“Can you see anything wrong?” she asked him at last, breaking the introspective silence.
“No, nothing,” Obie responded. “There is evidence of a slight seismic disturbance but it did no lasting harm. I am monitoring communications between various high-tech races, but business seems to be going on as usual. The Well World is being maintained.”
On the Well World, the creators had placed limits on the technological capabilities of the hexagonal eco-spheres to simulate difficulties the races would eventually face on their “native” planets. Some could use all energy sources; some were limited to gunpowder and steam; in others no machines would work that were not powered by muscle or tension. This seemingly random system also served as a check on aggression. A high-tech civilization would be helpless in a nontech hex whose military had trained swordsmen and archers; similarly, a low-tech or no tech hex would find it impossible to invade one that had sophisticated weaponry.
“Obie—the Well World’s maintenance isn’t performed by the main computer, is it?”
“That’s correct. After all, something has to power the big machine. From all evidence, it appears that the Well World Computer is in excellent shape. That means the main computer—the one that maintains you and me and everything else—is the problem. I feel the discontinuity, the wrongness now, but I dare not open contact with the Well, you understand.”
She did. Long ago, when they had first come here, Obie had contacted the master computer and then found himself unable to disconnect.
“My analysis,” the computer continued, “based just on what energy output I can monitor, is that something terrible has happened. As you know, the energy that enforces the natural laws of our Universe originates on the Well World and it’s usually a one-way street. Not now, though. I detect massive feedbackpouring into the Well Computer. The Well is trying to correct for it but doesn’t seem quite able to do so.” That sounded ominous. “What do you think happened?”
“Hard to say. Looking at the situation, I’d guess that somebody else discovered the principles just as Zinder did, built a huge dish—which is stupid without understanding what you’re dealing with—then misused it, causing this feedback, damaging the Well of Souls. And the energy level of the feedback is increasing.”
Mavra had a queasy feeling in her stomach. “Obie, that computer is all that stands between us and total annihilation. Can it handle the problem or not?”
“I won’t know that until we isolate the cause. From the slight increases I’ve been measuring, though, I’d say not. Mavra, the Well World Computer can snuff out a white hole! What could have happened that would be beyond its power to correct?”
“Let’s find out,” she suggested. “Trace the feedback back to its source, but don’t get too close. We don’t want to be killed by whatever it is.”
“I’ll be careful,” Obie promised. As he did, the big dish on his underside glowed, a violet field enveloped the whole planetoid, and it vanished.
Dolgritu
“Cults make me nervous,” Gypsy said uneasily.
Marquoz was silent, staring at the huge central city square now packed with what seemed to be millions of people. Only his odd form and fiery breath kept him from being tossed about by the mob.
“And to think that only a few months ago it was a little nut-cult with few followers,” Gypsy continued. “Hard to believe.”
“Desperate people manipulated by circumstances they can’t control almost always turn to the supernatural,” the little dragon growled back.
The Fellowship of the Well had indeed grown; it was now the premier religious group in the Com. The cult itself was hard-pressed to handle this sudden success and acceptance; it couldn’t “process” its followers but found they were more than eager to join and stay joined anyway.
The Zinder Nullifiers had been too rushed. Neither they nor their origins could remain hidden long. When Tortoi Kai’s presentation on the history of Zinder’s discovery, the nature of the Markovians, the origins of the Olympians, and even of the Well of Souls name itself, was made public, the data seemed to confirm everything the cult had been saying. When, at the time, the people realized a hungry giant was growing in the void and that the Com was powerless to stop it, locating the god implied by Zinder’s math to get him to save the Com provided a powerful new incentive to belief in the Olympian creed. Even the nonhuman races seemed interested, although they rejected the idea of a god in human form that the cult sought.
So an awful lot of people were now looking for Nathan Brazil. If in fact he were as real as Gypsy said he was, Marquoz hoped he was well hidden.
Marquoz and Gypsy weren’t present to watch the ceremony or listen to the speeches, but to meet with the High Priestess, who would address the crowd. The Olympians had made overtures to the Council about use of the newly declassified computer files. Marquoz had come to talk about that point.
The Council was scared, too.
Gypsy was entranced by the size of the crowd. He looked at it unbelievingly, admiringly. “What a scam!” he breathed. “What a wonderful scam!”
The Chugach seemed amused. “Why are you surprised? Nothing has taken more money or killed more people in the history of your race than religion, and for all its mummery this one has more going for it than most. When the true nature of god is being seriously argued by two dozen hard-headed astrophysicists, this is indeed the line to be working in.”
Gypsy laughed. “So how are we gonna get through this crowd? It’s gonna take us a year to get near the State Hall.”
“One of your people’s religions has a tale of a fleeing people caught with their backs to the sea while a hostile army presses. At the proper moment the sea parts. You do it like this.” The dragon removed a flask hanging from his belt, drained it, then replaced it. Then he formed an oval with his wide mouth, inhaled, and slowly blew. There was the smell of brimstone, and fire shot forth. Marquoz, with Gypsy close at his side, had absolutely no problem clearing a path through the crowd.
A greater obstacle was the horde of security Acolytes surrounding the entrances to the State Hall steps from which the High Priestess Yua was to address the multitudes. Their stun rods and stern expressions implied they would not be intimidated by a little hell-fire.
Gypsy looked nervously at the guards, chosen partially for their size and bulk, but Marquoz simply chose the biggest, toughest, nastiest-looking of the lot and walked right up to him. The stun rod rose slightly.
“None may pass!” the Acolyte intoned in the deepest voice Gypsy had ever heard. Gypsy believed him.
“Stand aside, man,” Marquoz replied, his own foghorn voice not a little intimidating. “We represent the Com Council.”
“None may pass,” the guard repeated, and raised the stun rod a little higher for emphasis. Gypsy could tell by the man’s manner that he was just itching to use it, perhaps even more painfully than its designers intended. There was no doubt the fellow could use it as a club to break heads.
“Didn’t I say we were from the Com Council?” Marquoz repeated patiently. “I am Com Police, and any attempt to prevent me in the performance of my duty is punishable by death.”
The big man was not impressed. “None may pass.” This time he added, “Not even the Com is above the will of God.”
Gypsy was somewhat relieved to learn that the man knew more than three words. If he knew several more he might still be reasoned with.
“Your mistress sent for me, “Marquoz told the guard. “Your group seeks our assistance in matters concerning your quest. We were nice enough to agree to talk about it, and your mistress set this as a convenient meeting place. Now, it’s your people who want something of us, not the other way around. You can admit us, tell your mistress that we are here, or send us away. We will convey indirectly to her who prevented the meeting. Your choice. In ten seconds I’m leaving.”