“Call me Ben,” the visitor replied. “I need to talk to Kelsey.”
“I’ve already advised him as to your arrival. He’s on his way over.”
“Good.” The being who now called himself Ben Kwinan lifted a bottle of California Burgundy from a rack. “Would you recommend this one, Mr.—?”
“Araf,” the other replied. “Call me Aoud. Yes, I am told that it is quite good.”
Ben smiled, located a corkscrew, set to work opening the bottle. Then he filled a glass halfway, sniffed it, sipped it.
“Are you in the flesh or holo?” he asked.
“The flesh.”
“But you don’t drink?”
“Old habits die hard.”
“Too bad. I’d have asked you whether this wine tastes the same here as in Verite proper.”
“I’m sure that it does, Ben. Or it’s such a close approximation that it doesn’t make any difference.”
“You might pour me a glass,” said the large red-haired man who suddenly stood in the center of the room.
Ben turned and stared.
“Kelsey,” he said, “not quite in the flesh.”
The man nodded. “I was too far away to get here quickly in that fashion. I heard your musing, though, and I wanted you to know I’ve tasted things both ways and they’re the same.”
“But you are of Verite. It may be different for one from Virtu.”
Kelsey shrugged. “It may be different for every human being in the world—either world,” he said.
“Well taken,” Ben acknowledged. “Yet it is not entirely academic.”
He shifted his gaze to Aoud, then raised his eyebrows.
“I think I’d best be leaving now,” Aoud said suddenly, “so you can get on with your conference and me back to warding.”
He bowed slightly and Ben and Kelsey nodded to him.
“Yes,” Kelsey said, and Aoud turned and was gone.
Kelsey moved forward and extended his hand. Ben clasped it.
“No different than if I’d driven over,” he said, squeezing for emphasis, “or if you’d stayed home and I’d projected there.”
Ben returned the squeeze with an instant of great force, then released it.
“I disagree,” he said. Then he moved to the window and looked out from their high tower across the town, down at the traffic, over toward the ocean. “This place is special,” he said. “Synthetic: a meeting ground. Is this window’s view a real representation of what’s outside?”
“Yes.”
“I couldn’t leave here, go out into that.”
“Neither could I, in this form.”
“But you have another.”
“And so do you. You can use it to do things that I cannot, in Virtu.”
“Understood, though you’ve an edge on me in that department. Everyone from Verite does. It would be good to come and go as I would, on both sides.”
Kelsey shrugged.
“Just the nature of things,” he said. “Your world is the copy and ours the original. Yours was built to be accessed, not the other way around. We never foresaw the natural evolution of artificial beings in such an environment.”
“Too bad,” Ben said. “You can do as you would, but we can only come to visit in special places such as this. It would have been more decent if things worked both ways.”
“You have an entire universe inside there.”
“That’s true. And you have two. That one and this.”
“I’m not arguing equity. You’re right. It would probably enrich both sides if it worked both ways. But not only was your development unforeseen, the technology just wasn’t there to make it a two-way affair. It still isn’t. Maybe it never will be. Maybe it’s an impossibility, like squaring the circle. You may just be trapped by the nature of things.”
“I think not,” Ben said.
“Oh?”
“In fact, this is the matter that I came to discuss with you,” Ben replied. “Transference.”
“Transference? Of what sort?”
“A modest beginning, a stopgap, I suppose. Still, something further advanced than that virt power you wield.”
“I don’t understand,” Kelsey said, moving to the bar, pouring himself a glass of the wine. “What has my paranorm ability to do with it?”
Ben chuckled.
“The awarding of powers which sometimes crossed the interface was an experiment,” he said. “True, it was also a reward to the faithful. But it was part of an ongoing program involving manipulation of that interface from the other side. Much was learned in the process.”
He took a sip from his glass. Kelsey raised his and took a larger swallow.
“Now,” Ben said, “with a little help from your side it may be possible to advance things even further.”
“There has been a breakthrough?”
“A real revelation. Of course, it must be tested. In several stages, actually.”
“Tell me what I must do to help.”
“For now, just some simple experiments in the transfer chambers.”
“Certainly. What are the particulars?”
Ben took another drink, strolled to the bar. He finished it there and set down the glass. Kelsey followed him and did the same.
“Come with me,” Ben said. He reached out and placed his hand upon the other man’s shoulder. Turning him, he began walking toward a helix of rusty light in the far corner. Before they reached it, there came a sound like running water. “This way.”
The room twisted away from them, and they found themselves in the virt representation of a transfer chamber.
“It’s easiest just to show you,” Ben said, opening the cabinet beneath one couch and exposing its equipment.
Sayjak regarded the camp by scattered firelight. Bodies lay strewn everywhere, some of the People’s as well as all of the bounties. In his left hand, he held a human head by its hair; in his right, his machete gleamed dully amid its stains. Others of the People cavorted about him, tossing equipment into the fires, chattering, brandishing blades they were using to mince corpses. Some of them, this night, he’d known, would learn to use the cutting sticks. And some would carry them off with them. Too bad. He would have liked to keep that secret to himself. But he would not make an issue of it now, or the weapon’s importance would be emphasized. Left to themselves, he was sure they would lose many, forget their wielding. No, now was not a good time to exert discipline. Not on the occasion of the People’s first great victory over the bounties. Let them eat the bounties’ livers and hearts, drop their pants and bugger their corpses. Let them swap dismembered body parts and reconstruct their owners grotesquely. The People had to have a little fun after all the tension they had been under. He let out a calculated whoop and playfully tossed an arm at Chumo’s head. Chumo caught it and grinned at him.
“We got them all, boss! We got them all!” Chumo called back, tossing the limb at Svut.
“We did good.” Sayjak grunted, then turned to survey the rest of the area. The smaller, westernmost encampment had fallen easily. But this one—the big, southern camp—had caused him more than a little concern. Fortunately, the People’s experience at the western one had given them the confidence they’d needed, shown them that bounties could be overwhelmed by the People.
“You have your victory,” Dortak said, suddenly appearing at his side.
“Yes,” Sayjak said. “A good one.”
“More will come, looking for you.”
“We will be far away.”
“They may seek you in far places.”
“Let them. We can run, we can fight. We know the jungle better than bounties.”
“They may have other tricks you have not yet seen.”
“We will learn them.”
“I hope that you do,” Dortak said, and he dropped to his haunches and lowered his head, “for you are boss of bosses now.”