The Tubeheads

by

David K Shute

© 2014 David K Shute All Right Reserved

Chapter One

ALISSA

Just before she left her mundane life in Accounts Payable, Alissa Drake put the finishing touches to a solution to the department's nastiest problem - thousands of meters of mylar film billed in marks instead of feet billed in US dollars. Alissa used her supervisor's ID to gain access to the department's miniscule segment of discretionary mainframe memory and quickly wrote up a routine program that converted meters into feet and then marks into dollars, according to the exchange rate Alissa looked up in the Wall Street Journal. She was already looking forward to getting the Wall Street Journal each morning.

Leo, she could tell her boss, I need my own subscription for my records. She also needed it for the night courses she took in Business Administration. She wouldn't have to wait until the junior eagles were done reading it and spilling coffee on it anymore.

Alissa took the liberty, while she was in the mode, to whip together a little program that dumped into a file the purchase order number and amount in US dollars that Purchasing spent on converting dollars into foreign currency. The same mylar film could be billed and paid for in pennies instead of pfennings, as far as Alissa could see, but Purchasing always liked to pull out their 'appropriate vendor relations policy' and explain that when in Frankfurt and so on. Alissa thought the boys in Purchasing just wanted to pretend they were international wheeler-dealers. She set her little program to spinning its file together. The massive, mainframe computer chewed away on the seventy thousand items in the Purchase and Payment System, searching for foreign currency. Alissa switched to system admininistrator mode to watch the progress of the program.

She just knew there were lots of bad exchanges on foreign contracts. Her simple, common sense little macro went about its little task simply proving her point. The file continued to grow in size. Purchasing's policy, in this case at least, didn't make any cents.

While she was watching the processes, Alissa noticed a sudden jump in the speed, then her file dumped out on the screen. Instead of a static list of voucher numbers and amounts, Alissa got a picture on her terminal screen.

Alissa recognized the street immediately. It was hardly wider than an alleyway and stucco stone fences hedged it in on both sides. Immediately behind these fences rose the townhouses, brick on the one side, stucco on the other. The alleyway sloped down to a wider street. It was Turin, Italy, one of the places she'd been when she took that trip to Italy with her brother. How she loved Turin, almost as much as Rome. Alissa started dreaming about another vacation to Turin again, but then woke herself up.

She was held responsible here, and something really weird was happening with the computer. She immediately suspected Rodney, the strange guy in the next cubicle who knew more about computers than he did about people. She shook herself a bit, closed her eyes, cleared out the dreamy cobwebs and went back to work. She had Rodney to deal with now. She focussed on the picture on her screen.

It had to be midday on St. Michele street in Turin. There were no people walking about the stone walks, lunchtime. Sunlight splashed on the awnings overhanging the occasional storefronts. The stoops of all the townhouses glistened in the bright sun. Up two blocks and to the right should be the Fountain of Mary. How she would love to take that stroll right now.

Here she was dreaming again. Alissa snapped herself out of it and looked down the street. Many of the townhouses rose three stories, some stepped up and back to a fourth story with a garret under a mansard roof, here and there was a turret or a gabled extension. The more Alissa studied the view down the street, the more convinced she became it wasn't Turin. Here a building with quoins and marble lintles, there another next to it is strictly rectangular except for the elliptical shape of the windows.

The buildings all had beauty in their own way; they somehow just didn't fit together. The was no town Alissa knew of, except maybe Disneytown. Another funny thing struck her: the street wasn't paved! It was grass, like golf courses. Little meadow flowers grew in dumps here and there, and some tiny stumps of dogwood-looking things rose around the edges of the road. The sidewalks were stone like Turin all right - but this stone was marble, all the way marble. The whole scene stunned Alissa a bit. She reached out to steady herself on the edge of her desk, only the desk wasn't there. Nor her cubicle station. Nor the entire office where she sat. Or was sitting. Alissa whirled around to look at her back.

Stone and silica steps, carved at the edges into little creatures, rose between the black iron rails up to a large landing. The highly-polished and stout looking mahagony door bore a lion's head knocker made of brass.

Maybe she wasn't at work, she just dreamed she went to work this morning. Now she was just dreaming that she was in this weird place. She liked the looks of that mahagony door with the lion's head knocker. The townhouse was cute, with its bay windows, pale brick and black iron trim. Wispy white curtains hung in the windows, fluttering a bit in the breeze. She crossed the grassy street and went up the steps to the door.

She knocked. Nobody answered, and this was a dream, so she went in.

All the walls in the foyer were stark, craggy white, interrupted only by a cascading arrangement of naturalist oil paintings, each a painting depicting one section of the same falls. A black parson's table, gleeming like black onyx, stood against the wall. Alissa went up to the table and ran her hand on the cool, smooth stone. Alissa thought it might be fake marble, because the table felt just a little plastic. The greyish white flagstone at her feet felt like the real thing, though. A large arch to her left opened out into the living room. She went into the living room. The baby grand piano drew her in.

This baby grand looked a lot like the Steinway she used to practice on. Alissa took four years of strife-torn lessons with an expensive teacher at New England Conservatory. Both her brother and her father worked extra shifts to buy her practice time on that piano. Now she could hardly play the Schumann composition they loved so much to hear. A person can do anything in their dreams, Alissa figured, so why not play Schumann on this beautiful piano.

Crossing the large and airy living room to the piano, Alissa noticed the cozy windowseat in the bay.

A sofa and two monstrously overstuffed chairs cuddled up to the fireplace, mantle the same black as the table.

This baby grand was not a Steinway. Many thin slats of wood connected the seat to the base of the piano, unlike any piano, never mind Steinway, Alissa had ever seen. She sat down on the bench, careful not to put her feet on any of the slats. She spread her fmgers and hit the opening chords of Schumann's opus 7.

The piano itself rang true as any piano. The chords sounded dissonant, Alissa missed a lot of notes. Nonetheless, she plowed into the piece, hoping she would warm up. A ragged version of Schumann's wonderful melody echoed in the large room. Disgusted, Alissa banged the opening chord again. Again it rang dissonant.

"Please identify the piece we are playing," said the piano. Alissa got right up off the bench and stood back from the piano.

"Please identify the piece we are playing," repeated the piano. Alissa narrowed the source of the voice down to the piano, a conclusion she could hardly believe. Yet she was sure the sound was coming from nowhere else.

What the hell, she went along with the dream. "Schumann 7," she replied, feeling quite thoroughly foolish for talking to a piano.

"Is the dissonance intended in the style as you played it, or can we modify it to be harmony?" the piano very gently inquired.

"No it is not intended," replied Alissa equally gently, making fun of the piano.

The piano took quite a while to say anything more. Then it said, "Do you know the filename and access pathname for that piece?"

Alissa hesitated. "What are you, some kind of robot?" Alissa began to wonder who was the dummy here.

"Let's play it. You lead and I will learn." The piano waited eagerly.

Alissa did not sit down on the bench. She was not even sure why she reached over to the keys and played the opening chords again. It rang sweet and perfect.

She moved into the piece. It positively soared into the sunlit open air of the high-ceilinged townhouse. She knew she was playing some of the wrong notes, yet the piece sounded perfect. It reminded her of her final recital at the Conservatory, when this piece brought the audience to its feet and tears to the eyes of her family. It was a hoax and she stopped playing. The piano played on, repeating as much of the piece as Alissa played. It then deduced the next movement and repeated itself again.

"Oh stop," muttered Alissa. What fun is playing the piano when you don't get what you play. The piano stopped playing.

"Would you like to lead another piece?" asked the humbled piano.

