05. Twilight at the Well of Souls - The Legacy of Nathan Brazil (6 page)

"Obie?" her dream self called out.

"I'm here, Yua," came the familiar tenor of the great computer.

"But you're dead!" she protested. "I'm dreaming all this!"

"Well, yes, I must be dead or at least badly damaged," the computer admitted. "Otherwise we wouldn't be having this little chat. Obviously my fears were realized—the union with Brazil badly damaged or destroyed me and, therefore, the job must be done the hard way. Too bad. If he just hadn't been so obstinate I could have beamed him down to the Well World at an Avenue and we wouldn't have had these problems." He paused. "Well, who am I kidding? With the rip in space-time I was too screwed up to do the job anyway. It doesn't matter. It only matters that, if we're talking like this, you must be in Awbri and past your first Time."

She started in surprise. "You know about that? But —what am I saying? This is a dream. Wish-fulfillment, nothing more. I'm not really talking to you."

"You're right on most counts but wrong on that last one," the computer responded. "Yes, this is a dream. You're asleep somewhere in the bottom of a tree in Awbri right now. And, yes, I'm not really here or near by. Even if I could get there, I doubt that I would have the power to overcome that nullified space and that tremendous short circuit of Markovian energy. But we
are
having this conversation—already had it, in fact. When you went through me for the last time, all of this was planted by me deep in your subconscious to pop up at the proper moment. Only after you'd gone into heat for the first time could it come out. You had to know what you were up against."

"I don't really believe this," she told herself and the ghostly computer. "I'm just fantasizing what I desperately want to happen."

"Well, fantasize this, then," Obie came back. "Right now you're seeing a map of your area of the Well World, and you see where you are in relation to Glathriel. Also in your mind at this point is a briefing on the lifeforms and such of the hexes in between.

And, here, I'll give you a complete political-topographic map of Awbri as well. You'll need it before long."

And it was true. There it all was, in glowing detail, so much a part of her mind now that she doubted she could ever forget it. She began to feel a glimmer of hope that, perhaps, her dream might be real.

"But what good does all this do me, Obie?" she asked, still defeated. "If you had made me a male, I might have done something, but this!"

Obie chuckled. "Sorry. I thought you of all people would be a bit stronger than that. Think about it. The women have the numerical superiority, for one thing, and just as many brains as the men. Maybe more. And, of course, they have the biggest stake in a change. The men would fight you, probably kill you outright. They have a nice, neat, packaged little world that exists for their own pleasure and enjoyment. They are opposed to all change—more conservative types you cannot possibly imagine. Almost all creativity and progress in Awbri come really from the women, nurtured secretly and then sort of put into the minds of a young male here and there. A composition whistled while you work, an idea for a simple spring-loaded mechanism instilled in a young male while still at his mother's knee that, later, he miraculously 'invents' and really thinks he did. You name it. Without the women the place would have stagnated into unthinking animalism, nothing more. But when push comes to shove and the Awbrians have to choose sides between joining the forces of Brazil or stopping him at all costs, the men of Awbri will be right there with the stop-at-all-costs faction. They have to be. He could upset their little applecart, their nice little world."

She was beginning to understand. "But not the women."

"Exactly! They have the most stake in change. Never was a place more ripe for, or deserving of, revolution. Tell me, do you think the women would revolt if they could?"

She thought a moment, remembering particularly the ancient female's comments on lost opportunities.

"Not all of them, of course—but the leadership, certainly. The ones with an ounce or more of brains."

"The ones who count," Obie noted. "The rest will follow like sheep whoever wins and cheer that side. Now, what's stopping them? What's kept a revolution from happening?"

"The Time," she responded quickly. "When you go into desperate heat every six weeks, there's not much you can do."

"Uh huh," the computer agreed. "And so what do we have to introduce to produce a revolution the way we want it—on schedule, on time, just waiting for the load of new Entries?"

"You'd have to kill off all the males," she responded, then stopped. "No. That wouldn't work. That would only put us all in unending heat."

