Then began the visits of Madrigo, his mentor. Methodically, with sure touches, he began the job of reconstituting Boaz’s shattered mentality. Boaz could hear now the mentor’s quiet, sympathetic voice. Ataraxy was all. A contented life was impossible without it. Everything that happened, no matter how good or how bad, must simply be accepted, with equanimity.
Madrigo agreed that some experiences were dread enough to overcome even the most highly controlled human consciousness, and Boaz had been through something that could destroy any normal psyche utterly. Without philosophy there would be no hope for him. But there was philosophy, and the mind, in the last analysis, was stronger than all, simply because it was eternal while experiences were only temporary.
Ataraxy must be striven for. Pleasure and pain, however intense the degree, must never be acknowledged as a master.
‘After all, are not your chosen names Joachim and Boaz, the two pillars of universal stability?’
‘Yes,’ said Boaz, ‘but I am beginning to curse those names….’
‘Take the large view,’ the mentor told him. ‘When the world ends, when all is absorbed in mind-fire, your accident will take on a different aspect. It will not seem fearsome, then.’
‘No!’ Boaz protested with a passion that broke through the resolve that Madrigo had patiently been building in him. ‘I do not believe mind-fire sees experience as illusory or unreal – that would be to render the creation meaningless! The world is real, mentor, you have taught me that. My sufferings were real! They cannot be mitigated by a change of view!’
To that, Madrigo remained silent.
Boaz slumped in his chair, head and shoulders slouched forward as though he were about to fall out of it. The memories faded, then disintegrated and flew apart like a flock of birds startled by a gunshot.
A set of luminous dials on the wall of the cabin quivered. From the drive down below a fuzzy whine, his constant companion, permeated the cabin.
A chime gonged. It was time to change the fuel rods.
With an effort he lurched reluctantly up from his chair. He flexed his stiffened limbs, and turned up the cabin’s dim lighting.
He scanned the dials. He would soon be in Harkio.
Then he would know whether the lead he had was worth anything or not.
3
BY THIS EDICT:
Experimentation aimed at the establishment of travel through time is forbidden UNDER PAIN OF DEATH.
Experimentation aimed at control over the time flow is forbidden UNDER PAIN OF DEATH.
Experimentation aimed at retrieving objects from past or future states is forbidden UNDER PAIN OF DEATH.
Experimentation aimed at gaining direct consciousness of or retrieving information from past or future states is forbidden UNDER PAIN OF DEATH.
Possession of any artifact or natural object exhibiting one or more of the above properties is forbidden UNDER PAIN OF DEATH. Possession of any document containing explicit data relating thereto is forbidden UNDER PAIN OF DEATH.
Acts of experimentation, research or inquiry into the nature of time are forbidden UNDER PAIN OF LIFE IMPRISONMENT OR DEATH unless with the express permission of the Office of Scientific Regulation. Publication of confirmed or theoretical data relating thereto is forbidden UNDER PAIN OF LIFE IMPRISONMENT OR DEATH unless with the express permission of the Office of Scientific Regulation.
Gare Romrey left Karti’s in a hurry, leaving his friends there feeling decidedly less friendly. Outplanet in a rented Stardiver, he paused within call range just before going into hype, and dialled through. Being what he was, he was quite unable to resist this last look back.
Karti’s Dive Infee Club came up on the cage plate, sour light from the ceiling strips falling on stained walls and tattered furniture. The bar was sticky with spilled drinks to which adhered ash from waft sticks. Only about half a dozen people were visible – the others had decamped in an effort to stop Romrey from reaching the ship ground. They crowded the screen when they realized who was bleeping them.
Up front was the thin-faced redheaded kosher pimp with the archaic cognomen of Jericho Junkie. Romrey flashed him a quick smile.
‘I thought I’d just explain, boys—’
‘He’s offplanet,’ someone behind Jericho muttered. The purveyor ponce (he supplied a specialized sexual taste involving a rare genetic type of woman, a certain drug and a specially treated aphrodisiac food) glared at Romrey with hot eyes. ‘One chance, Romrey. You’ve got one chance to get back here with the cube. Otherwise—’
‘This, you mean?’ Romrey held up the half-inch-sized memory cube which Jericho had been selling by lottery and which he had filched just before the numbers were about to be called. ‘You’ve got to trust me, boys. I thought of a better plan, that’s all. I asked myself what would happen if one of you won the cube. What would you do with it? Go out there and try to land on Meirjain?’ He shook his head. ‘It would be a fiasco. Me, now—I can handle a job like that. When I get back I’ll split the incomings with you.’
Snorts of indignation expressed a general disbelief in his last pronouncement. ‘Whoever won the cube could have sold it,’ Jericho said.
Romrey shook his head again. ‘Negative thinking. This way I – we – strike big.’
A bull-shouldered alec shoved Jericho aside and thrust his jaw out at Romrey, who recognized him as Ossuco, a carcass dealer. ‘We know where you’re going, you rat, and we’ll catch up with you. I got a feeling I would have drawn that ticket. I’d like to know what makes you think you could get away with it.’
Romrey picked up the pack of cards lying on the control board and fanned them open, holding them up before the cage screen. ‘These told me to do it.’
He let them gawp for a moment at the numbered picture cards, before he cut them off.
Then he swivelled his seat to face the engine controls. He gripped the manual handles and pushed them forward. Energy spurted from the fuel rods as the Stardiver put on speed. With a shudder he hit c; then he was riding smoothly, heading for the centre of the Harkio region where it nearly touched the Brilliancy Cluster.
He was grinning with pleasure when he switched to auto. He always enjoyed going through c on manual.
The journey to Sarsuce would take a few days. He picked up the memory cube again and plugged it into the ’diver’s starmap. The Brilliancy Cluster came up on the navigation screen. The view was from Sarsuce, or rather from Sarsuce’s sun, the Econosphere planet nearest to the cluster. A red arrow blinked on and off, pointing out the spot where Meirjain was due to make its appearance. At the bottom of the screen ran boxed lines of figures, including a date.
Absentmindedly Romrey reached into the larder chute and took out a pinana. He peeled off the orange-hued skin while he studied the screen. It was his favorite fruit: a banana into which the flavor of pineapple had been delicately, genetically blended.
The cluster was, to be sure, a beautiful if familiar sight. Romrey’s attention focused on the red arrow, surrounded as it was by piles of vari-colored stars. He read the data box, making a rough estimate of times and distances.
How many other people had this data? It was supposed to be rare, but—
Jericho Junkie claimed to have got it during a trip to Sarsuce, from the Meirjain tracker himself. Romrey turned from the screen. One hand picked up the deck of cards again, and expertly laid out a row while he bit into the pinana. He frowned as he tried to interpret the sequence. The Inverted Man reversed, followed by the ten of laser rods, followed by the eight of ciboria…. He stopped, puzzled. Deceit, leading to fulfilment.