Killing Time

the statistics: gambling's become an epidemic since the crash, and there's no way I'm going to let a lot of anthropologically nonsensical folklore rationalize it. If we'd been able to plant that evidence—'

' 'Plant?' ' I interrupted, surprised. 'You mean you weren't stealing anything?'

Jonah Kuperman threw me a friendly glance. 'There's really nothing in that particular burial site worth stealing, Dr. Wolfe.'

'Gideon,' I said.

'All right — Gideon. Well, as you probably know, it's been apparent for years that the various peoples who call themselves 'Native Americans' were not, in fact, the first inhabitants of this continent. But many of the tribes have attempted to suppress or destroy evidence that might support this conclusion. They're afraid, and with reason, that if they're suddenly revealed as simple conquerors of their predecessors, they'll lose emotional and historical justification for a lot of questionable activities — including the creation of a generation of gambling addicts in their casinos.'

'That burial ground in Florida,' Eli said, 'is currently being explored by a team from Harvard, and Jonah and I were trying to slip several artifacts in to demonstrate—'

Eli cut his words short at the sound of Malcolm Tressalian's wheelchair moving about on the control level above us. From the looks on the faces of the men on the lower level with me, I could see that they were all concerned as to what shape their leader was in. They relaxed again, however, when we all heard Tressalian call out:

'It simply would not be dinner without one of our rousing professional differences of opinion! Though you'll find, Dr. Wolfe, that these discussions can become quite personal as the evening wears on.'

Slow, heavy steps on the metal staircase indicated that Tressalian was making his way down with the aid of his crutches, and soon he appeared, his light blue eyes bearing no trace of the agony that had filled them earlier. Behind him I could see Colonel Slayton, ever on the alert for any sign of trouble, as well as Larissa, who looked only more beautiful for having brought us through a hard-fought engagement with law enforcement.

'Well, gentlemen, whom are we beating up on tonight?' Tressalian went on. It occurred to me that once they saw that he had recovered from his bout of illness, none of the others thought to ask the man how he felt, even though the attack that had seized first his head and then his entire body had been savage. I took my cue from their example, remembering Tarbell's statement that these episodes were something of a regular occurrence and assuming, as I had when I'd first seen him struggle out of his wheelchair, that help and sympathy were not things Tressalian desired.

'Oh, Malcolm, it's absurd!' bellowed Fouche, who appeared from the galley. 'Eli and Jonah continue to maintain that their Florida escapade was worth the trouble it brought!'

As a general though still good-natured uproar ensued, Larissa moved up close to me. 'I'm sorry I wasn't there to settle you in,' she said quietly, her dark eyes gleaming in the soft light even more than her silver hair. 'Was everything all right?'

'Yes, perfectly,' I answered, again feeling very self-conscious in her presence. 'Dr. Tarbell did his best to help me get my bearings, though it was a tall order. But your brother — is he—?'

'Fine, now,' she said, even more quietly. 'But we can talk about that later.'

The argument around the table continued, eventually prompting Tressalian to hold up his hands: 'Decorum, gentlemen, please. Jonah, Eli — I think that for the foreseeable future we'll have to ask you to confine your activities concerning the gambling issue to informational pursuits. No one faults your zeal — we all know the extent of the problem and the false assumptions that underlie it. But there are far larger matters at hand just now. Not to mention that we are being unspeakably rude to our guest, who, unless I'm mistaken, understands only a fraction of what we're talking about.'

I shook my head once with a smile. 'You are certainly not mistaken.'

'Then let's be seated while Julien serves.' Tressalian moved to the head of the table, directing me to sit beside him. 'We shall try to clarify the situation, Doctor, after which you can see our ideas at work in Afghanistan.' He leaned toward me, the blue eyes alight. 'And then you can decide if a life of brewing global chaos holds any appeal…'

CHAPTER 14

Fouche soon emerged from the galley bearing great platters of simply but delicately prepared food: the kind of diet, I immediately realized as I glanced at Tressalian, that would appeal to a man with a severe neurological condition. This impression was confirmed when I observed that he drank no alcohol.

'Excuse me,' I said as I studied the man, 'but did you say 'global chaos'?'

'Oh, all in a good cause,' he rushed to reply. 'Well — generally, at any rate. But to understand that cause I'm afraid you'll first have to wrap your mind around the philosophy we've all chosen to share.'

'I'm listening.'

Tressalian nodded. 'Well, then, where to start? Perhaps simple observation would be best. Did you enjoy the sights along the coast?'

I looked up suddenly: Was that why the ship had spent so long in those filthy waters? To make an impression on me, just as Larissa had done when she'd so expertly manned the ship's big rail gun during the battle with our pursuers? 'It was fairly depressing,' I said carefully.

'And the sea around us now,' Tressalian went on. 'Does anything appear to be missing?'

'Just the fish,' I joked; but the tableful of straight faces that looked back at me indicated how terribly serious my words had actually been. 'Jesus,' I fumbled. 'Have things really gotten that bad?'

'The sights speak for themselves, Doctor,' Colonel Slayton said gravely, running a finger along the scar on the side of his face. 'The Atlantic seaboard is almost literally a hog sty, and the last of the important fish species, thanks to government lies about enforcing fishing regulations around the world, have been chased into the furthest recesses of the ocean, where they'll be found and, soon enough, slaughtered.' He kept gently rubbing that scar, reminding me of how much 'government lies' had contributed to his own disastrous experiences during the Taiwan campaign.

'Yes,' Tressalian agreed gloomily. 'I only wish I could say that such developments were outside the norm of modern human behavior. And yet, according to a generation of rhetoric, our own age should have separated itself from that norm, shouldn't it, Doctor?'

'How do you mean?'

'Well, after all, the dawn of this century did present humanity with an enormous opportunity to improve both its own lot and the condition of the planet. The necessary tools were all at hand.' His voice became distinctly ironic. 'The age of information had been born.'

I was puzzled by his tone. 'Yes — thanks in large part to your father.'

Tressalian's irony quickly took on a hard edge. 'True. Thanks in large part to my father…'

I pushed my plate aside and leaned forward. 'You referred to his work earlier as a 'sin'—why?'

'Come now, Doctor,' Tressalian answered, toying with a slender silver knife. 'I think you know exactly why. And what's more, I suspect that you agree with the assessment.'

'I may share some of your opinions,' I said, weighing the statement. 'But I also may have arrived at them through entirely different reasoning.'

He smiled again. 'Oh, I doubt that. But let's investigate, shall we?' He struggled to his feet, having eaten only half his food, and began to slowly circle the table. 'Yes, Doctor, my father and his colleagues made certain that most of the world was given access to the modern Internet. To what was marketed — quite seductively and, of course, successfully — as 'unrestricted information.' And in an era when capitalism and global free trade had triumphed and were running rampant, such men had little trouble further promoting the belief that by logging on to that Internet, one was tapping in to a vast system of freedom, truth — and power. The mass of mankind withdrew to its terminals and clicked away, and those afflicted with philosophical scruples allowed themselves to be cajoled into believing that they were promoting the democratic cause of a free exchange not only of goods and information but of ideas as well. Convinced, in other words, that they were changing the world, and for the better.'