Blue Remembered Earth

‘If I’d been able to get to him sooner . . .’ The proxy shook its head. ‘I do not understand why he allowed this to happen.’

‘Allowed?’ Geoffrey asked.

‘In a place this dangerous,’ Lucas said, looking around, ‘he should not have been on his own. The Mechanism can’t be all places at all times – it’s not god. A watchdog should have come out with him, in case he got into difficulties.’ He pointed at the encased form. ‘Look, he’s not even wearing a bracelet. What was he supposed to do if a snake bit him, or he sprained his ankle and couldn’t walk back to the airpod?’

‘He knew what he was doing,’ Geoffrey said.

‘He must have been startled,’ Hector said. ‘That’s the only explanation. The elephant was on him before he had a chance to do anything about it.’

‘I doubt very much that he suffered,’ the doctor said. ‘As you say, if he’d had any inkling that he was in peril —’

‘We would have found a dead elephant near his body,’ Lucas said. ‘Or dead elephants.’

Eunice looked Geoffrey in the eye, then absented herself.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Sunday and Jitendra were on the overland bullet train, speeding west through the plains of Chryse in the middle of the Martian day, when Geoffrey chinged in.

Sunday knew at once that something was wrong.

‘If you can,’ his figment said, ‘take this call somewhere private. I don’t mean from Jitendra. It would be good if Jitendra could be with you. But you shouldn’t be in public.’ Geoffrey’s face told her everything she needed to know, except the worst part of it. ‘I don’t have good news.’

The Pans had paid for a private compartment in the train so there was no need for Sunday to take the call anywhere else. She allowed the figment to continue speaking, cursing the distance that prevented her from responding to him in real-time. Cursing physics, the basic organising framework of reality.

‘It’s just after noon here. This morning I came back from Tiamaat. I was due to land at the study station, but as I came in I saw that something was happening on the ground. The cousins were there, and they’d found Memphis.’ Geoffrey swallowed, moved his jaw. ‘He was dead, Sunday. Something had happened out there and . . . he was dead, on the ground, just lying there.’ Geoffrey stopped and looked down at his feet. ‘There was already a doctor on-scene when I arrived, but too much time had passed. They’ve taken Memphis to Mombasa, but it’s not looking good . . . I don’t think there’s going to be much they can do.’

Jitendra had already closed his hand around hers, though she barely felt his presence, the train compartment, the pressure-tight glass, the rushing red scenery beyond, everything receding into galactic distance.

‘I don’t know what happened,’ Geoffrey went on. ‘He’d agreed to help me with the elephants while I was away. The doctor says he was crushed . . . as if he got into trouble with the elephants. But that can’t have happened. Memphis knew the herd almost as well as I did – I wouldn’t have asked for his help otherwise, and there’s no one else I’d have trusted to do the job properly.’ He closed his eyes. ‘That’s all I have right now. I’ll call you as soon as there’s more news, but I think you should be prepared for the worst.’ He opened his eyes, started to say something before abandoning the attempt. ‘I feel I ought to say that I wish I could be with you, but that’s a lie. I wish you were here, back with me, in Africa. Right now Mars feels like a very long way away.’ He nodded, his eyes meeting hers with uncanny directness. ‘Take care, sister. I love you.’

Geoffrey was gone. The train sped on its way, oblivious to her news. It should be slowing, she reckoned, allowing her thoughts time to catch up. That would be the decent thing.

She did not know what to do or say, so when Jitendra tightened his hold on her and said that he was sorry, she was as glad as it was possible to be in that moment.

‘I have to get back to Earth.’

‘Wait for what the doctors have to say. Neuropractors can do wonders nowadays.’

‘You heard what my brother said – it had been too long.’

Jitendra had no answer for that. He had meant to be kind, she knew, but there was reasonable hope and there was false hope, and she would not cling to the latter.

‘I have to get back,’ she repeated.

‘It . . . won’t make any difference.’ Jitendra was speaking very carefully. ‘It’s taken you a month to travel here, and even if we got back into orbit and miraculously found a slot on the next swiftship out . . . it’d be five weeks, at least, before we’ll be anywhere near Earth.’

‘Every week I spend here, Earth is further away.’

‘If there’s going to be a funeral, then you’ll have either already missed it, even if you leave now, or they’ll have to wait until you get back. Who was closest to Memphis? You and your brother. And your brother’s back in Africa. He’s not going to let anything happen until you get home, is he?’

‘Please don’t talk about funerals,’ Sunday said. ‘Not yet. Not before we’ve heard from Mombasa.’

But he was right. She had already been thinking of funerals.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Chinging in from Mombasa, where Memphis’s body had been examined in detail, the neuropractor delivered her verdict to the family members gathered in the household.

They could bring him back to life, the figment said, that was always an option, albeit an expensive one. But so much of his brain would need to be rebuilt from scratch that the end result wouldn’t be the man they had known. The basic structural organisation of his personality had been blasted to shards. ‘There is no gentle way of putting this, but what you would be getting back would be a baby in an old man’s body,’ the figment informed them, Geoffrey unable to shake the sense that this was all fractionally too rehearsed, a speech that the neuropractor kept up her sleeve to deliver on occasions such as this, while trying to make it sound suitably impromptu and sincere. He wanted to resent her for that, but couldn’t. She was just being kind.

‘A confused, frightened baby with just enough recollection to know what it was missing,’ the specialist went on. ‘Memory. Language. All traces of family and friendship. The hard-earned skills and knowledge of a lifetime. And with not enough life ahead of it ever to recover what was lost. We will of course abide by your wishes, but I urge you to give deep consideration before taking this course.’