“Sir?”
Kelsey grinned, his usual relaxed humor restored by the grin on Eden/Davis’s dark face.
“The position is religious not administrative. It involves becoming an intimate of one of the deities—becoming that being’s most personal servant.”
“God!”
“Precisely. I’m not certain that a skeptic—no matter how well-meaning—should be considered for such a position. Some of the deities are rather short-tempered. They might find a lack of faith unforgivable. Terminal.”
“I understand.”
“We can die in Virtu, Davis. It is something that is often played down, but we can die in Virtu, especially when we venture away from the modern design settings and into the primal areas. Needless to say, our deities belong to that primal force. As the teachings of the Church uphold, they merely use Virtu as a means of manifesting truths that predate human history.”
Kelsey frowned. “That is why I am speaking with you—perhaps imprudently. I do not wish to nominate a candidate who will bring shame to himself or to my department. Nor do I wish you to be ruined for further service. Your abilities have been valuable. Do you have an answer for me?”
“May I pray on it, sir?”
“Yes. That would be wise. You are excused from your immediate duties until this time tomorrow. Then report to me here with the results of your meditation. The decision is still mine to make—not yours—but I will accept your input.”
“Thank you so much, Mr. Kelsey.”
“If you wish, you may be excused.”
“Thank you. I believe I will go and shut down my work and then head to a temple to pray.”
“Very good. May the gods speak to you clearly.”
“I hope they will, sir.”
Arthur Eden left Kelsey’s office, aware of the man’s critical gaze on his retreating back. In the elevator, he let his hands run through a prayer mudra that the Church had adapted from Buddhism. He walked to his office, did things with the computers there, and then left the building. In case anyone was watching, he went to one of the Church’s transfer facilities and found a private virt chapel in which he could pray—and collect his thoughts.
He stayed there several hours. When he departed, he mentioned something to the attendant about needing dinner. When he finished his meal at his favorite Afghanistan! restaurant, he returned to Davis’s home, set a few contained incendiaries that would make it appear that the house had been destroyed by a freak electrical fire. (The wiring, when the arson investigators checked, would be found to have been below code for the amount of computer equipment and related electronic hardware he had kept there.) If all went well, the Church would believe that he had been killed.
Then he walked out via a service alley and descended into a subway tunnel. Davis’s usefulness had ended, for his deception could not survive more intimate contact with the entities the Church served. While Eden was still not convinced of their divinity, his years in the Elishites’ service had convinced him of their power and resources.
Now he would return to being Arthur Eden and work on a tertian’ identity to serve him once the book came out. He would publish it under Arthur Eden’s name, but he already knew that after it appeared he would never live publicly as Eden again, for when the book came out, Eden would be under a sentence of death.
A few years passed. John D’Arcy Donnerjack, Junior grew well and his health remained sound. Dack taught him to read and tamed his childish scrawls into printing and script. He also taught him basic mathematics. All of this before he let him know computers more than socially. He wanted the son of John D’Arcy Donnerjack to possess the sometimes
“M
forgotten basic basics before he introduced him to the commonplace basics. Although he had not been ordered or requested to do it this way, he had noticed that Donnerjack, Senior had known these things, and he considered him a great man. In that he hoped Donnerjack, Junior might one day be a great man, also, Dack attempted to emulate what he had known of the father’s earliest education. So the boy studied German, French. Japanese, cartography, and calligraphy as had his father before him.
There were no other children at Castle Donnerjack. The boy occasionally glimpsed Duncan or Angus from window or balcony, but Dack managed to keep him apart from them, wishing to protect the very idea of his existence. So the only individuals he met besides the household robots were the inhabitants of Virtu—human and otherwise—whom he encountered on his daily rambles on and off Stage.
One day he and Mizar ran far afield—so far that there was a shifting or two before they could return. They came to a small rocky valley with a stream running through it. Following this, they came to a bright, burbling waterfall. Young Donnerjack, clad in tan shorts, seated himself on a rock at the water’s edge and tossed pebbles into the stream. A watery, humanoid figure burst from the flow then and regarded him. Donnerjack started to his feet and took a step backward. Mizar interposed his body between the boy and the dripping figure. He opened his mouth to show the spikes with which it was furnished.
“Hello, child,” said the green-haired figure, wading ashore, form becoming vaguely feminine. “Tell your guardian that I mean you no harm, for I do not.”
The boy placed his hand on Mizar’s neck and stroked it. “It’s all right,” he said. “Don’t bite her. My name is John Donnerjack. Who are you, ma’am?”
“Are you related to John D’Arcy Donnerjack, the scientist?” asked the other, removing snails from her hair and casting them back into the stream.
“He was my father.”
“Was? You say ‘was’?”
“Well, he’s dead now. It happened when I was a baby.”
“Oh, dear. I shall miss him. He and Reese Jordan used to come to my valley for its relaxing beauty, and they would discuss mathematics— two great men.”
“You knew my father?”
“Yes, but he didn’t really know me. I was pleased to eavesdrop on their conversations and keep the environment within maximum comfort ranges for them.”
“Who are you, ma’am?”
“I am the genius loci of this place. In school you may have learned of us as artificial intelligences. I am the one who is dedicated to maintaining this area. People in general make me nervous. But I discovered on the few occasions when the opportunity arose that I get along well with you youngsters. This is why I am happy you came by. You may swim in my stream if you wish. I will make it warmer or cooler to suit your fancy.”
The boy smiled. “All right,” he said then.
He ran forward and waded in.
The genius loci turned to Mizar.
“You are no ordinary construct,” she said. “Did Donnerjack make you?”
“No. I think not,” Mizar rasped. “But I… do not… remember… how I… came to be. There was a great… flash of light… and I was falling. I have wandered… long and far. I do not know… where I come from. But the boy is kind… to me… and I play… with him. It is better… to have a friend… than to wander.”
“I am glad that you are happy together.”
“Sometimes… a black butterfly… comes by to talk. I feel… I should know it. But it will not… talk of such… matters. It is… friendly, though.”
“What is its name?”
“Alioth.”
“Oh, my.”
“You… know it?”