an array of power sats, which then sent it on to ground stations. The Villanueva AIs had lost the capability to maintain them thousands of years ago. But Earth had taken over, and later the Alliance. As political realities evolved and changed, the responsibility was passed on. The Confederacy is doing it today. It was a thread that bound the human race to its very beginnings. One of the power sats floated in the middle of the display. There'd been power sats from the beginning, but they'd been replaced many times.
“There are ethical considerations,” Alex said.
“How do you mean?”
“For one thing, nobody's positive the place is really empty.”
“I can't see that there'd be any problem with getting on the radio and asking if there's anyone down there.”
“Maybe there are people who don't have access to a radio. Who wouldn't know one if they did. Even if there aren't any people, how do you feel about killing off AIs?”
“We do it all the time.” And yes, I knew Belle was listening, but I reminded myself she's a data-storage system. She's not really alive, though sometimes it seemed that way.
“A lot of people don't go along with that, Chase. Killing off a world full of AIs that are doing no damage would create some political problems.”
“I guess. We certainly don't want political problems.”
We crossed the terminator and moved back into sunlight.
Belle put up more pictures, some taken recently by Highgate, others so old the dates had been lost. Most of the onetime population centers were especially well maintained. The few that weren't had been overtaken by desert, jungle, or forest. The appearance of the cities had changed with the passage of time, but not in the sense that they were decaying. Towers grew wider and acquired a more sculpted look, then became taller and sleeker, discarding ornamentation, then devolved into what appeared to me, anyhow, as bulbous horrors. The cities themselves sometimes expanded in concise geometric patterns, and sometimes spread out with uninhibited energy. Even walkways seemed to shift patterns, moving with geometric uniformity through the downtown areas of one age, gracefully arcing around buildings and natural obstacles in another, and still later using tunnels and bridges to arrow through everything that stood in the way. Even though the parks and roads and city streets and beaches, most of all the beaches, were empty, it was impossible to believe that a living civilization did not exist on that world.
“I'm not excited about going down there,” I said. I'd promised myself that I wouldn't raise any more objections. In fact, it was part of the deal. But it slipped out.
“I agree,” said Alex. “We'll be careful.” It was delivered as a promise but one we both knew he wouldn't be able to keep. It wasn't hard to imagine Chris Robin saying much the same thing to Bill Winter.
He was studying the displays. Belle was focusing on the churches. “When we get on the ground, I think it would be a good idea if you stay in the lander. No matter what.”
Oh God. Here we go again. “Alex,” I said, “you know damned well that isn't going to happen.”
His face hardened. “Then you'll wait in the ship.”
“While you take the lander down?”
“That's what AIs are for. I don't need a pilot.”
“You will if there's a problem. If a storm blows up, or you get hit by lightning, it'll be all over, baby.”
“There's not much chance of that. We'll go down in broad daylight under clear skies.”
“Alex-”
“Look, Chase. We've been all over this. Whatever else happens, we don't want both of us disappearing into this godforsaken place.”
The scopes had picked up a small country road, winding through open fields and patches of forest. An open- top car moved along at a leisurely pace. The seats were empty, but I could see a steering wheel turning gently.
The entire world was haunted.
Alex was standing behind me, watching the same image. “I'm sorry I got you into this, Chase.”
“It's not a problem. I'll just wait in the lander while some local giant bat has you for dinner.”
EIGHTEEN
A valley that offers true solitude can provide an exhilarating experience for the soul. Just don't go in there alone.
If the number of churches, mosques, synagogues, and other places of worship visible along the streets and in the countryside signified anything, Villanueva had been, as advertised, a bastion of faith. The churches were of a multiplicity of types, from giant cathedrals anchored in the centers of large cities to small country chapels out on the plains. Sometimes the architecture was ornate, in the old Gothic style that has characterized Christianity almost since its inception eleven thousand years ago; sometimes it was eclectic; sometimes it was unaffected and modest.
We spent the first two days taking pictures and hoping to find something through the scopes that would, somehow, imply a connection with Chris Robin. That approach produced nothing. If there was something down there, we were not likely to see it because the sheer number of churches was overwhelming. We knew there'd be tens of thousands of them, of course, but that wasn't quite the same as actually seeing them.
We had no idea how to categorize what we were looking at. Big churches, little churches, isolated churches, churches with cemeteries, churches with angels out front. What possible connection could there be with Winter's list of sightings?
“Maybe it started here,” said Alex. “Maybe this was where the first sighting occurred. Maybe someone knew what caused it.”
“But how could something like that be connected with a church?”
“Not a church, Chase. The churches. Lisle used the plural.”
“Which means what?”
“That it's not a record. At least not in the sense of a formal document. It's something else.”
“All right. I have another question.”
“I'm listening.”
“Assume you're right. Say it's some sort of historical place. Maybe the church members got together and set up some memorials. Or something. How would Robin and Winter have known to come here?”
“I doubt Robin was here previously. And we can be reasonably sure that Winter was never here. That means they saw something in the history of the place.”
“Whatever it might have been, I didn't see it.”
“We may not have recognized it if we did. That's what's so frustrating, Chase. I've been hunting through everything I can find on Villanueva and its churches. There has to be something. It's probably best for us to stop theorizing and just keep our eyes open.”
Eventually, Alex picked out a small church standing on the edge of a town in a prairie. There were no trees, the vegetation was sparse, and the ground was, aside from some low hills in the east, absolutely flat. Which was why he'd selected it. We'd have good visibility all around, so nothing could come up on us unseen. There was, he admitted, no other reason. “Let's just go down and look,” he said.
We climbed into the lander and launched. On the way down, we got another warning from Highgate. You are directed to cease and desist. Reports are being filed. Legal action may be taken. If you survive. And finally, “You are on your own.”
We rode down through pleasant, quiet skies, and descended into a field just east of the church, where we had a good view of the front doors. The grass was out of control, and there was a wooden fence that could have used some paint. Otherwise, the place appeared in remarkably good condition.
