staggered closer, staring at the screen. Helice hanging suspended.
But Quinn had gone. The harness hung by a wisp of material that stretched to a long, melted filament.
“God . . . ,” Mikal said. “We lost it, lost it. I should have waited.”
Helice was still in the module. Left behind. She had to go.
“Send her,” Lamar barked.
“Can’t,” Mikal barked. “Lost it.”
“No you didn’t. Look.” Lamar pointed to Quinn’s harness. It was moving on its own, moving backward, sliding sideways, disappearing inch by inch into nothingness. They still had connection. Two mSaps said they had connection; one said no. “Send her.”
“I can’t. We’ve only got two—”
Lamar fumbled in his coat pocket and drew out a small pistol, bristling with wires. Hand shaking, he pressed the gun against Mikal’s right temple. “Send her. Do it now.” As Mikal hesitated, Lamar made a dent in his skin with the barrel.
Mikal threw the switch. Then he lurched away from the computer banks, backing away from this apparent madman who shared his control room.
But Lamar’s attention was all on the second module. Helice was folding together like a book closing. She became a thick line, then a thin one.
Gone. But her harness hung in the air, burning.
“Shut off the goddamn racket,” Lamar growled.
The emergency noise subsided as Mikal whispered, “We just killed them. You killed them.” He looked at Lamar with loathing.
“Don’t be an idiot. We had two agreeing.” Almost dropping the pistol from the sweat streaming off his hands, Lamar jammed it into his jacket pocket. Until now he hadn’t known he had it in him, to use a weapon.
“I’ll report you.” Mikal was still trembling.
“Go ahead.”
Lamar felt his own legs shaking. He tottered out of the control room. “Goddamn mSaps,” he muttered.
How many mSaps does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
Answer: What’s a lightbulb?
It took a human to make the tough decisions. Helice had to cross over. Everything depended on it. Lamar might be an old man, but he knew that much.
PART II
THE
ENGINE
OF
WORLDS
CHAPTER FIVE
The Radiant Path is the sum of perfections. All that the virtuous sentient could desire is found in the five primacies and the million minorals. Since the gracious lords have gathered the supreme pleasures of all that is into the Bright Realm, let the discreet sentient be content. Scholars, in their agitation, must peer into inferior places. This the vows permit, to document the dark of the Rose, the kingdom of the evanescent. Peer, scholar, into the veil-of- worlds, much may the scattered glories of the Rose satisfy you. Behind each scholar’s life lies a pile of redstones, the sum of squandered days.
—from The Book of the Thousand Gifts
B ENHU HAD BEEN WAITING SO LONG AT HIS POST that when something finally happened, he dropped his pipe and staggered to his feet, agape with surprise.
The floor was strewn with bedding, the remains of meals, and candles, some of them flaming. He grabbed a guttering candle and peered into the cleft at the end of the chamber. A V-shaped wedge pierced the wall, broad end facing out, the crevice clogged with a standing wedge of thick fluid.
Inside it, streaks of light skittered, dimmed, bloomed again. The floor pounded in heavy, slow beats. Something was happening behind the veil-of-worlds; and then, slow-witted, he realized it was a crossing—the one he’d been sent to assist. Already a sac had formed, and he could make out a wavering shape inside it. Benhu sprang into action. The computational devices lay stacked on either side of the cleft, with tendrils inserted into the veil. Benhu removed the cord from around his neck and fumbled at the knot, finally pulling off one redstone and inserting it into the master well. Benhu had no true understanding of any scholarly thing, but he followed Lord Oventroe’s instructions with precision. Still, events were not unfolding as expected. Light boiled inside the
But Quinn had gone. The harness hung by a wisp of material that stretched to a long, melted filament.
“God . . . ,” Mikal said. “We lost it, lost it. I should have waited.”
Helice was still in the module. Left behind. She had to go.
“Send her,” Lamar barked.
“Can’t,” Mikal barked. “Lost it.”
“No you didn’t. Look.” Lamar pointed to Quinn’s harness. It was moving on its own, moving backward, sliding sideways, disappearing inch by inch into nothingness. They still had connection. Two mSaps said they had connection; one said no. “Send her.”
“I can’t. We’ve only got two—”
Lamar fumbled in his coat pocket and drew out a small pistol, bristling with wires. Hand shaking, he pressed the gun against Mikal’s right temple. “Send her. Do it now.” As Mikal hesitated, Lamar made a dent in his skin with the barrel.
Mikal threw the switch. Then he lurched away from the computer banks, backing away from this apparent madman who shared his control room.
But Lamar’s attention was all on the second module. Helice was folding together like a book closing. She became a thick line, then a thin one.
Gone. But her harness hung in the air, burning.
“Shut off the goddamn racket,” Lamar growled.
The emergency noise subsided as Mikal whispered, “We just killed them. You killed them.” He looked at Lamar with loathing.
“Don’t be an idiot. We had two agreeing.” Almost dropping the pistol from the sweat streaming off his hands, Lamar jammed it into his jacket pocket. Until now he hadn’t known he had it in him, to use a weapon.
“I’ll report you.” Mikal was still trembling.
“Go ahead.”
Lamar felt his own legs shaking. He tottered out of the control room. “Goddamn mSaps,” he muttered.
How many mSaps does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
Answer: What’s a lightbulb?
It took a human to make the tough decisions. Helice had to cross over. Everything depended on it. Lamar might be an old man, but he knew that much.
PART II
THE
ENGINE
OF
WORLDS
CHAPTER FIVE
The Radiant Path is the sum of perfections. All that the virtuous sentient could desire is found in the five primacies and the million minorals. Since the gracious lords have gathered the supreme pleasures of all that is into the Bright Realm, let the discreet sentient be content. Scholars, in their agitation, must peer into inferior places. This the vows permit, to document the dark of the Rose, the kingdom of the evanescent. Peer, scholar, into the veil-of- worlds, much may the scattered glories of the Rose satisfy you. Behind each scholar’s life lies a pile of redstones, the sum of squandered days.
—from The Book of the Thousand Gifts
B ENHU HAD BEEN WAITING SO LONG AT HIS POST that when something finally happened, he dropped his pipe and staggered to his feet, agape with surprise.
The floor was strewn with bedding, the remains of meals, and candles, some of them flaming. He grabbed a guttering candle and peered into the cleft at the end of the chamber. A V-shaped wedge pierced the wall, broad end facing out, the crevice clogged with a standing wedge of thick fluid.
Inside it, streaks of light skittered, dimmed, bloomed again. The floor pounded in heavy, slow beats. Something was happening behind the veil-of-worlds; and then, slow-witted, he realized it was a crossing—the one he’d been sent to assist. Already a sac had formed, and he could make out a wavering shape inside it. Benhu sprang into action. The computational devices lay stacked on either side of the cleft, with tendrils inserted into the veil. Benhu removed the cord from around his neck and fumbled at the knot, finally pulling off one redstone and inserting it into the master well. Benhu had no true understanding of any scholarly thing, but he followed Lord Oventroe’s instructions with precision. Still, events were not unfolding as expected. Light boiled inside the
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