor every few seconds, he gave the small interior a careful search. There was little to see. The low table by the window, a few chairs, the desk against the far wall, and tattered boxes in a jumble on the floor. He couldn't search those. Adders slithered around and through them, tongues flickering. They'd only come in here to avoid the heat of the day, but their motivation didn't lessen their effectiveness as a deterrent.

There was no card here. Maybe she'd sent him here to see if he'd kill the snakes rather than simply avoid them. Maybe There was a drawer in the desk. He hadn't seen it earlier because it didn't look like a drawer. There was no keyhole, just a small pull-out grip. It has to be in there.

”Eve... I found it. Can I go now? I really don't like these guys.” Images of some of the bite wounds he had seen in Africa flashed through his mind. He recalled that the enemy had even based an air-dispersed bio-chemical agent on the cytotoxin these adders produced.