Read Online Michaelmas by Algis Budrys - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Algis Budrys
Tags: Fiction, Science-Fiction
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us. I wonder if they process our history for entertainment values. It wouldn't take much: an assassination in place of exile, revolution instead of elec-tion—that sort of augmentation would yield packageable drama. Chances are, it wouldn't crucially alter the timeline. Or perhaps it might, a little. One might awaken beside a lean young stud instead of the pudgy father of one's whining child. There'd be a huge titillated audience. And the sets and actors are free. A producer's dream. No union con-tracts."
"Michaelmas, someone in your position oughtn't divert himself with paranoias."
"But oughtn't a fish study water?"
A little way up, there was a jammed asphalt parking lot beside a gently sloping windblown meadow in which heli-copters were standing and in which excess vehicles had broken the cold grass in the sod. The Citroën found a place among the other cars and the broadcast trucks. Up the slope was the sanatorium, very much constructed of bright metal and of polarizable windows, the whole of the design taking a sharply pitched snow-shedding silhouette. Sunlight stormed back from its glitter as if it were a wedge pried into Heaven.
They got out and Clementine Gervaise looked around. "It can be very peaceful here," she remarked before waving towards their crew truck. People in white coveralls and smocks with her organization's pocket patch came hurrying. She merged with them, pointing, gesturing, tilting her head to listen, shaking her head, nodding, tapping her forefinger on a proffered clipboard sheet. In another moment, some of them were eddying back towards the equipment freighter and others were trotting up the sanatorium steps, passing and encountering other crews in similar but different jump-suits. From somewhere up there, a cry of rage and depriva-tion was followed by a fifty-five-millimetre lens bouncing slowly down the steps.
"Ten-twenty local," Domino said.
"Thank you," Michaelmas replied, watching Clementine. "How are your links now?"
"Excellent. What would you expect, with all this gear up here and with elevated horizon-lines?"
"Yes, of course," Michaelmas said absently. "Have you checked the maintenance records on Horse's machine?"
"Yes."
"Have you compared them to all maintenance records on all other machines of the same model?"
"Yes."
"Have you cross-referenced all critical malfunction data for the type?"
"Teach your grandmother to suck eggs. If you're asking was it an accident, my answer is it shouldn't have hap-pened. But that doesn't exclude freak possibilities such as one-of-a-kind failure in a pump diaphragm, or even some kind of anomalous resistance across a circuit. I'm cur-rently running back through all parts suppliers and sub-assembly manufacturers, looking for things like unan-nounced re-designs, high reject rates at final inspection stages, and so forth. It'll be a while. And other stones are waiting to be turned." Clementine Gervaise had entered the awareness of the comm terminal's sensors. "Here comes one."
"Let's concentrate on this Norwood thing for now," Michaelmas said.
"Of course, Laurent," Clementine said softly. "The crew is briefed and the equipment is manned."
Michaelmas's mouth twitched. "Yes ... yes, of course they are. I was watching you."
"You like my style? Come—let us go in." She put her arm through his and they went up the steps.
There was another credential verification just beyond the smoked-glass front doors. Another junior UNAC aide was checking names against a list. It was a scene of polite crowding as bodies filed in behind Michaelmas and Clemen-tine.
Douglas Campion was just ahead of them, talking to the aide. Michaelmas prepared to speak to him, but Campion was preoccupied. Michaelmas studied him raptly. The press aide was saying:
"Mr Campion, your crew is in place on the photo bal-cony. We have you listed for a back-up seat towards the rear of the main auditorium. Now, in view of the unfor-tunate—"
"Right," Campion said. "You going to give me
"Michaelmas, someone in your position oughtn't divert himself with paranoias."
"But oughtn't a fish study water?"
A little way up, there was a jammed asphalt parking lot beside a gently sloping windblown meadow in which heli-copters were standing and in which excess vehicles had broken the cold grass in the sod. The Citroën found a place among the other cars and the broadcast trucks. Up the slope was the sanatorium, very much constructed of bright metal and of polarizable windows, the whole of the design taking a sharply pitched snow-shedding silhouette. Sunlight stormed back from its glitter as if it were a wedge pried into Heaven.
They got out and Clementine Gervaise looked around. "It can be very peaceful here," she remarked before waving towards their crew truck. People in white coveralls and smocks with her organization's pocket patch came hurrying. She merged with them, pointing, gesturing, tilting her head to listen, shaking her head, nodding, tapping her forefinger on a proffered clipboard sheet. In another moment, some of them were eddying back towards the equipment freighter and others were trotting up the sanatorium steps, passing and encountering other crews in similar but different jump-suits. From somewhere up there, a cry of rage and depriva-tion was followed by a fifty-five-millimetre lens bouncing slowly down the steps.
"Ten-twenty local," Domino said.
"Thank you," Michaelmas replied, watching Clementine. "How are your links now?"
"Excellent. What would you expect, with all this gear up here and with elevated horizon-lines?"
"Yes, of course," Michaelmas said absently. "Have you checked the maintenance records on Horse's machine?"
"Yes."
"Have you compared them to all maintenance records on all other machines of the same model?"
"Yes."
"Have you cross-referenced all critical malfunction data for the type?"
"Teach your grandmother to suck eggs. If you're asking was it an accident, my answer is it shouldn't have hap-pened. But that doesn't exclude freak possibilities such as one-of-a-kind failure in a pump diaphragm, or even some kind of anomalous resistance across a circuit. I'm cur-rently running back through all parts suppliers and sub-assembly manufacturers, looking for things like unan-nounced re-designs, high reject rates at final inspection stages, and so forth. It'll be a while. And other stones are waiting to be turned." Clementine Gervaise had entered the awareness of the comm terminal's sensors. "Here comes one."
"Let's concentrate on this Norwood thing for now," Michaelmas said.
"Of course, Laurent," Clementine said softly. "The crew is briefed and the equipment is manned."
Michaelmas's mouth twitched. "Yes ... yes, of course they are. I was watching you."
"You like my style? Come—let us go in." She put her arm through his and they went up the steps.
There was another credential verification just beyond the smoked-glass front doors. Another junior UNAC aide was checking names against a list. It was a scene of polite crowding as bodies filed in behind Michaelmas and Clemen-tine.
Douglas Campion was just ahead of them, talking to the aide. Michaelmas prepared to speak to him, but Campion was preoccupied. Michaelmas studied him raptly. The press aide was saying:
"Mr Campion, your crew is in place on the photo bal-cony. We have you listed for a back-up seat towards the rear of the main auditorium. Now, in view of the unfor-tunate—"
"Right," Campion said. "You going to give me
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