Exiles at the Well of Souls

I will have the votes!”

They were shocked. While he had them in that state, he pressed home, becoming friendlier, more conciliatory.

“You see, my friends,” he concluded, “not giving me that power will cause me a great deal of pain, cost a lot of lives, and give me a lot of time and trouble. But I’ll win either way. In four days—or in four years. It won’t matter. But, I’m impatient, and I am direct. We can save a lot of pain, trouble, and lives by conceding to my demands now.”

Rumney reached back, felt his tall unbelievingly. “And this tail—this is the proof?”

Trelig nodded. “Now, one at a time, each of you will go down and stand on the disk. A minor thing will be done to you, nothing more serious than what we did to Citizen Rumney here, unless you cause trouble. If you resist, we will stun you and, I assure you, the results will not be minor!” He underscored that last as if he hoped someone would resist. “But, as Rumney told you, the process is painless, and I do promise you that anyone whose world’s vote is with me will be changed back. That can be done without a return to New Pompeii.”

“What good is your promise?”

Trelig was genuinely surprised and a little hurt at the remark. “I always keep my word, Citizen. I always make good my promises—and my threats.”

Nobody did resist. It would have been futile. Even if they jumped Trelig, they would all get stunned, Trelig included, and then the alterations would be monstrous, as he promised. Even if they managed to rush the guards, they couldn’t operate the lift car, nor did they know how, if there was an alternate way, to get to the surface.

Trelig didn’t bother to be creative. Each, in turn, was given the same long horselike tail Rumney got, color- matched to their own hair. Mavra’s was jet-black, thick, and extended below her knees. The new condition took a little getting used to, although the tail muscle was almost infinitely controllable and the bone seemed soft and pliant. Even so, sitting in the chairs for the ride back up felt odd and uncomfortable, like sitting on a slightly hard object. When shifting position, one had a tendency to pull on the tail inadvertently, causing some pain.

But the addition to their anatomy was convincing proof to them, and it would serve as convincing proof of the threat that hung over everyone when they made their reports to their own leaders.

Mavra looked around at the people seated in the car with her and saw in their eyes and whispers that Antor Trelig would have the votes he needed. That meant, tail or no tail, getting Nikki Zinder away was imperative.

Topside again, she ventured to ask Trelig about Dr. Zinder.

“Oh, he’s around somewhere. We couldn’t do without him, you know. Not for the big test. If you could see beyond the dome now, you’d see an asteroid about the size of this one, but barren, being towed by New Harmony tugs into position about ten thousand kilometers out. A small target, a nothing. We will see tomorrow what we can make of it.”

“Will we be able to see the transformation?” she asked.

He nodded. “Of course. It’s the final demonstration. I’ll have screens set up here so you can all view it. Then, of course, you will depart with your messages—and, ah, your souvenirs,” he added lightly.

* * *

Mavra returned to her room feeling both tired and numb. The events of the day had been exactly what she’d been told to expect. But being told something and seeing it, hearing it, and experiencing it firsthand was something else again. The sleek horse’s tail that was now a part of her was proof of that.

She saw with satisfaction that the boots and belt were where she’d left them; at least they hadn’t touched any of the equipment. The clothing, on the other hand, had been neatly laundered, pressed, and was nicely folded on top of the writing table. She threw off the wrap she’d been wearing the whole day and went over to retrieve her clothes. There was a mirror over the writing table, and, for the first time, she actually saw her tail. She turned this way and that and had to admit that it looked extremely natural. She swished it, extended it out a bit, and marveled at it.

Suddenly she felt terribly tired, as if a great shock had just worn off. That disturbed her. She shouldn’t feel that way, not at this stage. But, it was early yet, she thought. The corridor light was still slightly visible through the big door, and that meant it was not yet the best time to venture forth. Almost without thinking, she walked over to the bed and lay down.

Sleeping on her back was uncomfortable, especially with a tail. She never had liked sleeping face down, so a side position proved the best. The sudden lethargy really concerned her; she was afraid that Trelig had, after all, drugged their food or, perhaps, programmed delayed responses in her brain. That last thought should have startled her awake, but it was gone, and she drifted into a strange, deep sleep.

And she dreamed. Mavra rarely dreamed; at least, she never remembered doing so. But this dream was as clear as reality, without any quality of fogginess about it.

She was back in the computer center, standing on the silver disk again, and yet, as she looked around, there were no faces on the balcony, no faces at the controls. The room was deserted, except for herself and the slight humming of the computer.

“Mavra Chang,” the computer spoke to her. “Listen, Mavra Chang. This dream is being caused by me as you are processed. All that is now being witnessed has already passed, including our conversation, in the millionth of a second between initial and final processing. This record is being made to bring memory when you sleep, an induced hypnotic sleep.”

“Who are you?” she asked. “Are you Dr. Zinder?”

“No,” responded the computer. “I am Obie. I am a machine, one endowed with self-awareness. Dr. Zinder is as much my parent as he is his own daughter’s, however, and there is the sameness of bond between us. I am his other child.”

“But you do the work for Trelig and his man Yulin,” she pointed out. “How can you do this?”

“Ben designed much of my storage capacity and, as a result, has the ability to coerce my actions,” Obie explained. “However, while I must do what he tells me to do, my mind, my self-awareness, is Dr. Zinder’s creation. It was deliberately designed so, so that no one could gain complete control of the device we have built.”

“Then you have freedom of action,” she replied, amazed. “You can act unless specifically directed not to.”

“Dr. Zinder said that making such prohibitions to me would be like making a pact with the devil; there are always mental loopholes. I have found it so.”

“Then why haven’t you acted?” she demanded. “Why have you allowed this to go on?”

“I am helpless,” Obie responded. “I cannot move. I am isolated where the only communications I have without severe time-lag is with Trelig’s system, which would do no good whatsoever. The alterations to reality are restricted to that little disk, and I cannot even activate that myself. It takes a series of coded commands to give me access to the arm. This, however, will change tomorrow.”

“The big dish,” she whispered. “They will connect you to the big dish.”

“Yes, and once connected, they will find it impossible to break that connection. I have already worked out the process.”

She thought a moment. “Does Zinder know?”

“Oh, yes,” Obie responded. “I am, after all, a reflection of him in this form. Ben is a bright lad, but he doesn’t really understand the complexities of what I am or of what I do. He is more in the nature of a brilliant engineer than a theoretical scientist. He can use Dr. Zinder’s principles, but he cannot totally divine them. And, in that way, he is like the person who becomes an expert cheat at cards and then tries to cheat his teacher.”

She sighed. “Then Trelig has lost,” she said quietly.

“In a way, yes,” Obie acknowledged. “But his loss does not mean our victory. When the power is turned on tomorrow, I will achieve power beyond your comprehension. I intend, when switched to activation, to create a negative rather than a positive bias on the dish. This will place the whole of New Pompeii under the blue.”

“What will you make of us all, then?” she managed.

Obie paused, then continued. “I will make nothing. If I can, I will restore the sponge addicts to normal, with