sam remained motionless, fascinated by the progress of its
fellows.
Gonzales returned to his small room, where a night-light
glowed softly, and returned to bed. He fell asleep quickly, oddly
comforted by thinking about the robots busy at their school.
8. Halo City
Blue jump-suited Halo personnel led Gonzales and Diana
through the micro-gravity environments at Halo's Zero-Gate, then
to an elevator at the hub of Spoke 6, where Tia Showalter,
Director SenTrax Halo Group, and her assistant, Horn, were waiting
for them. The shuttle had arrived at Halo an hour before, late
afternoon local time, and its passengers had waited impatiently as
it went through docking and clearance procedures, all eager to
leave the ship after a week spent climbing the long path from
Athena Station to the city.
Showalter was just under six feet tall, and had green eyes
above broad Slavic cheekbones, a wide mouth and pointed chin. Her
fine brown hair was cut short in a style Gonzales later discovered
was common to many long-term Halo residents, for convenience in
micro-gravity environments. Gonzales knew that as director of a
major SenTrax operation, she had to be wily and tough.
Horn was a tight-lipped, sallow-skinned man in his
fifties, skinny and anxious, with iron-gray hair pulled tight
against his skull in a kind of bun. The man spoke some variety of
New YorkeseGonzales didn't know which, but he could feel the
harsh nasal tones beneath his skin.
The warning gong sounded, then the elevator's vault-like
doors slid closed with a great hiss, locking in more than a
hundred people for the trip from axis to rim. Above their heads
the wall screen read SOLAR FLARE CONDITION GREEN. The elevator
dropped into one of the city's spokes like a shell into the barrel
of a gun, down a tube a quarter of a mile long and into a well of
increasing gravity.
Against one wall, a group of sams were clustered around a
charge-point, black leads extended to the aluminum post. They
stood silent and motionlesstalking among themselves? Gonzales
wondered.
Horn saw where Gonzales was looking and said, "We'd like to
assign each of you a sam for your stay in Halo."
"Really?" Gonzales said.
Diana said, "No thank you." Quickly.
Right, Gonzales thought. No point in putting ourselves under
surveillance. He said, "I'll pass, too."
Horn paused, looking a bit miffed, as if he wanted to argue.
He said, "Very well. Then be sure you always wear the
communication and i.d. module you were given when you came off the
shuttle." He held up his own wrist to show the small bracelet, a
closed loop of plain silver that bulged just slightly with the
electronics inside. "If you have a problem, just yell and help
will be on the way. Or if you have a question, just state it.
Someone will answerAleph or one of its communications demons."
Gonzales asked, "Yeah, they told us that. Are we monitored
at all times?"
Showalter said, "Yes. In fact, there's a real-time hologram
in Operations that shows everyone's movements, not just visitors
but residents as well."
"Seems an invasion of privacy," Gonzales said.
Horn said, "We don't look at it that way. If you can't
accept such simple necessities, Halo will be most uncomfortable
for you." He smiled. "Not that you're likely to be here for
long."
Gonzales said, "I can't imagine people putting up with total
surveillance for long, frankly."
Horn said, "It seems to us a small price to pay for an
unpolluted world shared to the benefit of all."
Showalter looked from Horn to Gonzales. She said, "We are a
far island in a hostile place. We cannot afford some of your
illusions: the independence of the self, unconstrained free will
those sorts of things."
A shutter retracted from a window ten meters square as the
elevator entered the living ring's inner space. Far below lay
sun-lit valleys thick-planted with trees and shrubs and flowers,
broken by one barren space where grayish slurries squirted out of
huge pipe ends to flow across scarred metal.
"Our city," Showalter said.
#
Eight people were gathered around a u-shaped table of beige
silica foam. Showalter sat at the center of the u, with Horn to
her immediate right, Gonzales and Diana beyond him. To her left
were a youngish woman, then two men in late middle age, one white,
one black.
At the open end of the u, the table fronted a screen that
covered its entire wall, floor to ceiling. The screen had been
lit when Gonzales and Diana arrived, showing another room where an
indeterminate number of people sat on couches, chairs, or slouched
on cushions on the floor.
Showalter said, "Let me introduce you all to one another.
Everyone has met Horn, my assistant. Next to him are Doctor Diana
Heywood and Mikhail Gonzales, who arrived yesterday." They both
smiled and nodded.
"Lizzie Jordan," Showalter said, pointing to the woman to her
left. "Hi," Lizzie said. She was blonde, thin, with high
cheekbones; she had a smear of gold dust inset below her left eye
and wore rough beta-cloth overalls gapped to show part of a tattoo
between her breastsa twining green stem. Showalter said,
"Lizzie heads the Interface Collective, and thus will be the
person you'll be working with most closely. The people you see on
the screen are also members of the collective. They have a
proprietary interest in all matters pertaining to Aleph and Halo
and have the right to be present at inter-group meetings, and to
speak to whatever issues are entertained there."
Diana said, "I understand."
Gonzales nodded. He knew from Traynor's Advisor that
communal decision-making was the norm at Halo, but he hadn't
imagined it would be so thoroughgoing.
"Next to Lizzie is Doctor Charley Hughes," Showalter said.
"He will be doing the surgical procedure to upgrade your neural
sockets, Doctor Heywood." The man said, "Hello" and looked
intently at Gonzales and Diana. His sparse gray hair stood up in
spikes; his face was pale, thin, deeply-lined. He had been
smoking constantly since they arrived, one hand cupping a
cigarillo, the other supporting the smoke-saver ball at the
cigarillo's burning end.
"And Doctor Eric Chow," she said. The black man next to
Charley Hughes smiled. Chow was a big man with hands the size of
small shovels; he had a round face, very dark skin, a broad nose
and big lips; he wore his hair cropped short. Showalter said, "He
heads the Neuro-Ontic Studies Group and is Doctor Hughes's primary
consultant on the treatment planned for Jerry Chapman."
She paused and turned to the screen showing the IC members.
A window opened at the left side of the screen, and a figure
appeared. Its arms and torso were clothed in gold; its face
shimmered with a formless brightness. Around its head and
shoulders, a nimbus flared, red, blue, yellow, and green.
"Hello, everyone" the figure said. "And welcome, Doctor and
Mister Gonzales. I am a localized manifestation of Alepha