Queen of Angels (27 page)

her whether she thought Hispaniola was a good place to live compared to Joe Angeles or California. Soulavier glanced at Mary, nose angled just slightly up, eyes narrowed in warning. Mary tried to ignore him but her caution prevailed. If Madame Yardley was as delicate as she seemed, perhaps on the edge of very poor health, burning her own protein to stay alive, then Mary could risk unpleasantness by not humoring her. She felt in her pocket automatically for the pistol, missed it, saw Soulavier noting her gesture and turned quickly to Madame Yardley. Hispaniola is a lovely island, dose to nature. Los Angeles is a very large city and nature has little place there. Madame Yardley absorbed this thoughtfully for a moment. She has never been to Los Angeles, nor to California; as a young girl, she visited Miami, and did not find it much to her liking. So confusing. She prefers, if she is to visit the continent, perhaps Acapulco or Mazatlhn, where she spent three years being educated. Ive never been to Miami, or to the others, Mary said. That was a pity; she should get out of the country more often to see what the rest of the world had to offer. Mary agreed that was wise. She wanted nothing more than to be back in LA again and never step outside the city limits. This remained unspoken, however. 1 have been to Los Angeles, Soulavier said. He had not revealed this to Mary; perhaps now she knew why Soulavier had been chosen to attend her. My father helped set up the diplomatic mission in California in 2036. Madame asked him in her direct French what he thought of the city. Very large, he said first in French then in English. Very crowded. Not then as much separated I think as it is now, into two distinct classes. Is this true, two classes? Mary inclined. Soulavier said, Those who accept the practice of mental therapy and those who do not. Generally speaking. there is discrimination against the latter. All must be therapied? No, Soulavier said. But to receive fulfilling employment you must have an acceptable mental and physical health profile. Refusal to be treated for mental or physical disorders.. . makes it difficult to be accepted by employment agencies. In most of the USA employment agencies screen applicants for the higher paying job opportunities. Madame Yardley laughed a glassy trilling musical laugh, both pretty and disturbing. She expressed an opinion that if everyone on Hispaniola had to prove their mental health the island would blow away like a dead tree in a hurricane. All of Hispaniolas vitality, she claimed, comes from the refusal to give in to practicalities, to admit reality too deeply into one s head. Eyes half closed, hand clutching the damask and table edge, she regarded Mary as if she might deny this and provoke Madame Yardley to strike her right off her chair. The fixed smile had vanished. Mary inclined again. The smile returned like a flickering candle flame and Madame Yardley glanced up yearningly at Hilaire. The servant immediately pulled an electronic noisemaker from his pocket and pushed three sharp chirrups. Within ten seconds, more servantsmulattoes and one oriental all quite small in stature like children but fully maturecame in bearing soup bowls and a large tureen. Nothing was said as they ate the soup, a mildly spiced chicken broth. Mary wondered whether they would all partake of Madame Yardleys postfast diet. She did not ask if Colonel Sir was going to join them later, perhaps when more substantial food was brought in. Soulavter ignored her look and slurped soup from his spoon placidly, content that for the moment there was less danger of awkwardness. When the soup course was finished Madame Yardley allowed Hilaire to dab at her mouth delicately. It tastes wonderful, she said, like a breath of life itself. Is Mary curious why she is fasting? Yes, Mary said. Madame Yardley explained that her poor hund is receiving opposition from all sides, even from his wife. She is fasting to convince him to comply with international laws, and not play the rogue; to permanently stop the shipment of Hispaniolan troops to foreign countries to fight foreign wars. He has finally agreed, and so: she breaks her fast. It is important, she conduded, for Hispaniola to assume an even higher moral posture than the countries around her. The island has the potential to be a great paradise, heaven on Earth. But such a dream will not be fulfilled so long as its peoples sin against the other peoples of the Earth or encourage their sins against each other. Is that an idealistic, perhaps a hopeless dream? I hope not, Mary said. Servants brought in wine. Mary accepted a small amount; Soulavier with some eagerness took a full glass of the dark red liquid. Madame Yardley had none. A dull foggy amber juice was poured for her. She began to speak again but this time she held up her hand to Hilaires mouth. I think I remember such words now, she said directly. I make my husband, you treat this woman well. She has not treated well. No fault her she is among us. Give her what she desires. He says we have not what you desire. SO Ive been told, Mary said. You believe this? Madame Yardley asked. Mary shook her head dubiously. It seems Ive been sent here for no good reason. Madame Yardleys candle of concern burned brighter in her eyes. Her expression became motherly and joyful. She leaned forward, strengthened by the soup. and said, What you want is here. We have the man Goldsmith. I think you can see him, perhaps so soon as tomorrow. Mary put down her glass of wine carefully, fingers trembling with mixed anger and shock. Soulavier seemed just as surprised.

