Tukana entered the vast living room. The owner was old enough that the tree from which his home was made had reached a prodigious diameter, and he had hollowed out more and more of its interior as the months went by.
And how many months it’d been! A member of generation 138 would have seen over thirteen hundred moons by now—a staggering 108 years of life.
“Healthy day,” said Tukana, taking a seat.
“At this point,” said the surprisingly strong, deep voice, “I will take any day I can get, healthy or otherwise.”
Tukana wasn’t sure if the comment was meant humorously or ruefully, and so she just smiled and nodded. And then, after a moment, she said, “I can’t tell you what an honor it is to meet you, sir.”
“Try,” said the old man.
Tukana was flustered. “Well, it’s just that we owe you so much, and—”
But the man held up his hand. “I’m kidding, young lady.” At this Tukana Prat did smile, for it had been ages since anyone had referred to her as “young lady.” “In fact, you would honor me most if you spared me the honors. Believe me, I’ve heard them all before. In fact, in deference to how little time I have left, I would appreciate it if you wasted none of it. Please immediately tell me what you want.”
Tukana found herself smiling again. As a diplomat, she’d met many important world leaders, but she’d never thought she would ever come face to face with the greatest inventor of them all, the renowned Lonwis Trob. Still, it was unnerving to look into his mechanical eyes, and so she found her gaze dropping to his left forearm, to the Companion implanted there. Of course, it wasn’t the original Companion that Lonwis had invented all those many months ago. No, this was the latest model—and all its metal parts, Tukana was astonished to see, where made of gold.
“I don’t know how much of this stuff about the parallel Earth you’ve been following, but—”
“Every bit of it,” said Lonwis. “It’s fascinating.”
“Well then, you must know that I’m the ambassador selected by the High Gray Council—”
“Squabbling brats!” said Lonwis. “Fools, every one of them.”
“Well, I can understand—”
“You know,” said Lonwis, “I hear some of them dye their hair gray, just to make themselves look smart.”
Lonwis seemed quite content to waste his own time, Tukana noted, but she supposed he’d earned that privilege. “In any event,” she said, “they want to close the portal between our world and the Gliksin one.”
“Why?”
“They’re afraid of the Gliksins.”
“You’ve met them; they haven’t. I’d rather hear your opinion.”
“Well, you must know that one of them tried to kill Envoy Boddit, and discharged a weapon at me, as well.”
“Yes, so I heard. But you both survived.”
“Yes.”
“You know, my friend Goosa—”
Tukana couldn’t help interrupting. “Goosa?” she repeated. Goosa Kusk?”
Lonwis nodded.
“Wow,” said Tukana, softly.
“Anyway, I’m sure Goosa could figure out a way to protect against those projectile weapons the Gliksins use. The projectiles are propelled by a chemical explosion, as I understand it—which means although they’re going fast, they’re nowhere near as fast as light. So there’d be plenty of time for a laser to target and vaporize them. After all, my Companions are already scanning out to a radius of 2.5 armspans. Even if the projectile had reached the speed of sound, there would still be—” He paused for the barest instant, and Tukana wondered if he was doing the math himself, or listening to his Companion; she rather suspected it was the former. “—0.005 beats for the laser to target and fire. You’d need a spherical emitter—no time to swivel a mechanical part—probably mounted in a hat. A trivial problem.” He looked at her. “So, was that what you needed? If so, I’ll contact Goosa on your behalf, and get on with my day.”
“Um, no,” said Tukana. “I mean, yes, something like that would be fabulous. But that’s not the reason I came here.”
“Well then, get to it, young lady. What exactly do you want?”
Tukana swallowed. “It’s not just a favor from you; we’ll need a few of your esteemed friends, as well.”
“To do what?”
Tukana told him, and was pleased to see the ancient man’s face splitting into a grin.
Chapter Twenty-one
Louise Benoît had been right: Jock Krieger could pull just about any string imaginable. The idea of one of his Synergy researchers getting to spend more than a week picking the brain of a Neanderthal appealed to him greatly, and Mary found every possible obstacle to a trip with Ponter falling away. And Jock had concurred with Ponter that the longer he stayed in this world, the longer they would have in order to convince the Neanderthals not to shut down the portal.
Mary had decided on driving to Washington, D.C., with Ponter; it seemed simpler than hassling with airports and all the security. Plus, it would give her a chance to show Ponter some sights along the way.
Mary rented a silver Ford Windstar van with tinted windows, making it hard for people passing them to see who her passenger was. They drove first to Philadelphia, an unmarked escort vehicle discreetly following them. Mary and Ponter saw Independence Hall and the Liberty Bell, and had original Philly steak sandwiches at Pat’s; despite the cheese, Ponter ate three of them—well, Mary was going to say “in one sitting,” but it was standing room only at Pat’s, and they ate outside. Mary felt a bit strange explaining U.S. history to Ponter, but she rather suspected she was doing a better job of it than an American would have at explaining Canadian history.
Ponter seemed almost completely recovered from his trauma—he seemed not just strong as an ox, but to have an ox’s constitution, too. That was appropriate, thought Mary, with a grin: they were, after all, visiting the home of the world’s strongest constitution…
Ambassador Tukana Prat strode out onto the large semicircular stage at the front of the General Assembly hall. She was followed by one Neanderthal, then another, then another, and another still, more and more, until ten members of her race had lined up behind her. She stepped to the podium, and leaned into the microphone.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the United Nations,” she said. “It is my pleasure to introduce you to our new delegation to your Earth. Despite the unfortunate circumstances of my last visit, we all come to you in peace and in friendship, with open arms. Not just me—not just a government functionary—but ten of our very best and brightest. They did not have to come here; each chose to make the trip. They are here because they believe in the ideal of free cultural exchange. We know you had assumed a—I believe your phrase is ‘tit-for-tat’—approach: you give us something, we give you something in return. But this opening of contact between two worlds should not be the province of economists or business people, and certainly not of warriors. No, such an interchange is the natural purview of idealists and dreamers, of those who have the most lofty of goals—those who have humanitarian goals.” Tukana smiled out at the crowd. “This is already one of the longest speeches of my career, and so, without further ado, let me present our delegates.”