‘Excellent. Now?’
‘No time like the present.’
They filed back into the dome — Jontan, Sarai, Scott and the old man, while the younger man crossed to a control panel outside. He was the last thing Jontan saw, and hearing him wish them luck was the last thing Jontan heard, before the doors swung shut. He swallowed as his ears popped with the changed pressure.
‘Don’t be alarmed, my dear.’ The old man spoke for the first time, addressing Sarai who was looking just as unsettled as Jontan felt. He was smiling like a benevolent uncle. ‘Transference involves manipulation of probability within the chamber, and for that reason no quanta of any kind can get in from the outside. We’re completely isolated from the control room. Everything is powered internally.’
‘Transference?’ said Sarai, too surprised even to add the ‘sir’ which the man surely merited. So it wasn’t a mock-up, it was real, but where was the Register, and why was this chamber all on its own down here, and…
‘I told you Morbern destroyed his records, Ms Killin,’ Scott said as the background hum in the chamber changed in tone, beginning to ring like a bell. ‘No one said he destroyed his original equipment.’
And then complete disorientation took Jontan’s mind and the walls of the chamber faded away.
SIX
Last case,’ said Hossein Asaldra, in a bored monotone. ‘Alicia Gonzales/Zeng.’
Marje Orendal stretched her arms out and arched her back with a sense of accomplishment. One more of these and the backlog that she had been hacking through ever since taking over Li Daiho’s job would be cleared. ‘Let’s see it,’ she said.
Alicia Gonzales/Zeng had worked for the civil administration of Cuzco ecopolis. She was 27 years old and four months previously she had locked herself in her suite, refusing to come out or let anyone — including her bond partner — in. Security had cut their way in and found her catatonic, curled up in a foetal ball in the corner of her bathroom.
The case was depressingly familiar, and the equally familiar and depressing routine had swung into action. Gonzales/Zeng was remanded for psychological evaluation. Reports indicated a complete mental freeze-up and inability to face living a normal life in an ecopolis any longer. Enhanced social preparation hadn’t worked and, not having committed any crime, she wasn’t eligible for personality reinforcement. She was too young for the retirement worlds, even as an exemption case. Inevitably her case had been referred to the correspondents programme.
‘We get the dregs again,’ Marje said.
‘Academic.’ Asaldra waved the problem away, clearly impatient to get this over with. They both knew Alicia Gonzales/Zeng would be a new woman after passing through their hands. The difference was, in her previous job, Marje’s responsibility had ended at this point, with the psychological profile prepared and all appropriate recommendations made. For the first time, now, she would be the one to speed the woman into her new existence.
Marje studied the specs. The woman was physically robust — correspondents were remodelled to a great extent, but it helped if they had a good frame to hang the extra work on in the first place. That wasn’t really her concern. Her problem was: if this woman’s social preparation had broken down once, could her mind retain the far more intense conditioning required of a correspondent? The fact that social preparation hadn’t taken wasn’t necessarily a bad sign — a correspondent’s personality, such as it was, was practically rebuilt from the bottom up anyway, while social preparation was just a gloss laid down on top of an existing human mind. But experience had shown that the deepest layers of the human mind persisted, despite all attempts to eradicate them, and could sometimes push themselves up even through a correspondent’s conditioning.
Marje felt sorry for the subject and she felt sorry for the other half of the Gonzales/Zeng partnership, the woman’s husband; very likely neither would ever see the other again, and even if Alicia did make it to Recall Day at the end of the Home Time, it would be the new correspondent’s personality that would be in charge. The woman had had her go at life in the Home Time and she had been found wanting, yet here was her chance to make a real contribution. The data she supplied would be snapped up by the people of the Home Time: the entertainment networks would base shows on it, fashions and trends would derive from it, society would be enriched by the understanding gained from this peek into its past. Terrible things had happened in humanity’s history when people lost sight of their past — where they came from, what mistakes had been made on the way. The College, and the correspondents especially, helped prevent that happening ever again.
Marje spoke. ‘Subject Alicia Gonzales/Zeng accepted for the correspondents programme. Authorization Orendal.’
‘Witness Asaldra,’ Asaldra said. The business was done. ‘If that’s all…’
‘Apparently.’ Marje herself still had to catch up with a lot of her predecessor’s affairs, but the end was in sight. And she could tell from the way Asaldra was, well, hovering, in the polite way that all assistants had, that he had more in store for her. ‘Well?’
‘Just that the Patricians’ Guild would like to send someone to introduce you to your responsibilities as a member of the patrician class. No time has been set but you have a free slot at 14:00 tomorrow.’
‘Patricians’ Guild?’ Marje exclaimed.
Asaldra raised an eyebrow. ‘Naturally. A commissioner must be a patrician.’
‘I… I had no idea. And I’m only Acting.’ Marje’s thoughts were whirling. She had known she could bring something to this job, but
‘Even so,’ Asaldra said. ‘What answer should I give?’
Thus bringing Marje back to the matter in hand — the Patricians’ Guild. ‘Delay them,’ she said. ‘Same excuse — I’m waiting to see if it’s permanent or not. They’ll understand.’
‘Of course.’
The conversation had reminded Marje of a question that had occurred to her earlier.
‘Hossein, I have to ask… um, I’m sorry, there’s no easy way: is there a reason why you weren’t considered for this position? You’d have been a far more logical choice than me. You were Li’s assistant, for one thing.’
Asaldra smiled. ‘Not a problem, Acting Commissioner. My wife works for the World Executive — she’s on the Oversight Committee. There would have been a clash of interests.’
‘Oh.’ Marje sighed in relief. So, no hidden Asaldra skeletons — just the fact that his wife helped run the College. ‘I wasn’t aware. But it seems unfair. Why should I jump to the head of the patricians queue?’
‘Ekat — my wife — is a patrician,’ Asaldra said, ‘and I’m happy to serve the College. I’ll get my due reward.’ He stood decisively. ‘I’ll be off, if I may.’
Marje waved a hand. ‘Of course. Will I see you at the ball tonight?’
‘We’ll be there,’ Asaldra said with a nod. ‘My wife and I.’
‘Of course. I look forward to meeting her.’ Apart from anything else, Asaldra could be so unresponsive that Marje looked forward to finding out what kind of woman could put up with him, but she kept quiet about that thought.
Asaldra smiled with his mouth, but his eyes stayed the same. ‘I’ll see you later, then.’ He bowed slightly and left.
Marje stood up and began to pace around the conference table. It wasn’t much but her legs and her spine welcomed the exercise. She would have to deal with this office, she thought, looking around her. Li Daiho had decorated his office as he had decorated his Himalayan home, with books and shelves that gave it an almost dusty feel clashing with that ghastly twenty-first century carpet. There was also a real-time window giving a view of the Ross Sea outside, and on one wall an hourglass — the logo of the College. It was cleverly arranged so that the sand appeared to be rushing from the top to the bottom, yet if one looked closely it seemed the sand wasn’t moving at all. And yet again, Marje knew it was moving, but too slowly for the eye to detect. The top half was almost empty