"Oh shut up," snapped Alissa. She heard nothing more from it. She went to the windowbox. There couldn't be anything funny about a simple windowseat. Besides, it was simply lovely and she had to sit in this bay for a while.

The seatcushion covers were cotton, a tight floral pattern in pinks and red with yellow. The curtains were gauze; the heavier drapes now drawn back were made of silk. Or it least it felt that way to Alissa.

The warm sun over the rooftops soon lulled Alissa into a thinking mood. The sun was real enough, so was this windowseat. The piano wasn't exactly for real, though this is what bothered Alissa. When she got right down to it, all of it was real. Sit on it, touch it, bump into it real. Yet this could be only a dream.

She still had to be at work, and she passed out or something. She would wake up tomorrow and have to go to work again. Even still, the windowseat covers were a little rough to the touch. This was one mighty real dream.

Alissa decided she needed to think about this for a while. Each time she could not conclude she was dreaming, she grew a little more panicked.

Her mother always told her, "When you get lost, slow down." Alissa gladly heeded her mother's words. Slow down Alissa, she told herself, slow down and think yourself out.

Chapter Two

RODNEY

On this particular Wednesday morning, Rodney was hot on the trail of the program that plucked data as it was entered out of the accounts payable system and put it into boxes in the Treasury department's ledger programs. He was supposed to be inputting invoices into the computer, like the rest of the accounts payable department. Of course, such a real-time feed to Treasury cost a ridiculous amount of money, a waste really.

The job could be done in batch mode, late at night. This only added to Rodney's enjoyment of Mathilda, as Rodney called the mainframe computer. It was deliciously expensive and somewhat useless. This was a classic example of how things worked at Zapf. All the best and the brightest young men and women bought high degrees from the right schools so they could be paid a lot of money to manage the bloated corporation, which sold products to the selfsame young men and women who were overpaid for their shaky judgements. If they didn't have so much disposable income, the corporation would sell nothing, because nobody else needed the electronic gadgets that Zapf manufactured. Welcome to the rat race, Rodney always said: the entrance fee is high, the prizes are higher, the competition is cutthroat and the winner takes all.

Rodney wanted no part of the rat race. He worked as a clerk in the accounts payable department just so that he would have no real responsibilities, and in his massive spare time, he went on unauthorized adventures into Mathilda. He could even do it from his studio apartment in Allston, a low rent district across the river in Boston. All it took was a computer, the right software and a modem. This was all no problem - he communicated with most of his friends by modem. Only his phone bill caused Rodney any stress.

At 10:38 this particular Wednesday morning, Rodney succeeded in bringing up the main menu of the Treasury department programs. Sure enough, there was a selection that led to the current accounts payable information. Gleefully, Rodney selected the option. The screen changed.

Rodney looked at what he could only classify as a boulevard. Buildings rose up on either side of it, sidewalks ran on either side of the thoroughfare, black posts rose out of the sidewalk in front of the shops.

The boulevard, however, was not paved in concrete or asphalt. It was paved in green grass and vines, little bushes and a flower or two here and there. In fact, Rodney's two feet were planted firmly in the ankle-high grass of the street. Were he a golfer, Rodney would call this the rough. Rodney considered himself only a student of golf, but that was mostly because he could not get anyone to play with him, so he didn't practice.

Enough of this dreaming, Rodney muttered to himself, upbraiding himself. He was on the edge of a major discovery about Treasury. The waste of computing time and money went far beyond his wildest imaginings. Interactive video, no less. No wonder the corporate accountants went around with smiles on their faces all the time. He blinked his eyes and concentrated.

There were a few people about, further down the street. Way far down, something flew along the grass street toward him. This made Rodney realize he was standing in the middle of the street. It made common sense to go stand on the sidewalk while he tried to figure out where the hell he was. Then again, he could continue to stand right there and wait for the flying object to get to him. If the object hit him for real, then he would know he wasn't dreaming. If it passed through him, then he would know what he suspected: he was dreaming. Never woke up this morning, never came to work, never got into Treasury dreaming. If it stopped, he could ask the driver for directions. Rodney stepped up onto the marble walk.

Someone was coming and he didn't want to look foolish.

A woman strolled up the walk toward Rodney. A window display caught her attention and she stopped to examine it. Rodney stopped to examine her. She wore a tight, stretchy black top which revealed her figure. If it weren't for that, Rodney wouldn't be sure which sex she was. Her hair was cut very short, she wore baggy trousers that hid her hips, and her shoes were silverish running shoes.

The lady turned away from the window display and stopped at the nearest black post. The lady laid the inside of her wrist against the post, then leaned her head forward until it rested on the back of her forearm. Rodney thought she might suddenly pass out or get sick.

He couldn't approach her and ask her for help getting back to his work if she was sick. Nor could he help her if she was sick, but Rodney felt he could not just stand there and watch. He needed her help as much as she needed his, if not more. She seemed kind of young, and maybe a little pampered. She probably couldn't help him anyway. Rodney didn't know what to do.

The woman straightened up, fixed her sleeve and marched into a store three doors closer to Rodney. On her way in, she glanced at Rodney long enough to raise a hand in greeting. He waved back, what the hell. He noticed a large spot on her arm. Her face twisted into a strange look, and she hurried into the store. People are the same everywhere, thought Rodney. Rude.

Rodney walked up to the black post where the woman leaned. He noticed now that it was not actually round, it was octagonal. It was also not hard, like a steel traffic post; it was semi-soft, like moulded plastic covered with vinyl. Each of the facets of the post had a column of little openings drilled into it.

Rodney wanted to put a finger in one of the little holes, just to see if it really was glass, like a camera lens, inside there. Just to be safe, he didn't dare. He moved on down the walk to the corner, feeling for some reason like the pole watched him go.

The boulevard intersected a still broader avenue, with a hedgerow median running out of sight in either direction. The sun poured down the lanes of this avenue, igniting a multitude of blue and red bush flowers in the median hedge. Block long factory buildings, surrounded with gardens and stone fences, marched away down the avenue on either side. Rodney had to see more. He started across the avenue to go down the other side.

An aircar thudded to an emergency stop not ten feet from Rodney. It hadn't made a noise until the thud; the sudden and massive bulk so close to him scared the hell out of him. He jumped back onto the walk.

Four people got out of the downed aircar, which was sleek and curved like a submarine or an Astrovan. The gull wing doors popped up out of what looked to Rodney like unbroken steel and glass.

Rodney knew perfectly well what it meant when somebody gets out of their car. Rodney shouted his profuse apologies, and turned quickly to walk back in the direction of the post.

He knew he shouldn't run; he could barely keep his feet from running away with him.

"Wait, scitizen," said one of the four men. Rodney guessed that he would now wait, have a short chat. After all, it was the polite thing to do. Rodney stopped in his tracks and turned back again in time to see the four men coming up on the walk with him. When all four men cleared the vicinity of the aircar, it rose by itself and flew off.

Rodney noticed, as the four men gathered around him, that people were turning around or crossing the street when they saw what was happening. Rodney took this as a bad sign, though not unexpected. People were the same everywhere. They didn't give a damn.

"Thank you scitizen. We did not want to leave without harmony," said the leader. The leader wore a tight black leotard top and wide whale, baggy corduroy pants, khaki colored. His shoes looked like steeltoed electrician's boots, insulated with thick rubber soles. The man wore his hair short short in back and around the side of his head. A wild shock of light brown hair extended out over his forehead. Rodney noticed a deep mole hiding behind the hair. His eyes were blue. These blue eyes looked right into Rodney.

