Iris

programs. He sighed. Aside from feeding publicity to the media, there were also problems of piracy, government interference,and the ever ephemeral nature of the public's interest. The nature of making a living from music would probably never change. Thankfully, live performances were no longer required; John grimaced as he remembered what a shambles his one attempt at a concert had been. It was a fiasco that had done terrible damage to his career: sales of Reflection Counterpoint were affected by it still. Money was a funny concept out here. He could buy virtually any commodity available, but the cost of transporting it was prohibitively expensive. The RAW memories of Shipnet held virtually all the useful knowledge that man had ever produced, and contained software threads which, when combined, would perform any function that he could think of. Turning off the 'net, he looked out at the chiaroscuro Ocypetan exterior. I bought this, he thought. Still feeling the effects of the alcohol, he began to doze. He awoke with a little start and looked around. Evidently what had awakened him was the crackle of Ariane's chamber door opening. In the dim light of the central room the silhouette of the woman was framed against the brightness that she was leaving. The doorway hissed closed and the room lights came up a little at her command.

Across the room, Demogorgon was cradled in a raised hollow of the floor that he'd created, apparently oblivious to them. He was wearing a circlet, eyes tightly closed, so John assumed that he was tapping. 'Ariane?' he said. 'I think it's time we had a little talk.' The woman stared at him for a moment, her face flat and expressionless as she came over and sat down against a bulkhead. 'What do you want?'

'We're in trouble, aren't we?'

She shrugged. 'I don't know. There's a lot to think about. Things seem so random sometimes. . . . What makes you think we're in trouble?'

John found some cold dregs in his cup and drained them. 'I don't know. It seems that you're the key to all this.'

'What do you mean?'

'Let's start at the beginning. All my life I've seen people sitting in judgment of one another. People place themselvesin a hierarchical relationship with others, and society is driven by the resulting pain. That's what's always been wrong with the way people conceive their roles. Judgment of others, judgment of self—it's unnecessary. The tiny gratifications we take from others are stripped from us a hundredfold in the process. You understand?'

The woman shrugged. As always, she could only develop some kind of vague, abstract notion from his words. She nodded.

'Well, when I heard about the new homesteader colonies on Triton, I thought I had the answer. To begin totally from scratch. To build close relationships, free of this crap. But when it came time to select a crew I knew I was up against the same old problem. Selection implies judgment, after all. I talked to so many people . . . and they all seemed OK. Tem and Jana have needed skills ... I wanted you because of your expertise, too. When you said you could provide me with bootlegged DR software, that clinched it. But somehow Brendan, Vana, Harmon, and Demogorgon came all jumbled up together with you. Really, the only nonjudgmental choice I made was Aksinia!'

Ariane sighed. 'Look, it's not like we seek out our friends on purpose. Vana was my next-door neighbor in Montevideo. I picked Brendan up at a boxing match!' She grinned wryly. 'I took him for a slab of meat . . . and when I found out what was packed inside that ugly head I kept him, much to everyone's dismay. Vana met Harmon at a party, I think. . . . Demogorgon originally sought out Brendan for some technical assistance with his Illimitor art. If that's not random, nothing is!'

'Hell, I know all this. If you're just considering the people, the choice between them makes no difference. You brought with you the very thing I was trying to get away from: your neurotic relationships!'

Ariane restrained her anger. 'Right. And you brought Beth along because she just happened to be around. . . . What you're saying is hypocritical.'

'Beth and I ... well, I was wrong. I thought we wouldevolve into a model relationship. Instead, she can't get over her fear of intimacy.'

'By 'intimacy' you mean submitting herself to your will?'

'Come on! What I wanted to say is that you're the crux of this whole thing. The love relationships focus on you.'

'You're wrong. Brendan's the focus.'

'But Brendan came because of you! If you can believe anything he says.'

'I think you're judging poor Brendan entirely too harshly.' John laughed. ''Poor Brendan . . .' indeed. Dammit . . . we have to survive. If he goes lunging madly around, this colony is going to fail. We could all die. . . .'

There was a short silence. 'I know,' said Ariane. 'Maybe you won't understand this, but . . . I've thought about it. A lot. He seems like a dangerous animal, doesn't he? Like some kind of awful monster that ought to be locked up.' She straightened up, looking into his face. 'But there's something in there, somewhere . . .

'I didn't really come out here for myself, you know. Oh, I remember what I said, about all my mystical feeling