"What you need," Obie continued, "is something that will keep the Time from coming. You need the one thing a race that reproduces so slowly it still has females in heat would never consider, not even the most intellectual of them. You need a birth-control device—or, rather, a birth-control chemical, something that would fool your body into thinking it wasn't the Time."

The thought excited her. "Yes! Of course!" Then she hesitated, considering the idea. "But there are two problems there. One is the psychological addiction to the experience. Obie, it's unbelievable! The direct pleasure center of the brain is stimulated. I don't know if anyone who has had the experience could bring herself to deny it again."

"Not even you?" the computer shot back.

She considered it. "Of course
I
could, but I could see becoming so addicted I couldn't stop. Most of the women in Awbri have been through this so many times it would be impossible. And, of course, there'd be the other problem—that with a race reproducing this slowly, there would be some hesitancy in giving women this out, even by the female leaders. They wouldn't want to wipe out their race."

"True on both counts," the computer admitted. "Now, I chose Awbri for a number of reasons. One is geography—you can get where you're needed quickly. Another is mobility combined with agility. Don't underestimate the potential of your race as fighters, and their ability to fly is combined with a toughness and flexibility not found in birdlike species. Unlike the bird, you are not fragile. A lot of protection is built in. And the final reason is that the choice of Awbri converts a certain enemy into an ally. In order to do this I had to analyze the Awbrian biochemistry and the biome of the hex and see if what I wanted was possible. If it were not, you wouldn't be there."

"There is a way out, then!" She was excited now, the dream becoming more real than her true situation —lying, asleep, on a straw pallet above a dung-heap on the Well World.

"Yes. Indeed. If there weren't, this conversation would have been wasted and, frankly, you would be somewhere and something else." Obie had a nervous pause right now. "Um, that's assuming you
are
in Awbri and I didn't foul up. Oh, my. If that's the case, tell me what you are and I'll switch to a different set of messages that might not be of as much help but should do something, anyway."

"I'm in Awbri," she assured him. "Otherwise, how could we have had the earlier conversations?"

"My dear, you fail to understand that this conversation, for me, never even happened at all. It's a stimulus-response thing, with your own mind filling in the gaps from my multitudinous leads. Well, anyway, let me continue. First of all," Obie said, "there is a potion created out of seven different plants that will cause what would medically be a hormonal breakdown, but won't actually impair you and will free you of the Time. The potion is easy to make and should be terrible to drink but such sacrifices for a revolution are necessary." With that, into her mind came a complete set of ingredients, where to get them and how to mix them properly. Some heat was required, she noted, and she didn't like where two of them came from.

"Those are Floor fungi!" she objected. "Obie, do you know how dangerous that Floor
is?
"

"No," the computer responded. "Do you? But, so what? A little risk is required. Now, to continue, I should warn you of several side effects. One is that the stuff is physically addictive. But I wouldn't worry too much about that—a  little goes a long way, as you can see from the recipe. Take a dose every day for a full six-week cycle, then, when Time should come and doesn't, you'll know it's effective. The effect on the women who take it should be electric. After that, a dose every five to seven days will keep it that way. Fortunately, you needn't keep a calender; your body will crave the stuff when necessary—and an increased dosage is not required after the initial period. You'll need a supply to travel with, but I'm including the complete   chemical   formulae   for   each   ingredient. Nothing's so odd or rare in biochemical terms that a high-tech hex couldn't whip up a batch, maybe even in pill form, in a matter of weeks.  Make that requirement known as soon as you link up, even just for communications purposes, with the others. And, finally, I should warn you that the drug will cause a physical attraction between women. I shouldn't think this would bother you, considering Olympus, and I doubt if it will be a major problem with the Awbrians. It'll stimulate, in a much milder way, those pleasure centers  and  make  breaking  the  psychological  habit easier."

"But will the ancients go for it?" she asked, still not convinced. "I mean, we're spelling the end of their race."

