Part 21 (1/2)

He needed help. Someone, anyone. Desperately he rummaged for traces of s.h.i.+bo. None.”What's it want? Or is this just what it feels like to be killed sure-dead?”

We are not suredead.

”Not yet you mean.”

We Aspects are more like this Mantis than you. Not ruled by elements of chemistry or by c.u.mbersome, layered minds. Aspects can better perceive the holographic speech of the Mantis and have been learning it in this time of captivity.

”How much time's that?”There was a blocky tone to Isaac's presence that put him on guard. A sullen weight.An Aspect corrupted from outside.The Mantis came forward slowly. Its broad padded feet broke bones as it stepped. Though it seemed light its weight smashed skulls and thighs easily. But of course all this was a digital landscape anyway and he would have to remember that physical movements were only a.n.a.logies.Isaac said in his lecturing tone, This place is a wave-transform of real s.p.a.ce and of the Mantis-mind.

Intelligences engage best in this kind of intersecting mathematical s.p.a.ce. So much more clean and sure. Exact part.i.tioning of ideas. Here the total sum of an intelligence remains the same, though any subsum can vary greatly.

”Yeasay--and you all add up to a hundred, right?”

I do not follow.

”Forget it.”

The Mantis-mind has expended much effort to find you. Its allied intelligences--great minds, which of course cannot in truth be fully separated from itself--demanded your capture.

”How come?”

270.You harbor information of great importance.”Oh, sure,” Toby said sarcastically.But he recalled the dying man and the thin, reedy voice: Why you so important? You got something to do with all this?--and he was somehow still running over a broken landscape. Sweating.

The thick green forest was closer--He sat down on the silky sand. It slid away to shape a comfortable, cupping seat. If none of this was real he might as well be comfortable. He was hungry and thirsty and as he thought about that some oddly shaped food of maize and flowery buds appeared. It lay neatly on sand that shaped up into a little table and then sprouted a transparent gla.s.s.He picked up the gla.s.s. It was warm, as though just formed out of melted sand, and there was ice-cold water in it. He drank eagerly. The condemned man ate a hearty though nonexistent meal.

You do not know what this information is?

”d.a.m.n right.” If he did, this thing could force it out of him, he was pretty sure of that.Isaac's voice lost its tone, going flat and distant as the Mantis spoke more directly through the Aspect. Isaac was now a puppet.

I calculated this from my prior knowledge of you and of Killeen.Yet buried somewhere in your minds there must be a key whichwill lead to the message. The difficulty for forms such as myselflies in your mental organization. Much of your selves you cannotaccess.

”Sorry I can't help you. My memory isn't so good these days.”He finished eating. His sarcasm went right by the Mantis again. It used a stilted form of Isaac's voice to reply.

These tiers of your selves make it quite difficult for me. I am ananthology intelligence which can find any fragment of my ownthought processes quicker than you can blink your eye. Though Iam obliged to attempt such discoveries, my true interests lieelsewhere within you.

--its words reached him through the flickering of two conflicting images. He was sitting on the sand and he could feel the fine grains cupping around him. And he was trotting steadily toward the green, keeping on against a ma.s.sive weight that wanted to drag him down.

Hunger rumbled in his stomach. Breath rasped.-Back on the sand. Heart thumping, lead-heavy.There was probably no way out of this place, this Mantis-s.p.a.ce, if 271.

”out” meant anything here. But so long as he didn't know for sure, he had to try. ”I got wind of that back on Snowglade. Your 'creations,' right?”

My work proceeds from higher purposes. It is understandable that you cannot entirely fathom this.

”You killed plenty Bishops. Herded us, fooled us, played with us until you got bored and--”

Not at all. Earlier I ”ambushed” you to lessen the pain of dissolution as I gathered in your Bishop components.

”Took f.a.n.n.y and my mother and, and--without even givin' us the chance to preserve an Aspect.”Isaac surfaced, like a breaking froth on the curl of a slow undulation.

Its voice was plaintive and congested.

Do not believe that my trimmed life in here is enough. We Aspects are like your pets, no better. We were men and women once! We kick against the walls at times- did you think we were merely being childish? We are shadows! I once commanded vast audiences, walked proud hallways with supplicants trailing in attendance, supped flne wines and knew- ”Can it.”But this time he did not have to suppress the Aspect. The slow swell in his mind blended with the undulating sand. Uncountable torrents of infinitesimal grains flowed, eddied--and smothered Isaac. Then the Aspect's voice returned, humble and stiff.

