Corvus stepped toward him, holding the optronic circlet in his extended hand. The slim metal band, studded with many-hued ovals, gleamed like a jeweled tiara. “It ought to work fine: I mean, the metal of your head will make a terrific contact.”
Dorn looked anything but willing, Deirdre thought. He accepted the ring with his human hand and slowly fitted it over the metal cap of his head. On him it looks like a crown of thorns, Deirdre thought.
Smiling with satisfaction, Corvus pecked at the computer’s miniature keyboard.
“Okay,” he said to Dorn. “Just relax. I’ll set up the connection for you.”
Dorn stood as rigid as a tightly pulled bowstring while Corvus tapped away on the laptop’s keyboard.
“Might help if you close your eyes,” Andy suggested.
Deirdre saw the cyborg’s human eye close. The prosthetic eye seemed to go dim.
For several heartbeats nothing happened. The dolphins were chattering again, back and forth. Deirdre wished she could understand what they were saying to each other.
“Not everybody can make contact,” Andy whispered to her, as if afraid he might break Dorn’s concentration. “It’s a sort of—”
“NO!” Dorn roared. He spasmed, his back arching, his arms flailing wildly, hands clenched into fists. His human eye snapped open, the prosthetic one glowered hot red.
“No!” he bellowed again. Corvus tried to duck beneath his wildly swinging arms and went sprawling onto the deck. Dorn spun around and took a tottering step toward Deirdre, his half-human face a mask of rage. She backed away, terrified.
Scrambling to his hands and knees, Andy banged a fist on the keyboard of the computer.
Dorn stopped in mid-frenzy. For a long moment he stood frozen, the human side of his face twisted in what might have been blazing anger, or agony. His chest heaved. Sweat rolled down his cheek.
Deirdre’s back was pressed against the elevator doors. She, too, was panting, frightened. He could smash the wall of the aquarium with that metal arm of his, she thought; glassteel or not, he could crack the tank’s wall and drown us all.
But Dorn seemed to regain control of himself. Slowly. He stood there unmoving while Andy clambered awkwardly to his feet and Deirdre stared fearfully at the cyborg. Slowly Dorn’s arms slumped down to his sides. Slowly the terrible rictus that had twisted his face so horribly relaxed.
At last he said, almost sheepishly, “I’m sorry. I couldn’t do it.”
“Are you all right?” Deirdre asked, breathless.
Dorn nodded once, somberly. “I am now.” He lifted the optronic band off his head and handed it to Corvus.
“What happened?” Andy asked, taking the rig from the cyborg’s prosthetic hand.
“I failed to make contact with the dolphin,” Dorn replied flatly.
“Yeah, but you … you sort of went berserk for a minute there.”
“I apologize.”
“What did you see?” Corvus persisted. “What did you feel?”
Dorn hesitated a fraction of a moment, then replied, “Nothing.”
“Nothing? But what—”
“Nothing,” the cyborg repeated. Then he added, “I’m afraid I’m not a good subject for your attempt to make contact with the dolphins.”
With that he pivoted like a machine and took a step toward Deirdre. She slipped aside and Dorn leaned a finger of his prosthetic hand against the elevator button.
“I’m sorry if I frightened you,” he said as he stood facing the elevator doors.
“Are you all right?” Deirdre asked again.
“Yes. As all right as I can be.”
The elevator doors slid open and Dorn stepped inside the cab. He touched the control pad and the doors shut. Deirdre heard the faint hum of the electric motors that lifted the elevator upward.
“Wow,” said Andy. “That was weird.”
“It was scary,” Deirdre agreed. “He’s a very powerful man.”
Shrugging as if to put the whole episode behind him, Corvus held the optronic circlet out toward Deirdre.
“Would you like to try it?”
Deirdre could feel her eyes go wide. “Me?” she squeaked.
“What happened to Dorn isn’t normal, Dee,” Andy said, his voice faltering, uncertain. “I’ve never seen the linkage affect anybody like that.”
“Maybe it has something to do with his being a cyborg,” Deirdre suggested.
Corvus shrugged. “Maybe.” He offered the circlet to her again. “Do you want to try it?” he repeated. “Please?”
Deirdre decidedly did not. But as she looked at her friend’s soft blue eyes and heard the pleading in his voice she heard herself say, “Sure, I’ll try it … I suppose.”
CONTACT
With considerable misgivings Deirdre settled the slim optronics band onto her auburn hair. Andy nodded, satisfied, and made a few adjustments on the little computer.
“Now just relax,” he coached her. “Close your eyes and relax. Like you’re going to sleep.”
Easier said than done, Deirdre thought. In her mind’s eye she saw Dorn raging and flailing like a madman. That won’t happen to me, she told herself. It won’t. It can’t.
“Maybe you ought to sit down,” Corvus said. Opening her eyes, Deirdre saw him gesturing to the big aluminum case. “Here,” he suggested. “You can sit here.”
Deirdre sat tensely on the case. It felt cold, even through the fabric of her slacks. She closed her eyes again and rested her chin in her hands. Cold and hard. Not like the water. The water’s warm and soft, it covers you all over, smooth and warm and soft.
Small. Mother says this water is small. She remembers when she was young and the water stretched forever. You could swim for days and never see the same bottom. And out farther the bottom was so far away you couldn’t see it at all.
Effortlessly, she glided to the surface for a gulp of air. Mother and Father swam behind her, and they breathed, too. Through the hard wall that was the end of the world she saw a strange creature, neither dolphin nor fish. Land creature, Mother told her. But it was swimming with us a few breaths ago, she said to Mother. It played with me.
Land creature, Mother repeated. Not one of us.
She saw another land creature resting on a square rock. That’s me! she realized. But I’m here, safe with Mother and Father. It was confusing. How can that be me, outside the world, when I’m here where I’ve always been?
She decided to ignore the strange land creatures. They didn’t really matter. The world was good. Filled with fish. No dangers. Mother had told her more than once about the dangers in the big water, fish with sharp teeth who liked to eat baby dolphins. None of them here in this water. This is good water. Small, but good.
She emptied her lungs, popping a trail of bubbles from her blowhole, and rose swiftly to the surface. Bursting through, she jumped exuberantly into the not-water and splashed down again, nose first.
Mother chattered unhappily. Father, too. Don’t go off on your own, they warned.
But there’s nothing to be afraid of, she replied. This little water has no dangers in it. You told me so yourselves.
Still, be careful. Someday we might reach the big water, and there will be dangers there. Learn to be careful.
She thought Mother and Father were being foolish. They remember the old fears, she told herself. But then she thought how exciting it would be to swim in the big water, to travel on and on, never seeing the same bottom
