Darya stared at the others — and saw no reaction at all. She found Tally’s words mind-blowing. They appeared to accept what he was saying without question. “But if that happened to J’merlia, why didn’t it happen to all of us?”
“I can only conjecture. Clearly, the actions of Guardian were of central importance. If the development of mixed quantum states in organic intelligences is a borderline event in the Anfract, something which occurs only rarely or under specially contrived circumstances, then a trigger action may be needed. Guardian knows how to provide that trigger. And perhaps J’merlia is by his nature unusually susceptible to accepting a mixed quantum state.”
“Oh, my Lord.” Hans Rebka had been lolling back in the pilot’s chair as though he were half-asleep. Now he sat upright. “Unusually susceptible to a mixed state. Tally’s right, I’m sure he is. That’s what’s been wrong with Julian Graves, ever since we got here. His two personalities were integrated back on Miranda, but we always knew it was a sensitive balance. They’re still liable to disruption. He was already on the borderline, it wouldn’t take much to push him over. No wonder he said he couldn’t think any more! No wonder he sent out a distress signal. His mind was divided — too much me. Two parallel quantum states in one body, trying to make decisions and control the Erebus.”
“Those are my thoughts exactly.” Since E.C. Tally lacked emotion or intellectual insecurity, his display of pleasure at Rebka’s support was a tribute to simulation modeling. “And it means that it is not necessary to seek a treatment for the councilor’s condition. He will automatically return to normal, as soon as we exit the Anfract and are again in a region of space-time where macroscopic quantum states cannot be sustained.”
“So what are we waiting for?” Hans Rebka glanced around the group. “We can leave the Anfract at once. We’ve got the evidence of Zardalu we came for” — he nodded to where the infant land-cephalopod was systematically destroying the seat of the control chair — “the best evidence we could possibly have. The sooner we leave, the sooner Graves gets back to normal. Can anyone think of a reason why we shouldn’t leave at once?”
With Julian Graves incapacitated, Rebka was in charge. He did not need approval from the others for a decision to leave the Anfract — except that he had learned, long before, that unanimous group decisions guaranteed a lot more cooperation.
He automatically looked for Louis Nenda, the most likely source of opposition. And he noticed his absence, and that of Atvar H’sial, just as Dulcimer came bouncing into the chamber.
This time the Polypheme had hit it exactly right. His skin was a clear, bright green, his master eye and scanning eye were alert and confident, and he was delicately balanced on his coiled tail. He was in fine physical shape.
He was also in an absolute fury.
“All right.” He bobbed forward until he was in the middle of the group. “I’ve put up with a lot on this trip. I’ve been near-drowned and chased and starved and had my tail chewed half off — none of that is in my contract. I put up with all of it, brave and patient. Only this is too much.” The blubbery mouth scowled, and the great eye glared at each of them in turn. His voice rose to a squeak of rage. “Where’s my ship? What have you done with the Indulgence? I want to know, and I want to know right now.”
Louis Nenda and Atvar H’sial were asking much the same question. They had carefully drifted the ship free of the Erebus, leaving the drive off so that no emergency telltales would flash on the bigger ship’s control panels.
After a few minutes of floating powerless, Nenda again scanned his displays. The Indulgence’s complete trajectory for exit from the Torvil Anfract had already been set in the computer, needing only the flip of a switch to send the ship spiraling out. A few kilometers away on the right, steadily receding, the Erebus was a swollen, pimpled oblong, dark against the pink shimmer of the nested singularities. On Genizee, a hundred thousand kilometers below, it was night, and the high-magnification scopes showed no lights. If the Zardalu were active down there they had excellent nocturnal vision, or their own sources of bioluminescence. The only illumination striking the surface from outside would be the faint aurora of the singularities and the weak reflected light of the hollow moon, glimmering far above the Indulgence to Louis Nenda’s left.
He turned to Atvar H’sial, crouched by his side. “We’re far enough clear. Time to say good-bye to Genizee. There’s a lot of valuable stuff down there, but if you’re anythin’ like me you’ll be happy if you never see the place again. Ready to go?”
The Cecropian nodded.
“Okay. Glister, here we come.” Louis Nenda flipped the switch that set in train the stored trajectory. For a few seconds they surged smoothly outward, heading for the constant shimmer of the nested singularities.
And then Nenda was cursing and grabbing at the control panel. The Indulgence had veered, and veered again. Atvar H’sial, blind to the display screens, clutched at the floor with all six legs and sent an urgent burst of pheromones.
“Louis! This is not right! It is not what I programmed.”
“Damn right it’s not! And it’s not what’s bein’ displayed.” Nenda had killed the program and was trying to assert manual control. It made no difference. The ship was ignoring him, still steadily changing direction. “We’re goin’ the wrong way, and I can’t do one thing about it.”
“Then turn off the drive!”
Nenda did not answer. He had already turned off the drive. He was staring at the left-hand display screen, where Hollow-Moon hung in the sky. A familiar saffron beam of light had speared out from it, impossibly visible all along its length, even in the vacuum of space. The Indulgence was caught in that beam and was being directed by it.
“Louis!” Atvar H’sial said again. “The drive!”
“It’s off.”
“But we are still accelerating. Do you know where we are going?”
Nenda pulled his hands away from the useless controls and leaned back in his seat. Genizee was visible in the forward screen, already perceptibly larger. The Indulgence was arrowing down, faster and faster.
“I’m pretty sure I know exactly where we’re going, At.” He sighed. “An’ I’m pretty sure you’re not gonna like it when I tell you.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
The definition of reality; the meaning of existence; the nature of the universe.
The philosophies of the spiral arm on these subjects were at least as numerous and diverse as the intelligences who populated it. They ranged from the Inverse Platonism of Teufel — What you see is all there is, and maybe a bit more — to the Radical Pragmatism of the Tristan free-space Manticore — Reality is whatever I decide it should be — all the way to the Dictum of Inseparability espoused by the hive-mind of Decantil Myrmecons — The Universe exists as a whole, but it is meaningless to speak of the function of individual components.
Darya had no doubts about her own view: The universe was real, and anyone who believed otherwise needed a brain tune-up. There certainly was an objective reality.