I regret that such small matters intrude.

”He's just worried some.” Toby rose to Isaac's defense without knowing why. ”You surekill me, what happens to my Aspects?”

They would be discarded with the harvesting.

”So it's 'harvesting,' huh?” Like shucks peeled away from the rich maize kernels. And tossed aside.

Your father did not like this term either. An interesting similarity.

”Listen, n.o.body's going to like it. My father told me about talkin' to you this way, inside this place you've made. I can't see as how you've learned any more since then. 'Harvesting' isn't it, not for us.”

272.

Yet it is a correct description. You embody a high form of the organic realm, with the characteristic feature: you know that you shall end. When we anthology beings are harvested-- as all must be, in time, by chance or plan- some fraction of oneself is saved, to be used in further advanced forms. You have this now in the stunted Aspects and Faces and Personalities.

--running harder now. Fear like ice shards in his spine. The green coming closer--”Pretty talk, but it still means you're killin' us.”

In harvesting, yes. In a sense. I use your reaped selves to construct new mixed life forms. They blend the two facets of organic life, the lowly plant and the high-animal, such as yourselves.

With the words came images, flicker-fast:A green mat that bristled with extended organs. It crawled swiftly over a rutted plain and raised slick, snaky organs in a kind of salute.Tubular knots that thrust into each other with demented fury. Slit-mouths bit deep and from the wounds blue blossoms sprouted.A fog that made a greater being, its vapor rivulets shaping up and melting with bewildering speed. Only when a tapered arm reached up did Toby see the scale: it clasped a pa.s.sing thunderstorm and shredded it with playful glee.

Through such constructions, equally plant and fleshy, we probe the aesthetic levels of your kind. I include possibilities not admitted by the random forces of your evolution. It is interacting, trans-phylum art.

”Killeen told me that once. You're an artist.” Toby laughed.

True. Thus you shall live in the hands of greater forces. Only I, artist and conservator, can make this possible for you, through timely harvesting.

”We'd like to keep ourselves the way we are. Getting planted in your art, well, that's not what I had in mind.” He said this mildly so as not to tip off the Mantis, and because something was happening to his sensorium and he did not understand it.

To harvest is to sow.

”And that's what you've got innind for me?”--like logs his legs thumped against the timestone. Cold air rasped in 273.

his throat and he could not get enough to make the legs move faster, faster-- Not yet. This little discourse has aided me in my plans for future projects, but for now I am carrying out the precepts embodied by my allied intelligences. I must help in the gathering of enough Bishop primates to test for this buried knowledge.

”What's that mean?”

I must bring you to a spot where we collect your lineage. We shall a.s.semble your generations.

He thought fast. He could feel his legs pumping harder and they were real, not the intricately slick touch of the sand-sea.One part of him was plunging ahead. Gasps rasped in his throat.

Another fraction bent over and studied the sand. Picked up a handful.

Grains. Mica winked at him. Between the grains a blur. Not quite defined.

As he noticed the slight smearing, the image sharpened. The Mantis had increased definition. Now its world was a bit more distinct. Even thesmallest grain now had clear edges.An artist, tidying up its work.Running. Chest heaving, a thumping in his ears.He knew he had to find some way to deflect the moment.The jerky lattice of rods had an eerie, hovering presence as the Mantis paced among the garden of bleached bones. It had smashed the grinning skulls flat. Along the sand dune wave played strange shadows of the mind behind all this.Toby struggled between two worlds. He could not sort out his own senses.--so hard to move his legs now, arms pumping stron to keep himself $oin aainst a blunt pressure that wanted to stop him from reachin the green moisess. Close now but the pain-- I am sure you understand the necessi. I a.s.sure you that when my allied minds have made proper use of you to clear up this ancient and bothersome matter, I shall harvest you with the attention to detail and genuine concern which characterize my best work. Though I have my critics among these same allies, they do not question my reverence for the ancient and lesser forms such as yourself. Rest secure that- -he reached the inky line of tall trees. Cool, moist.No phony sand waves. No mech made of rods.He remembered the kids playing with their fake digital worlds so 274.