Lindsay sat comfortably on its soft, pulpy head.
"So. Mow was your trip?"
"It's an old ship," Lindsay said. "A bit like a flying geriatrics
ward. They were having a revival of Vetterling's The While Periapsis."
"Hmm. Not his best work."
"You always had good taste, Philip."
Constantine sat up in his chair. "Should I call for a robe? I've
looked better, I know."
Lindsay spread his hands. "If you could see beneath this suit.
... I haven't wasted much money on rejuvenation lately. I'm
going for total transformation when I return. It's Europa for me.
Philip. The seas."
"Sundogging out from under human limitations?"
"Yes, you could say that. . . . I've brought the plans with me."
Lindsay reached inside his coat and produced a brochure. "I
want you to look at them with me."
"All right. To please you." Constantine accepted the pamphlet.
The center pages showed an Angel's portrait: an aquatic
posthuman. The skin was smooth and black and slick. The legs
and pelvic girdle were gone; the spine extended to long muscular flukes. Scarlet gills trailed from the neck. The ribcage was
black openwork, gushing white, feathery nets packed with symbiotic bacteria.
The long black arms were dotted with phosphorescent patches, in red and blue and green, keyed into the nervous system.
Along the ribs and flukes were two long lateral lines. The
nerve-packed stripes housed a new aquatic sense that could feel
the water's trembling, like touch at a distance. The nose led to
lunglike sacs packed with chemosensitive cells. The lidless eyes
were huge, and the skull had been rebuilt to accommodate
them.
Constantine moved the brochure before his eyes, struggling to
focus. "Very elegant," he said at last. "No intestines."
"Yes. The white nets filter sulfur for bacteria. Each Angel is
self-sufficient, drawing life, warmth, everything from the water."
"I see," Constantine said. "Community with anarchy. ... Do
they speak?"
Lindsay leaned forward, pointing to the phosphorescent lights.
"They glow."
"And do they reproduce?"
"There are genetics labs. Aquatic ones. Children can be created. But these creatures can last out centuries."
"But where's the sin, Abelard? The lies, the jealousy, the
struggle for power?" He smiled. "I suppose they can commit
gauche acts of ecosystem design."
"They don't lack ingenuity, Philip. I'm sure they can find
crimes if they try hard enough. But they're not like we were.
They're not forced to it."
"Forced to it. ..." A bee landed on Constantine's face. He
brushed it gently away. He said, "I went to see the impact site
last month." He meant the spot where Vera Kelland had
crashed. "There are trees there that look as old as the world."
"It's been a long time."
"I don't know what I expected. . . . Some kind of golden glow,
perhaps, some shimmer to show where my heart was buried. But
we're small creatures, and the Kosmos doesn't care. There was
no sign of it." He sighed. "I wanted to measure myself against
the world. So I killed the thing that might have held me back."
"We were different people then."
"No. I thought I could make myself different. ... I thought
that with you dead, you and Vera, I'd be a clean slate, a
machine for pure ambition. ... A bullet fired into the head of
history. ... I tried to seize power over love. I wanted everything
bound in iron. And I tried to bind it. But the iron broke first."
"I understand," Lindsay told him. "I've also learned the power
of plans. My life's ambition awaits me in Europa." He took the
brochure. "It could be yours, too. If you want it."
"I told you in my message that I was ready for death," Con
stantine said. "You always want to sidestep things, Abelard. We
go back a long way together, too far for words like 'friend' or
'enemy.' ... I don't know what to call you, but I know you. I
know you better than anyone, better than you know yourself.
When you face the consummation, you'll step aside. I know you
will. You'll never see Europa."
Lindsay bowed his head.
"It has to end, Abelard. I measured myself against the world,
that was why I lived. And I cast a large shadow. Didn't I?"
"Yes, Philip." Lindsay's voice was choked. "Even when I hated
you most, I was proud of you."
"But to measure myself against life and death, as if I could go
on forever. . . . There's no dignity in that. What are we to life?
We're only sparks."
"Sparks that start a bonfire, maybe."
"Yes. Europa is your bonfire, and I envy you that. But if you
go to Europa you will lose yourself in it. And you couldn't bear
that."
"But you could do it, Philip. It could be yours. Your people
will be there. The Constantine clan."
"My people. Yes. You co-opted them."
"I needed them. I needed your genius. . . . And they came to
me willingly."
"Yes. . . . Death defeats us in the end. But our children are our
revenge against it." He smiled. "I tried not to love them. I
wanted them to be like me, all steel and edge. But I loved them
anyway . . . not because they were like me, but because they
were different. And the one most different, I loved the best."
"Vera."
"Yes. I created her from the samples I stole here, in the
Republic. Flakes of skin. Genetics from the ones I loved. . . ."
Me looked at Lindsay pleadingly. "What can you tell me of her,
Abelard? How is your daughter?"
"My daughter. . . ."
"Yes. You and Vera were a splendid pair. ... It seemed a
shame that death should make you barren. I loved Vera too; I
wanted to guard her child, and the child of the man she chose.
So I created your daughter. Was I wrong to do it?"
"No," Lindsay said. "Life is better."
"I gave her everything I could. How is she?"
Lindsay felt dizzy. Beneath him, the robot slid a needle into
his unfeeling leg. "She's in the labs now. She is going through
the transformation."
"Ah. Good. She makes her own choices. As we all must."
Constantine reached beneath his lounge chair. "I have poison
here. The attendants gave it to me. They grant us the right to
die."
Lindsay nodded in distraction as the drugs calmed his
pounding heart. "Yes," he said. "We all deserve that right."
"We could walk out to the impact site together, you and I. And
drink the poison. There's enough for two." Constantine smiled.
"It would be good to have company."
"No, Philip. Not yet. I'm sorry."
"Still no commitment, Abelard?" Constantine showed him a
glass vial filled with brown liquid. "It's just as well. I have
trouble walking. I have trouble with all dimensions,
since . . . since the Arena. That's why they gave me new eyes,
"The eyes see dimensions for me." He twisted the top from the
vial with gnarled fingers. "I see life for what it is now. That's
why I know I must do this." He put the poison to his lips, and
drank it down. "Give me your hands."
Lindsay reached out. Constantine gripped his hands. "Both of
them are metal now?"
"I'm sorry, Philip."
"No matter. All our beautiful machines . . ." Constantine shuddered briefly. "Bear with me, this won't take long."
"I'm here, Philip."
"Abelard . . . I'm sorry. For Nora. For the cruelly. . . ."
"Philip, it doesn't ... I forgive. . . ." It was too late. The man
had died.
CIRCUMEUROPA: 25-12-'86
What was left of life in CircumEuropa was clustered in the labs.
When Lindsay disembarked, he found customs deserted.