“You know what the phoenix is famous for?”
“Umm. Not really.”
“You can't kill it.”
SEVENTEEN
That saddest, most dismal, most unfortunate of places, Villanueva.
The flight to Villanueva took five days. Alex spent most of his time with Belle, going over biographical sketches, records, histories, myths, everything he could find that was associated with that misbegotten world. He scanned some of the better-known contemporary novels that used it as a setting, Night Music, The Long Winter-some irony there-Delia Parva, Alone with Uncle Harry, and a dozen more. Alex commented that they inevitably covered the same ground: Always, a scientist, assisted by the hero, was trying to warn the world. It was played as if nobody knew what was coming. In reality, of course, everyone knew. They knew what the results would be, and they knew generally when it would start. Nevertheless, they stayed.
It was, on the whole, depressing stuff. I got away from it by watching some of Haylie Patterson's Spotlight shows. Haylie was a tough journalist who masqueraded as a comedian. He was extraordinarily popular then, as he is now. He brought political types in for interviews, poked fun at them, and cheered them on. The benefit for those who appeared was major public exposure. It seemed as if everybody in the Confederacy loved watching Haylie pretending to take his guests seriously.
The downside for the guests was that they got laughed at. Alex had declined appearing when he'd been invited. When I'd asked why, he told me because he had no sense of humor. I think he meant Haylie.
However that might be, Belle understood about laughter. She assembled a fictitious Spotlight in which Alex made an appearance. She had the voices and mannerisms of both Haylie and Alex down cold.
Haylie: So the Mutes really can get inside your head?
Alex: Oh, yes. They know everything you're thinking.
Haylie: (looking embarrassed) Everything?
Alex: Can't hide a thing.
Haylie: My God, Alex. Do they have marriage over there?
Alex: Sure. It's okay, Haylie. Their females are open-minded.
(Both laugh.)
Haylie: Them, too, huh?
Seen from a distance, Villanueva might have been Earth. Or Rimway. Sprawling continents, a vast global ocean, ice caps at the poles. Big forests, mountain chains, a few deserts. A beautiful world as long as you didn't get too close, as somebody once said. Not a place to spend the weekend.
Belle was running images from God and the New World, a religious history of the first four centuries on Villanueva. She'd put a city on-screen, located at the confluence of two rivers. Endless rows of houses spread out in all directions. Here and there were more ambitious structures. Skyscrapers, places with domes, skywalks. She focused finally on a church made of gray stone, surrounded by private homes with landscaped gardens. The church had a tower topped by a cross. Near the front, an angel with a sword stood guard.
“St. Michael, I believe,” Belle said.
Villanueva became the first major off-world home for the three biblical religions. Its inhabitants knew from their first day that their time was limited, that there could be no permanent settlement. Though undoubtedly, because the coming destruction was so far away, beyond not only their own lives, but those of their distant descendants, the effect was muted. Possibly it did not exist at all. In any case, the general assumption that those who brought a religious worldview with them would hold on to the old dogmatism turned out to be off the mark. Instead, they acquired, along with a more compelling grasp of the sheer size and subtlety of the universe, a belief that a creating deity had to be much more complex, and ultimately less judgmental of minor offenses, than the one in whom their parents had believed. What came to matter most was their conviction that God existed, that, as some said, He was an engineer with remarkable talent, and that they were expected to take notice of that creation. Faith acquired a new immediacy and became for many the link with everything that mattered. The old animosities between faiths that had so despoiled life on the home world withered and, for the most part, died.
The believers experienced a coming-together unique in their history. They retained the traditional rituals, but they were more inclined to notice the stars in the night sky, and to do what they could to ease the lives of those around them. Take care of those in need, the mantra ran, and the Lord will take care of you. Gradually, they acquired a sense that salvation was for all persons of goodwill. For many, religion had finally become what the founders and prophets had intended. They were all heaven-bound, and they were enjoying the ride.
Heaven-bound. The churches were perceived as launching stations. The pictures in the record displayed their favorite symbols: statues of angels collecting children in their arms prior to soaring into the heavens, other angels in full flight. Heaven-bound.
There was a grim irony, of course, that in the end they were destroyed by the cosmic machinery they so much admired.
As we drew closer, Belle locked the scopes on the world, and we looked down on cities and highways and bridges. It was an incredible sight. Had I not known better, I'd have thought we were back approaching Rimway.
We'd known before setting out that Villanueva was remarkably well maintained. Its facilities, directed by AIs, were still operating. They had continued to function after the last human was no more than a distant memory. The AIs replaced crumbling houses, restored port facilities, and maintained parks. Automated vehicles moved through the streets and through the skies.
We went into orbit and slipped over to the nightside, where, even though we knew what was coming, we received a shock. The lights were on. Everywhere. In cities, scattered around the countryside, lining riverbanks. Other lights moved through the streets and the sky. And there was a biological pulse to them. Where it was late, middle of the night, the moving lights dwindled to a few. And the houses were mostly dark, as though the inhabitants were asleep.
“It doesn't seem to need us, does it?” said Alex.
Villanueva's misty moon floated overhead. White clouds drifted serenely in the lunar skies. The moon was big enough that the system could have been described without too much exaggeration as a double planet.
Belle broke the mood. “Incoming transmission, Chase.”
“Put it on.”
“Belle-Marie,” a male voice said, “welcome to Villanueva.” The speaker sounded businesslike, official, pay attention, I don't want to have to repeat myself. “This is Highgate.”
Highgate was the automated monitoring system in orbit around the planet. I'd been expecting to hear from it. Still, it startled me. “Yes, Highgate. What is it?”
“Be advised that you are in a hazardous area. It is highly recommended that you do not attempt to set down.”
Highgate's purpose was simply to keep an eye on things. To warn off idle travelers. To report back any unusual activity. Or any unanticipated technological advances on the world below. I wondered what they were worried about. Maybe that the machines might launch an invasion fleet to take out the Confederacy?
Okay. I'm kidding. But there are people out there who worry, who insist, you can't trust independent AIs, especially ones who've been left to disintegrate, or evolve, or whatever the case may be, on a world no one wanted to think about. Disconnecting the power sats has been an on-again, off-again issue in Rimway elections for centuries. “I was under the impression that an AI loses function after two or three centuries,” I told Alex. “How can they still be working out here after all this time?”
He shrugged. No idea. And he didn't really care about the details.
“I suspect,” said Belle, “that some of the AIs have banded together in a worldwide network. Even though no one remains, they continue to operate by whatever protocols they were assigned. Although those may have evolved somewhat.”