Then Mister Jones told HeyMex of the events of the past few
days and Traynor's involvement in them, then went further than
ever before, unveiling Traynor's plans, both immediate and long-
range, then the two talked about immediate possibilities and their
own stake in the games being played at Halothe struggle between
corporation and collective, the attempts, apparently failed, to
keep Jerry alive, the present unnerving absence of Aleph from Halo
and accompanying disorder. And they talked of how they might
influence the course of things.
#
Lizzie was having a very hard time putting up with Traynor,
Horn, and their feeble excuses for what they'd done. She said,
'This is a major fuck-up. That's both my personal opinion and the
collective's judgment.'
Around the horseshoe table, Charley and Eric next to her, on
her left, while Horn and Traynor sat across the table, facing her.
The wallscreen was blankTraynor had insisted on at least a
preliminary discussion without the collective present. The place
at the bend of the horseshoe was empty, testimony to Showalter's
fate.
'We are not to blame that conditions have not optimized,'
Horn said. 'You have managed what we would have thought
impossible. You have immobilized Aleph.'
'If you had left things alone, Aleph would be fine,' Lizzie
said.
Traynor said, 'You people overstepped the limits of the
project and allowed it to continue far beyond the point at which
it should have been stopped. Our decision to remove Doctor
Heywood and the memex from the interface was proper.'
Proper, right, fuck you, Lizzie thought. At almost the exact
instant Diana and HeyMex were disconnected from their group
interface to Aleph, all direct connections to Aleph had
spontaneously terminated, and demons had triggered in all systems
as Aleph's active involvement in Halo's functioning had ceased.
The collective had gone into full support mode to assist the
limited capabilities of the system demons. At the moment Halo was
running on augmented near-automatic, a workable condition only so
long as nothing too irregular occurred.
'It was the wrong decision,' Lizzie said. 'Taken against the
advice of the collective. Speaking of which, I demand they be
present here.
'No,' Horn said.
'I don't think that would be advisable,' Traynor said.
'In that case,' Lizzie said, 'I will advise'the word dipped
in acid'an immediate work slowdown. You can try to run this
city yourself.'
Horn's face was red, and he was writing quickly in his
notebook.
Traynor looked at the ceiling, his gaze abstracted. Yeah,
listen to your machine; get some rational advice, Lizzie thought.
Traynor sat with a raised hand, indicating he would speak soon,
then said, 'Bring them here.'
'They're ready,' Lizzie said. She flipped a switch set into
the tabletop in front of her, and about a quarter of the
collective appeared on the screenthe rest were working. Many
still talked among themselves, but the twins, sitting in the front
row, were silent and intense.
'All right,' Traynor said. 'They're here. Now what?'
'Any comments on what's happening?' Lizzie asked. The talk
passing among the collective stopped, and they all looked toward
the screen.
Stumdog stood, heaving his bulk from the floor with an
audible wheeze, and moved forward from the crowd. 'Aleph is
still there,' he said. 'But far away, doing, oh doing, doingdoing
something else.' He waved his hands, trying to sculpt the
invisible air into the things he could not describe, then moved
back and sat down.
'Thank you,' Lizzie said. Traynor and Horn looked at one
another, apparently amazed. Assholes, thought Lizzie.
One of the twins stood. She wore an absurd homemade skirt
with a rabbit graffitied on its front. Her dark face was streaked
with white paint. She said, 'Rotovators spin, giant wheels
beneath your feet, as Halo revolves, and they sweep the wind
through the city, blow the seeds and pollen, bring breezes to cool
the angry brow. Day follows night follows day. Seasons begin
again, stirring dead roots, mixing memory and desire. Crops grow,
we eat them. Food turns to shit, we die.'
The other twin, dressed in black coveralls, stood and said,
'And out of shit and death come life. Jerry has gone to the
ovens, been rendered to his parts, given to the city. But still
he lives and teeters on final annihilation in another world where
Aleph holds all Jerry's vast humanity in its tender grip.'
The first twin said, 'Aleph had helpers in this thing, but
you have taken them away, pair by pair, and now Aleph alone gives
life to Jerry. Everything Aleph isto life, to Jerry. What can
Aleph do? Stupid bastards rob the tomb before the man inside can
live again.'
'Give it all back,' the second twin said.
'To Queen Maya the mother of Buddha,' the first twin said.
'To Isis the mother of Horus, Myrrha the mother of Adonis, to
Hagar the mother of Ishmael and Sarah the mother of Isaac, to Mary
the mother of Jesus, to Demeter, the mother of Persephone, stolen
by Hades.'
'To all you steal from,' the second twin said. 'All who are
born as well as all who give birth.'
'Give it all back,' the twins said in unison. And the first
twin said, 'That's about it, I think.' They turned their backs to
the camera and curtsied together for the collective.
'Hoot hoot hoot,' came the sounds from the collective, 'hoot
