That seemed so good as to be suspicious. In a moment Bane saw the flaw. “But with unification, all alternate selves would unite. Stile and Blue would be but one person, and Mach and me. That be no solution!”
“I think not. You have had time to develop separate identities despite your initial cloning. Identical twins are the parts of a single person, but their lives make them separate. In addition, there are formidable distinctions between the bodies: Mach’s is machine, while yours is flesh; Stile’s is golem, while Blue’s is flesh. I doubt there would be mergence of that nature, this time, though there could certainly be formidable disruptions as individuals are replaced by pairs of selves in a common framework. This is why I regard this as the less desirable alternative. Nevertheless—”
“Agreed,” Bane said quickly. He was ready to handle the awkwardness of individual duplication, for the sake of interacting with Agape in his own, living body.
“Then restore the connection, and I will activate Mach’s experience.”
“Wait. I want to know exactly how thou dost mean to make me equal to Mach, in an instant.”
“You occupy his body. Your personality has taken over his general functions, but does not invoke his total experience. I shall activate the remaining circuits, that contain his complete knowledge of Proton and the Game, and his expertise as a player. You will then be able to utilize any or all of it at will.”
Something nagged at him. In a moment he realized what it was. “But an thou restore the whole of Mach, then will not I be Mach, not Bane?”
“I can alleviate any such effect by excluding the region that establishes your personal identity. Your consciousness is largely random-access memory, evoked from a file that does not exist in this host: your living body in Phaze. Similarly, your personality and awareness and memories are damped out by Mach’s awareness. It is fortunate that your two systems are compatible—but perhaps this is not coincidence, because of the parallelism of the frames.”
Bane considered. “Very well—but do thou do it carefully. Methinks there be treachery in the likes of this.” He plugged the cable back into his ear.
There was a soundless click. Nothing obvious changed, but his awareness of his situation seemed to clarify. He knew exactly where he was, and how to get anywhere else.
“That be it?” he asked.
“Try remembering Mach’s Game experience,” the Oracle suggested.
He tried—and abruptly experienced a flood of memories going back to Mach’s childhood. Every game Mach had ever played was filed in his memory banks—and he understood the strategies for each, too. He knew that he could play any game as well as Mach could, because in this respect he had become Mach.
He could compete; there was no question about it. He did not even need to train; his robot body did not lose skills by disuse the way human flesh did. Citizen Blue would be pleased, and so would Agape. Fleta was not the only one from Phaze who could play the—
Fleta? He reeled, internally.
He was in love with the unicorn.
“Oops,” the Oracle said, in a surprisingly unmechanical way.
“That love spell!” Bane exclaimed, chagrined. “It followed me here!”
“Not so. I did not exclude the emotion-circuit that activates that interest. That is Mach’s love, not yours. I shall exclude it from your compass.”
Abruptly it was gone. Bane loved Agape, not Fleta. But he was shaken. The depth and power of that love—
He removed the cable. “He came to love her in my body. Could that love—”
“Develop a resonance in you? Certainly, if strong enough. Flesh is less denned in such matters than machine circuitry; it would be surprising if there were not some sympathetic carryover.”
“Then mayhap it was not merely the love spell that addled me,” Bane said thoughtfully.
“Nor merely the spell and resonance combined,” the Oracle said. “I perceive by your memories and my observations in Proton that she is a very fine creature. But so is Agape. Perhaps you should invoke Mach’s experience with her.”
“Nay, that were snooping!”
“When she emulated Fleta,” the Oracle prompted.
The thing understood him too well! Bane called up that memory—and was impressed. Agape had assumed the aspect of Fleta, in form and voice and attitude, so perfectly that even he, Bane, almost doubted that it was not she. And Mach, knowing, had loved her—even as Bane had loved the real Fleta, for a moment.
He banished the memory, and the mixed emotions it aroused. “Truly, they both be great females,” he said. “And we both be somewhat guilty.” But he felt less guilty, now.
“You could each have settled for the one in your own frame,” the Oracle said. “Had you not each been blinded to the familiar by the lure of the unfamiliar.”
“Aye. But then would we not have exchanged. Seek not to reverse us now, machine; we have a deal.”
“We have a deal,” the Oracle agreed. “I will train you in the specific games you select to play against Mach, so that your skill improves beyond his. But this is no guarantee of victory.”
“Why not?”
“Because there is always an element of chance in the playing of the grid and of any game, even those of greatest skill. Because he will be trained in magic by the Book of Magic he will have the advantage in any game involving magic.”
“Then I will choose not that kind.”
“But he will try to choose it. The grid gives you equivalence, and your skill in playing it will be similar. You must prevail in science, for you will likely lose in magic.”
“I be no slouch in magic myself,” Bane reminded it.
“You cannot prevail against the Book. I know, for the Book is but another aspect of me. The verdict of this contest is in doubt.”
Bane pointed a finger at the shimmering light. “Do thou find a way to merge the frames, and the contest be meaningless.”
“It will be easier for you to prevail in the contest than for me to merge the frames,” the Oracle said.
“And if I win—what then o’ our loves? My father, Stile, does oppose our unions, because they lead not to a suitable heir. I be resigned—but Mach be not resigned. I favor my father o’er my love, but Mach does not. There be that in me that be uncertain whether victory be best.”
“Let me acquaint you with the nature of the Adverse Adepts and the Contrary Citizens,” the Oracle said. “You will appreciate that they must be denied control of the frames.”
“Aye, I know already! But also I know love, and this be no easy choice.”
“Win, and you will know you have done right. Then perhaps I will succeed in unifying the frames, and you will have love too, as your father did.”
“And if I win, and thou dost not succeed?”
“You are young. You will find in time that you can love again, a woman of your own frame.”
“I believe that not—nor do I want to!”
“You are young,” the Oracle repeated.
Agape returned, and they had a somewhat diffident reunion. “I had to do what—” she began.
“I know. As I did with Fleta. We need no more o’ that.”
“Yet—”
“I have Mach’s memories now—and in mine own living body, some of his feelings. They be not mine, but they be ones I understand. I apologize to thee for putting thee in such an unkind situation; it were my fault.”
“But—”
“Must needs I contest with mine other self, to settle who shall benefit from our communication between the frames. An I win, we shall serve my father, and Stile, and I think I must resume mine own body and be in Phaze and find a damsel there with whom I may generate an heir to the Blue Demesnes. An I lose, mayhap I can be with thee—but the frames will be ill-served.”