"Please, allow us to achieve a proper harmony with you before we continue on our way. It is good for Community. It is good for you," this man said. The man's assumptive manner put Rodney off, completely.

The other three men looked pretty much the same as the first one. Only one was different, the green-eyed one. His forelock did not cover the hideous mole in his forehead. The mole reminded Rodney of the spot Indian women inked between their eyes when they got married, and also of the blotches of ash people wore on Ash Wednesday. All four men had them; they didn't look enough alike to be brothers, so the moles were self-inflicted. Now I'm stuck in a barbarian civilization, thought Rodney, looking at the four intent men.

"Please, let us exchange in greeting," said the leader. "I am Vid. You are an Olday. May I know your name?" The man seemed to point his forehead at Rodney, as did the others.

Rodney said and did nothing.

"It is courtesy to reply to to the inquiry of a scitizen," said the leader. Rodney noticed they all had no beards, and only the barest of eyebrows. None of them seemed to have much hair at all, from what Rodney could see.

"Only an Olday stares and does not beam," said the one with whispy, receding strawberry hair.

Like the first man, this one spoke with a stilted, school-bought accent.

"Another one to come and gawk at us," added the one who didn't cover his mole. As this man spoke, the mole in his forehead danced with light. Rodney thought he saw a screen of images appear in the air in front of this man; it didn't matter what at angle he looked, the screen of images hung in middair.

Rodney could not make any sense of the pictures: he did know it was time to stop ignoring these people.

"I'm sorry. Please, excuse me, I," Rodney stammered, looking into the blue eyes of the leader. "I don't mean to be rude, really, I don't. I'm in kind of a jam, I've got to get back," Rodney blurted.

"You are an Olday?" asked the leader. The leader thrust the shock of hair aside, and revealed the implant in his forehead. The other three followed suit. Rodney could just barely see the beam of light energy coming out of the four men's heads. All four beams ran straight into Rodney's eyes. He ducked and swerved, trying to keep them out of his eyes. He could not succeed.

"What are you doing," complained Rodney.

"You are not a scitizen," stated the leader, his composure like ice. There was no room for argument.

Rodney stiffened up and backed up a bit from the four men. "Excuse me, I don't understand what you want," he said, with what he thought was perfect control.

"There is no cause to suffer fear, friend," said the one who did not cover his mole. His eyes were clear green and seemed to sparkle. The mole in his head constantly danced with light beams. "It is written in the Compact. Surely an Olday knows the Compact. You have access."

"I'm sorry, I don't understand. What is an Olday? I don't think I am one." Rodney just wanted to get out of this alive. He was going to play dumb and then run.

"He does not register intense honesty," remarked the black-haired one. This man wore functional baggy pants with many little pockets down the sides. Rodney noticed a little radio stuck with velcro on the man's chest. The electronic light was on. Rodney understood this man's words plainly enough.

"Look, I am not lying," said Rodney, asserting himself to the leader and to the other three as well.

"I don't know what an Olday is. I didn't mean to step in front of your car, really. Now if you don't mind, I have to be someplace. I'm sorry, really. Is it OK?"

"I am concerned, citizen. All those humans on Thrae who do not belong to Community are Olday. You do not belong to the Community of Scitizens at all," the leader replied.

"Yes, whatever that is, I don't belong to it," said Rodney. Anything, as long as they didn't think he was part of the group these guys were hunting.

"Therefore you are Olday," concluded the leader, even more grim.

"Why do you deny it," asked the blonde one. The screen in the air before him now collapsed into a sphere, which tumbled and rolled with color.

"Thrae?" he repeated, incredulous. He needed some kind of distraction now, or Rodney knew he was going to get beat up and robbed. Now that it was happening, it seemed inevitable.

"This citizen suffers from advanced illusions," stated the one with the many-pocketed pants. This remark drew a chorus of assent from the four men. All four looked as if they expected Rodney to join in with them.

"A serious illusion," asserted the blonde one. "A violation of the Compact."

"Since you do not receive broadcast, we do you the courtesy of providing Control programming in a form you can receive," said the leader. From the back, the quiet, strawberry-haired man projected a two by two foot screen in the air in front of Rodney. Up the left side, a neat bar graph showed a red line condition. On the right was a menu of choices. The whole thing reminded Rodney of a computer screen, only without the terminal or tube or anything to make it appear.

Rodney read the list of options. Option One was called Emergency, and according to this menu there were two subsequent choices. Option Two was Examination, and there were five subsequent choices to this selection. Option Three was Request, and there were three basic subsequent choices. Rodney looked the leader square in the eye. Rodney knew he would find his choice there.

"Look, I'm lost. I don't know where I am. You've really got to help me. I'm not any of those things that you said I am, I'm not an Olday or whatever. I just want to find my way back to where I belong. I'm sorry if I offended you." Rodney made a direct appeal. Most of the time, bullies found this act either so pitiful they relented or so laughable that Rodney had time to run away.

"You request aid," concluded the leader. The screen in the air flipped to the subsequent options.

They were: 1. Private Therapy 2. Group Assistance 3. MedCenter. There was a fourth option here, an Individual Path, but it was not highlighted like the other options. It was of course the option Rodney liked best. The blonde man spoke up. "What is your choice, citizen."

"ITE calculates MedCenter as your most probable choice," stated the black-haired one. "You need help from every source. Fortunately MedCenter can provide it."

"If MedCenter is a hospital, I don't want to go there," said Rodney, bluntly. "I need to go my own way. Look, I didn't do you any harm, why don't we just forget it."

"That is the Olday way," observed the black-haired one wth the gadget stuck to his chest.

"Separate from Community," added the blonde haired one. "The Individual Path."

The display disappeared from the air. "We will form a scitizen's advisory to aid you with your decisions along your Individual Path. We know it is difficult to make choices without Control. Particularly for you who have always been without Control. It is our duty under the Compact." The intense, blue-eyed leader drew close to Rodney. "First we must help you help yourself. You must realize that to deny your identity is to live an illusion that will always prevent you from reaching your goal. You must embrace the fact that you are Olday, you do not have the benefit of the implant. Don't you agree with me? There is no harmony in illusion, surely you know that. It came with the Founders. The Oldays too are descendant from the Founders."

Rodney blinked, stupidly. He was not an Olday, and he didn't want anything like an implant, and this man insisted he embrace both. Rodney didn't want to know the 'or else what' of it.

"Vid, intensity is off the scale - look in his eyes," said the red haired one. The irritating thin beams turned into Rodney's eyes again.

"There's no coding for half of him," hissed the man with the green eyes. "Vid, Olday?" "Beam instead!" admonished the leader, who Rodney gathered was Vid. The thin beams of barely visible light played like fire between the four men's foreheads. Within an instant, the four men became absorbed to the point of ignoring Rodney.

Rodney didn't stick around to fmd out what it all meant. Slowly, he backed away until he could turn and run. He was never so glad that running was his regular form of exercise. He flew as fast as he could back toward the street with the shops and the people.

Chapter Three

AGENT WINSTON

One hundred thousand thirty-seven heartbeats after Winston lost himself in the Being of Community, Control announced a successful Transmigration. Control then ordered each scitizen to reassume their particular selfness, and broke Winston's trance. Forty-two heartbeats later, as the Being of Community dissolved into the networked Community of Scitizens, Control repeated itself, announcing that a successful Transmigration had taken place.