For a healthy mentality, what is aware in each of us at any given moment is the primary personality and whatever sub-personalities, agents or talent.s it has deemed necessary to consult and utilize; that which is not conscious is merely for the moment (be that moment a split second or a decade or even a lifetime) either inactive or not consulted. Most mental organonsfor such is the word I use to refer to the separate elements of mentalityare capable of emergence into awareness at some time or another. The major exceptions to this ride are undeveloped or suppressed subpersonalibes, and those organons that are concerned solely with bodily functions or maintenance of the brains physical structure. Occasionally, these basic organons will appear as symbols within a higher-level brain activity, but the flow of information to these basic organons is almost completely one sided. They do not comment on their activities; they are automatons as old as the brain itself. This does not mean that the subconscious has been completely charted. Much remains a mystery, particularly those structures that Jung referred to as archetypes. I have seen their effects, their results, but I have never seen an archetype itself and I cannot say to which category of organon I would consign it if I could find it.

Martin Burke, The Country of/lw Mind (20432044)

52 LitVid 21/1 A Net (AXIS Direct Report with Visuals, David Shine): We are receiving these remarkable visuals from AXIS at nineteen hundred hours PST. The resolution is poor because these are realtime Images. relayed with AXISs usual data 110w across four tight years Doubtless AXIS will provide higher resolution squeeze burst images later This Is the ocean AXIS has dubbed Memo. for middle. It Is a large body Of fresh waterthere are no salt oceans on 34very nearly girdling the planet. As you recalL 3-2 has a single great polar ocean, the only blue sea. and this other beltllke sea, a south-em sea, and a few scattered lakes. Afl the tower formations are within a few hundred kilometers of these seas which are filled with an amorphous organic soup. So far no large life forms have been discovered on 3-2 and therein lies the mysteiyearthbound scientists have been given no clues to explain how the towers might have been formed. But as you can see... These pictures, assembled from dozens of mobile explorers scattered around the Memo ocean, show a virtual tide of organic material rising from the water, moving across the littoral that Ii coastal region, and then breaking up Into these remarkable, one can only call them railers or sideways tentacles, moving at a rapid pace much as a sldewlnder does on Earth across the sand and graveL lhere Is great excitement at AXIS Control on Lunar tarslde, In Australia and in California. where the AXIS simulation Is overseen by Roger Alklns. We have no dlred interviews available at this moment; everybody is very busy. But we do have transcriptions of AXiSs commentary and these are available on your Lit text band..

AXIS (Band 4)> ThIs migration at organic material began three hours ago. I have delayed transmission to allow all my mobile explorers and nickel children to move Into Ideal positions. Three explorers have In fact come too close and been bowled over by organic materiaL one may be completely out of action. The other two report they will recover. Roger. flits is a remarkable phenomenon but not completely unexpected. I have been analyzing the possible Internal structures of the rings of towers and have concluded that periodic deposition Is a probable explanation. I could only assume that any living thing or things responsible for such structures would come out of the oceans. Now we see the beginning of a possible phase at gathering and depoefliaft There is no way of knowing whether or not new formations will be constructed. The towers vary In individual width. Some towers have almost joined together, forming solid circles; many at these seem to have fallen Into decay. as If abandoned. It seems there may be a connection between the decayed circles and the completion of a ring, that Is. when all towers have fused together to form a squat cylinder. The motile forms of the organic material rising from Mesa are fascinating. My explorers and children have seen worms moving like terrestrial annellds. other forms moving like snakes, and large flat mats or masses of material crawling on what may be newly grown cilia or thousands of tIny feet. The entire region surrounding the Mesa ocean to a distance of three kilometers is covered with millions of lumps. extrusions and motile forms. My orbiter reports that the paths of these migrating bodies point In ninety percent of cases toward a ring of circular towers. If this is In fact a suitable explanation for the towers. I hove certainly erred In suggesting they might have been created by Intelligent beings. What my different extensions witness here is primordial. betraying no more culture or Intelligence than the crawling of a terrestrial slime mold.

David Shine: This is a truly remarkable development, and so sudden that it has taken all our experts by surprise. The general nnpression Is that all of AXISs designers and programmers are busy reassessing AXISs mission In light of the possibility that the towers are completely natural not artificial..

