"And why do you figure she'll do what I tell her to?"
"Because she loves you. This is a phenomenon we understand no better than we do the source of the power of the Imago, but we have seen its effect. She is immediately responsive to your will."
"But I don't love her!"
"Therefore you are objective. This is appropriate."
Jack ground his teeth. "Why don't you take a flying fuck at the nearest sun?"
"This is a rhetorical question?"
"This is a nonrhetorical no. I won't do that to Tappy."
Abe paused only that fraction of a second that passed for machine confusion. "Why?"
"Because it isn't fair to Tappy. She may be the host for the Imago, but she deserves some joy of life, and I refuse to be the one who denies that to her. Especially I refuse to toy further with her emotions. She never did deserve that."
"It is concern for her larger welfare that motivates you?"
"Yes. Want to verify it in your survey chamber?"
"No. We accept this. But we must remind you that Tappy's alternatives and ours are limited. We believe that the course we ask of you is best in the circumstance."
"Maybe you'd better spell out those alternatives for me."
"The first we have described: you will work with her, under our guidance, in this manner circumventing the training we are unable to provide."
"Got it."
"The second is to delay until the Gaol arrive and capture her. The seven of us will then be destroyed, and Tappy will be cocooned for the duration of her human life, allowed neither freedom nor death."
"God, no! I heard about that. No way."
"The third is the easiest and perhaps best, but we suspect you will object to it also."
"Maybe. Let's have it." He figured he had them on the run now.
"To destroy the host immediately, freeing the Imago for a future host who may have better prospects."
Then Jack knew he had lost his ploy. Of course that made sense! They served the Imago, not the host. They did have an easy way out. But it was impossible for him. Tappy had to live!
"You win. I will cooperate in the first course."
"We thought you would. However, your reactions have been irregular."
"But I have a condition."
"Is this something that will facilitate your effort?"
"I think so. You have told me the bleak alternatives. Now I'm telling you that you can't treat Tappy like a machine. You want me to make her do things which she fears will make her independent of me. That's the one kind of thing she won't do for me: help me get rid of her. Not if she knows what she's doing."
"We do not follow your logic."
"You don't have to. Just take my word for it. If I have to do your dirt, it has to be my way."
"What is your way?"
"Put us in your greenhouse."
Again that pause. "If this is not effective, we shall have to destroy both of you before the Gaol arrive."
They were machines. They did not bluff. He was putting his life on the line, and Tappy's. "Just don't jump the gun, okay?"
"You are asking us not to act prematurely?"
"Yes."
"Then we shall do it your way. When she is able to see you and talk to you, you must emerge from the garden. Then we will know that the two of you are ready.
Jack nerved himself, and gave himself no time to waver "Then get on with it. Where's Tappy?"
The room widened. There stood Tappy, in the green dress and yellow sash he had imagined during the survey, with the matching ribbon She was unscarred, and her feet were in yellow slippers, without trace of any leg brace. Her body seemed to have filled out somewhat, though that could have been the enhancement of the dress There was an intangible glow about her, which could have been the animation of the strengthening Imago, or of the love they said she felt for him, Jack. She was, to his eyes, at once young and vulnerable and in need of protection and absolutely beautiful in her own right.
Then he saw that she held a book in her hand. That would be The Little Prince. He felt like laughing and crying, without being quite sure why.
"Tappy," he said
She turned toward the sound of his voice, smiling. In her face was sheer adoration. But that was not what shocked him
It was that both he and the AI had seriously misjudged the situation in one vital respect. There was no chance of his deceiving or betraying Tappy. He would never do that. It was that his objectivity, which they depended on, was threatened.
He was in the process of falling in love with her.
Then the chamber faded, and strange vegetation appeared around them. They were in the garden.
Chapter 6
The three-day garden, Jack thought.
The many-colored wonder around him, the exotic plants and queer insects, the multitude of birdsongs would, under other circumstances, have thrilled him. He would have run from this fascinating growth to that fascinating growth and dragged Tappy behind him while he chattered away, describing everything he saw, moving her hand so that she could feel the trunks and leaves and fruits and berries, all of them strange and delightful.
Not now. All he could think of was the time limit they had. Three days. He had to perform a miracle before they had passed. And he was no god. God, he was no god!
The flaming colors and the varied shapes he saw did not blaze loveliness and form beauty. They imaged forth despair.
He closed his eyes to shut out the garden. He needed to think without distractions. A human in an unfamiliar place tended to think unfamiliar thoughts. It did not slide along the old groove, it lacked the oil of the accustomed, it halted because of the faction of the strange. True, the unfamiliar would, in time, become the familiar. But time was what he did not have.
He felt Tappy's left hand touch his right shoulder, move down his arm, find his right hand, and slip hers into his. It was as if the correct key had been inserted into the correct lock. But, for some reason, the key could not turn.
He said, "It'll be all right, Tappy We'll make it."
He opened his eyes. She was standing by his side, her head turned to look at him. Look? She could not see. If he did not find a way soon to restore her vision, both of them would be dead and forever sightless. That thought soared like a silent scream from the garden and drilled into the sky.
He was close to breaking down.
Become at ease with the surroundings, he told himself. Then you can think straight, whatever pressure you might be under. Maybe.
The sky was blue, and the sun, now straight overhead, looked like Earth s. It could be real or it could be an illusion made by the AI. It made no difference. It was a clock. When it was at the zenith for the fourth time, it would mark the end of the third day.
Oh, Time! Run slowly! Flow no faster than a glacier!
Still holding Tappy's hand, he turned toward her. She was smiling as if she knew something he did not. He was going to ask her if she really did when he saw something out of the corner of his eye. He switched hands and kept on turning. The object was a huge tent that looked like one of those he'd seen in Arabian Nights movies. Caliph Haroun al-Rashid's or Aladdin's. It was scarlet with strange green, yellow, black, and white symbols on it, with a wide entrance over which sheer drapes fell, with symbol-bearing flags fluttering in a light breeze. He led Tappy into its cool interior. The ground was covered with very thick Oriental-type rugs displaying abstract designs. Six rooms were within, gauzy drapes forming their walls. In the center of the entrance room was a marble fountain with running water. A faint quite-pleasant musky odor was everywhere.
He found a table large enough for six diners. On it were many covered dishes and silver cups and cutlery. In two other rooms were beds suspended from the overhead poles. One room contained a washbowl, a bathtub, and a toilet. Plenty of towels, washrags, soap, toothbrushes, toothpaste, and toilet paper. Everything, in fact, including cosmetics, that they could possibly need. Much more than they could use in three days.