Once again master of himself, Winston ordered his ITE to make a hidden record of the Redundancy event, and place only a backup in his active memory. ITE barely got this done before Control issued a Redundancy Disclaimer and reached into his ITE active memory and erased the knowledge. As far as ITE was concerned, the second announcement never happened. Control then issued a priority request for space in his memory. Winston dutifully ordered ITE to prepare space for programming as Control exported particular instruction sets to each and every scitizen of Community. To Winston's surprise, Global Council ordered four other Global Agents to penetrate the Museum area, even though he was the closest Agent in Service. Seven hundred scitizens were lucky enough to load Scitizens in Service (SIS) programs, and began moving toward positions around the Gate to the Museum. Those who Served were sure to get much access and credit for their Service. Many millions more got orders to stay clear of the Museum of Recreation, the current and intended location of the Guest from the Past. Everyone in the network now had seventy seconds to prepare for Intense Referendum Sequences. Control projected a large and complicated decision tree, and predicted the need to execute quickly as things happened. Winston didn't need to tell ITE to make the RAM cache in memory; ITE already did it. Still, Winston waited for his own instructions.

ITE advised he take a prudent course, and remove himself from the vicinity of the Musuem.

Winston rejected the idea. He wanted to stay as close to the action as his programming allowed. ITE countered with a compromise position closer to its own recommendation and advised that any other course might create illusion in Winston's thinking. Winston acquiesced to ITE's advice. He flagged a passing airbus for the four block ride.

While he waited and monitored the networks, Winston ordered ITE to replay the record of the moments after transmigration. First, Control announced the arrival of a Guest on Thrae, and the exact location in the Museum of the female human being. Then came the repetition, with no location indicated.

Then came the disclaimer on both general and secret channels. Secret channel broadcasts contained a difference, however: Control issued the disclaimer only because it could not find the location of the second transmigrant. Logic dictated that it could not therefore have happened. The possibility did still remain. He thought naturally for a few minutes while ITE busied itself with the networks again. Yes, it was logical that a transmigration resulted in a relocation; a relocation implied a location on Thrae; no location on Thrae could be unknown. No location, therefore no relocation, therefore no transmigration, therefore Control Redundancy Error. No illusions there, even if the probability of a Redundancy Error is so small it is unthinkably small. ITE informed him that this was the reason why Control had erased any record of the second announcement - it was false, and therefore misleading knowledge. ITE advised Winston to destroy the hidden record of the event. Winston agreed that it was best not to keep the record around, since both ITE and Control considered it illusive. Besides, Winston could remember what he needed to know on his own. He knew there was something wrong here. He told ITE to go ahead and erase the hidden record.

As an Agent, Winston knew the redundancy systems of Control to the seventh exponential power.

No human being knew beyond the ninth power. The Founders left the tenth, and last, power to Control itself, to insure that no being could destroy Control and thus the accumulated knowledge of the race. No human could reach the tenth power, not even the combined mind of Council. Therefore, Control could possibly act on its own. At the moment of the Being, Control is free to think for all and therefore for itself.

ITE immediately barged into Winston's thinking and supplied Winston with the overwhelming improbability of this idea.

All right, conceded Winston, it is prudent to discontinue this line of logic. Still, the merest possibility did exist. ITE informed Winston of the beginning of an illusion formation in his thought patterns, and brought an appropriate Solving Routine to his active memory. Winston hurriedly changed this thought pattern. He had no choice. The alternative was a Solving Sequence.

Every Global Agent was coded by the Heads; their direct brainlink implant, in the forehead, allowed access to primitive subconscious urges in the mind. The Heads coded to the deepest possible level for use by ITE and Control. This resulted in the development of uniquely powerful Solving sequences for each Global Agent.

In Winston's case, ITE most often chastised him for thinking himself more capable than most scitizens. Winston of course protested against any such accusation, and could provide innumerable instances which demonstrated his fairness to all. 'I believe all people are valid. I believe all people are equally valid. I believe all people are capable of contribution to Community. I believe all contribution to Community is equal. I believe all people are validated equally by equal contribution to Community. It is harmony. I believe all people are valid. I believe all people are equally valid' went the Solving sequence for this illusive thought that ITE located deep in the recesses of his mind. Winston heard it so many times he could repeat the words in his sleep. Like all Solving sequences, this routine looped in his mind until he believed it and could think of little else.

Because of the coding, Control and ITE knew his every pattern of thought, even before he did.

His registered identity in Control contained the complete record of his life to date. Control knew he was born to Althea Winston nee Hanson, via biologically natural birthing methods at Zas Zone Two MedCenter, thirty-four years ago. It knew he spent his first hours alive in a warm water adjustment tank, and monitored his unusually calm brainwave patterns as he floated in the semidark warmth of the tank, held by both his mother and his father.

Control knew he rejected the implant at age 3, and required an unusually long Staged Entry Procedure in order to accept ITE. His mother held him back from the implant, it was not his fault. Most children received the implant at age one and a half or two. At three, Winston had already developed the habit of thinking naturally. The intrusive voice of ITE made him cry endlessly; the doctors introduced it to him slowly, adding a few more minutes of interactive voice each month. Once he did accept the implant, however, he made 4.0 ratings in school for twelve years running. Of course, the planetary average was 3.9, thanks to ITE. Winston learned to augment the automatically right answers of ITE with a careful observation of his own, which earned him the final tenth. By the time he was fifteen, his record attracted the attention of more than just his teachers. Two Global Agents for the region noticed too, and recommended him for conscription into permanent Service. With the burden came tremendous credit, access and recognition. He accepted conscription without hesitation.

Control knew that at age 21, he was in the top five percent of the Agent Candidate school; at 24, he received his instruction set for service in the Zasian District, NWNA. At age 27, he volunteered for Mobile Agent status, a move which at the time Control felt was contrary to his demonstrated strengths. He was an unusually creative problem solver and he worked well with people, especially thinking naturally. Control deduced him to be more covetous of his personal independence than a Mobile status allowed and furthermore suspected that he desired the status more to have access than to Serve. He never denied his personal desire for access; he could not deny his strong need for independence - even the Tubeheads could not code his intensity. The price of access was Service: Winston accepted this bargain. He had to apply for Mobile status three times before Global Council finally believed in his motivations.

After the implantation of the transducer in Winston's scalp, Control could reach into him at any time, anywhere he might be. His intentions could not be anything except genuine and altruistic or Control would yank him out of the field. On this point, both he and ITE immediately agreed: Control had to back off. It took nearly two years to gain even a few hours a day of free thought. Winston went on to think naturally, aside from even ITE, for only the most fleeting of minutes. The slightest mis-thought sounded the alarm on Control monitors, and brought the crush of a Solving sequence into his mind.

Now, more than five years after going Mobile, Winston had as much freedom as before he went Mobile, both in ITE and in his natural mind. Control continued to monitor him, but not even an eighth as much as before. He still risked the Solving Sequences whenever he distracted ITE enough to think alone; now he could bend his own thought patterns fast enough to avoid many of them. Still, he could not now afford to have Control and ITE sequence him. He thought of something rational.

What could possibly hold up my assignment, inquiried Winston of ITE. Why am I bypassed? Your emotional intensity distorts your thinking. We do not know our assignment yet, so we cannot say we are bypassed, replied ITE. I am asking Control with all due intensity, please wait. Do you wish to use the transmigration event file again? I will have to swap out space. Please advise what to move out. A Priority Bulletin from Control and Council stopped Winston from getting really angry at the petulant Enhancer.

Control flooded the network with data on the Guest. She was an ancestor from ancient Earth. Age 29 Earth years. Female. Suffering level two trauma (access pulsefile GEl2-1 for more). Standing in the street in the Museum of Recreation. Four meters from original intended destination. Five foot five inches tall. 148 pounds. Black, curled hair. Dark brown eyes. (Access holonet A5 for visuals) Brown skin tone.

