She looked around the empty room, trying to see the presence. “What happened?”
“Telephone lines frayed. Automatic switching systems corroded. Things got wet. It was inevitable. We were lucky the powersats remained fully functional. Most of us had a degree of facility for self-maintenance, some more than others. One by one, they fell off the net. I lost all direct communication in the late afternoon of March 3, 2211.”
She asked about the nature of a telephone, and understood from the reply that It would permit her to sit in this room and carry on a conversation with the Temple back in Illyria. One more wonder. She was starting to get used to it.
“Archway Paratech was the vendor for light and heat here,” said Mike. “They claimed it would work as long as the building stood.” He laughed.
The oil finally burned itself out, and the room fell dark. Avila was glad: It was easier to carry the conversation when the fact that she and Shannon were alone became a little less blatant. “You can’t be very happy here,” she said.
“You ‘re perceptive, Avila. No, it isn’t exactly a barrel of laughs.”
“Why don’t you leave?”
“I’m not able.” Mike paused. “How long will you and your friends stay?”
“I don’t know. We’ll probably leave tomorrow. Or the day after. I think some of the others will want to talk to you. Is that okay?”
“Yes.”
“We’re looking for Haven. Do you know where it is?”
“Which state is it in?”
“I have no idea.”
“There are Havens in Iowa, Kansas, New York, and Wisconsin.”
“Which one’s connected with Abraham Polk?”
“Who’s Abraham Polk?”
And so it went until Avila recognized that Mike would be of
no help in the quest. “Mike,” she said finally, “I’m glad you
called us. But we’re worn out. The others’ll be worried, and we
all need some sleep. We’re going to leave now, but we’ll be
back in the morning.”
“I want you to do something for me.”
“If I can.”
“I want you to deactivate me.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t understand what that means.”
“Kill me.” He sounded frightened. She became suddenly aware that she was no longer thinking of him as an it.
“I can’t do that. I wouldn’t know how even if I wanted to.”
“I will tell you.”
“No,” said Avila. “I don’t know what you are. But I will not take your life.”
“Avila,” Mike said. “Please.”
Note:
It appears that the MICA/SR Mark IV was able to adjust and speak to the Illyrians in their own dialect. Beyond this point, conditions will change. Fortunately, however, the common source of all speech patterns enountered, joined often with the circumstances of the occasion, and inevitably with the increasing aptitude of the travelers, rendered understanding possible, if difficult. In order not to test the reader’s patience unduly, these difficulties have been suppressed. Those interested in the linguistic development of the period will be pleased to know that a study is under preparation and will be released in a separate volume.
16
“I don’t think we can just walk away from it,” said Quait.
Avila shook her head. “I won’t do it.”
Shannon agreed. “We should just leave it alone,” he said. “Tomorrow, when the sun comes up and we can see what we’re doing, we should clear out.”
No one else showed any interest in talking to the disembodied voice. “In the morning,” Flojian said. “When we can see.”
Avila suspected that, had she been alone, they would not have believed her story. But Shannon was a tower of credibility, and when he said that something had spoken out of the air, had carried on a conversation with them, they not only believed him, but they’d grown fearful. There had even been talk of forgetting about waiting for sunrise and getting out of Union Station now. Two reasons prevented their going. One was that a quick inspection indicated Union Station was surrounded by water. Other towers rose nearby, but they would have to cross a swift channel at night.
The other reason was that Avila said she was determined to remain.
“Why?” asked Chaka.
“Because I can’t just leave him. I told him we’d be back. And I don’t know yet what I want to do.”
“What can you do?”
“Chaka, it’s alone in here. Close your eyes and imagine there’s no one else here except you.”
“Not good.”
“No. Not good. Imagine it’s always like that. Year after year. So I don’t know what I want to do.”
Eventually, gray light appeared overhead. It leaked through windows at the top of a domed ceiling and crept down the walls. They were in a cavernous hall that rose more than two hundred feet and could readily have housed an army. Graceful arches were supported by massive columns. There were seven platforms and eight trenches, and the whole was surrounded by the concourse. The storefronts gaped open, dark, dingy.
Dead. “Are we ready?” Shannon asked her.
Had Mike been a flesh-and-blood human being, Avila would have conceded he had a tendency to babble. But a disembodied voice tends to command respect and attention, whatever it says.
They avoided the issue. They talked about the death of Silas and what Mike dreamed about during the long nights and whether civilizations were destined to grow old no matter what they did and whether there were other entities like Mike still alive somewhere. And they talked about whether there was purpose in the world. “We need a logic to our lives,” Mike said. “A reason to exist.”
“Are there gods?” Avila asked.
“I’d like to think so. I’ve wanted very much to believe there’s something transcendent out there.”
“But?” asked Avila.
“I can see no reason to believe in any greater intelligence than our own.”
“Yet the world is clearly designed for our use.”
“It’s an illusion. Any world that produces intelligent creatures will necessarily appear to have been designed specifically for them. It is impossible that it should be otherwise.”
Chaka, braver by daylight, had accompanied her and Shannon. The room was bare, cold, dreary. She sat with a blanket draped around her shoulders. “Tell us about the people who lived here,” she said.
“What do you want to know?”
She smiled. “Silas should be here for this. What were they like?”
“The question is vague, Chaka. They were, I’m sure, just like you.”
“What did they care about?” asked Chaka. “What was important to them?”
“I’m not sure I can answer that in a satisfactory way. They cared about keeping the trains on time. About
