'Another example of nanotech. The nanites rearrange the raw materials in the right order, and there you have anything you can program in.'
'Is there anything they can't do?'
They handle molecular rearrangement, not atomic patterns.' She smiled. 'They're like many machines, except smaller.
They're like all technology. They don't do much for improving human intelligence or teaching people to think. And like a lot of technology, nanite systems can really create havoc when combined with human stupidity.'
'Stupidity?' I wished the word hadn't escaped my lips, especially with the look Cerrelle offered.
'I wish I could explain everything, Tyndel, but I can't, not immediately. I can promise you that you'll get a history course, and a lot more, through nanopills and sprays. I know it would be easier if they could just stick all that in you right now, but body and mind, especially former mite minds, need periods of conscious and unconscious adjustment. Right now, I'll give you a few ideas to keep in mind. Ever heard of the free-birthers? The ancients had a lot of them - Saints, Roms, Buchs, Fals ... so many ethnic and cultural groups I can't keep track of the names. There were close to eight billion people on the earth when nanotech became a functional reality, when the ability arrived to have every living human being a fully functional and reproducing organism for a thousand years. The free-birthers were producing five to ten offspring in a forty-year span and violently opposed any restrictions on reproduction. Now ... anyone with any common sense could figure out the mathematics if even ten percent of the population practiced free-birth, and it was more like twenty percent.'
'There wouldn't be enough food.' I paused. 'Except ... what about machines like those?' I pointed to the console.
'That just made things worse. Every group wanted the health benefits, and self-reproducing nanites for an individual's system were relatively easy. Machinery, like those molecular food creators, takes capital, money, tools - and some power, and there wasn't enough. So ... the ancients had lots of very physically healthy and strong people with even healthier appetites —those who had heavy weapons and food survived - about one hundred million, and the technology base was pretty much lost, except here and in Thule and one or two smaller enclaves.'
'We have a decent technology base—'
'I should have said nanotech. Old-style technology is pretty limiting. It takes too much resource investment to maintain. That's even with a small population. It can't be done with a large population, and the ancients never did figure that out. That is one thing you ... Dorchans figured out. You were successful in finding a self-reinforcing way to ration out goods and services that doesn't exceed the carrying capacity of the environment.'
'So how do you do it?' I mumbled, angry with her veiled condescension and superiority.
'Some of the ancients had the right idea, and then they gave it up.' Her words ignored my anger. 'Each individual has a worth to society. All people are not equal, not in those terms. We reward people for their service to society and charge them for the resources that they consume, in general terms, just as the ancients did, and you mites do, with credits. We figure the basis for the credits differently. Those people who consume more than they earn have to repay the balance within a year or undertake compensatory service, like you will.'
'Me?'
'Once you get medically stabilized and on your feet, you'll become a part of Rykashan society. Just like the rest of us, you'll need to make your way and pay for the goods and services you need. I'm here to get you started on making that adjustment.'
That made a sort of sense, I had to admit. I looked at my plate. It was empty.
'You're still hungry, aren't you?'
Yes.'
'Go order another helping. You'll need it all. The nanites take extra energy. That's something you'll need to remember. As soon as you finish, Tyndel, we've got to get back to work. You've got a lifetime of knowledge and skills to catch up on. The sooner you understand where you are and how Rykasha works, the better off you'll be.'
I didn't like the sound of that, or the idea of compensatory service, whatever that was, but the demons were treating me better than my own people had, except for Foerga.
I swallowed at that, and my eyes burned. I rose quickly and went back to the food console and studied the list, choosing something called Lemon Beef. Maybe the different taste would help, but I doubted it.
7
Wretched are all who work for results.
Mettersfel was large enough that it had smaller gliders that webbed the city, and large enough that private gliders or carts paid exorbitant passage-rights. Even so, at times one had to pause before crossing the wide and grass-centered boulevards.
After leaving the intercity glider, I took the harbor bluff glider. Because an older man already sat in the rear seat, I sat in front. When the glider reached the throughway at the top of the bluff and whispered across the polished stones, the Summer Sound spread out below the eastern bluffs.
The sun danced on the gray-blue waters, and the foam of the small whitecaps glistened and subsided, glistened and subsided.
The stone piers shone almost white in the late-afternoon sun, although clouds were building offshore. Beyond the piers lay the low commercial buildings, most of gray or white stone framing the amber powerglass that supplemented the other solar and tidal power systems that supplied the city-state that was Mettersfel.
The older man watched, without speaking, as I left the glider at the Rim Park stop. The gold polished spruce of the exercise bars rose out of the lawn to my left. I'd never been that good at pure gymnastics, but I'd always liked the park, particularly the gardens on the downslope to the lower bluffs with their stone-walled terraces and the colors and scents of all the flowers.
The thought prompted me to pause and inhale, and to enjoy the faint smell of roses mixed with sunbursts. What is ... is. I had to smile, recalling what I'd been taught in the middle of the park.
Beyond the park began the houses, all of one or two stories and situated to catch the sweep of the sound and the lower city. I was perspiring heavily by the time I had walked the half kilo from the park to the house and carried both duffels up to the low front steps of the two-story scaled-down replica of a Breaker house.
A low growl from the walled front side garden indicated that my parents, my mother, doubtless, had gotten another dog to replace Gershon.
My cousin Rhada opened the door. 'They said you'd be here.'
'I'm here. Where are they?' The duffels went on the spotless green marble, and I wiped my forehead with the back of my forearm. 'It's hotter than I remember.'
'Your mother's coming down from her studio, I imagine. Uncle Tynd - he's where he always is, trading and watching the markets.' Rhada offered a crooked smile that bared perfect white teeth. 'It has been hot this spring.'
'Dear ...' My mother was already halfway down the polished marble of the curving hall steps, steps that curved around the crystal chandelier that had been blown and cut nearly two centuries earlier by her grandmother. Artistic talent seemed to run in the women of the family.
'Mother.' I bowed, then stepped forward and hugged her.
'You look wonderful in the blue.'
'Aquacyan,' I mumbled.
'Much better than in that brown.'
Colors weren't everything, but mother was an artist. So perhaps they were.
'You must be famished. We should have tea. Up on the higher balcony.' Mother turned to Rhada. 'If you would give me a hand ... I was having difficulty with the alcade's hair.'