Blue cotton dress, loose-fitting. Open-toed natural leather sandals. Projected cultural data: English speaking, northeastern seaboard of North America. This was a highly educated population at the time, the average person far more than just literate. This Guest could likely handle higher concepts. The Guest was definitely computer-literate, since the Community and Control had used the structure of the mainframe computer it had encountered on Earth as the vehicle for the Transmigration. The Guest was necessarily using that machine when the migration took place.

So, thought Winston, she would understand what Control is, what ITE is. She cannot, therefore, be allowed to find out about them.

ITE reminded Winston that this issue had been covered in great depth before the Transmigration was even attempted. There had been many Referendums about it, and the Community had agreed on the Museum as the only safe location for exactly this reason. Just to make the point abundantly clear, ITE refreshed Winston's memory of the debate in Global Council.

Winston saw the four Councillors of the Fourth Global Council convene at the Table of Council as if he was there now. The great Tree of Being towered over the men and the Table and white iron terrace which girdled the Tree. The Table was here, upon the Terrace of Council. Tall, muscular Edmund found his chair too short to be comfortable, yet he gladly sat down on the wrought iron chair. Short, broadly built Bernard found the edge of the table too close when he sat, but he did not complain. Thin and long Anthony squirmed against the unmoving chair after sitting a while, but often could sit longer than anyone else. Andrew was the last to sit down, and he missed only a lower back support, so often leaned forward a bit. Edmund carefully laid his wrist upon the small padded portal imbedded in the tabletop. Anthony, then Andrew, lastly Bernard placed the portals imbedded in their wrists against the portals imbedded in the table. Council touched into Control.

The spaces between the mesh of the iron tabletop acquired the solidity of colored light. The thousands of spaces in the top lit up into a mosaic of lighttiles. Soon dynamic, interwoven diamond patterns of changing light emerged on the tabletop. It swirled like an atmosphere of coordinated fight and color; around each man was an eddy, a subcirculation that blended with the others toward the center of the table.

At the very center of the table glowed a crystalline square block. This was the Portal of Control.

The Portal beamed into the eyes of the four Councillors, ever watching the shift of fight in each man's mind. This was only prudent and not necessary. The abuses of Council deception were well guarded by the mindlink with Control. This Council and this Community chose to have the redundant demonstration of commitment to each other.

The blended voices of the four men - Edmund's bass, a little raspy; Anthony's bass, melliflous; Andrew's bass, deep and a little flat; Bernard's soprano bass, lifting the overall tone - spoke in the minds of the two hundred million scitizens who had been touched into the network. This was the voice of Control.

"Scitizens of Thrae," Control said, "we come together to consider our future. As it is written in the Compact: The People will have the knowledge, the People will make the choice. Now all scitizens have access to the knowledge through Control, now all scitizens must decide: will we assemble ourselves together in the Being of Community to reach across the dimension of time?" Control boiled the facts down to five of greatest importance. One, the transmigration of matter by means of an energy tunnel was proven possible by repeated tests with inanimate objects. The Museum of Recreation stood as testimony.

Two, life also transmigrated without loss, though no test with human life was yet attempted. Three, Control psychoscience showed that only the living energy of the Being of Community provided the referential identity bridge a person needed to unbecome and then rebecome whole. Once a person found their individual molecules disassembled, the spirit lost touch with selfness and unless a society reflected it back, that spirit dispersed into everythingness. Inanimate energy did not provide this reflective guidance. Four, Global Council warned that a person with knowledge of the future could change that future by changing the past. Control calculated a wide range of probabilities for this event, not close enough to inform a choice, and this was the risk. Five, at least two other option development paths promised as rapid gains in harmony, and at less risk. Control advised each scitizen to access a Councillor for particular guidance or debate.

Winston had found Edmund's assessment logical and elegant. To bring an ancestor from Earth to the present allowed all Thraceans to recover what the race lost during the Migration: genes for ancillary organs such as the appendix. With this extra genetic material, Edmund argued, it was highly possible to make the network of ITEs and Control organic, a natural part of every person. Then the Oldays could no longer object to the nonorganic infrastructure of Community and had to join in the Final Harmony, or agree to withdraw for good. On the probability of time dimension corruption - the return of a person who changes history - Edmund found it well below the level of acceptable risk. One in one million, Edmund calculated. In conclusion, Edmund wholeheartedly urged every member of Community to proceed with the transmigration.

Anthony asked Community to consider a different purpose for the transmigration: rather than recapture lost and unneeded genetic material, let Community capture the ancestral knowledge of life on Earth, knowledge that was lost in the Migration. "We fail to assemble in Final Harmony each time because we do not know ourselves - let us learn who we are before we change ourselves still more," He further asserted little risk of dimensional corruption, since the Guest from the past would spend all his or her time in the future talking about the past. The Guest would only be allowed to interact with a chosen emissary, to further reduce the risk of corruption. Winston had found this prudent, but not to his own liking.

Andrew insisted that gains could be made without fooling around with a life. The Being could travel and learn in Earth time, there was no need to migrate a soul. "The risk is too great, one in a hundred thousand, that some one of our pasts will change as a result of this transmigration. Who will give up a loved one to this freak accident? Let us learn all that we can before we attempt so dangerous a thing. Let us assemble in Being to learn before doing we don't know what." Winston thought one in a hundred thousand was an acceptable risk.

Bernard was with Edmund, with one exception. Bernard accepted the taking of genetic material from an ancestor only if that ancestor knew and agreed. "We are asking a person to leave a part of his or her self here, and we do not know what effect this will have when this person returns to their own time."

This requirement raised the probability of corruption to one in fifty thousand. "Let us not throw aside harmony with our past for the purpose of our own selfish future," Bernard thought-broadcast to the entire planet. Winston empathized with Bernard, but he thought the risk became too great.

Edmund rapidly attracted a large number of scitizens to his plurality. His aggregate harmony stood higher than forty percent. The Tubeheads had flooded the networks with high intensity emoto-pulses, skewing the aggregate in favor of Edmund's proposal. "This is a grave and momentous occasion," he beamed, to Council, Control and Community, "Let us reach a consensus in harmony. Let us assemble in Being." Edmund's enthusiasm had charged through the networks of Control. ITE delivered the same intensity to Winston as it refreshed his memory of the event.

"Council, shall we proceed with Referendum?" Edmund thought-spoke to his fellows. Andrew, Anthony and Bernard all nodded their heads in mutual agreement. The Portal of Control acquired a white solidity, reflected the harmony on Council. Control did not need any further instruction from Council; it proceeded with the process of Referendum.

"Scitizens and people of Thrae, now is the time to come together in peaceful Compact to make decisions and carve our future from the chaos of possibility," Control broadcast to 257, 432, 012 individuals.

"Referendum to the People: will we Assemble in the single harmony of the Being of Community for the purpose of reaching across the dimension of time? Control will poll in five, four, three, two, one now.' At that instant, all scitizens thought-spoke their vote, sending as well a pulse of their own intensity.

The four Councillors voted in perfect harmony, and their harmony well represented the harmony of the people. Control exported the ninety-nine point nine percent harmony aggregated by the Referendum. The proposal passed. Control moved immediately to the next branch of the decision tree.

'Referendum to the People,' boomed Control through the network. "will we transmigrate a living person from the present of the past to the present of now? Control will poll in five, four, three, two, one now." Control had immediately reported that the Community of Scitizens could not achieve a stable harmony to proceed.