!Roger Atkins> Jill. I have a squeeze burst band two self diagnostic of AXIS separated from the realtime flow. Why did AXIS send this to us? Its not scheduled. !JILL> I am analyzing. Analysis complete. AXIS Is reevaluating the character of its mission in Ught of new Information. !Roger Atkins> Do I have any mason to be concerned? !JILL> AXIS Simulation is now conducting such a reevaluation. There are several responses that seem to be anomalous in primary AXIS. I am investigating these anomalies. Roger. these anomalies are within expected variation of model versus primary. They may be the result of the only circumstance we cannot model in AXIS Simulation as it is currently designed; AXIS Simulation is aware that it is not in AXIS primarys exact circumstance. !Roger Atkins> What does that mean. Jill? !JILL> It is here, and not out there. !Roger Atkins> Well, for Christs sake, that's obvious. !JILL> Very obvious. But perhaps significant. AXIS primary is expert- enclng same disturbance while It reevaluates Its mission. AXIS Simulation does not replicate these disturbances. !Roger Atkins> Jill, I think Its time I sent a few tracers and confirmation routines through AXIS Simulation. I did not know that AXIS Simulation realized there was a difference. !JILL> I apologize for not reporting this eventuality earlier. !Roger Atkins> No apologies necessary. Ive been slipping up. obviously.

Imagine somebody else being allowed to lucidly dream within you; to be awake yet explore your dreams. Thats part of what the Country of the Mind experience is Like; but of course, our personal memories of dreams are confused. it is even possibLe for two or more agents to dream separate dreams at the same timefurther adding to the confusion. When a dream intersects the Country at all, it does so Like an arrow shot through a Layer-cake, picking up impressions from as many as a dozen leveLs of territory. When I go into your Country I can see each territory clearly and study it for what it is, not for what your personal dream-interpreter wants it to be. Martin Burke, The Country of the Mind (20432044)

