Read Online The Pandora Sequence: The Jesus Incident, the Lazarus Effect, the Ascension Factor by Frank Herbert - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Frank Herbert
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your decision, Raj?”
“Can You tell me anything more about the problems on Pandora?”
“The most immediate problem is their encounter with an alien intelligence, the ’lectrokelp.”
“Dangerous?”
“So they believe. The ’lectrokelp is close to infinite and humans fear . . .”
“Humans fear open spaces, never-ending open spaces. Humans fear their own intelligence because it’s close to infinite.”
“You delight Me, Raj!”
A feeling of joy washed over Flattery. It was so rich and powerful that he felt he might dissolve in it. He knew that the sensation did not originate with him, and it left him feeling drained, transparent . . . bloodless.
Flattery pressed the heels of his hands against his tightly closed eyes. What a terrible thing that joy was! Because when it was gone . . . when it was gone . . .
He whispered: “Unless You intend to kill me, don’t do that again.”
“As you choose.” How cold and remote.
“I want to be human! That’s what I was intended to be!”
“If that’s the game you seek.”
Flattery sensed Ship’s disappointment, but this made him defensive and he turned to questions.
“Have Shipmen communicated with this alien intelligence, this ’lectrokelp?”
“No. They have studied it, but do not understand it.”
Flattery took his hands away from his eyes. “Have Shipmen ever heard of Raja Flattery?”
“That’s a name in the history which I teach them.”
“Then I’d better take another name.” He ruminated for a moment, then: “I’ll call myself Raja Thomas.”
“Excellent. Thomas for your doubts and Raja for your origins.”
“Raja Thomas, communications expert—Ship’s best friend. Here I come, ready or not.”
“A game, yes. A game. And . . . Raj?”
“What?”
“For an infinite being, Time produces boredom. Limits exist to how much Time I can tolerate.”
“How much Time are You giving us to decide the way we’ll Worship?”
“At the proper moment you will be told. And one more thing—”
“Yes?”
“Do not be dismayed if I refer to you occasionally as My Devil.”
He was a moment recovering his voice, then: “What can I do about it? You can call me whatever You like.”
“I merely asked that you not be dismayed.”
“Sure! And I’m King Canute telling the tides to stop!”
There was no response from Ship and Flattery wondered if he was to be left on his own to find his way down to this planet called Pandora. But presently, Ship spoke once more: “Now we will dress you in appropriate costume, Raj. There is a new Chaplain/Psychiatrist who rules the Shipmen. They call him Ceepee and, when he offends them, they call him The Boss. You can expect that The Boss will order you to attend him soon.”
Chapter 12
Perhaps the immobility of the things that surround us is forced upon them by our conviction that they are themselves and not anything else, and by the immobility of our conceptions of them.
—Marcel Proust, Shiprecords
OAKES STUDIED his own image reflected in the com-console at his elbow. The curved screen, he knew, was what made the reflection diminutive.
Reduced.
He felt jumpy. No telling what the ship might do to him next.
Oakes swallowed in a dry throat.
He did not know how long he had sat there hypnotized by that reflection. It was still nightside. An unfinished glass of Pandoran wine sat on a low brown table in front of him. He glanced up and around. His opulent cubby remained a place of shadows and low illumination, but something had changed. He could feel the change. Something . . . someone watching . . .
The ship might refuse to talk to him, deny him elixir, but he was getting messages—many messages.
Change.
That unspoken question which hovered in his mind had changed something in the air. His skin tingled and there was a throbbing at his temples.
What if the ship’s program is running down?
His reflection in the blank screen gave no answer. It showed only his own features and he began to feel
“Can You tell me anything more about the problems on Pandora?”
“The most immediate problem is their encounter with an alien intelligence, the ’lectrokelp.”
“Dangerous?”
“So they believe. The ’lectrokelp is close to infinite and humans fear . . .”
“Humans fear open spaces, never-ending open spaces. Humans fear their own intelligence because it’s close to infinite.”
“You delight Me, Raj!”
A feeling of joy washed over Flattery. It was so rich and powerful that he felt he might dissolve in it. He knew that the sensation did not originate with him, and it left him feeling drained, transparent . . . bloodless.
Flattery pressed the heels of his hands against his tightly closed eyes. What a terrible thing that joy was! Because when it was gone . . . when it was gone . . .
He whispered: “Unless You intend to kill me, don’t do that again.”
“As you choose.” How cold and remote.
“I want to be human! That’s what I was intended to be!”
“If that’s the game you seek.”
Flattery sensed Ship’s disappointment, but this made him defensive and he turned to questions.
“Have Shipmen communicated with this alien intelligence, this ’lectrokelp?”
“No. They have studied it, but do not understand it.”
Flattery took his hands away from his eyes. “Have Shipmen ever heard of Raja Flattery?”
“That’s a name in the history which I teach them.”
“Then I’d better take another name.” He ruminated for a moment, then: “I’ll call myself Raja Thomas.”
“Excellent. Thomas for your doubts and Raja for your origins.”
“Raja Thomas, communications expert—Ship’s best friend. Here I come, ready or not.”
“A game, yes. A game. And . . . Raj?”
“What?”
“For an infinite being, Time produces boredom. Limits exist to how much Time I can tolerate.”
“How much Time are You giving us to decide the way we’ll Worship?”
“At the proper moment you will be told. And one more thing—”
“Yes?”
“Do not be dismayed if I refer to you occasionally as My Devil.”
He was a moment recovering his voice, then: “What can I do about it? You can call me whatever You like.”
“I merely asked that you not be dismayed.”
“Sure! And I’m King Canute telling the tides to stop!”
There was no response from Ship and Flattery wondered if he was to be left on his own to find his way down to this planet called Pandora. But presently, Ship spoke once more: “Now we will dress you in appropriate costume, Raj. There is a new Chaplain/Psychiatrist who rules the Shipmen. They call him Ceepee and, when he offends them, they call him The Boss. You can expect that The Boss will order you to attend him soon.”
Chapter 12
Perhaps the immobility of the things that surround us is forced upon them by our conviction that they are themselves and not anything else, and by the immobility of our conceptions of them.
—Marcel Proust, Shiprecords
OAKES STUDIED his own image reflected in the com-console at his elbow. The curved screen, he knew, was what made the reflection diminutive.
Reduced.
He felt jumpy. No telling what the ship might do to him next.
Oakes swallowed in a dry throat.
He did not know how long he had sat there hypnotized by that reflection. It was still nightside. An unfinished glass of Pandoran wine sat on a low brown table in front of him. He glanced up and around. His opulent cubby remained a place of shadows and low illumination, but something had changed. He could feel the change. Something . . . someone watching . . .
The ship might refuse to talk to him, deny him elixir, but he was getting messages—many messages.
Change.
That unspoken question which hovered in his mind had changed something in the air. His skin tingled and there was a throbbing at his temples.
What if the ship’s program is running down?
His reflection in the blank screen gave no answer. It showed only his own features and he began to feel
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