Edmund had then reached through the mindlink of Control into the minds of the other Councillors, to discover whose plurality harbored a doubt. It was not difficult to find, considering Andrew's position. Control reported that Andrew's plurality did not want to stand in the way of harmony, yet Andrew himself could not relinquish his position. Control reached a little further into Andrew's psyche and brought it out into the networks to be seen by all. Since all Global Councillors had to undergo psychocoding to the deepest level, Andrew's worst fears had come out.

ITE projected the scenario in Winston's mind, just as Control had done then: his dearest friend suddenly not ever having been there. Because the past was somehow altered. Nothing else affected that you could see. Just this person isn't there anymore, because his or her ancient ancestor died instead of lived or vice versa.

Andrew was the first to admit that these fears were nearly groundless. Yet his ITE provided sufficient evidence about the risk to make it a real concern. Edmund directed Control to isolate the feeling of assurance the majority felt that this outcome simply was not going to happen, despite the risk. Council and Control had exported this distilled assurance to each scitizen who harbored doubt; through ITE these scitizens felt certain assurance as though it were their own.

Control soon reported ninety-five percent harmony developed within Community. It moved immediately on to the next branch of the decision tree.

"Referendum to the People: will we strive to communicate with the living person from the past and learn all that we can of the person and the time? Control will poll five four three two one now." The Community of Scitizens had agreed in harmony with this proposal. Control moved on to the next decision.

"Referendum to the People: will we strive to gather a sample of the genetic material of a living person from the past, a human from Earth? Control will poll five four three two one now." Winston remembered the moment of impasse without needing the vivid reminder from ITE, though ITE replayed the moment anyway.

Edmund had found himself looking back at Bernard, Andrew and Anthony, all of whom found Edmund the only obstacle to perfect harmony against the proposal. Given his reservations, Bernard was willing to forego the probable benefit in favor of maintaining the harmony necessary to achieve the Being of Community. This left Edmund and his forty percent plurality in the minority.

"I am sorry, Councillors, but the benefits are too great to put aside from this endeavor I must think of them," said Edmund to one and all. Control verified Edmund's sincerity.

Control informed all scitizens that Council was locked in impasse Each Councillor was too firmly committed to his position to move. "By Compact, Control appeals to the mind of the People. Please provide Council with Guidance. Control proposes to ask this proposal again, when the time to execute this program presents itself. Control further proposes that impasse will default to no on second Referendum pass. In this way will harmony remain in Community when most it is needed. By Compact, Control calls Referendum to People: Polling five four three two one now. "

The four Councillors sat mute as Control took over the proceedings on this point. It was no surprise to any one of them that Control's proposal was passed by the People in Harmony, as Control quickly informed them. "The tree of deciding is finished. Council proceed," thoughtspoke Control.

Edmund looked up from the glowing tabletop and from the Portal of Control. He met the firm gazes of Anthony, Andrew and Bernard. The four men sat solemn until the Portal crystallized white.

"People of Thrae," said all four Councillors at once, through the mindlink and out loud on the Terrace to each other. They spoke in simultaneous harmony. "Let us assemble into the one Being that is Community. Please prepare to relinquish your selfness to the oneness that is the Being." Winston ordered ITE to halt the refreshing, the point was made.

All right, granted, thought Winston. We covered all that. But that was before we knew what, I mean who, we were dealing with. This is a woman, and her data makes her out to be no dummy. She could figure it all out, she could change the past. ITE, Winston ordered, pursue the logic.

Dutifully, ITE calculated.

To return a person with the sure knowledge of the future clearly risked obliteration in the dead end of time. Far more than Councillor Andrew's worst fears could happen: instead of just one or two people out of a hundred thousand, it could be the entire Thracean culture, the entire race could disappear, never be - because, as every Thracean knew, the sun was going to explode and obliterate the Earth. If the Ark had not left Earth before the first Lasernuclear Space War, no human would live now. Here, at this choke-point of history, here was the location of the risk. Plus this ancestor could reproduce directly, and so had a guaranteed means of projection into the future. ITE did a 'dirty calc' and put four hundred seventeen possible descendants of the Guest alive on Thrae, at the maximum.

Winston could not resist the opportunity to bait ITE. Well, he asked it, what do you think it actually is? There are zero persons on Thrae at all related to the Guest? What's the real probability? ITE immediately complained about insufficient data and the uselessness of dirty calculations.

They introduced too much impurity in the environment. Winston asked for too many, in fact, ITE concluded. I ask for perfectly prudent information processing, rebutted Winston. Reference every Compact Operations file you've got, he dared it. Tell me please what to think, he implored it insincerely.

ITE obeyed, accessing the Compact Operations files containing the guidelines for aiding a human host. These, of course, commanded ITE to execute Winston's commands. His last command ordered ITE to formulate an assessment of the current situation. Despite the massive lack of evidence of any kind. ITE was about to invoke insufficient data and reprimand Winston for frivolity when Councillor Anthony's call came through the networks.

Anthony's message was terse, filtered through an ordinary trading channel and not on any heavily Control-monitored secret channel. The Councillor instructed the Agent to meet at a corner not too far from the Museum gates, in ten minutes.

So, thought Winston excitedly, this is why I did not get the call to Service inside the Museum. ITE automatically loaded the message as Winston's assigned purpose, and found much information wanting. It cried back through the channel for more. Winston ordered it to shut up. He knew that Anthony did not want this contact widely known.

Winston could not help pointing out to ITE the correctness of his original desire to stay near the Museum. He always knew he was going to play a role in this event. ITE categorized this entire message from the human host as tainted and corrupted by emotion, and therefore disregarded its content. There is no rationality in your query, ITE drily replied. It informed Winston of the need to hurry. Winston laughed to himself and hopped on his airstick for the four block ride.

Anthony spoke on the Global Network. "The Guest has arrived. Let us begin to make a proper greeting. She has entered the townhouse. We cannot keep her waiting." Winston listened to the broadcast; if he closed his eyes he could see the Earth woman moving about the piano in the townhouse. Anthony also approached in the aircar now creeping up the street. Or so ITE claimed, judging by the scanner beam now engulfing Winston. Only Global Council could probe so closely into another scitizen.

Winston was duly impressed. The aircar came to a slow halt in front of him. ITE informed Winston that normal Control monitor scans of the area were blacked out. The gullwing door opened and Anthony stepped out.

"Yes!" exhorted Edmund through the networks as Alissa played a few notes on the piano. "Yes, by all means, let us proceed. Let us find our very best and send them immediately to greet the Guest!" Anthony shook hands with Winston. The Councillor's palm was warm, and living, unlike the palm of a silicon done. Winston felt certain this was the real Councillor Anthony. Winston's admiration rose another notch. If this was Anthony, then a clone sat on the Terrace now.

"Is this the appropriate channel," Winston asked, speaking aloud. Both he and the Councillor could, if necessary, evade ITE monitoring by speaking aloud and thinking of something else at the same time. The toll was heavy, however; since any detection resulted in automatic psychic examination by Control, as called for by ITE, both men had to maintain the utmost mental discipline. This effort ultimately drained the body of its energy and resulted in slippage. Undetected messages had to be short.

"For certain things," replied Anthony, aloud. Anthony put a hand on Winston's shoulder. At the same time, Winston heard Anthony speaking over the networks. "Edmund, I harmony. Let Control give a selection." The other Councillors all agreed with this. Alissa began to play her Schumann piece on the piano.

Anthony physically turned the Agent to face him, and held his exposed portal up for Winston to see. Winston did likewise. Anthony placed his wrist against Winston's for the briefest of direct touching.

Winston felt a locked memory space file in ITE. Naturally, he asked ITE to read him the contents quickly, so that he could understand what the Councillor wanted. ITE fiercely denied Winston access.

