Jeb Stuart Ho stood in the doorway of the domed room. Slowly and discreetly his eyes moved across its mysteries. His gaze stopped at the ribbed, undulating section of wall. It was the outside face of the beast. The living meditation that made the efforts of the brotherhood possible. He stared at it in reverence and awe. It was the whole centre and meaning of the temple. The bio-cybernetic mass of circuits and organic life was both master and servant. It computed the patterns from which the brothers made their predictions. It gave early warning of progressions that could become critical, and it ordered the brothers when and where to make their executive interventions.
To Jeb Stuart Ho it was the centre point of his existence. It was the permanence of the state that he could only achieve by terminal meditation. He admired the brothers who caressed the beast, the ones whose silver needles penetrated its transparent hide. He respected the skills with which they transferred information and instruction to and from the huge thinking unit.
He admired and respected them, but he didn’t envy them. He had his own skills. He was, after all, an executive of the brotherhood. His training was just as awesome.
One of the black figures bent over the expanse of plan table straightened, detached itself from the group and approached Jeb Stuart Ho. The face above the black robe was that of a very old man. The skin was pink and soft like a baby’s, terribly wrinkled and totally without hair. The eyes, however, had the look of purposeful calm that was common to all of the brothers.
The old man halted in front of Jeb Stuart Ho and bowed. Jeb Stuart Ho returned the bow.
‘I have prepared, Teacher.’
The old man nodded gravely.
‘And you are ready?’
His voice had none of the weakness or quaver that normally come with great age. Jeb Stuart Ho looked straight at the old man.
‘I am ready, Teacher.’
The teacher raised in eyebrow and smiled gently.
‘You are very certain for one who faces his first intervention.’
‘All my training has led me to this point, and will carry me far beyond it.’
The teacher’s eyes twinkled.
‘So should you fail, the fault will lie in your training?’
Jeb Stuart Ho stood stiffly.
‘I will not fail, Teacher.’
‘You don’t even know the details of the task that awaits you, Jeb Stuart Ho.’
‘I will not fail.’
‘As I said before, you are very confident.’
‘An individual must not allow a false humility to cloud the knowledge of himself.’
‘And you believe you have knowledge of your own readiness?’
‘I know I am ready.’
‘Suppose you were in error when you made this analysis of yourself?’
‘If I was in error I would not be ready for the task.’
The teacher nodded.
‘Then it must be the time for your instruction in the labours you have to perform.’
He took Jeb Stuart Ho by the arm, and led him back towards the carved doors.
‘We will go to my chamber.’
The teacher led the way past the two impassive attendants, and back down the stone corridor. He halted before a door, opened it and ushered Jeb Stuart Ho inside. The room was similar to the one in which Jeb Stuart Ho had meditated. The water clock stood against the wall, the single candle burned in its holder. In this room, however, two raised daises stood side by side. Jeb Stuart Ho stood beside one of them until the teacher had seated himself. Then he too sat down, automatically crossing his legs and lacing his fingers in an attitude of meditation. There was a long pause while the teacher stared straight forward, apparently studying the water clock. Jeb Stuart Ho summoned energy to preserve his patience. Despite all his training he was still eager to learn about the task. At last the teacher spoke.
‘We are required once again to intervene in the affairs of the world outside. Once again their pattern traces a path towards disaster.’
‘I am eager to learn my part.’
The teacher continued to stare straight ahead.
‘The loaf baked in eagerness will lie heavily in the pan. A wise man will not eat of it, lest he break his teeth.’
Jeb Stuart Ho bowed his head in submission. He knew he stood corrected. There was another long pause before the teacher spoke again. The water clock dripped softly.
‘The task you are being set will not be simple. It can be a heavy load. Your back must be strong enough to bear it.’
This time, Jeb Stuart Ho said nothing. The teacher continued.
‘The probability has almost reached maximum that large areas of the rim, and to a lesser extent the inner sectors, will disrupt.’
He paused, and again Jeb Stuart Ho said nothing.
‘The result of this disruption will be twofold. A state of war will occur which will escalate unchecked until the antagonized will begin to destroy their opponents’ stasis generators, and disrupt the territory they occupy. They will cause a so far uncalculated shift in the balance of our world. Taking into account the most favourable conditions for stasis, the resultant loss of existing inhabited space would be a minimum of 65.79 per cent.’
Jeb Stuart Ho began to feel the magnitude of the task he was being set. Doubt hovered in the corner of his mind, but he controlled his will and it faded. The teacher went on.
‘The second danger that would result from this situation is that the release of energy from a certain level of warfare would be a considerable attraction to the disrupters. They would gravitate towards the source of energy by the shortest possible route. That would certainly involve many of them cutting through the normally undisturbed central sectors. In this event the space and, of course, population loss could be as high as 98.51 per cent.’
The information fell about Jeb Stuart Ho’s shoulders like a heavy yoke. It was far worse than purely physical weight. He was used to those. In advanced combat training the body is often loaded to its very limit. This burden of responsibility would go far beyond that. He would have to be sure-footed and have strength in excess of anything he had experienced. His boast of being ready seemed empty and childish. Still he kept silent, and the teacher continued his instruction.
‘All our calculations lead us to one conclusion. There is a single individual. The individual’s future actions will be the seeds of this disaster. If they are allowed to germinate and grow, the flowers that eventually bloom will be terrible to look upon.’
Jeb Stuart Ho looked straight ahead.
‘It will be my task to pluck those flowers?’
‘It will be your task to make sure that seeds never put forth shoots.’
‘I must intervene and prevent the individual from taking such action as will precipitate disaster?’
The teacher looked at Jeb Stuart Ho for the first time.
‘It is graver than that. The actions and their effect on this pattern are too complex. You must remove the individual.’
‘I must kill, Teacher?’
‘You must kill, Jeb Stuart Ho.’
There was a long silence. Jeb Stuart Ho looked down at his hands, and then straight ahead.
‘Who is the subject?’
‘A female, current age thirteen, technocrat upbringing. You will receive a data package as you depart.’