"Actually, I did hear about it," Showm said. "They were making a boat. Armu Egrigol was delighted. I hope they find a place in your book."
Mildred was silent for a long time. Absolute stillness hung on every side. "But that wasn't what I saw," she said finally.
"What did you see?"
"I saw… I'll tell you what I saw. I saw young people who were not sitting in rows and being lectured to know their place, when they could speak, and what they were allowed to believe. They weren't being taught to hate or to despise, or whom they were superior to and whom they must obey. They weren't learning to recognize and submit to authority, in preparation for accepting the authority that would exploit them for the rest of their lives, and command them into believing it was natural. I saw minds that were free to grow into everything they could become… Maybe for the first time."
This time it was Showm's turn to fall silent before answering. Eventually, she sighed. Her breath made white vapor in the air. "We've talked this way before. Those are not the values that rule Earth. Terrans like you are so few-who can feel and think the way you do."
Mildred shook her head. "No. They are the majority. But they are silent and invisible: the poor, the hungry, the defenseless, the oppressed. Perhaps these are things you can have no concept of, Frenua. How can people think of the stars when they labor morning to night day after day, and all they have to show at the end will barely put a meal on the table for their children? How do people who can't even imagine escaping from crushing debt or the fear of destitution discover their inner selves? How can they build boats when every morning they might be dragged out of their homes and thrown into prisons?"
"But why can't they see the things you see?" Showm asked.
"Because they are deceived by those that they trust. They believe the lies that turn them against each other." Mildred turned her head. There was hope in her eyes. "But that could be changing now. Much of the evil that dominated Earth has been rooted out with the exposure of the Jevlenese influence throughout history. And now that we've made contact with Thurien, Earth might open its eyes finally. Thurien can teach the people of Earth how to reject the lies."
Mildred had expected that Showm would welcome hearing such words. They were little more than a distillation of things that Showm herself had voiced on various occasions, after all.
But for some reason Showm turned away abruptly and seemed strangely disturbed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Duncan Watt christened it the "Conveyor Belt." The Thuriens launched a succession of probe devices off into the Multiverse from the MP2 station, each being projected as a component of a standing wave function, which in theory should cause it to materialize in another reality somewhere. Each of the probes possessed some variant of a communications transmitter set up to send back a recognition code as confirmation that it was at least continuing to exist "somewhere" as a coherent, identifiable object. This signal was sent from wherever the probe found itself in the aggregate of realities making up the Multiverse-the realm the scientists termed "M-space"-relayed back to Thurien as a signal through ordinary h-space by the remote-operated equipment at MP2. However, because of the time line lensing effect that this equipment produced in its vicinity, the parts of the incoming transmission being processed from instant to instant were from different versions of the probe, launched by different versions of MP2 existing in other realities. Since they were all designed to transmit their own unique identifying codes, nothing intelligible could be made of the resultant jumble from all of them.
The main object of the exercise was to provide VISAR with data to attempt construction of what Hunt had described to Mildred as a "quantum signature" unique to a given reality. If such a function could be defined, the hope was that MP2 might be able to "lock on" to one of the converging time lines, selecting only the universe associated with a given signature. This would be demonstrated when a coherent, decodable signal was received, instead of the scrambling of signals from different universes that was coming in at present.
The probes being sent out via the Conveyor were just that-simple signaling beacons. Unlike the instrument package that had been glimpsed briefly after coming the other way, they didn't at this stage carry detectors and sensors to find out something about where they had arrived at. One thing at a time. All the scientists were interested in at that point was being able to establish that a probe had arrived somewhere. The rest could come later.
Hunt's awareness of all this had tended toward a somewhat abstract immersion in trying to follow Thurien mathematics. Its more palpable meaning was brought home one afternoon, when VISAR came online suddenly while Hunt was using the neurocoupler in his room at the Waldorf, taking a break to get in some virtual sightseeing around Thurien.
"Josef asked me to interrupt. Something's just happened that he thinks you should be in on."
"What?"
"Another intruder has been detected. It's a long way out from Gistar, not anywhere near Thurien. There are just a few long-range readings at present. I'm shifting more detectors through h-space to get a closer look at it."
"Okay, take me there, too."
The tower city that Hunt had been staring up at from the sprawl of suburbs and parkland surrounding its base vanished, and he found himself sitting in a glass-enclosed observation room looking out into space. The room didn't really exist; VISAR knew that even the illusion of being out in the void unenclosed and unprotected made biological beings feel insecure and had decided that something more substantial than a maintenance platform would be in order.
The object that had materialized was represented for now by a featureless white oval standing out against the black backdrop, appearing the size of an egg held at arm's length. Sensors were still evidently gathering the details. Hunt got up and moved to one of the stools at the virtual bar that VISAR had considerately provided along one wall, where he poured himself a virtual drink. He didn't have to pour it, of course. He could have asked VISAR to simply produce it. But omitting it would have made the familiar ritual seem incomplete. The smooth, mellow sensation of Irish whiskey warming his palate was induced perfectly. And with no negative after-effects to be concerned about. It still never ceased to amaze him. For a moment he fought with the temptation to add a virtual cigarette, then dismissed it. The thought of VISAR's probable sarcastic comment, had he yielded, was enough to affirm his resolution.
"It's showing more stability than the previous device," VISAR reported. "Stress gradients and energy distribution in the surrounding h-space manifold are consistent with a standing wave pattern." The patch enlarged and began resolving itself into discernible structure as the vantage point closed. "Envelope dimensions in the order of ten feet by six feet, and eight feet deep. You're fifty feet away from it now. A flat base with pagodas pointing outward on both sides. This is very different from the one we saw before. It's not so loaded with instruments. More for communications. We're picking up strong h-resonances. It's trying to access the Thurien interstellar grid and get our attention. I think it's succeeding." A comical scene flashed in a temporary visual window of Eesyan's scientists elsewhere on Thurien frantically falling over each other to get to terminals or neural couplers.
Hunt got up from the bar and carried his glass over to the observation window. Moments later, Eesyan appeared, standing a few feet away. Hunt realized that this grandstand that VISAR had invented would where it would "bring" everyone else to who was neurocoupled into the system (it was the information, of course, that went to them) and who wanted to be in on the event too. As usual, VISAR had been ahead of him in its anticipations.