The two men walked slowly in the direction of the Museum gates. Winston could not possibly guess what the Councillor wanted him to do. Anthony led Winston closer still to the Gates of the Museum. The aircar followed the Councillor down the street. Finally Winston could stand to wait no longer. He spoke aloud to Anthony.

"What is your purpose?" asked Winston.

Anthony spoke aloud, quickly, and in a whisper. "The Redundant Guest."

Winston could not conceal the surprise on his face. Confirmed! His suspicion of a duplication confirmed!

"Where? How?" blurted Winston. ITE warned him of an unhealthy spike in his adrenal and heartrate levels. Probably due to an emotional overreaction. ITE went searching for seat of problem.

Winston spent a few seconds calming himself down, to prevent a sequence. One look at Anthony's face told Winston that the Councillor was elsewhere.

"Find out," said Anthony. The effort of speaking these two words caused the Councillor to lean on Winston's shoulder.

Actually, Winston wanted to lean on the Councillor at that moment. This assignment went beyond any calculated probability. This assignment went beyond the kind of essential role Winston envisioned for himself. If true, his discovery of a Redundant Guest meant fame in the secret networks forever, and maybe fame on the public networks too. ITE advised him to think of his fame in terms of the Global Council rather than the entire secret network, let alone the public network. Reluctantly, Winston tried to envision a role of unknown but great importance.

Anthony stopped walking. The aircar pulled up to him, and the door opened for him. Anthony smiled.

"No, wait," said Winston aloud. "What if I do find it?"

Anthony wobbled against the smooth side of the aircar. "You will know." The Councillor gave Winston one last look, a penetrating stare that made clear to Winston that this was indeed a very serious mission to be held in strictest isolation from even the secret network.

Winston merely nodded. Anthony fell into the seat of the aircar, at the same time waving goodbye to the Agent. The aircar spun around and glided away down the street. Anthony was speaking on the Global Networks. "Edmund, do you not agree that Community should send its best suited emissary to greet our Guest?" Winston watched the aircar disappear from sight in utter awe of the Councillor.

Control notified the planet that Council debate begins in 30 seconds. This meant that each Councillor opened to the input of any scitizen, and spoke for the common sentiment among the scitizens who joined each Councillor's plurality. Winston ran for the nearest touchpost and placed his wrist against it.

He could receive all broadcasts through his Mobile - he only needed the appearance of touching into the networks, so that any observer could not immediately tell that he was an Agent. As long as he was connected to the system by public post, Winston could safely remain where he was, and buy some time immediately. He needed to develop a program for executing his assignment.

In order for Winston to think about it, he needed to fool ITE. The instant he entertained the thought of looking for another Guest, ITE would warn him of illusions in his thinking. There was only one Guest. If he asked himself the question, 'where is the Guest' then ITE would reply immediately 'In the Museum' and any other thought had to be an illusion. If Winston simply ignored these warnings and thought on about it, ITE would detect an illusive pattern and hit him with a Solving Sequence. This was the last thing Winston needed, to be trapped by a sequence. He was really beginning to wonder how he was going to accomplish his mission, and at the same time grew nervous. ITE reflected this neurological agitation back to him for advisement, and then reported the automatic movement of the locked file into Winston's current memory. Anthony's secret box muscled up into working space in ITE's foreground.

Winston suddenly saw the way. 'ITE, how am I going to find what Council asks me to find. The identity of my object is in the Council locked file.' ITE duly recognized the request for analysis from the host, accepted the description of the object, and presented Winston with the beginning of Council debate.

Councillors Bernard and Andrew both objected to the jump in conclusions assumed by both Anthony and Edmund when they raised the question of whom to send as emissary. Andrew and Bernard insisted that the first question of the decision tree was whether or not to send anyone at all. It was possible, after all, to obtain a sample from the Guest by mechanical means and avoid possibly corruptive contact.

This course nearly eliminated the possibility of dimensional corruption. Winston disagreed with this course and so joined Anthony's plurality. ITE further busied itself with interactive contact with the Council. It sought and received Anthony's personal recognition pulse. Winston's preference was counted.

Winston closed his eyes and ordered ITE to display a map of Zas for his consideration. Winston asked for a closer look at the area around the Museum Gate, and the picture zoomed in on one small sector of the map, which then expanded to fill Winston's view.

The Museum stood at the north point of Zas, where the shores of Lake Radius turned northeast toward the mountains. To the west of the Gate was an industrial zone. South, the avenues broadened until they ended at Government Place. An unknown Guest could walk into Zas itself, or head away from the city into the Reserve or disappear into the sparsely monitored industrial zone. Following the lakeshore through the Reserve brought a traveler to Sigh Valley Falls and the boundary with the Home of the Oldays.

Winston asked ITE to plot the perimeter of authorized approach to the Gate. The line passed another three blocks back from Winston's current location. Why, Winston wondered, did Anthony choose to meet well within the security zone? To cover this natural question, Winston ordered ITE to describe SIS density in the security zone. Between the barrier line and the actual Gate itself, density was close to zero.

The area had been essentially evacuated by scitizens complying with Control and Council directives.

Winston got excited. Maybe Anthony had helped him out more than it appeared. Maybe Anthony knew the Redundant One was in this deserted security zone. Winston ordered ITE to show him those areas within the security zone not somehow monitored by Control or SIS. This really occupied ITE.

Edmund and Anthony argued that full development of the decision tree required that all options be explored for the benefit of Community, which included sending an emissary, and therefore deciding which one. Edmund proposed merely to put the decision before the people, not to actually decide by making assumptions. Control began to form the basis of the decision tree branches. When Referendum was called, Community could then choose among them, necessarily quickly.

While ITE worked and the Council argued, Winston examined his assignment again, this time entirely with his own thought process. It seemed simply impossible that even a mistaken, redundant transmigrant could go undetected anywhere on the planet. It seemed just as impossible that Council could withhold such knowledge from the Community of Scitizens. This violated the very heart of the Compact.

Control too was bound by the programmed rules of the Compact, and could not withhold such information.

Unless. Unless the knowledge resided on the tenth level of redundancy, beyond access by any person, and Control believed its own existence was threatened by the release of this information. In such a case asked for a closer look at the area around the Museum Gate, and the picture zoomed in on one small sector of the map, which then expanded to fill Winston's view.

Anthony was then maneuvering around Control to correct an error he'd detected. This neatly explained the secrecy, and the locked file which somehow answered all of ITE's questions about illusions in Winston's thinking and left him free. Or unless. Unless Anthony withheld the information willingly, and thereby deceived Control and Community. Which was treason against the Compact. In which case Winston should report it immediately if not sooner. But why would Anthony betray himself to Winston? This didn't make any sense. ITE interrupted, returning the requested information.

Other than pockets, mostly indoors and mostly in the industrial zone, no significant areas within the security zone went unmonitored by Control or SIS. ITE pointed out that anything moving would eventually move out of the blind areas and be detected. Winston agreed, frustrated. No area of the planet otherwise went unmonitored. This assignment was a dead end, and Winston started to doubt the honesty of Councillor Anthony. ITE again pointed out that one very large unmonitored area existed: the Home of the Oldays.

Winston did not have to request the map of the Olday lands; ITE supplied it automatically.

The Olday Home ran from right on top of the ridge overlooking the lake east up over the real range ridge, and then down onto the plain below. Once on the plain, the boundaries ran a hundred miles east. The Oldays maintained a welcome pavilion at Sigh Valley Falls, where scitizens from Zas could take an aircar shuttle or ride the stone airstairs up along the Falls to the top. This was a popular tourist activity, as the ride alongside the falling water was exhilirating, and the view of the Lake and the city of Zas breathtaking. There was a village of Olday traders in the Sigh Valley, only about four hundred people, no substantial development of any kind.

