you destroy yourself; because the first law of the Golden Oecumene is that no peaceful activity is forbidden. Free men may freely harm themselves, provided only that it is only themselves that they harm.'
Phaethon knew what his sire was intimating, but he did not let himself feel irritated. Not today. Today was the day of his majority, his emancipation; today, he could forgive even He-lion's incessant, nagging fears.
Phaethon also knew that most Rhadamanthines were not permitted to face the Noetic tests until they were octogener-ians; most did not pass on their first attempt, or even their second. Many folk were not trusted with the full powers of an adult until they reached their Centennial. Helion, despite criticism from the other Silver-Gray branches, was permitting Phaethon to face the tests five years early. Phaethon had been more than pleased to win his sire's validation and support; but now, perhaps, Helion was wondering if his critics after all had been correct.
'Are you suggesting I sign a Werewolf Contract, Father?' A Werewolf Contract appointed someone with an override, and authorized them to use force, if necessary, to keep the subscribing party away from addictions, bad nanomachines, bad dreams, or other self-imposed mental alterations. (The actual legal term for this document was 'a Confessed Judg-
ment of Conditional Mental Incompetence and Appointment of Guardian.')
'I am not suggesting that,' said Helion, 'but, now that you bring it up ... have you thought about it? Perhaps you ought. Many eminent people, well respected in their communities, have signed such things. No one else need know.' But he looked down when he said it, unable to meet Phaethon's gaze.
'Are you thinking of signing such a thing, Father?' Phaethon asked with a wry half smile.
Helion straightened up, his eyes bright, glaring down at Phaethon. Helion said nothing, but there was such a look of august majesty, of haughty pride, shining in his face, that there was no need to say anything.
Phaethon let his smile inch wider, and he spread his hands, and quirking one eyebrow, as if to say, So you see?
Then Phaethon said, 'It's a paradox, Father. I cannot be, at the same time and in the same sense, a child and an adult. And, if I am an adult, I cannot be, at the same time, free to make my own successes, but not free to make my own mistakes.'
Helion looked sardonic. ' 'Mistake' is such a simple word. An adult who suffers a moment of foolishness or anger, one rash moment, has time enough to delete or destroy his own free will, memory, or judgment. No one is allowed to force a cure on him. No one can restore his sanity against his will. And so we all stand quietly by, with folded hands and cold eyes, and meekly watch good men annihilate themselves. It is somewhat... quaint... to call such a horrifying disaster a 'mistake.' '
Phaethon said, 'If fools wish to abuse their freedom, let them. So long as they only harm themselves, who cares?'
Helion said, 'Aha. Proudly spoken. But what human is entirely immune from foolishness?'
Phaethon was impatient to continue the ceremony and step beyond those golden doors. He shrugged, and said, 'The So-photechs are unimaginably wise! We can trust their advice to protect us.'
'Are they, indeed?' Helion looked very displeased. 'Did I
ever tell you what happened to Hyacinth-Subhelion Septimus Gray? He and I were friends once. We were closer than friends. We entered a communion exchange.'
Against his will, Phaethon was interested. 'Sir? I thought you and he were political rivals. Enemies.'
'You are thinking of Hyacinth Sistine. This was another version of his, but a close alternate. What these days would be called a parallel-first close-order brother, emancipated non-partial ... though we did not use that terminology at the time.'
'What did you call brothers back then?'
'Real-time clones.'
Phaethon snorted. 'Well, no one ever accused people from the Second Immortality period of being overly romantic!'
'Indeed,' said Helion with a small, ironic smile. 'Which was why I founded the Romanticism movement among the manorial schools. It wasn't called the Consensus Aesthetic back then, because there was no consensus and no standard forms. But Orpheus Prime Avernus?who fancied himself a poet, as you can tell from his name?had come out very strongly in favor of the return to classical themes and images. He wasn't called a Peer back then, because there was only one of him, and he had no peers.' (Phaethon knew Helion had named himself, following that same classical myth tradition the Orphic movement had resurrected.)
'No peers? The Eleemosynary Composition was around at that time.'
'But held in contempt by public opinion. You probably don't remember?-recorded lives from that time usually don't get posted on the apprentice net or educational channels? that the Eleemosynary Composition at that time was a fervid opponent of the Noumenal technology. And with good reason. Subscription to the Compositions dropped almost to nothing after Orpheus opened his first bank. People would rather be immortal?truly immortal, themselves, as individuals?rather than be a recording in a mass-mind. The Compositions might call it immortality, or 'First Immortality,' but without the Noumenal mathematics, without the ability to
capture the self-aware and self-defining part of your soul, all Composition recording is, in reality, is other people pretending they are you, or playing out your old thoughts, after you die. Like a playactor reading a diary.'
'What about Vafnir? Surely he was a peer.'
'Vafnir was alive, but he wasn't human. He had built himself into the power station at Mercury Equilateral. The whole damn station was his body. He was rich, but everyone deemed him a lunatic.' Helion smiled at the memory. 'It was a wild age, an age of reckless daring and of high delights, of symphonies and storms of light. We all thought we could not die, and the elation from Orpheus's breakthrough sang in our souls like summer wine.... Ah. Anyway, where was I... ?'
Phaethon realized that Helion must have their local, rented version of Rhadamanthus off-line; otherwise he would not have forgotten his place in his speech.
The Jovian system Sophotechs did not adhere to as strict a protocol of proprietary information as did Earthly
