John felt a silent rage well up swiftly and then recede, consciously pushed back down into his depths by a desperate, rational hand. I could hate them, he realized, astounded. I feel almost . . . betrayed. Why is that? The hatred came back up, moving fast to avoid his clutches, and he was riven by its dense, boltlike quality. It seemed that Beth was hurting him purposely, in the most effective way, by now doing what he had wanted of her. He briefly imagined himself strangling the man's dark, slender throat. Deja vu plucked at him.
Where have I experienced this before? He cycled back into his newfound memories, taken away from the tableau of man and woman, not quite hearing the sweet, awful words that Beth was whispering now. I was in that room, talking to Ariane, back at the beginning, she seemed so nice and straightforward, I ... No. This isn't. I'm not remembering something from myself. Who? It came. He was Brendan, pressed flat to an outer wall of the chamber that contained them, hating and imagining for all that he was worth. Images of Ariane and John coupling in the room, invisible eyes focused on sliding, horrid genitalia, words of love and devotion whispered in the darkness, close to the traitorous wells of inhuman, uncaring ears.
He looked out of his own eyes again, watching Beth and Li-jiang make love with an uncanny joy and happiness written large enough to perceive on their bodies. I would never have minded like this before, he thought wonderingly, so why is it this difficult now? I was always in favor of a free access, everyone with everyone, within the limits of some conceptual naturality . This is bad; I ... I love her and want her for myself. I ... He suddenly thought about Brendan and swam back through that recurring scene that seemed to be the man's worst-ever moment.
I see, he thought. We did nothing together, that night in that room, but his mind supplied all the images that it needed to generate those emotions, to feel so bad. He loved her more desperately than I ever loved Beth, or anyone, and every moment that took her away from him was a moment of agony to be endured. Every experience that she had without him was an experience lost to him, an agony to be endured. Love leaves its own special scars, I guess. I thought Beth and I were closer than Bren and Ariane could ever have been. Her denial of me seems that much more profound. We
Brendan? Everyone? Maybe it doesn't matter. This hurts too much.
Li-jiang'spenis, slimed with ichor , withdrew from Beth's body and the two embraced fiercely, laughing. They broke apart after a while and looked into each other's faces, smiling uncontrollably, and John turned back into his room, hoping that they didn't hear the soft whisper of his feet on the floor.
Brendan Sealock sat alone in front of the quantum conversion scanner and its attendant communication system, working. All indications had it that the experiment had been successful, and telltale signs on the various wave fronts seemed to say that the various subunits of Centrum, Bright Illimit, and Demogorgon were up and running. Krzakwa had gone away repeatedly during the course of the labor, drawn by some mysterious magnetism that was invisible to the other. Now he seemed to have departed for good. Sealock worked on through his cranial taps, whispering into the void, trying to reestablish communications with Demo in whatever guise he might manifest now as the primary controller function in Centrum.
It was a little bit like sitting in front of an old-time radio, a desperate air traffic controller, clutching a microphone, staring out of a stone tower into a fog-locked night, calling, 'Flight X51A5, this is Mystery Lake Tower. Come in, X51A5. Do you read me? For God's sake, are you there, boy? Come in!' Brendan smiled faintly at the image. He's out there somewhere.
He scanned through the channels, seeing all the activity, trying to find the one that would let him talk to the man within again. At the moment of turnover, Demo's personality had been snatched away from him, rushing off to take its place somewhere within Centrum's complexity.
A bright light grew out of the mazy world that he searched, pulsing with insistent ruddy glow, calling his attention. He tapped onto it and listened. It said, 'Hello, Bren ,' in a strange voice, an unknown one.
'Demo?'
'This is BI GAM/Red SRA 051B:08R0:A0N7.'
'Oh.' Visuals came on now and the face floated in front of him: it was his own, projected in reverse of its mirror image, real and so faintly alien to him. 'Can I talk to Demo?'
'The Master is engaged in Assembly setup and is currently dealing with the Interpreter SRAs . He sent me to communicate certain things to you in his stead.'
Brendan felt vaguely disappointed, knowing he'd wantedto talk to the Arab, no longer caring about why. Still, this was probably better than nothing. 'What things?'
'A preliminary survey of the working propulsion equipment in
'You're going to fire off the engines?' He had a sudden memory of the thing they'd done to Aello , visions of fiery chaos, and thought of Jana. 'What if the planet explodes?'
'Then it explodes. We're prepared to take that risk. This communique is a friendly warning to you all; it is a chance for you to place yourselves out of harm's way.'
'What are the chances of success?'
