knowledge available on the Data Sea. They explained to him how Prengal Surina's Universal Law of Physics allowed scientists to turn grains of sand, droplets of water, and molecules of air into quantum computers of almost limitless strength.
The business proctors taught him the basics of bio/logic programming. They showed him the holographic method of programming, which had long ago supplanted language-based systems of logic. They discussed the difference between market-driven fiefcorps and publicly funded memecorps. They put a set of bio/logic programming bars in his hands and set him loose in MindSpace to demonstrate how to visualize and manipulate logical processes.
Given the grueling program of study, most of the children couldn't wait for long weekends and vacations to be with their families. But Natch had only Serr Vigal to go home to, and Vigal had never acted like family. The neural programmer treated him like a colleague instead of an adopted son. When they were not simply ignoring one another, they were having cordial conversations about current events. These conversations usually turned into Socratic discussions, with Vigal feeding him question after question as if skepticism were a form of dietary fiber.
I wish I knew something about children, Vigal would chuckle absentmindedly from time to time. But Natch was grateful he didn't. He looked forward to spending weekends alone at the hive, when all of the children were gone and Vigal was shuttling around the globe fundraising.
For a few years, the Proud Eagle seemed like paradise to Natch. He tore into his assignments with gusto and asked for more, afraid to take this opportunity for granted because he knew it would not last forever.
10
The families started arriving at noon the day before initiation, and continued streaming into the Proud Eagle until long past sundown. From a corner, Natch watched his hivemates go off for private chats with fathers and mothers and uncles and cousins to hear one last bit of wisdom they could take with them to initiation. He conjured up a picture of Lora, the mother he had never met, and wondered what kind of advice she would be giving him right now.
Natch felt a hand on his shoulder. He whirled around expectantly, but it was only Horvil. Horvil, the most anxiety-prone child in the hive, not to mention the sloppiest and the largest. Horvil, Natch's only friend. 'So do you think it's gonna be painful?' he said.
Before Natch had a chance to respond, an older boy stepped in. He was ruggedly handsome and knew it, with a face that could have been the Platonic Form of symmetry. 'Of course it's going to be painful,' teased Brone as he advanced on Horvil. 'What's initiation without pain? What's life without pain?' He called up a static electricity program and tapped the other two boys on the side. Horvil yelped and scooted out of the way, but Natch quickly activated a grounding program to deflect the charge.
'I really hope it's not too painful,' whimpered Horvil to himself. He turned on Analgesic 232.5 to soothe his aching side. 'I don't think I'll be able to stand a lot of pain.' Brone and Natch stared at one another icily for a few moments without speaking.
Horvil and Brone's families arrived shortly thereafter, leaving Natch alone in the corner with his thoughts. Horvil disappeared into a gaggle of aunts and cousins who seemed determined to wedge their advice into him with a crowbar if necessary. Brone walked off with two picture-perfect parents, looking less like their progeny than a model from the same factory. He gave Natch one last evil grin before vanishing. 'Horvil's not the only one who's going to feel pain,' Brone fired off at him over Confidential Whisper.
Everyone knew what to expect from initiation, but the ramifications only seemed to multiply the closer the time came. The students would be separated by sex and put in the wilderness for a year, where the OCHREs in their bloodstreams would be deactivated. The bio/logic programs that regulated their heartbeats, kept their calendars, and maximized the storage space in their brains would be cut off. They would look at words without being able to instantly glean their meanings from the Data Sea. They would snuffle and sneeze and bruise and forget things. And the worst horror of all, they would wake up in the middle of the night with actual shit oozing through their intestines....
'Human beings are only subroutines of humanity,' said a voice.
Natch must have drifted off, because he hadn't noticed the middleaged man approaching him. The man's sand-colored robe was decidedly unfashionable (and poorly tailored at that), but his face was friendly: the non- specific goodwill of the perpetual cloud dweller. His almond-shaped eyes betrayed a hint of the Orient. Natch smiled politely at the multi projection of Serr Vigal.
'Sheldon Surina said that,' Vigal continued gently.
'What did he mean?'
'Well, if you believe your proctors, Surina meant that everyone should experience the struggle of humanity from darkness to light. They think that Surina would have wanted you to see what life was like before the Reawakening. Make you appreciate the modern world more.'
'And what do you think?'
The man stared off into the distance and tugged at his peppery goatee. 'I don't know. I think maybe Sheldon Surina just wanted everyone to keep an open mind and be nice to each other.'
Natch tried to refrain from rolling his eyes. It was typical of the advice he received from Serr Vigal: pleasant, inoffensive, and mostly useless. 'I thought you couldn't come,' he said. 'I thought you were speaking at a conference.'
Vigal frowned. 'Yes, that's right. But I convinced one of my apprentices to cover for me. At least, I think she said she would cover for me....' Vigal's eyes searched the ground as if he might find answers woven into the Aztec patterns on the carpet. Finally, he gave a self-deprecating shrug. 'Well, there's nothing I can do about it now.' Natch noticed the neural programmer's baffled expression and stifled a smile. It was impossible to get mad at Serr Vigal. He might be hopelessly out of touch, but at least he had a sense of humor about it.
'Come,' said the older man, clapping a virtual hand on Natch's shoulder. 'Let's take a walk in the garden, and I'll give you the last bit of sentimental nonsense you'll have to endure for the next twelve months.'
The Proud Eagle's garden was the envy of metropolitan Cape Town. Gargantuan sunflowers sat alongside lush poppies and forbidding cacti, all growing in the shadows of redwoods, bonsai and elm. Natch had been training himself for initiation by trying to identify things that would not exist without Sheldon Surina's science of bio/logics, and this improbable congregation of plants was one of them. It was easy to forget that bio/logics dealt not only with the programming of the human body, but with other organic structures as well.
Serr Vigal kept his silence for several minutes. Natch could feel the hair on the back of his neck standing at attention as his guardian gave him one of those world-weary stares. The boy put his hands in his pockets and did his best to ignore it.
Natch wondered for the millionth time what kind of relationship Vigal had really had with his mother. Had he loved her? Had they slept together? Would they be bonded companions now if Lora had not been infected by that epidemic in the orbital colonies? It was a pointless exercise. All Natch ever managed to pry out of Vigal was the skeletal structure of a life story. Sometimes Natch suspected the neural programmer was really his father, but Genealogy Sleuth 24.7 concluded that the differences in their DNA made such a relationship unlikely at best.
'I hear some of your hivemates are starting their own fiefcorps after initiation,' said Vigal abruptly.
Natch nodded. 'A few of them.'
'Your friend Brone among them, I suppose.'
A flurry of emotions washed through Natch's mind as he considered the visage of his hated rival. The two had spent most of their childhood warily circling one another like fencers, always testing and probing for weaknesses. Over the past year, Natch's competition with Brone had turned into full-scale war. 'Krone is not my friend,' he said through gritted teeth.
Natch's malice passed right over Vigal's head. 'What about Horvil?'
'He doesn't know.'
'And you? After the hive, after initiation, what then?'
