And here's another one: let's suppose the Durani technique is as safe as he says it is, and doesn't do irreparable harm to anybody's soul. Let's suppose again that his synthesized souls have even been passing the test of Judgment, But nothing manmade can hope to match God's perfection.
What happens if a misassembled soul does break apart on death, leaving a poor apsychic all dressed up with no place to go? To what sort of recompense is his family entitled?
All at once, I wished again that magic were impossible, that we just lived in a mechanical world. Yes, I know life would be a lot harder, but it would be a lot simpler, too. The trouble with technology is that, as soon as it solves a problem, the alleged solution presents two new ones.
But the trouble with no technology, of course, is that problems don't get solved. I don't suppose apsychics, suddenly offered the chance for a better hereafter, would worry about risks. I wouldn't, in their shoes.
I guess nothing is ever simple. Maybe it's just as well. If things were simple, we wouldn't need an Environmental Perfection Agency and I'd be out of a job.
Caught in my own brown study, I'd missed a couple of sentences. When my ears woke up again, Durani was saying,
"-may develop a sampling technique to bring back components only from what you might term mahatnws, great souls, those who have spirit to spare."
"Very interesting," I answered, and so it was, though not altogether in the way he'd intended it. Sounded to me as though he had some concerns over safety himself. I wondered who his lawyers were. I hoped he had a good team, because I had the feeling - the strong feeling - he'd need e.
"Is there anything further, Inspector Fisher?' he asked. one.
He'd relaxed now; I guess he only got vehement when he thought his interests were endangered. A lot of people are like that. "That's about it for now," I told him, whereupon he relaxed even further. He thought the operative phrase there was that's about it; I thought it was for now. He'd done something new and splendid, all right, but I wasn't sure he'd ever realize any profit from it. He hadn't had a lawyer at his beck and call the week before. He'd need one soon, or more likely a whole swarm of them.
Remembering his call reminded me how many I - and Bea - had fielded all at once. I asked my watch what time it was, found out it was a few minutes before three. I decided to go over to the Devonshire Land Management Consortium offices and find out just how so many of their dients found out about the EPA investigation so fast.
My sigil got me into the office of a markgrafin charge of consortiate relations, a redheaded chap with hairy ears whose name was Peabody. He showed a full set of teeth undoubtedly kept so snowy white by sympathetic magic (I wondered what would happen if a forest fire spilled soot all over the snow to which those teeth were attuned).
I give him credit: he didn't try to cast any spells over me.
"Of course we notified our clients," he said when I asked him my question. "Their interests were impacted by your search of files at the containment site, so we might have been liable to civil penalty had we kept silent."
"All right, Mr. Peabody, thanks for your time," I said. Put that way, he had a point. I might have thought better of him if he'd talked about loyalty instead of liability, but how much can you expect from a mercenary in a fancy suit?
After that, I headed for home. I picked up a daily once I got off the freeway, for the sake of the sport more than anything else. Over in Japan, I saw, the Giants had beaten the Dragons for their league tide. And closer to home, the Angels and Blue Devils played to a scoreless tie.
"Might as well be real life," I muttered when I saw that.
Then I shook my head. In real life, the Cardinals would never have been higher in the standings than the Angels.
But looking at the score gave me an idea. I called Judy.
"Feel like a Zoroastrian lunch tomorrow?" I asked her.
She giggled. "Sounds good. But to make it perfect, I ought to fly my carpet After all, it's an Ahura-Mazda."
"That's right, you did buy an import last year, didn't you?"
I said. "But let me pick you up instead afterwards anyhow." I explained what I was doing with my red-letter list.
That'll be fine," Judy said. "Nice you get a chance to be away from the office part of your day Too bad it couldn't be mornings, though." She knows how much I hate staff meetings.
I smacked myself in the forehead. "I should have thought of that But listen to what I came across today-" I told her about Ramzan Durani and Slow Jinn Fizz.
"That's exciting!" she breathed. To give those poor people hope… Have they worked aO the gremlins out of the process?"
"I couldn't tell you. Durani talks like he has, but it's his operation, so you'd expect him to."
"Yes," Judy said. "Of course, even if he has, the moment anything goes wrong the lawyers will say he hasn't The spiritual implications are - overwhelming is the word that comes to mind."
"You know one of the reasons I love you?" I said. She didn't answer, just waited for me to go on, so I did: "You see implications. So many people don't; they just go 'Oh, how marvelous!' without stopping to think what their marvels end up costing them."
Thank you," she said, her voice surprisingly serious.
That doesn't sound anywhere near as romantic as something like 'You have beautiful eyes,' but I think it gives us a much better promise of lasting. I feel the same way about you, just so you know."
"What, that I have beautiful eyes?" I said. She snorted. I added, "Besides, I told you that was just one of the reasons. I wish you were here right now, so we could try one of the others."
"Now what might that be?" She sounded so perfectly innocent she was perfectly unbelievable. She didn't even believe herself: "I wish I were over there, too, honey, but "I've got to finish working out this astrology problem for my class.
Reconciling western and Hanese systems is a bitch and a half. I'll see you tomorrow for lunch."
Twelve-thirty all right?"
"Sounds good; 'Bye."
Judy works in a part of East A.C. where you hear Spaimsh spoken in the streets about as often as English. The rage for Zoroastrian diners has reached even there, though. Next year, no doubt, they'll be passe; right now, they're fun.
The one trouble with those places is that Judy and I can't enjoy them to the fullest, because a lot of their dishes feature deviled ham. We managed, though. I ate angel - hair pasta and devfl's - food cake, while she had a devfled-egg-salad sandwich and angelfood cake. Just names, sure, but names have power.
"So where are you going this afternoon?" Judy asked while we waited for the waitress to bring us our lunches.
"Up to Loki, in Burbank," I said. "I have the feeling their parchmentwork didn't report half of what they're dumping.
They have a real reputation for secrecy; nobody except them and the military knows what goes on at the Cobold Works up in the desert, and nobody at all, it looks like, knows - or will say - what comes out of the Cobold Works."
They're working in the Garuda Bird project, too, aren't they?" Judy said.
That's right - and if you think I'm going up there partly so I can learn more about that you're right" I admitted.
Space travel has fascinated me ever since the first magic mirror let us see the far side of the moon back when I was a kid.