"All of which is inarguable on the basis of the premise that you advanced to support it," Showm conceded. "But the premise is invalid. There is a way in which we can be certain." She stopped, compelling Calazar to do likewise and face her directly.
Calazar's features creased into non-comprehension. "How. What way? What are you talking about?"
"The Multiverse project," Showm said. "What it points to, if it succeeds, is being able to contact other realms that exist-or have existed! And I think it will succeed. We already know that it's possible to reach the time of ancient Minerva." Showm looked at Calazar unwaveringly. She had never been as serious in her life. "What were the Lunarians like before Broghuilio and the Jevlenese arrived? Supposedly, they were industrious and cooperative, but nobody knows for sure. Were they, in fact, and was that the beginning of a chain of events that changed them? Or is it just a fable, and were they already showing traits that the Jevlenese merely exploited? Your argument presumes that we have to try and guess as best we can. But maybe we will soon possess the means to know for certain."
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Gregg Caldwell was in trouble on the home front again. His wife, Maeve, said she had told him two weeks before that Sharon Theakston's wedding would be on May 15, before he'd arranged his getaway golfing weekend in Pennsylvania. He was certain he had heard nothing about it. Maeve insisted that he had assured her he wouldn't forget (again). He had no recollection of any such fact. The battle lines at breakfast had been unyielding. She'd said that he must have been in one of these other realities that everyone was talking about. And suddenly Caldwell grasped what Hunt had been getting at in these reports about "lensing" and time lines coming together instead of branching apart.
He was still turning it over in his mind when he came out of the elevator at the top of the Advanced Sciences building after having lunch with some visiting Brazilians, and ambled back to his office. Mitzi was watering the plants in the miniature Thurien rock garden that Sandy Holmes had sent back on behalf of Danchekker. Apparently, Danchekker didn't trust Ms. Mulling to tend it with the requisite love and care until they returned. "Well, at least they haven't turned into monsters that run around the building eating people," Caldwell commented, inspecting the colorful array of fronds, flowers, and cactuslike lobes.
"They seem to thrive here. Francis says it's because Earth has more carbon dioxide. Plant food."
"Thirty years ago they were panicking about it."
"Well, life wouldn't be normal if they weren't panicking us about something… Oh, and you have a visitor." Mitzi indicated the direction of the inner office with a nod. Caldwell took a pace, then stopped.
"It isn't that FBI guy, is it?"
"No, nothing like that. It's Chris's cousin Mildred, on a quick trip back. I took her to lunch. She's got some fascinating stories. I can't wait to see the book."
Caldwell went on through. Mildred was sitting at the meeting table that formed a T with his desk, clad in a long, rust-colored dress and reading some papers in a folder. Her hat, a bag crammed with more folders and what looked like items of shopping, and an equally laden purse were parked on chairs on either side. "Well!" Caldwell exclaimed as he came in. "The surprise of the day. Sorry you had to wait. But I gather Mitzi has been taking good care of you."
"She's wonderful. I hope it's all right… my just dropping by like this, unannounced. I've been dashing all over the place and really had no idea what time I'd be this way. I know that someone like you must be always incredibly busy."
"Don't even think about it. You're family around here." Caldwell moved behind his desk and sat down. As luck would have it, she had chosen a good day. "I didn't even know you were in this part of the Galaxy. You, ah, sure get around. Mitzi says it's just a quick visit."
"For a few days. There was a ship leaving to bring some Thuriens for some kind of cultural mission or something, that they want to set up here, and I hitched a ride. They really are so obliging. It's not that much different than hopping on a plane from Europe."
"Yes, I know. In South America. The mission. I just had lunch with some people who are connected with it." Caldwell inclined his gaze toward the bag on the chair next to her. "So is it someone's birthday?"
"Oh, no. Just some things I'd made a list of, that I thought I'd pick up while I had the chance. I could probably have arranged for them to be sent somehow, but sometimes the way that you're used to ends up being quicker. These computer procedures can be so confusing-especially when they're automatic, and they think they know what you want better than you do. It seems that every time they assume anything, that's when it all goes wrong. I'm particularly wary of anything that calls itself 'smart.' They're always the first things I deactivate if I can. You know that the first thing they do will be absolutely stupid. And there's never any way to tell them to just shut up, don't assume anything, and do exactly what I tell you. Although, having said all that, I suppose we're on our way to getting something of our own like VISAR; or maybe having VISAR extended to manage things here too. It could only be an improvement on a lot of the things we've got."
Caldwell was already hearing again some of Danchekker's lamentations. Maybe it was just as well that she was back for only a few days. Otherwise this could go until the dawn of the next ice age.
"Oh dear," Mildred said, either reading something from his face or body language, or else there was some kind of telepathy at work. "I know. Christian tells me. I do tend to prattle on at times."
"Not at all. It's probably part of a feeling that comes with being back home. Although you seem to be making the best of things there. I'm told you're getting along just fine with Frenua Showm."
"Yes…" Mildred's manner became more serious. "In fact, it's in that connection that I was hoping to talk to you, Mr. Caldwell. Kind of in that connection, anyway…"
"'Gregg' is fine. I said you're family here."
"Oh, thank you…" She seemed to hesitate. Caldwell waited. "As a matter of fact, it was the main reason I came back. Yes, I know you have some of those Thurien neurocoupler things at Goddard that can make you as-good-as be there in an instant. But everything that goes through them is handled by VISAR, you see. And even calling on the phone involves VISAR to connect it through… oh, I don't know, h-, M-physical, virtual… whichever of all those spaces it is. It is an alien intelligence, after all, built to serve alien purposes. How do you know where something you say might end up? And what I wanted to talk about is very confidential."
Caldwell raised his eyebrows and did his best to look appropriately solemn. It was a slow afternoon, anyway. In fact, the Thuriens had always given assurances that all communications traffic handled by VISAR enjoyed scrupulous privacy, and from his experience of them he was inclined to believe it. But he wasn't about to get into a pointless debate about it now. "I'm listening," he said, spreading his palms.
Mildred took a deep breath and frowned, as if not sure which of several threads to pursue. "I know it's only been a matter of months, but I've found out a lot about the Thuriens. It's the reason I went there, after all…" She looked up. "But I don't want to go off on another tangent, telling you things you already know. You were involved with them from the beginning. Just to be sure we're talking the same language, what would be the most salient adjectives that come to mind to describe them?"