'Because we couldn't start the desynching sequences.'
'What? Why not?'
'Impossible to say. Same for your memexshe and it are
still locked into contact with Aleph and Jerry. At some point,
we'll have to do a physical disconnect and hope for the best.'
'What the hell is going on here? What's wrong with Jerry?
Aleph said he was in trouble.'
'His condition has changed for the worse. We're keeping him
alive now, but I don't know for how much longer. I don't even
know if we're going to try for much longer. Ask your boss.'
'Traynor. He is here. I thought maybe I'd hallucinated
that.'
'No, you didn't ' As Charley's voice trailed off, Gonzales
could hear the implied finish: I wish you had. Charley said,
'I'll have someone find him and bring him in; he said he wanted to
talk to you as soon as you were awake.'
#
Gonzales sat in a deep post-interface haze, listening to
Traynor berate SenTrax Group Halo. 'These people have no sense of
responsibility,' Traynor said.
'To SenTrax Board?' Gonzales asked.
'To anyone other than Aleph and the Interface Collective.
It's obvious that Showalter has let them take over the decision-
making process.'
Even in his foggy mental state, Gonzales saw what Traynor
would make of this one. Showalter was the sacrificial corporate
goat, and whoever replaced her would have as first priority
reasserting Earth-normal SenTrax management strategies. To put it
another way, through Traynor, the board was taking back control.
And presumably Traynor would receive appropriate rewards.
'The collective ' Gonzales said. 'Aleph ' He stopped,
simply locking up as he thought of trying to explain to Traynor
how things worked here, how things had to work here, because of
Aleph.
'Easy does it,' Traynor said. 'The doctors say you had a
rough time in there, and that's what I mean, Mikhail: they don't
have a rational research protocol; they don't take reasonable
precautions. Hell, you're lucky to have gotten off as easily as
you did.'
'How did you get here so quickly?' Gonzales asked. He simply
couldn't find the words to explain to Traynor where he was going
wrong.
'I've consulted with Horn from the beginning.' Traynor
turned away, as if suddenly fascinated by something on the far
wall. 'Standard procedure,' he said. 'And as soon as Horn let me
know what was going on, I caught a ride on a military shuttle.'
Cute as a shithouse rat, Gonzales thought. Not that he was
surprised, thoughTraynor moved his players around without regard
to their wishes. Gonzales asked, 'Will Horn replace Showalter?'
Traynor turned back to face him. 'On an interim basis,
probably, as soon as I get a course of action okayed by the board.
Later, we'll see.'
'What now?'
'Some decisions have to be made. I have let them maintain
Jerry Chapman until now, but as soon as they can solve the problem
of getting Doctor Heywood released from this interface, I intend
to turn control of the project over to Horn and let him take the
appropriate actions.'
Gonzales was filled with sadness for reasons that he could
not communicate to this man. He said instead, 'Look, Traynor, I'm
really tired.'
'Sure, Mikhail. You rest, take it easy. Once you're feeling
better, we'll talk, but I know what I need to at the moment.'
Traynor left, and Gonzales lay for some time in the elevated
hospital bed, his mind wheeling without apparent pattern, as the
world around him flashed its cryptic signals and anxiety moved
through him in strong waves.
Fucking asshole, Gonzales thought, Traynor's satisfied smile
looming in his mind's eye. I hate you. And he wondered at the
violence of what he felt.
He lay dozing, then sometime later he opened his eyes, and he
knew he needed to try to function. A sam moved across the floor
toward him and said, 'Do you require my assistance?'
'Hang on to me while I get out of bed,' Gonzales said. 'I'm
not sure how well I'm moving.'
The sam moved next to the bed, extended two clusters of
extensors, and said, 'Hold on and you can use me as a stepping
place.'
Moving very carefully, Gonzales took hold of the claw-like
extensors, swung his legs out of bed, and stepped onto the sam's
back, then to the floor. 'Thanks,' he said. 'I need to wash up.'
'You're welcome. The shower is through that door.'
#
The sam told Gonzales where he could find Lizzie and Charley.
On shaky legs, Gonzales walked down a flight of steps and turned
into a hallway done in blue-painted lunar dust fiberboard with
aluminum moldings. Halfway down the hall, he came to a door with
a sign that said Primary Control Facilities. A sign on the
door lit with the message, Wait for Verification, then said
Enter, and the door swung open.
Charley sat amid banks of monitor consoles; in front of him,
most of the lights flashed red and amber. Gonzales thought he
looked even sadder and tireder than before. Lizzie stood next to
him, and Gonzales saw her with joy and relief. 'Hello,' he said,
and Charley said, 'Hi.' Lizzie waved and smiled briefly, but both
her actions came from somewhere very distant, as if she were
saying goodbye to a cousin from the window of a departing train.
Gonzales's anxiety shifted into overdrive, and he found himself
unable to say a word.
