I bent down, trying to reach Foerga's still face, and the mist deepened so much that I could see neither her face nor even my own hands. The misty chill seeped through my face and hands and into my bones.
I kept groping, and my hands dipped into the grass, and through it, and through the stones, but I could touch nothing, and her dark hair writhed and turned silver, and she was the brume. And then she was gone.
'The demon is loose!'
SSSSSssss. The susurration of the demon gun shivered the leaves and branches of the boxwood hedge above my kneeling figure. The leaves shriveled into fragments and then powder as I rose, then dove at the dun-red of the Shraddan.
My fingers twisted around his neck, then found each other, as the constable faded into silver mist, as had Foerga. I straightened, and all around me was the brume, silver, cold, and endless. I wriggled my fingers, and they glistened silver, then seemed to meld into the encircling brume.
I tried to open my mouth, but no sound issued into that endless silver that swirled ever closer.
Was everything fading into the mist, everything from my life?
'No ...'
I bolted awake in the middle of the night and sat straight up in bed, sweating and shivering simultaneously.
Had it been Andra's descriptions, or Cerrelle, or the adjudication hearings? Something had bothered me more than I'd thought.
I realized I was breathing fast, panting, and the sweat was rolling off my forehead. After a moment, I eased back the sheet and blanket and swung my feet onto the cool wood of the floor.
Then I stood and padded to the window.
A few points of light glittered across Runswi, few indeed under the endless stars, and the flat of the sea marsh stretched toward the dawn that would come - must come.
I just watched the stars for a time, letting my breathing return to normal, trying to organize my thoughts.
Item: Not only could the demons ingest vast quantities of information, they expected me to do the same.
Item: Through nanites and headsets, Cerrelle and Andra could determine absolutely whether I was telling the truth.
Item: The demons attempted to ensure personal responsibility, whether or not the individual wished to assume such responsibility.
Item: They had virtually no sympathy for the human failing of self-deception, and they attacked that disease with particular virulence.
Then, they attacked every weakness with virulence. But why?
I wiped my forehead again as I discovered that even that brief analysis had speeded my breathing and started my sweating again.
Why? Why anything?
Because the nanite technology had granted humans powers beyond the average human's design capability for responsible action? Because humans were essentially irrational creatures gifted with the power of rationality?
I didn't have answers. Or if I did, I couldn't seem to find them. Did I want to? That was another question I couldn't answer.
In time, I went back to bed, lying on top of covers too heavy and too warm for my body to bear, and, eventually, I drifted back into an uneasy sleep, a sleep that seemed filled with blackness.
Then ... there was neither blackness nor fog, but the arching fountains of fire filled my dreams. Fountains of fire rising out of a point of light set in endless darkness. Was that point of light a star? An unimaginably powerful star?
I sat up shivering again, shivering and sweating.
Why would I dream of points of light or stars? The Rykasha had gotten rid of the mismatched nanites ... hadn't they?
I sat up and put my head in my hands, and the after-image of fire fountains faded. Who or what could I believe?
After a time in the darkness that had begun to turn to the gray that preceded dawn, something else struck me.
I didn't care. I didn't care if I repaid the Rykashans for saving my life. After all, it had been their technology that had taken away my old life. I didn't care if I disappointed Cerrelle. I didn't care if I lived up to my 'responsibilities' as a newly enlisted demon.
I just didn't care. Why should I care? Foerga was gone. The certainty of Dzin was gone. I wasn't ready for suicide. That would have made things too easy for Cerrelle, and it would have been a betrayal of Foerga. But there was no reason to strive endlessly and mindlessly for a goal I hadn't set, but had been demanded of me without anyone even asking me.
No reason to strive that way at all.
Whether I got to be some sort of interstellar cargo pilot or not seemed immaterial, like the silver brume that had filled my dreams. Like the images of fire fountains in a niellen darkness. Like approval from Cerrelle or Andra. Like anything else that might benefit Rykasha.
21
Symbolic forms have always been the supports of civilizations, their laws, and their morality. Since symbolic forms are illusions, and illusions sustain civilization, those who rule must maintain illusion.
The next morning, back in the logistics building, I didn't even let Andra get out another set of canisters or set up console exercises. 'I don't care if I would make a good needle jockey. I don't care if I owe a debt to Rykasha. Don't you see? I don't care!' My words were so forceful that I had to pause and take a deep breath.
'It doesn't matter whether you care or not,' said Andra, putting aside the green-shaded canister that she had held and setting it back on the shelf. 'You owe a debt. You will repay it one way or another.' She didn't smile, and she didn't frown, and every one of her words was cool, as if she were discussing the weather or the technology of food formulators. She just stood there in front of the shelf rack.
'You really don't care how I feel, do you?'
She turned and studied me. 'Cerrelle should have gone over this with you, but maybe she didn't, or maybe you were too upset to take it in. We try to avoid illusions. That everyone should care about someone who is upset is an illusion. Yes, we care to the extent that we try to solve problems, but not to the extent that individual concerns overwhelm the functioning needs of society. That was a critical problem for the ancients. They always wanted everyone to feel good, and in the end, perceptions of personal welfare influenced decisions more than hard facts. It wasn't the cause of the Devastation, but it was one of the things that made any early recovery impossible.' Andra carried her trim figure toward the window, then stopped and turned. Behind her, beyond the glass, a wide-winged gull flapped over the edge of the marsh. 'In a working high-technology society, adherence to basic principles comes first. We try to design and operate those principles so that they represent the greatest good for the greatest number, but any set of principles will impact someone more adversely than another. You're upset, on a deep level, perhaps subconsciously, that we won't all recognize your pain and grant you some special consideration. But we do, and we have. First, you have a far lighter obligation than someone born here. Second, you're being offered specialized training that will make you a highly respected and responsible member of Rykashan society.'
'I understand that, but you haven't given me any choice.'
You can refuse the training,' she pointed out. 'We offered you the most rewarding and quickest way to repay your obligation, but you don't have to take it. You do have to repay the obligation, though.'
'That's it. The obligation means more than I do. People mean nothing to you. I'm not the only one who feels this way. I saw that in the adjudication hearings.'
'I'm sure you did. That's why those people were in adjudication.' Andra smiled faintly, then glanced back through the glass, her eyes on another seabird.
'It's all an illusion, all this caring... you just need another needle jockey.'