"Not at all," Obie responded. "First of all, they will be in control of who ultimately gets the drug, and there's that extra power they'll love. Second, the Well regulates population. Centuries ago they had a war— one in which I had a part—and a large number of races were decimated. All that happened was that the survivors bred like flies until the numbers were back to normal again. The same will happen here. Those who do
not
get the formula will get pregnant a lot faster, and there will be a lot more multiple births.

The Awbrian female is designed to give forth a litter of six. That's why there are six nipples. On a planetary scale and in a horribly hostile environment, they would need it so even a few survive. Here they would crowd out your small hex, so births are rare and hard. The grandmothers all know this. They remember what it was like in times of famine, flood, whatever."

She considered this. "But what of the men? They aren't going to stand idly by while all this goes on. Surely they'll try to stamp it out."

"Hm . . . you overestimate them," the computer responded. "They have done so little over the years they couldn't take a bath without help from women. Who prepares all their food? Women. Add this to the food of key people—the ugly-looking brew should be disguisable somehow, I'd think."

She had another thought. "Obie, what will the potion do to the men? Anything?"

"It's double duty," he informed her. "Only some of the ingredients are needed to produce the effect on the females. The others . . . ? Well, let's put it this way. Suppose the tables were turned. Suppose for a number of weeks they couldn't do with you and then for a few days they couldn't do without you? I'd think that one or two cycles of that and you'd have the men eating out of your hand."

"Some of the matriarchs will think that's enough," she pointed out. "They might use it only on the men."

"I can't do everything," he retorted. "You have to do some, you know. Part of it is political, of course. Besides, you don't
need
the current population. You only need the Entries that will be coming in. There should be a suitable compromise. No reason Awbri should fight our war—although if they want to help they're welcome. That part is up to you."

That sounded reasonable. There was only one other question, but it loomed big in her mind. "Obie, tell me, what happens if we run out of the stuff despite all precautions? On the trail, I mean. What would withdrawal be like?"

"Unpleasant," he said gravely. "It would be increasingly physically painful, bordering on the excruciating. You see, the substance
replaces
hormones produced naturally by the body. The body, in reaction, stops producing them. Withdrawal would cause some breakdown, since it occurs faster than the body can recover and replace not only the hormones but the cellular enzymes replaced as a by-product of the drug. Eventually, after a few days, it would break and the body would overreact once more. The Time would then come with full force, but, this time, for a long, long time. Depending on the body, constitution, and the like, it might take weeks. In a few cases it might never go away. So there is a risk."

She shivered, and a part of her mind wondered how you could shiver in a dream like that. But that was a terrifying thought—all the more so to one who had gone through it—to be in that kind of heat forever!

"That's all," Obie told her cheerfully. "If I can be of any help to you in the future, I might pop up like this. I've placed a number of contingency positions and possible solutions in your brain just in case, so we may meet again. But let's hope we do not, for, if we do, it will mean something has gone terribly wrong."

Yua awoke with a start and looked around. The others were still there, snoring away. It was not yet morning. How long, she wondered, had the whole dream lasted? Not very long, most likely—if, in fact, it had taken any time at all. She sank back down on her straw mat and tried to relax. She would have a busy day tomorrow, she'd need her sleep. In the early part, she would work in a compost heap; later on, she would see an old woman about overthrowing the underpinnings of her society . . .

Dillia

IT   WAS   THE   START   OF   SPRING   IN   DlLLIA,   THE   BEST
time of year. The air was warm, the sun bright and cheerful, although there were a few cool breezes from the direction of the high mountains to the west that felt, sometimes, like gentle silk caresses.

Mavra Chang had stood still for a long time, staring at the reflection in the waters of the stream, one with the birds, small river animals, wind and nearby waterfall sound, one with her own thoughts. It was not her reflection, of course, but she hadn't expected that after going through the Well—and, yet, she knew it
was
her reflection, not only as she now was but as she could have been, would have been, had not events in her life taken such a strange turn so long ago. Not the tiny, slightly built Oriental woman the back-alley surgeons had changed her into, disguising her from her enemies but also erasing all connections with her early childhood and ancestry, but, instead, the way it might have been had her native world not fallen into the hands of the dictatorial technocracy that was the Com in those early days.