Highgate has been out there for as long as anyone can remember. In some eras, it's carried a team of scientists; at other times, like the present, it's been only an AI. And yes, if we can't trust the AIs on Villanueva, what makes us think we can trust one orbiting their neighborhood? I put that question to Belle. “Matter of faith,” she said.
I switched back to the satellite. “We read you, Highgate. Thanks for the warning.”
“Can I take that as a commitment that you will not attempt a landing?”
“We haven't decided yet.”
“If you do make the effort to go down, be advised that, should you need assistance, none is available. I urge you to forgo any effort along these lines. It is extremely dangerous. Your reasonable course, when you have completed sightseeing from orbit, is to depart immediately.”
“Highgate, what's the nature of the danger?”
“An active mechanical culture exists on Villanueva. All visitors are unwelcome. If you proceed into the atmosphere-note that it is not necessary for you to actually land-you will be perceived by them as a danger, and you may be assured they will take steps against you. If that occurs, you bear all responsibility for the outcome.”
When we filed our flight plan at Skydeck, we'd been forced to sit through a presentation that suggested we go elsewhere, and when we declined, required to sign statements that we'd been warned, and that we absolved the space station, the flight administration, the government, and anyone else in sight, of any liability.
“Highgate,” I said, “do you maintain records of warnings? Can you tell me whether one was issued to the Breakwater in the Rimway year 1383? The pilot would have been Eliot Cermak.”
“Belle-Marie, that information is privileged.”
“It's important. Cermak would have been carrying two passengers, one of whom we think died here. It is imperative that-”
“Are you claiming official authority? Are you a police unit?”
“Yes, we are,” said Alex. “G.B.I. Rimway.”
“Please file appropriate authorization.”
“Authorization should have been presented directly from Skydeck Operations. Did you not receive it?”
“Negative. Please submit as required.”
Well, we got nowhere with that. Highgate issued a warning that we were in violation of something or other, and it would be reported, and we could expect to answer some questions when we got home.
We looked down on the lights. Some were apparently cruising along roadways, drifting through the skies, and even afloat at sea. Every continent appeared occupied. Islands glowed in the night. Only the polar caps were dark. It was a disquieting experience. “If this place is as dangerous as they claim,” I said, “why don't we just shut it down?”
Alex appeared as overwhelmed by it all as I was. “How would you go about doing that, Chase?”
“It's easy. I'd cut off the power.” Two collectors in geosynchronous orbit used lasers to relay solar energy to an array of power sats, which then sent it on to ground stations. The Villanueva AIs had lost the capability to maintain them thousands of years ago. But Earth had taken over, and later the Alliance. As political realities evolved and changed, the responsibility was passed on. The Confederacy is doing it today. It was a thread that bound the human race to its very beginnings. One of the power sats floated in the middle of the display. There'd been power sats from the beginning, but they'd been replaced many times.
“There are ethical considerations,” Alex said.
“How do you mean?”
“For one thing, nobody's positive the place is really empty.”
“I can't see that there'd be any problem with getting on the radio and asking if there's anyone down there.”
“Maybe there are people who don't have access to a radio. Who wouldn't know one if they did. Even if there aren't any people, how do you feel about killing off AIs?”
“We do it all the time.” And yes, I knew Belle was listening, but I reminded myself she's a data-storage system. She's not really alive, though sometimes it seemed that way.
“A lot of people don't go along with that, Chase. Killing off a world full of AIs that are doing no damage would create some political problems.”
“I guess. We certainly don't want political problems.”
We crossed the terminator and moved back into sunlight.
Belle put up more pictures, some taken recently by Highgate, others so old the dates had been lost. Most of the onetime population centers were especially well maintained. The few that weren't had been overtaken by desert, jungle, or forest. The appearance of the cities had changed with the passage of time, but not in the sense that they were decaying. Towers grew wider and acquired a more sculpted look, then became taller and sleeker, discarding ornamentation, then devolved into what appeared to me, anyhow, as bulbous horrors. The cities themselves sometimes expanded in concise geometric patterns, and sometimes spread out with uninhibited energy. Even walkways seemed to shift patterns, moving with geometric uniformity through the downtown areas of one age, gracefully arcing around buildings and natural obstacles in another, and still later using tunnels and bridges to arrow through everything that stood in the way. Even though the parks and roads and city streets and beaches, most of all the beaches, were empty, it was impossible to believe that a living civilization did not exist on that world.
“I'm not excited about going down there,” I said. I'd promised myself that I wouldn't raise any more objections. In fact, it was part of the deal. But it slipped out.
“I agree,” said Alex. “We'll be careful.” It was delivered as a promise but one we both knew he wouldn't be able to keep. It wasn't hard to imagine Chris Robin saying much the same thing to Bill Winter.
He was studying the displays. Belle was focusing on the churches. “When we get on the ground, I think it would be a good idea if you stay in the lander. No matter what.”
Oh God. Here we go again. “Alex,” I said, “you know damned well that isn't going to happen.”
His face hardened. “Then you'll wait in the ship.”
“While you take the lander down?”
“That's what AIs are for. I don't need a pilot.”
“You will if there's a problem. If a storm blows up, or you get hit by lightning, it'll be all over, baby.”
“There's not much chance of that. We'll go down in broad daylight under clear skies.”
“Alex-”
“Look, Chase. We've been all over this. Whatever else happens, we don't want both of us disappearing into this godforsaken place.”
The scopes had picked up a small country road, winding through open fields and patches of forest. An open-top car moved along at a leisurely pace. The seats were empty, but I could see a steering wheel turning gently.
The entire world was haunted.
Alex was standing behind me, watching the same image. “I'm sorry I got you into this, Chase.”
“It's not a problem. I'll just wait in the lander while some local giant bat has you for dinner.”
EIGHTEEN
A valley that offers true solitude can provide an exhilarating experience for the soul. Just don't go in there alone.
If the number of churches, mosques, synagogues, and other places of worship visible along the streets and in the countryside signified anything, Villanueva had been, as advertised, a bastion of faith. The churches were of a multiplicity of types, from giant cathedrals anchored in the centers of large cities to small country chapels out on the plains. Sometimes the architecture was ornate, in the old Gothic style that has characterized Christianity almost since its inception eleven thousand years ago; sometimes it was eclectic; sometimes it was unaffected and modest.