'Ao Enwir. 'On the Sovereignty of Machines.' ' Phaethon said. He did not correct the misquote.
Then Phaethon forced a smile. 'But I am not about to die, Father. Even if no one will sell me food or water, my armor lining can produce?'
'Orpheus Avernus has dumped your extra lives. You are no longer in the Mentality.' 'W-what... ?'
'Read the hypertext and fine print of your contract with your bank. They are obligated to delete the stored lives of anyone who falls under Hortator prohibition. It is a standard clause for all contracts with Orpheus; it was Orpheus who first gave the College so much social influence.'
Phaethon opened his mouth to protest. Surely the Sopho-techs, infinitely wise, would not simply stand by and let him
die?!
He closed his mouth again. He knew what the Sophotech logic would say. Phaethon had not invented the Noumenal Recording system. Orpheus had. It belonged only to Orpheus, and he was free to dispose of his property in any peaceful and lawful fashion he saw fit. He could not be compelled by force to give his services or his property or his lifework to anyone with whom he did not wish to deal.
And Phaethon had freely signed that contract.
'As of this moment, my son, you are no longer immortal.'
A sense of dread began to close in on Phaethon.
'Surely the Hortators have not yet posted an official decree?'
'It does not matter. Your attorney, Monomarchos, signed in your name a confession of judgment, don't you remember? You signed away your right to any appeal. There will be no second Inquiry Hearing; this meeting is merely an announcement.'
'If they expect me to simply lie down somewhere and die, they are sadly mistaken!'
'That is exactly what they expect. They are not mistaken.'
'There are people who survive exile.'
'In fiction stories, perhaps. But even Lundquist in the old song was only exiled for a period of six hundred years. Yours is permanent. You might be able to jury-rig repairs to the nanomachinery in your cells which regenerates your wounds and restores your youth. But nanomachines draw their power from isotopic decay of the large atoms at the base of their spiral chains; no one will sell you life-water to replenish those atoms.'
'Life-water is the cheapest nanotechnology our society makes....' Phaethon began.
Helion's voice was flat. 'It is not your society anymore. You are alone. No one will sell you a drop of water.'
Phaethon closed his eyes and bowed his head.
Helion's face was grave. 'And do not ask Daphne to smuggle food or medicine to you; you would only involve her in the same downfall.'
'I won't, Father,' Phaethon whispered.
Helion stepped forward, taking Phaethon by the shoulders. Phaethon raised his head. Helion said, 'I see that you call me 'Father' instead of 'Relic' May I ask why?'
Phaethon shook his head. 'Because I don't think any of it matters anymore. Everything is over. I've ruined everyone's lives and destroyed my own dreams ... and now I have nothing and everything is over. We argue, you and I. We argue often. All those arguments are over. We're never going to see each other again, are we?'
They looked deeply into each other's eyes.
'Forgive me if I have not been the best of fathers, my son.' 'If you will pardon me that I have not been the best of
sons.'
'Don't say that!' Helion's voice was hoarse. 'You are braver and brighter than I ever could have hoped.... I am so very proud of you I cannot say....'
They embraced.
Sire and scion whispered good-byes to each other.
The doors opened, but the Inquest Chamber was not beyond. Instead, a large anteroom waited, carpeted in red and burgundy. Tall windows on the left threw sunlight on a cluster of low tables, chairs, and divans, standing ashtrays and formulation rods. To the right were Chinese screens and wardrobes.
A set of doors at the far end bore the book, grail, and flail emblem of the College. Evidently the actual chamber was
beyond.
Phaethon frowned at the nearest formulation rod; it was an anachronism, dating from the period of the Warlock Coun-terprogressions in the Fifth Era.
Helion was looking at Rhadamanthus for an explanation. 'Who added this chamber to my house?'
'Master, I thought you would want to change from your solar armor to proper period dress,' said the overweight butler, pointing toward the wardrobes. 'Also, you have a guest who insisted on speaking to Mr. Phaethon before the hearing commenced. This was very much in character with your previous instructions to me on these matters, and an extrapolation of your personality assured me you would not mind. I hope I did not incorrectly anticipate your wishes?'
Helion looked impatient. 'What guest do you imagine I would tolerate to use up the last few moments my son
