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Authors: Iain M. Banks
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paused. Now it was my turn to keep looking at my feet, clomping up the steps in my fancy Italian climbing boots. I didn't think I wanted to hear this. 'Sort of re-wired so I see like them. Bit fuzzier, sort of less ... well, not fewer colours, but more sort of ... squashed up. Can't see much at night, either. Same sort of thing on my ears and nose. But it ... well it almost enhances what you do experience, you know? I'm still glad I had it done.'
'Yeah.' I nodded, not looking at him.
'My immune system isn't perfect anymore, either. I can get colds, and ... that sort of thing. I didn't get the shape of my dick altered; decided it would pass. Did you know there are considerable variations in genitalia here already? The Bushmen of the Kalahari have a permanent erection, and the women have the Tablier Egyptien; a small fold of flesh covering their genitals.' He waved one hand. 'So I'm not that much of a freak. I guess this isn't all that terrible really, is it? I don't know why I thought you might be disgusted or anything.'
'Hmm.' I was wondering what had possessed the ship to do all this to the man. It had agreed to carry out these ... I could only think of them as mutilations ... and yet it wouldn't accept his terminal. Why had it done this to him? It said it wanted him to change his mind, but it changed his body instead, pandering to his lunatic desire to become more like the locals.
'Can't change sex now, if I wanted to. Things'll still regrow if they get cut off; ship couldn't alter that, not quickly; take time; intensive care, and it wouldn't alter my ... umm ... clockspeed, what-d'you-call-it. So I'll still grow old slowly, and live longer than them ... but I think it might relent later, when it knows I'm sincere.'
All I could think of was that by converting Linter's physiology to a design closer to the planetary standard, the ship wanted to show the man what a nasty life they led. Perhaps it thought rubbing his nose in the Human Condition would send the man running back to the manifold delights of the ship, content with his Cultural lot at last.
'You don't mind, do you?'
'Mind? Why should I mind?' I said, and instantly felt foolish for sounding like something from a soap opera.
'Yes, I can see you do,' Linter said. 'You think I'm crazy, don't you?'
'All right.' I stopped half-way up a flight of steps, turned to him. 'I do, I think you're crazy to ... to throw so much away. It's ... it's wrong-headed of you, it's stupid. It's as if you're doing it just to annoy people, to test the ship. Are you trying to get it mad at you, or what?'
'Of course not, Sma.' He looked hurt. 'I don't care that much about the ship, but I was worried ... I am concerned about what you might think.' He took my free hand in both of his. They felt cold. 'You're a friend. You matter to me. I don't want to offend anybody; not you, not anybody. But I have to do what feels right. This is very important to me; more important than anything else I've ever done before. I don't want to upset anybody, but ... look, I'm sorry.' He let go my hand.
'Yeah, I'm sorry too. But it's like mutilation. Like infection.'
'Ah, we're the infection, Sma.' He turned and sat down on the steps, looking back towards the city and the sea. 'We're the ones who're different, we're the self-mutilated, the self-mutated. This is the mainstream; we're just like very smart kids; infants with a brilliant construction kit. They're real because they live the way they have to. We aren't because we live the way we want to.'
'Linter,' I said, sitting beside him. 'This is the fucking mental home; the land of the midnight brain. This is the place that gave us Mutual Assured Destruction; they've thrown people into boiling water to cure diseases; they use Electro-Convulsive Therapy; a nation with a law against cruel and unusual punishments electrocutes people to death -'
'Go on; mention the death camps,' Linter said, blinking at the blue distance.
'It was never Eden. It isn't ever
'Yeah.' I nodded, not looking at him.
'My immune system isn't perfect anymore, either. I can get colds, and ... that sort of thing. I didn't get the shape of my dick altered; decided it would pass. Did you know there are considerable variations in genitalia here already? The Bushmen of the Kalahari have a permanent erection, and the women have the Tablier Egyptien; a small fold of flesh covering their genitals.' He waved one hand. 'So I'm not that much of a freak. I guess this isn't all that terrible really, is it? I don't know why I thought you might be disgusted or anything.'
'Hmm.' I was wondering what had possessed the ship to do all this to the man. It had agreed to carry out these ... I could only think of them as mutilations ... and yet it wouldn't accept his terminal. Why had it done this to him? It said it wanted him to change his mind, but it changed his body instead, pandering to his lunatic desire to become more like the locals.
'Can't change sex now, if I wanted to. Things'll still regrow if they get cut off; ship couldn't alter that, not quickly; take time; intensive care, and it wouldn't alter my ... umm ... clockspeed, what-d'you-call-it. So I'll still grow old slowly, and live longer than them ... but I think it might relent later, when it knows I'm sincere.'
All I could think of was that by converting Linter's physiology to a design closer to the planetary standard, the ship wanted to show the man what a nasty life they led. Perhaps it thought rubbing his nose in the Human Condition would send the man running back to the manifold delights of the ship, content with his Cultural lot at last.
'You don't mind, do you?'
'Mind? Why should I mind?' I said, and instantly felt foolish for sounding like something from a soap opera.
'Yes, I can see you do,' Linter said. 'You think I'm crazy, don't you?'
'All right.' I stopped half-way up a flight of steps, turned to him. 'I do, I think you're crazy to ... to throw so much away. It's ... it's wrong-headed of you, it's stupid. It's as if you're doing it just to annoy people, to test the ship. Are you trying to get it mad at you, or what?'
'Of course not, Sma.' He looked hurt. 'I don't care that much about the ship, but I was worried ... I am concerned about what you might think.' He took my free hand in both of his. They felt cold. 'You're a friend. You matter to me. I don't want to offend anybody; not you, not anybody. But I have to do what feels right. This is very important to me; more important than anything else I've ever done before. I don't want to upset anybody, but ... look, I'm sorry.' He let go my hand.
'Yeah, I'm sorry too. But it's like mutilation. Like infection.'
'Ah, we're the infection, Sma.' He turned and sat down on the steps, looking back towards the city and the sea. 'We're the ones who're different, we're the self-mutilated, the self-mutated. This is the mainstream; we're just like very smart kids; infants with a brilliant construction kit. They're real because they live the way they have to. We aren't because we live the way we want to.'
'Linter,' I said, sitting beside him. 'This is the fucking mental home; the land of the midnight brain. This is the place that gave us Mutual Assured Destruction; they've thrown people into boiling water to cure diseases; they use Electro-Convulsive Therapy; a nation with a law against cruel and unusual punishments electrocutes people to death -'
'Go on; mention the death camps,' Linter said, blinking at the blue distance.
'It was never Eden. It isn't ever
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