Phaethon, with the armor, was able to use these control-interfaces to dominate the local thoughtspace. It required less than a second to see and analyze the energy flows within the tube walls, create the proper anchor fields and generators within the armor lining, erect a magnetic force zone around himself, and ride the energy motions along the tube axis upward at several multiples of the speed of sound. Some emergency routine in the window allowed the panels to bubble and snap aside, shutting behind him as he soared upward before any air escaped into the vacuum inside the tube. The black lining of the armor had interpenetrated his every tissue, nerve, and bone, stiffening his body to the consistency of a block of oak. He was easily able to tolerate the nine gravities of acceleration; the armor's internal monitor assured him that, had there been time to complete the tension adjustments within his cells and membranes, he would have been able to withstand ninety.
'Rhadamanthus, I'm not endangering anyone, am I?' 'I would have warned you, young master, had you been.' Phaethon flew on a waft of unseen force to the top of the space elevator. Here was a wide, weightless, roughly spherical space, a mile across. The walls were dotted with docks and portcullises leading to interplanetary ships or to the cylinders and habitats of the ring-city. Phaethon turned his sense-filter to subtext, so that the scene was overlaid with maps and diagrams showing his location and labeling the machineries and energy-arrangements around him.
Phaethon saw evidence of movement inside many of the
machines and conduits leading through the space. He looked into the Middle Dreaming to see the meanings attached to these activities, and understood that the Sophotechs maintaining the environmental integrity of the ring-city were taking precautions against any accidents Phaethon's flying suit might cause. Insurance efforts were tracking the cost of the precautions, which would be charged against his account should any accident occur. A side thought indicated that, since Phaethon's account was bankrupt, the potential lien should be charged to Helion, along with the other pertinent details of the present situation.
Phaethon turned toward Rhadamanthus, who (now that Phaethon's sense-filter was turned back on) manifested an image. Rhadamanthus looked like a penguin dressed in black-and-gold adamantium armor. His helmet was of generally the same Egyptian-looking style as Phaethon's, but with an elongated face mask to cover his beak.
'Rhadamanthus! What is this?!'
The penguin craned his neck and thoughtfully examined his own chubby gold-coated body, even lifting his stubby wings to gravely examine his armpits. 'Is something out of order, sir? Silver-Gray protocol does require that I try to blend into the scene, after all.'
'And this blends? A penguin in space armor?'
'Well, sir, a penguin could not be levitating here next to you without such armor. Not realistically.'
'You don't seem to be taking my troubles very seriously.'
'A sense of humor is most useful when dealing with human beings, sir.'
'And, apparently, when dealing with Sophotechs, too. You and your brethren are informing Helion of my movements and actions. Is this also a joke?'
'He only has rights to know of those things which concern him, such as, for example, when you are spending his money.'
'Even though my amnesia blotted out the fact that it is his money, and not mine, that I'm spending, I suppose?'
'It does not perhaps seem fair, sir, but you did agree to these terms.'
'And, apparently, I've agreed to forget that I've agreed. Everyone says this is a golden age. Shouldn't it be run a little more fairly?'
'What does the young master suggest?'
Phaethon swung his leg to counterrotate his body till his head pointed toward with the main motion lock. The internal structure of his armor changed, developing a microscopic system of rail-guns along his back and legs. Particles with very low rest-mass, ejected backward at near the speed of light, grew in mass enough to accelerate him forward. Ray-thin parallel streamers of light hissed backward from his armor, ruby
red.
Beyond was the first segment of the ring-city. Unlike the space yard he had just left, this segment was spun for gravity. Phaethon sped along the axis. This cylinder held traditional forms; overhead and underfoot, the distant curving walls were green with forests, blue with lakes.
'Perhaps I should not be bound by obligations I've forgotten.'
'But, sir, that would create an incentive for everyone to escape their obligations simply by erasing their memory of them. If you had wanted such an easy-escape clause written into the contract which presently binds you, presumably, you would have written it in.'
'And presumably they?whoever they are?would not have agreed.'
'That is a safe assumption.'
The next three cylinders were neomorphic, filled with strange shapes and convolutions. The next cylinder was walled with oceans of pewter blue, with earthlight shining up through submerged windows. The cylinder beyond the next motion lock turned at a slower rate of spin, and the walls were sculpted with the rust red canyons and dry-ice snows of Mars.
Phaethon asked, 'Why couldn't I be prevented from making such a foolish agreement in the first place?'
'You are free to join the Orthomnemonicist School, which permits no memory alterations except antisenility storage, or join the Primitivists, who permit none at all.'
'You know what I mean. You Sophotechs are smarter than I am; why did you let me do such a foolish thing?'
'We answer every question our resources and instruction parameters allow; we are more than happy to advise you, when and if we are asked.'
