'Could be. But where there's a god, there may be gods.'
'Are you saying that Prime is not alone?'
'Well, the notion of a group mind certainly implies the existence of others, by definition.'
'You think Prime is just a part of it, then?' Susan asked.
'I dunno,' I said, 'but see if this makes sense. Prime is kind of like a computer terminal. The group thing acts through him. Maybe there's a supercomputer somewhere, with all these minds whizzing around inside it, see. And Prime is just an input-output device. He said as much, actually. When we speak to him, we're communicating with the Culmination:'
Susan made a face. 'I don't know how I feel about whizzing around inside a computer.'
'Prime,' Roland said. 'It makes sense that he calls himself Prime. He's probably the main input-output device.'
'Makes a dollop of sense;' Sean said, nodding.
'Good guess, Roland,' I said. I got up, moving from the weirdly curved recliner I was on to a comfy overstuffed chair. 'Damned perceptive.'
'But just a guess.'
'What else have we got?' Yuri said, 'At least we have a working hypothesis.'
'Okay, so essentially we're dealing with a computer here. Hypothetically, that is. What does that tell us?'
'Somebody must have programmed it,' Liam said.
'Not necessarily,' Darla said. 'Even we have selfprogramming computers.'
Liam scratched his beard and nodded ruefully. 'Point well taken.'
'So,' I said, 'this computer, which very well may be in or about Emerald City, is pretty much autonomous. Hypothetically.'
'And,' Roland said, 'hypothetically, it's in charge here.'
'Probably. Next question is, what's it doing here? What does it want? From us, specifically?'
'A lube job,' Carl grumbled.
'A what?' Susan asked, frowning.
'Never mind.'
'What did he say?'
'Maintenance,' I said. 'Help. It needs us. That's the implication. The way Prime talks, it's incomplete, somehow. Is that what you meant, Carl, more or less?'
Carl gave me a grouchy look. 'I don't know a damn thing about computers. Back on Earth, I never even saw one. I know that on the Skyway they're everywhere. Little things. You plug these little pipettes into 'em and they'll do anything for you. Back on Earth… I mean, when I left Earth, computers were real big things with all these spinning whaddycallits and flashing lights and stuff. When I got accepted at USC, they sent all these forms you were supposed to fill out, and this IBM card that says on it, `Do not fold, spindle, or mutilate.' That's all I know about computers.'
'USC… IBM,' John said, sampling them on his tongue. 'Jake? Do you know what he's talking about?'
'Well, USC… sounds familiar.'
'University of Southern California,' Carl said. 'International Business Machines, Incorporated. I have an uncle that works for IBM.'
'Oh, yes, of course,' John said remembering. 'History of Cybernetics, my first year at Cambridge. IBM, the American computer company.'
'This is interesting,' Roland said. 'You said you got an IBM card? Card? You mean a-'
'A card. Like made of paper.'
'Paper?'
'Cardboard. Stiff paper, with all these little holes punched in it.'
'Holes.'
Carl nodded. 'Holes.'
There was a short bemused silence. Then Yuri said, 'This hypothetical computer… I suppose we must assume it's a very advanced type.'
'Yeah, it probably doesn't need IBM cards,' I said.
Yuri laughed. 'Likely not.'
'Damn it,' Carl said suddenly, springing to his feet. He stalked out of the room.
Susan gave him a moment's grace. Then: 'Was it something I said?'
Lori looked fretful. 'I think he's homesick.'
'Poor kid. Aren't we all.'
'He doesn't want to stay.'
'It's crazy,' Susan murmured.
'What is?' I asked.
'Just yesterday we'd've all given our right arms to go home. For months now we've been chasing all over creation — literally! — getting involved in the craziest goddamn shit, excuse my language, and now we can go back anytime we want to, and we're sitting here debating whether we want to get ourselves involved in sheer absolute lunacy! I think we all need to leave a call with our therapists.'
'Sam's my therapist,' I said. 'Which reminds me. He's probably thinking we're all dead. I should have checked on him last night, but…' I got out Sam's key and flicked it on. Nothing but static. 'No way this thing can punch through a kilometer of rock. I'll have to go down to the garage.'
Carl came running back into the room, looking like he'd met up with something big in a dark alley. He halted, then looked a trifle embarrassed. 'Scared the shit out of me for a minute.' He cocked a thumb in the direction of the L-shaped connecting passage, from which came sounds of shuffling feet. 'Wait till you get a load of this.'
The Snark entered. 'Hello, there,' it said. I fell of my chair. I think I screamed.
It wasn't as tall as I remembered it to be, though it towered a good two-and-a-third meters high. A cross between a giraffe and a kangaroo, the creature had two funnel-shaped ears flopping out of a head that resembled a very strange dog. Two fully prehensile forlegs-arms, really, with four digits on each hand-dangled from narrow, sloping shoulders. It walked on two birdlike legs with wedge-shaped four-toed feet. Its bright yellow skin looked like vinyl, shiny and inert, and was daubed with pink and purple splotches. The eyes were small and round, disconcertingly humanlike.
The creature glanced around, then regarded me. From the floor, I stared back at it.
'What's with him?' it said, then surveyed the room full of astonished humans. 'What's with all of you?' Its voice was high-pitched, almost feminine.
John was first to attempt speaking. 'Who… uh, are you?'
'I'm your servant, dearie. Got any objections?' I looked over heads and scanned the room. 'This place is a mess already. Dearie me, a servant's work is never done.' It kicked Susan's bedroll. 'What's all this paraphernalia?' It clucked disapprovingly, shaking its ungainly head. 'What a frightful mess.'
John swallowed hard. 'You're… our servant?'
The creature fixed him in a haughty, indignant stare. 'Who were you expecting, Arthur Treacher?'
8
'Are you saying that your servant is discourteous and impertinent?' Prime set down his coffee cup and looked at Susan with mild surprise.
'Oh, it's not that we're complaining,' Susan hastened to say. 'It's just that… well--'
John said, 'The creature's personality is unmistakably human. In fact, it's almost uncomfortably human.'
'Oh, my.'
'No, no, please. As Susan said, we don't mind. It's just that we can't understand how this could be.'
I sat picking at an omelette and drinking strong black coffee, listening. I hadn't said much since the Snark had
