“You don’t understand a fraction of the truth. Not a millionth of it. The whole scene, the whole framework, was composed of loss. Not just the house, even though it was the first place I’d been to where I felt I could grasp all the overtones of the word ‘home’—not just Kate, even though with her I’d also started to comprehend for the first time what one can imply by the word ‘love.’ No, there was more on top of that, something far closer to me. Loss of the control which had enabled me to change identities at will. That blew away on the wind the moment I realized I’d struck the last person in the world I could want to hurt.”
“Are you certain she would have kept that casual promise about returning from KC? Obtaining a permit to transport her pet mountain lion would have been incredibly difficult. What grounds did you have for believing that she was sincere?”
“Among other things, the fact that she had kept a promise made to that mountain lion. She’s not the sort to forget any promise. And by then I’d figured out why else she’d kept on enrolling for course after unrelated course at the same university. Basically it was to provide her with a sense of pattern. She wanted her world-picture to include a little of everything, viewed from the same spot with the same perspective. She’d have been prepared to continue for another decade if necessary.”
“But she met you, and living with you was an education in itself. I see. Well, I can accept the idea. Ten years at Tarnover, at three million per, should indeed have equipped you with data you could pass on.”
“I suspect your sense of humor is limited to irony. Do you ever laugh at a joke?”
“Seldom. I’ve heard virtually all of them before.”
“No doubt among the components of human personality you’re trying to analyze humor is on the list right next to grief.”
“Directly afterward. H follows G.”
There was a pause.
“You know, this is the first time I’ve not been sure whether you’re bleating me.”
“Work it out for yourself.” Freeman rose and stretched. “It will occupy your mind until our next session.”
STRIKE ONE
After hitting Kate …
That his world had been repainted in shades of bitterness was no defense. Some of these his new neighbors—his new friends—were old enough to have seen not one house but a whole city fall in ruin.
Anyhow, what apology could he offer in a context where even dogs could distinguish force from violence? The tribers who thought it amusing to lob mortar shells at random into a peaceful community had been rounded up. Some were tooth-marked. But the bites had been precisely controlled. That arm had wielded a gun or knife; therefore those fingers had been obliged to open and let the weapon fall. That pair of legs had tried to carry the owner away; therefore that ankle had been nipped just hard enough to make him stumble. All for good reason.
His reason for hitting Kate was not good. They told him why, in quiet patient tones. Deaf to their arguments, he hurled back false justification mixed with insult, until at last they glanced at one another, shrugged and left him.
It was not cold, that night he spent sitting on a stump and staring at the shell of the house. But in his heart there was an arctic chill of such indescribable shame as he had not felt since he became an adult.
In the end he simply walked away, not caring where.
And came many hours later to the place which had vomited over Precipice the Blackass tribe. It was sweaty dust from all-day walking which made his shoes loathsome to his feet, but it seemed to him like the detritus of human cruelty: the materialized version of bloodlust, its ectoplasm.
“I don’t know who I am,” he said to an incurious passerby as he entered Quemadura.
“I don’t know who the hell you are either,” the stranger snapped, pushing past.
He pondered that.
IGNORANTIA NIHIL EXCUSAT
Ted Horovitz made necessary adjustments to the form-letter program, tapped the print key, and read the result as it emerged from the machine. This, thank goodness, was the last of the thirty-seven.
“Dear Mrs. Young, your son Jabez was arrested here last night while in possession of four deadly weapons of which one, a pistol, had been used within the previous few minutes. The hearing has been set for 10:10 tomorrow. You may wish to employ counsel, in which case the enclosed summary of evidence should be furnished to him or her; otherwise you may rest assured that Jabez will be represented by a competent lawyer appointed by the court. He has declared himself unaware of the fact that under our judicial code conviction for this crime entails a mandatory sentence of not less than one year’s supervised rehabilitation during which period the convict is forbidden to leave the town limits. (There is no maximum length for such a sentence.) Please note that one of the oldest of all legal principles states: ‘Ignorance of the law excuses nothing.’ In other words neither a defense nor an appeal may be founded on the plea, ‘I didn’t know.’ Yours, &c.”
Turning hopefully to Brad Compton, who among his various other roles acted as their chief legal counselor, he said, “So that’s all until the court assembles, right?”
“Far as I’m concerned,” Brad grunted. “But don’t relax too soon. I was talking to Sweetwater this morning, and it seems she’s found something you have to—”
“Ted!” A shrill cry from outside.
“I could half believe that woman’s telepathic,” Ted sighed, tapping out his pipe prior to refilling it. “Yes, Sweetwater, come right in!”
She entered, carrying a folded stack of computer printouts, which she dumped on a table at Ted’s side. Dropping into a chair, she slapped the pile of paper with her open palm.
“I knew it. I knew what Sandy told us the other night at Josh and Lorna’s rang a bell in my memory. A long way back—over eleven years—but it was the kind of call you get once in a lifetime. Once I started digging, I got correlation after correlation. Take a look.”
Ted, frowning, complied; Brad came around behind his chair to read over his shoulder.
There was a long silence, but for the rustle of the concertinaed sheets.
At last Ted said, not looking up, “Any news of him?”
Sweetwater shook her head. “Nor Kate either.”
“Kate left town,” Brad said. “Took the railcar about seven thirty. But nobody knows what’s become of Sandy.”
“All of us, though,” Ted muttered, “know what’s apt to become of him … don’t we?”
They both nodded.
“Better call Suzy,” Ted said, leaning back with a sigh. “I got a councilman’s motion to submit.”
“Making Sandy a freeman of Precipice?” Sweet-water suggested. “Making our defenses his defenses?”
“Mm-hm.”
“Well, naturally you have my vote. But …”
“But what?”
“Have you forgotten? We don’t know who he is. He told us what. He didn’t think to tell us who.”
Ted’s jaw dropped. “His code?” he said after a pause.
“I checked immediately. No such. It’s been deleted. And doubtless his protective phage went with it.”
“That makes the job more difficult,” Brad said. “I still think it ought to be done. And when she reads this information you’ve uncovered, I’m certain Suzy will agree.”
COLLAPSE OF STOUT PARTY
“Interesting. Very interesting. This might save a lot of trouble. Say, Perce!”
“Yes?”
“Know that hole-in-corner place Precipice CA? Looks like their sheriff went a step too far.”
“Oh, Gerry. Oh, Gerry. If you weren’t new around here I guess you’d realize nothing at Precipice can go too far. The pokers from Claes who wrote the deal they have with the government were the smartest con men that ever pulled wool over the eyes of a Washington sheep. But for once I’ll bite. It would be great to undermine them. What you got?”