Asian and old – almost old enough for
emigration, Jontan thought – and was dressed in
casual slacks. The younger man was dressed in the
yellow and red that Jontan knew was the uniform of
College staff. The College man spoke first.
'Everything's ready. The charges are set so you'll
be untraceable.' He handed Scott a green crystal.
'Here's the lingo. These two . . .' He looked at the
journeymen.
'These two won't need it,' Scott said. 'I'll do the
talking.'
'They'll need this, though,' the man said. He
took a medfac from his pocket and entered
commands into it. After a moment it beeped to
show it had synthesized the correct drug. 'Your
shots. Hold still a moment.' He walked around
them all and pressed the medfac to each neck.
Jontan heard it hiss and felt a slight tingle which
meant he had just been injected with something,
but he had no idea what. He felt slightly annoyed
that someone would pump something into him and
take his consent for granted, but – as he reminded
himself yet again – he was a journeyman, Mr Scott
was a patrician.
The younger stranger was speaking again. 'On
arrival, just ask for Ms Holliss. She's in charge there
and she's expecting you.'
'Excellent. Now?'
'No time like the present.'
They filed back into the dome – Jontan, Sarai,
Scott and the old man, while the younger man
crossed to a control panel outside. He was the last
thing Jontan saw, and hearing him wish them luck
was the last thing Jontan heard, before the doors
swung shut. He swallowed as his ears popped with
the changed pressure.
'Don't be alarmed, my dear.' The old man spoke
for the first time, addressing Sarai who was looking
just as unsettled as Jontan felt. He was smiling like
a benevolent uncle. 'Transference involves manipulation
of probability within the chamber, and for
that reason no quanta of any kind can get in from
the outside. We're completely isolated from the
control room. Everything is powered internally.'
'Transference?' said Sarai, too surprised even to
add the 'sir' which the man surely merited. So it
wasn't a mock-up, it was real, but where was the
Register, and why was this chamber all on its own
down here, and . . .
'I told you Morbern destroyed his records, Ms
Killin,' Scott said as the background hum in the
chamber changed in tone, beginning to ring like a
bell. 'No one said he destroyed his original
equipment.'
And then complete disorientation took Jontan's
mind and the walls of the chamber faded away.
Six
Last case,' said Hossein Asaldra, in a bored
monotone. 'Alicia Gonzales/Zeng.'
Marje Orendal stretched her arms out and
arched her back with a sense of accomplishment.
One more of these and the backlog that she had
been hacking through ever since taking over Li
Daiho's job would be cleared. 'Let's see it,' she
said.
Alicia Gonzales/Zeng had worked for the civil
administration of Cuzco ecopolis. She was 27 years
old and four months previously she had locked herself
in her suite, refusing to come out or let anyone
– including her bond partner – in. Security had cut
their way in and found her catatonic, curled up in
a foetal ball in the corner of her bathroom.
The case was depressingly familiar, and the
equally familiar and depressing routine had swung
into action. Gonzales/Zeng was remanded for
psychological evaluation. Reports indicated a complete
mental freeze-up and inability to face living a
normal life in an ecopolis any longer. Enhanced
social preparation hadn't worked and, not having
committed any crime, she wasn't eligible for
personality reinforcement. She was too young for
the retirement worlds, even as an exemption case.
Inevitably her case had been referred to the correspondents
programme.
'We get the dregs again,' Marje said.
'Academic.' Asaldra waved the problem away,
clearly impatient to get this over with. They both
knew Alicia Gonzales/Zeng would be a new woman
after passing through their hands. The difference
was, in her previous job, Marje's responsibility had
ended at
emigration, Jontan thought – and was dressed in
casual slacks. The younger man was dressed in the
yellow and red that Jontan knew was the uniform of
College staff. The College man spoke first.
'Everything's ready. The charges are set so you'll
be untraceable.' He handed Scott a green crystal.
'Here's the lingo. These two . . .' He looked at the
journeymen.
'These two won't need it,' Scott said. 'I'll do the
talking.'
'They'll need this, though,' the man said. He
took a medfac from his pocket and entered
commands into it. After a moment it beeped to
show it had synthesized the correct drug. 'Your
shots. Hold still a moment.' He walked around
them all and pressed the medfac to each neck.
Jontan heard it hiss and felt a slight tingle which
meant he had just been injected with something,
but he had no idea what. He felt slightly annoyed
that someone would pump something into him and
take his consent for granted, but – as he reminded
himself yet again – he was a journeyman, Mr Scott
was a patrician.
The younger stranger was speaking again. 'On
arrival, just ask for Ms Holliss. She's in charge there
and she's expecting you.'
'Excellent. Now?'
'No time like the present.'
They filed back into the dome – Jontan, Sarai,
Scott and the old man, while the younger man
crossed to a control panel outside. He was the last
thing Jontan saw, and hearing him wish them luck
was the last thing Jontan heard, before the doors
swung shut. He swallowed as his ears popped with
the changed pressure.
'Don't be alarmed, my dear.' The old man spoke
for the first time, addressing Sarai who was looking
just as unsettled as Jontan felt. He was smiling like
a benevolent uncle. 'Transference involves manipulation
of probability within the chamber, and for
that reason no quanta of any kind can get in from
the outside. We're completely isolated from the
control room. Everything is powered internally.'
'Transference?' said Sarai, too surprised even to
add the 'sir' which the man surely merited. So it
wasn't a mock-up, it was real, but where was the
Register, and why was this chamber all on its own
down here, and . . .
'I told you Morbern destroyed his records, Ms
Killin,' Scott said as the background hum in the
chamber changed in tone, beginning to ring like a
bell. 'No one said he destroyed his original
equipment.'
And then complete disorientation took Jontan's
mind and the walls of the chamber faded away.
Six
Last case,' said Hossein Asaldra, in a bored
monotone. 'Alicia Gonzales/Zeng.'
Marje Orendal stretched her arms out and
arched her back with a sense of accomplishment.
One more of these and the backlog that she had
been hacking through ever since taking over Li
Daiho's job would be cleared. 'Let's see it,' she
said.
Alicia Gonzales/Zeng had worked for the civil
administration of Cuzco ecopolis. She was 27 years
old and four months previously she had locked herself
in her suite, refusing to come out or let anyone
– including her bond partner – in. Security had cut
their way in and found her catatonic, curled up in
a foetal ball in the corner of her bathroom.
The case was depressingly familiar, and the
equally familiar and depressing routine had swung
into action. Gonzales/Zeng was remanded for
psychological evaluation. Reports indicated a complete
mental freeze-up and inability to face living a
normal life in an ecopolis any longer. Enhanced
social preparation hadn't worked and, not having
committed any crime, she wasn't eligible for
personality reinforcement. She was too young for
the retirement worlds, even as an exemption case.
Inevitably her case had been referred to the correspondents
programme.
'We get the dregs again,' Marje said.
'Academic.' Asaldra waved the problem away,
clearly impatient to get this over with. They both
knew Alicia Gonzales/Zeng would be a new woman
after passing through their hands. The difference
was, in her previous job, Marje's responsibility had
ended at
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