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trivial,
information-plagued society. And our work?" He stared at the eerie,
half-lit sky outside, growing calmer. "With luck, our work will be the
antibiotic that spurs society to fight the infection." A nagging doubt
seemed to tighten his features. "Assuming, of course, that we don't kill
the patient ..."
    I was about to ask for
clarification of this apparently unbalanced statement when the ship's alert
system suddenly sounded again. Slay-ton informed us that we were descending to
"cruising altitude," an innocuous expression that I soon learned had
to do not with any kind of pleasure traveling but with flying some hundred feet
above the landscape as we had done when I'd first boarded the ship in Florida.
Everyone stood, the general level of excitement growing, and gathered around
Tressalian; and while I tried to follow as best I could, my movements were
slowed by the mental need to wrestle with everything I'd just heard. Could they
be serious, these people? Could they really mean that they believed it was
possible to manipulate the dissemination of important information to the
public as a way of alerting that same public to just how easy—and therefore
dangerous—such manipulation had, in our time, become? It was absurd,
impossible—
    And then, with a shudder that had
nothing to do with Larissa's close presence, I remembered the scenes of
President Forrester's assassination on the disc that Max and I had been given.
For a year the world had accepted as true a version of those momentous events
that was not even remotely factual. And now the strongest power in the world
was about to engage in a military strike that was based on that same
misapprehension—a misapprehension manufactured by Tressalian and his team, who
were currently on their way to the scene of that strike to—what? Observe?
Participate, with their amazing ship? Or manipulate the proceedings with still
more manufactured information? Almost afraid to know the answers, I silently
turned to watch the darkness ahead of us with the others.
    Even through my renewed
bewilderment, I realized that the ship had once more shifted altitude
dramatically without so much as a bump or a perceptible change in cabin
pressure. We were flying low over the ocean again, although I was shocked to
learn that this ocean was the Arabian Sea, which meant that our
high-altitude speed had been considerably in excess of anything achieved by the
most advanced supersonic airplanes currently in use. As I watched the moonlit
waters speed by under us, Larissa turned to murmur into my ear:
    "Not that I don't agree with
everything the others have been saying, Doctor—I assure you I do—but try to
put it aside for a moment and experience this ride. Can any philosophical
discussion really make your blood race like this ship? I doubt it. So when you
think about joining us, think about this, too—" I turned to face her.
"You and I could travel to literally every corner of the world, just the
way we are now—with no restrictions and no laws but our own. Are you
game?"
    I looked back outside.
"Jesus—I'd like to say that I am," I told her uncertainly. "But
it's all so—" I tried to get a grip. "Impulsiveness has never been
the most comfortable mode of behavior for me."
    She let me have the coy smile.
"I know."
    "That doesn't bother
you?"
    She made a judicious little
humming sound. "Not entirely. It's part of the reason we wanted
you, after all." She put a hand lightly to my cheek. "Part of the
reason ..."
    Without turning toward us
Tressalian called out, "Oh, Sister—if I may interrupt, perhaps you'd care
to explain what avenue of approach you've chosen. Toward our geographical objective,
that is."
    Larissa gave me one more
searching look before answering him. "Very droll, Brother. We'll
make landfall south of Karachi, then follow the Indus Valley north. We're safe
from any radar, of course, and because the river's been a nuclear dead zone
since the start of the Kashmir war, we shouldn't be