CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR
Benard lay on the cot, one leg off the side and the other crooked with his foot propped against a fold in the mattress. He hadn’t shaved hi a week, nor bathed. His skin was heavily marked with white ridges and his lower legs had grown prominences from his upper shins to the base of his toes. Even naked he looked like he was wearing bell-bottom trousers.
He didn’t care. Except for his hour-long session with Paulsen-Fuchs and his ten minute physical each day, he spent much of his time on the cot, eyes closed, communing with the noocytes. The rest of the time he spent trying to crack the chemical language. He had received little help from the noocytes. The last conversation on the subject had been three days before.
Your conception is not complete, not correct.
—It isn’t finished yet.
Why not let your comrades proceed with the work? There is more that can be accomplished if you devote your attention inward.
—It would be simpler if you just told us how you communicated…
WISH we could be more *pure* with each other, but command clusters believe discretion is best now.
—Yes, indeed.
The noocytes, then, kept things from him and from the researchers outside the chamber. Pharmek, in turn, kept things from Bernard now. Bernard could only guess their reasoning; he hadn’t challenged them on Paulsen- Fuchs’ slow reduction of news and research findings. In some ways, it hardly mattered; Bernard had more than he could do adjusting to the noocyte interactions.
The terminal was still on, still displaying data supplied to the computer three days ago. Red lines had completely replaced the scrolling green numbers now. Infrequently, they were joined by blue lines. The curve determined by their lengths smoothed out as, byte by byte, the chemistry was broken down into an intermediary mathematical language, which in the next phase would be translated into a kind of pidgin of formal logic notation and English. But that next phase was weeks or months away.
Focusing his attention on the memory prompted an uncharacteristic noocyte interruption.
Bernard. You still work on our *blood music*.
Hadn’t Ulam used that phrase once?
Is it that you WISH to join us on our level? We did not consider this possibility.
—I’m not sure what you’re suggesting.
The part of you which stands behind all issued communication may be encoded, activated, returned. It will be like a DREAM, if we understand fully what that is. (ANNOTATION: You dream all the time. Did you know that?)
—I can become one of you?
We think that is a correct assessment. You already are one of us. We have encoded parts of you into many teams for processing. We can encode your PERSONALITY and complete the loop. You will be one of us— temporarily, should you choose. We can do it now.
—I’m afraid. I’m afraid you’ll steal my soul from inside…
Your SOUL is already encoded, Bernard. We will not initiate unless we receive permission from all your mental fragments.
“Michael?” Paulsen-Fuchs’ voice pulled him out of the conversation. Bernard shook his head and blinked at the viewing chamber window. “Michael? Are you awake?”
“I’ve been… awake. What is it?”
“A few days ago you gave us permission to have Sean Gogarty visit you. He is here now.”
“Yes, yes.” Michael stood. “In there with you? My eyes are blurry.”
“No. Outside. I suspect you will wish to get dressed, clean up first.”
“Why?” Bernard countered testily. “I’m not going to be a pretty sight no matter how often I shave.”
“You wish to meet him as you are?”
“Yeah. Bring him in. You interrupted something interesting, Paul.”
“We are all becoming just interruptions to you now, aren’t we?”
Bernard tried to smile. His face felt stiff, unfamiliar. “Bring him in, Paul.”
Sean Gogarty, professor of theoretical physics at Kings College, University of London, stepped up into the viewing chamber and shielded his eyes with one hand as he peered into the containment lab. His race was open, friendly, nose long and sharp, teeth prominent. He was tall and carried himself well, and his arms looked well- muscled under his Irish wool jacket His smile faded and his eyes narrowed behind stylish aviator glasses as he saw Bernard. “Dr. Bernard,” he said, his voice pleasantly Irish with a touch of Oxford.
“Dr. Gogarty.”
“Professor, that is, just Sean, please. I like to eschew titles.”
“Then I am Michael.”
“Yes, well in your case… er… it’ll be a bit harder to stick to that. I know of you, and I’m sure you’ve never heard of me, er, Michael.” Again the smile, but without certainty, troubled. As if, Bernard thought, he expected a human being and met
“Paul has briefed me on some of your work. You’re a bit beyond me, Sean.”
“Indeed. This thing, this incident in your country is as much beyond me, I’m certain. I have a few things I would like to talk out with you, Michael, and not just you.”
Paulsen-Fuchs looked at Gogarty with some apprehension. No doubt this meeting was sanctioned by several governments, Bernard thought, or it never would have happened, but Paul was still on edge.
“My colleagues, then,” Bernard gestured at Paulsen-Fuchs.
“Not your human colleagues, no,” Gogarty said.
“My noocytes.”
“Noocytes? Yes, yes, I understand. Your noocytes. Tielhard de Chardin would have approved of that name, I think.”
“I haven’t been thinking much about Tielhard de Chardin lately,” Bernard said, “but he might not be a bad guide.”
“Yes, well, I’m here just barely, by the scruff of the neck,” Gogarty said, “and my time has been limited. I have a notion to propose to you, and I would like you and your small colleagues to pass judgment on it.”
“How did you get detailed information about me, about the noocytes?” Bernard asked.
“Experts all over Europe are being approached. Someone came to me on a hunch. I hope it doesn’t affect his promotion. I’m not highly respected by all my fellows, Dr. Bernard-Michael. My ideas are more than a touch far- out”
“Let’s hear them,” Bernard said, growing impatient.
“Yes. I assume you haven’t heard much about Information Mechanics?”
“Not a whisper,” Bernard said.
“I’m working in a very specialized area of that branch of physics—an area not yet recognized—the effects of information processing on space-time. I’ll put it simply enough, because the noocytes may already know more than I and be better able to explain it to you—”
“Don’t count on it. They relish complexity, and I don’t” Gogarty paused and sat absolutely still for several seconds. Paulsen-Fuchs glanced at him with fleeting anxiety.
“Michael, I have amassed a great deal of theoretical structure which supports the following assertion.” Deep breath. “Information processing—more strictly, observation—has an effect on events occurring within space-time. Conscious beings play an integral role in the universe; we fix its boundaries, to a great extent determine its nature, just as it determines our nature. I have reason to believe- just an hypothesis so far—that we don’t so much discover physical laws as collaborate on them. Our theories are tested against past observations both by ourselves—and by the universe. If the universe agrees that past events are not contradicted by a theory, the theory becomes a template. The universe goes along with it. The better the theory fits the facts, the longer it lasts-if it lasts at all. We then break the universe down into territories or particular territory, as human beings, beings thus far quite distinct No extraterrestrial contact, you know. If there are other intelligent beings beyond the Earth, they
