“Tell Winnie to come up the ramp and meet us outside. We’re going to Oakwood.”
“Right now?” Patricia asked.
“Now. We’re heading out again in the morning, and this business has to be settled.”
Guibedo paced nervously as Liebchen and Dirk watched. “Ach. What worries me is how I’m going to explain all this to Patty.”
“My lord?”
“What do you want, telephone?”
“Pardon my impropriety, my lord, but in the interests of easing your mind, I feel obligated to tell you that Lady Mona has explained the situation to Lady Patricia. They are coming here now to confront you.”
“Well, that makes things easier. Liebchen, go make that stuff,” Guibedo said.
As Liebchen scurried to the kitchen, the I/O unit said, “My lord?”
“What now?”
“Was I right to violate privacy on this occasion?”
“Yah. This time. Just don’t do it too often.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
When Mona and Patty walked up from the tunnel into the kitchen, Mona said, “Uncle Martin, there’s something—”
“Yah, I know. Dirk told me.” Guibedo shoved the pink grapefruit juice-and-milk concoction into Patty’s hand. “Drink this.”
“I—I don’t know if I should. I mean, I’ve been happy with you.”
“I love you, too. But you would have been just as happy on heroin, and that ain’t real, either. Drink!”
“But—”
“You’re going to drink that or I’ll have Dirk pour it down your throat!”
Dirk shifted his weight uneasily, unsure of the correct course of action if he received such an order.
“Uncle Martin! Take it easy, for god’s sake,” Mona said.
“Ach…” Guibedo stomped into the living room, followed by Dirk. Liebchen tried to make herself inconspicuous in a corner.
Things were silent for a minute, then Patricia said,“You know, he really does love me.” And she drained the contents of the glass with one gulp.
A half hour later, Guibedo was trying to look interested in a six-month-old magazine as Patricia walked up to him. Her expression held pity and an involuntary touch of revulsion.
“I… see you drank it, Patty.”
“Yes. It’s… strange. Do you think that we could…”
“No. That’s all done now,” Guibedo said gruffly. “Look. It was a lot of fun, but it wasn’t real. You’ll find yourself a nice boy. Me, well, Heiny bought me some land near the ocean, and Mole just finished digging a tunnel to it. I’m gonna go there and work on my boats.”
“But we could try—”
“You’re not being honest, Patty. In a week your pity would turn into disgust. Better we break it clean, and we both have pretty memories. Look. I give you Oakwood for a present. I don’t need it anymore. Dirk will get my stuff moved out.” Guibedo went to the door and turned.
“Good-bye, Patty.”
He wanted to kiss her a last time, but he was afraid that she’d go through with it out of pity. He was out the door before the tears filled his eyes.
He was sitting on a park bench when Liebchen and Dirk found him. Dirk hovered protectively a a distance. Liebchen sat at his side.
“My lord. It is so late. Where will you go? How can you find your way in the dark?”
“I don’t know, Liebchen. But I’ve been on the bottom before. And then I didn’t have any friends.”
Chapter Twelve
OCTOBER 19, 2003
FOR THE next few hundred years, one of our primary functions must be the collection of data on the humans.
After all, they are to a certain extent our ancestors, and we should at least have accurate records concerning them once they are no more.
Hastings sat with a beer in a deserted room of the Red Gate Inn. He had been in Life Valley for three days, looking for a cripple named Heinrich Copernick and an obese former biology teacher named Martin Guibedo. He wasn’t surprised that he hadn’t found them yet. There were millions of people in the valley. There were no street addresses or telephone books, and Hastings knew better than to ask too many questions.
He could wait. Food was plentiful and he attracted no attention by sleeping in the parks. Someday they would slip and he would get them.
A huge man with an oversized beer mug came in and sat down at Hastings’ table.
“Have a seat,” Hastings said.
“Thank you.”
“Been around here long?”
“About three years,” Copernick said.
“You must have been one of the first settlers, then. Most people around here seem to be newcomers.”
“I was. They are.” Copernick lit a cigar.
“Hey. Tobacco. It’s been months since I had a smoke.”
“Have one. My tree house grows them.”
Hastings inhaled deeply. “Now that’s lovely. Quite a city here. It must have been something to watch this place grow up.”
“It was. Have you planted your tree yet?”
“Not yet,” Hastings said. “Thought I’d look around a bit to get an idea about what I wanted and where I wanted to put it.”
“Smart. No big hurry. One place you might want to check out is about ten miles south of here. A group of ex-military types are putting in a town. You had to have been at least a colonel to join.”
Hastings suppressed a flash of panic.
“If you were here from the beginning, you must know Guibedo and Copernick.”
“Intimately. I’m Heinrich Copernick, George.”
Hastings was acutely aware of the brick of high explosives taped to his ankle.
“Then you know who I am.”
“Of course. That white-noise generator lit you up like a neon sign. My telepaths were quite relieved when your battery went dead. They said it gave them headaches.”
“You bastard. You had me set up all along.”
“Let’s just say that I wanted to meet you. We’ve been enemies for years. You fought a good fight. But the war is over now. You ought to be thinking about your future.”
“My future?” Hastings’ voice was cold. “You destroy my country. You murder my family. And then you expect me to settle down in your filthy city.”
“George, we both know that four years ago the world was on a collision course with absolute disaster. Come over to my house sometime and I’ll show you the figures. Our mechanically based technology had to go, yet our economic system was totally supported by that technology. And our political and social structures were completely supported by those economics. Our survival as a race depended on making the changeover to a
