An Elf asked, "Have you considered the placement of the twelve percent, and the actual visitation patterns expected? Remember any Elysian city is a hundred percent accessible to sentients."
Below at right blinked a circular avatar with two crossbars. A virtual information network; a sentient being who entirely lacked physical substance. "Of course, our city will be a hundred percent accessible to humans—as accessible as it is to me."
Above Chrys's left shoulder a light was blinking. Chrys twisted her neck up to see. A ladder with two clawed appendages waved both of them. "Speaking of wetness, why build the first city for sentients literally floating on the greatest volume of water in the Fold? We could have picked Urulan—"
"With all due respect," interposed the giant sea urchin, "we settled the choice of planet two decades ago." Two decades—they took their time, Chrys thought. Perhaps, she thought hopefully, they'd take another two decades more, while she went back to painting. "Other questions?" invited the chair.
The transit cross blinked again. "My calculations show the projected sewage conduits to be entirely inadequate. Such a large structure requires a greater scaling factor."
There ensued a lengthy discussion of the amount, extent, and arrangement of sewage conduits. "Why do they need so much sewage," she asked Jasper, "if they're avoiding humans?"
Jasper leaned closer to whisper. "For sentients," he explained, "sewage is mostly waste heat; an unavoidable product of even the cleanest machine. 'Waste heat' is unmentionable in public, like human excrement."
The ladder with the two clawed arms spoke again. "Urulan proposed an innovative mechanism for efficient sewage dispersal."
"That proposal received thorough discussion," said the sea urchin. "Other questions?"
After what seemed an interminable time, the word "Eleutheria" leaped out. Chrys sat up straight, her pulse racing.
"Eleutheria—an award-winning firm of a million professional designers—presents its newly revised design for our metropolis." Gone was the gleaming pearly surface of the great sphere that Jonquil had first proposed. In its place, the sphere shone brilliant red, into the infrared. The sphere resolved into a thousand facets, each a fiery spiral swirling gradually outward like a distant galaxy, a universe of flame.
Chrys stole a look at the Elves. None spoke, though one had a hand to her mouth. Arion's face was white as moonstone, the veins throbbing in his forehead.
In Chrys's window the words of Fireweed flowed across. Taking a breath, Chrys began to read aloud. " 'The form, a heroic jewel, represents the very rising of the sun. Each facet of the jewel presents a slightly different hue, as it were, a facet of the rainbow ...' " A bit much, she thought, adding at the end, "It's really just a sketch."
The sphere cut in, its the plane of section moving forward through the center. Beneath its fiery surface stretched broad shafts connecting the center with thousands of tunnels extending in every direction. The ramified tunnels led to homes, recharging stations, industrial plants for all kinds of implements of nanoplast:
The sentient machines watched and listened, with whatever sensors they had. The humanoid observed, "This metropolis will actually grow itself. Can you guarantee the entire structure will grow . .. intact?" For a structure floating on ocean, the slightest fissure could spell disaster. A good question, considering what had happened to the Comb.
Chrys felt her ears throbbing. "We guarantee our work." She would end up broke, worse than before she ever heard of Eleutheria.
Jasper raised a hand, his jaw lifting impressively. "The project has the financial backing of the entire House of Hyalite, the oldest and most reliable contractor of the twin worlds."
Fireweed's letters glowed like lava. "We of Eleutheria stand for truth and memory. All our work we dedicate to the One True God." No need to read out that one.
The transit cross asked, "Why does your design radiate from the center outward in all directions, instead of the more traditional cross section? How can we lay out plans?"
Chrys blinked at her keypad to pass that on. Fireweed explained, "Thematic unity requires that the inner design reflect the outer. Let all who dwell within remember that they partake of a sunlike power." The board members took that pretty well. They wanted aesthetics, all right.
"I'm concerned about adjacencies," spoke a lamppost-like humanoid. "The manufacturing plants must be located adjacent to adequate transport. ..."
The questions wore on, some clear and apt, others impenetrable. At last the ladder with the two clawed arms spoke again. "The Urulite bid came in lower," the ladder insisted, to the visible annoyance of the giant sea urchin, whose limb endings twisted like screwdrivers. "And their design was truly pathbreaking."
With the Silicon Board meeting behind her, Chrys redoubled her work for her show. But a few days later, Jasper called. "Congratulations," announced the sprite with its tiny map stone. His eyes flashed with eager micros. "The choice for Silicon is Eleutheria."
At first Chrys was not sure she had heard correctly. "Are you sure? I thought they would pick the Urulites."
He waved a hand dismissively. "That was just trying to push the price down. All along they knew what they wanted."
It was beginning to sink in. Her head ached as she thought what lay ahead.
"The Map of the Universe leads us to destiny," proclaimed Forget-me-not. "To shape the greatest metropolis the Fold has ever known. It's written in the stars."
"The greatest structure ever to arise in all the known universe, " agreed Rose.
Jasper's namestone, the mysterious landscape, now seemed labyrinthine, a maze in which to get lost. "I don't know," Chrys said slowly. "I guess I never believed it would go through."
His eyes smiled beneath the crag of his forehead. "You yourself won't have to do much. Just manage Eleutherians properly, like you've done."
"It's not that." She took a deep breath. "I've been thinking. I don't believe great art was meant to be lived in. It's a contradiction: the ego of a great mind versus the comfort of many."
Jasper nodded. "The great cathedrals were not particularly comfortable, but look what life flowed from them. The Palace of Asragh—what do you think inspired the great flowering of Urulite culture?" He raised a finger. "Do you think humans invented art to hang in a museum? Art has always served to communicate wealth and power, to incite revolution, to invoke the gods. Art like yours."
For a moment Chrys was speechless. "If sentients want to build something, why in the Fold would they need help from humans, let alone micros?"
"That's like saying, why would an Iridian restaurant hire an Urulite chef? They simply want the best."
She remembered Doctor Sartorius, his evasive response about microscopic sentients. "They're making a statement, aren't they? Human rights for microsentients." Sentients even smaller than a pesky snake-egg.
Jasper shrugged. "Clients always have their reasons."
Vain art, hidden politics, a living place for millions. She sighed. "All right. I'm sure Selenite will help." As she had for the Comb.
Jasper's face went blank. He turned his head sideways, his jaw prominent in his profile. "If you don't mind, Chrys, could you turn aside a moment?"
She looked away, avoiding micro contact. On the shelf by the pyroclastic alarm, Merope had curled up asleep. The cat was putting on weight, Chrys noticed.
"My people have been informed that Eleutheria wants this job for their own."
Without thinking, she started to turn her head, but stopped. "Without Selenite? But we're partners."
"Eleutherians have decided opinions on the Deathlord."
Some things would be easier without Selenite; but without her, the project would end up like the Comb. "At least she knows her business."