53

Martin examined Goldsmith critically. Goldsmiths couch rhythmically massaged his back, legs and arms; his head and neck were cushioned on a gently undulating pillow. Carol hummed as she marked off their procedures on her slate. They were alone in the theater with the sleeping man, surrounded by the busy quiet of electronic equipment and the subdued murmur of air from the theater blowers. The rest of the team was resting or eating dinner. How are the connections? Carol asked, walking around the cot to join him. Martin bent to look at a spot on Goldsmiths neck two inches below the corner of the jawbone. A few bristles of beard then a smooth shaved circle; within the circle a fine pattern of silvery lines. The nano within Goldsmith had created direct circuitry running from the brain to the skins surface at the neck; a connector would link this circuit to similar circuits from their own brains, through the mediating computer, which would clean up and interpret the flow of information from Goldsmith, Neuman and Burke. No buffer. That still concerned Martin. They look very good, Martin said. I think weve done about as much fussing as we should. Time for our own dose. Carol called in the team. David and Karl would help them prepare; then Margery and Erwin would prepare David and Karl for their role as backups. When the full investigation was on there would be five people lying on couches in the theater, apparently asleep. Carol and Martin retired to their couches. Nano was fed into their arms and necks, as with Goldsmith. Margery turned on the inducers that would lull them into sleep; they would stay asleep for several hours while the nanomachines found their loci, grew the appropriate circuitry and emerged on their own necks; then they would be brought to a state of neutral awareness, suspended above bodily sensations but wide awake and capable of opening and moving their eyes. For the first level of investigation, they would also be capable of talking out loud. Martin thought about his boyhood bedroom. The robots he had made, big and small; his grandfather buying him books, bound paper items becoming rare even then. His first infatuation with a young girl who called herself Trix. There was no sensation as the nano took up its stations within his body. Dull comfortable lassitude. Opened his eyes just once to look into the gallery. Saw Albigoni there chin on folded arms resting on the window railing. What would he do. What are we going to do. Margery woke Martin up at twenty-two hundred. His senses seemed particularly sharp but he did not try to move. He could smell the sharp cheesy odor of nano; he had ignored it before. He felt a pang of hunger though he had eaten well. They would not be eating for many more hours. Everythings fine, Dr. Burke, Margery said. Were going to hook up your cable now. Good. Karl and David slung the thin lightweight dpticai cables across the room and around the barrier that blocked their view of Goldsmith. Karl locked the cables into guides mounted on the couches. Be still, Karl said lightly, bending close to Martins neck. Martin felt the connector cold and soft against his skin. David and Margery examined the readout on the cable monitor, decided the connection was optimum and moved to Carols side. Just minutes, Up Country again. Anabasis. A one way at first and then a loop, Burke and Neuman within Goldsmith like hikers preparing to trek a new land. Not even Goldsmith had seen this part of himself. Nobody directly experienced this part of himself. You should be getting a visual neural pattern from Goldsmith in a few seconds, Margery said from the other side of the barrier. Carol, Martin said. Yes? Hi there. Im glad youre with me. I know. Im glad to be here. Enough chatter please, David said pleasantly. What do you see, Carol, Martin? Martin closed his eyes. On the edge of his vision fluttered a somber brightness limned by electric green. The electric green blossomed into an infinite regression of twirling fractals, inner-mind geometries familiar to all brain researchers: visual interference patterns from occipital lobe signal smear. Martin had first seen such patterns as a child, pressing his eyelids with knuckles at night, causing pressure on the optic nerve. These were his own patterns, not Goldsmiths. Nothing but visual smear, Carol said. Ditto, Martin concurred. Were still searching and tuning, Margery said. Ive got a level one signal here. Im feeding it through now. Martin saw a vivid mandala of wildly twisting snakes, tails at the periphery noses in the center, eyes yellow bodies pearl-gray, each scale feverishly sharp. Snakes. Snakes, Carol said simultaneously. Looks like a limbic ID signal, Martin said. It must be Goldsmiths. Were close. Tuning, Margery said. Separating out a new frequency. Hows this? Clouds. An endless cycle of clouds and rain again in a mandala, storms racing in a circle around a twisting wheel of lightning. The lightning threatened to turn into snakes. Martin exulted; they were on track, observing the layers of linibic signs, symbols exchanged between the brains autonomic systems and higher personal systems. Clouds and lightning, lightning trying to go back to the snakes layer again. Ditto, Carol said. Another frequency, Margery said. Ive got a atrong one now. Hows this? A cubic room with dirty brick walls, dank, water dripping, water on the floor, water crawling up the walls like something alive. In the middle of the water a tiny yellow skinned or perhaps golden skinned child bald but for a topknot sat on a sunny desert island playing cards. Jesus, Carol said. This certainly looks personal to me." The child looked up and smiled. Its face was suddenly painted over with a chimpanzee in full grimace, gray bearded, snout protruding, brown animal eyes infinitely calm. This was a deep symbol but definitely personal and definitely Goldsmith. We seem to be in a closed room. Lets see if it opens. From their perspective near the dripping brick ceiling, the water on the floor changed color. It became a gray storm covered ocean, a red wine colored lake, a mud puddle sprinkled with rain. Still the desert island remained, and the child, repeating its endless cycle of glance upward, chimpanzee face, back to playing cards. This was a special case of the Country; an assigned symbol to some intermediate personal layer taking on characteristics abstracted not from genetic heritage but from Goldsmiths own early infant experiences. What the room and child and chimpanzee face were symbolic of did not matter here; possibly such deep layers could never truly be mapped with a one to one meaning correspondence. Martin had encountered such deep layer personal myth idioms many times before, always enigmatic, often profoundly beautiful. They were probably determined by archetypal problem solving early in childhood; they might be cast off closed loop artifacts of individuation, a process usually complet ed by the age of three or four. Whatever, they were fascinating but not precisely what he and Carol were looking for. Looks like a myth idiom, Martin said. A closed loop. Try another. No doors out, Carol said. Another stronger frequency, Margery said. Im switching to another locus, another channel in a deeper cluster. An opening out. Sensation of immensity. Here was something undoubtedly acquired after personality formation, perhaps even from adolescent experience. An impression of three infinite highways running side by side through sunwashed desert. Barren sand drifts. Martin concentrated on exploring this image, taking what was being sent to him and controlling what he could focus on a point at a time. This caused a dizzying adjustment of the image and he found himself standing on the middle highway. He had no sensation of weight or even of presence; the sun was brilliant with that somber brightness characteristic of the Country, but it did not warm him. Martin looked down at himself. He wore faded denim jeans, paint stained white workshirt, childhood running shoes. He had worn this outfit before in Country. Were setting up crosslink subverbal now, Margery said. Her voice sounded distant and hollow. Let us know when you want out. From now on Martin and Carol would not talk out loud until the test was completed. |Carol? An impression of something huge above him, like a descending asteroid. Another personality: Carol. |Here with you. She appeared beside him on the road, fuzzy, a mere ghost at this stage. Only with a complete loop established would they see each other clearly, and even then what they saw would not necessarily match each others self image. |This looks convincing enough, Martin said. I think we can use this as a channel for entry. Welcome home, Carol said. Martin opened his eyes. The images of highway and theater clashed for a moment and then the Country faded like a wisp of dream. Albigoni stood in the gallery above the theater, hands in pockets. Lascal sat behind his employer; his feet were visible on the railing. All right, Martin said. Tune to this locus and channel. Might as well lull us into a good sound sleep while youre fixing the points and finishing the tune. Margery leaned over him. She squinted and looked at the connector display. Everythings fine, she said. Erwin stood beside Carols couch. How long until we go in? Carol asked. Three hours to get the frequencies fixed and logged, Margery said. Its eleven thirty five now. Its going to be a long night, Martin said. Wake us up at nine hundred. Youll have plenty of time to get David and Karl prepped as backups. All of you get a good nights sleep. We want people fresh and alert. He turned his eyes to the gallery again. Albigoni had moved his hands to his hips. Give Mr. Albigoni a briefing. Tell him well probably be finished by noon tomorrow. Will do, Margery said. See you in my dreams, Carol said lightly. Margery adjusted the inducer. Martin closed his eyes.