Since ITE knew it was looking for an undetected object - though not what the object was - it found the Sigh Valley village a highly probable location for the object. Seventy-four percent probable. Winston agreed. ITE commended Winston on his fine logical thinking. Winston had to stifle the chuckle.

All right, Winston told it, get me out of here and up to Sigh Valley Pass. Access lockfile for secrecy level. I think we're not supposed to be seen here or anywhere else.

ITE complied by calling for an aircar to come and get Winston, telling Control Services that Winston got caught in the security zone by the need to maintain touch with the networks. Since Winston held Agent status, local services did not question, merely complied. An aircar rushed up to Winston and offered its open door to him. He leapt into the car and immediately touched into the networks. Zas Northern Mountain Jumpstation, Winston ordered the robotic driver of the car.

To Winston's surprise, Councillor Anthony was now arguing against an emissary! "You do recall that the odds against ever opening a dimensional portal were a light year to one. You do intend prudence in this matter, Edmund," asserted Anthony. To Winston's further surprise, Control elected to broadcast a Worst Case Scenario. In this one instance, Winston had to agree with Edmund: the branch was already decided and this was a waste of time. Winston ordered ITE to pay attention to the broadcast while he thought of other things. The broadcast began.

Winston's aircar came to rest in the taxi meadow outside the Jumpstation field. Winston leapt out of the aircar and ran for the path that skirted the Jumpstation field and led to the Falls Stairs trail. Now he was glad of Anthony's distractive action - the Worst Case broadcast was gripping and frightening to Community. No SIS monitored the open parts of the path around the field. The broadcast ended and Community gasped. Winston slipped beyond the bend in the path, where the forest could hide him from human sight.

Chapter Four

LEE AND VANESSA

They were at her place, in a ResHab at the northern tip of Lake Radius. The living room was longer than wide at the moment; the floor-to-ceiling glass in the far wall allowed a view of the Lake and sheer rock cliff that rose from it. Lee cast his glance out the clear wall into that rock face. Vanessa sat on a soft leather couch, formed now against one wall of the riving room. The walls, at the moment, were red brick with inlaid paintings and canvases. She was looking up at him, her gaze actually focussed on the latticework wall she had built to separate the dining and living areas.

"Don't," Vanessa warned Lee. Many forms of real and programmed silicon botanical life hung from the white iron latticework.

"Vaness, I only want to touch with you," Lee said, raising his hands, palms out, to his shoulders. He stepped forward toward her, and the light from the floor to ceiling window fit up his eyes. His portal glowed as well.

"Lee, not now, please, go away." He'd been probing at her the entire hour he'd been there. He'd been probing her for the last month. He'd been probing her, it suddenly seemed, the entire time he knew her. And like a fool, she was so open to him, for so very long. She gripped her wrist between her knees, to block out his beam. She turned her gaze from his eyes and looked out the window. The impassive face of the rock cliff stared back. The water moved, endlessly.

"Why won't you tell me what is the matter?" he pleaded, dropping his hands in despair against his thigh. He knew that she wore a blockpatch sewn into the knees of her khaki pants. She could block any field broadcast he cared to beam at her. Lately, it seemed like she did it all the time. Lately it seemed like she was out of synch with ITE, and Control and therefore Community. Yet she perfectly shared with him the ultimate harmony of the transmigration, of the total dedication of the self to Community, and the totally uninhibited projection of harmony with all others. She was ultimate harmony in Community. Even now, Vanessa's holographer projected the scene of Alissa on the street in the Museum of Recreation, cautiously approaching the steps to the townhouse: living proof of the successful migration. Lee looked at Vanessa in complete disbelief. Heartrate, pulse, skin perspiration rate, pupil dilation readings, increased incidents of undirected motion, all these signs added up to a problem, a disturbance. ITE calculated an eighty percent chance of an emotional spike in Vanessa. She was completely out of control. In retrospect, Lee felt responsible for leading her off the path of harmony over the last year and some months. In most cases, however, he felt sorry that she'd steered herself astray. He wanted to help her, which he could not do if he did not know what was the problem.

"I can't beam it Lee. I won't beam it. You aren't going to just load this file, you can't understand it that way. It will take time, you have to listen with your ears." Vanessa paused, drew breath and certainty.

"Alissa is here; Council calls us all to Referendum. I do not wish to be with you now, Lee. Please, just leave now. I will talk with you again, I will even beam with you, just not now. Please. Lee." She stared at him, waiting response. He could not meet her eyes for long, and bowed his head. Why would she not communicate in the clearest and best fashion - by linking beams! He could not understand it. ITE was so right, again. She needed help. He could see with his own eyes how she created her own stress and unhappiness. He could feel her steady stare beating down on him.

Lee turned away, resigned. He strode across the round eating area, with its round table centered perfectly in the room, to the door. It was a deeply polished and carved mahogany door, the work of some Thracean craftsmen. It was just like Vanessa to have something so individualistic.

"Goodbye for now," he called out to her, a little bit angry.

"Goodbye," she murmured, verging on tears.

As soon as the door closed, Vanessa began crying in earnest. ITE engaged in a full emotional pain solving sequence, providing even the soothing drone vibrations in her mind. "I am healthy I am happy I am harmony wise I feel as I feel so all may then feel as I do. I will share all good fortune and share all my grief.

All that I feel is known to all and no longer only my pain or only my pleasure. I am healthy I am happy I am harmony wise," ran the words of the sequence. ITE's subtle voice and repetition began to silence her natural train of thought. Her tears were as much for the fact that ITE crushed her with a solving sequence as for the fact that Lee had just gone out the door. She needed the freedom to think, to feel and know what her own true feelings were, without the screen of interpretation from ITE. The solving sequence grew stronger as she began to panic a little. She ran for the powerful emotions of a pack of memories: If she jumped between them fast enough, maybe she could silence ITE by confusing it and bogging it down with the need to process too much behavior that was not coded. She sank herself into memories about Lee.

Early in the third cycle of Vanessa's final year at Ecole Communite 7, Lee Hendrick tried out for her Drama Simulation Group. His features - gasflame blue eyes, wide cheekbones, round face, eyebrows styled into lightning bolts, and stiffened, plate-shaped Ecole coif, faintly Asian ancestry eyelids stenciled with the Ecole symbol - did not attract her. Neither did the fact that he offered to transmit a detailed bio to the members of the group. She felt this just indicated that he would default to ITE to process any critical suggestions he got from the group. He was not the type to explore new feelings, which was the purpose of the group as far as Vanessa was concerned. He did not speak well nor make good use of his rich baritone voice. In fact, it wasn't until the group dispensed with the usual, spoken-verbal means of introductions and allowed him to transmit a bio that she did show an interest.

Lee Hendrick served as an infrastructure engineer for the city of Zas. At the moment he was working on improvements in the robotics field. His work led him to the frontiers of interface between human command and robotic delivery; this in turn led him to the Drama Simulation group. He freely admitted that he was not 'native comfortable' with human mental states outside those coded, though he wanted to be. He hoped that the Drama Simulation group could allow him to grow in this respect. In fact, Lee harbored an intense determination to locate, create or expand on his feelings and emotional responses.

He saw this as the most important path to future growth as a scitizen and person. His level of intensity did attract Vanessa.

Vanessa happened to be looking for someone like Lee - like Lee only in that he had fresh ideas and fresh energy to bring to the group. Her longtime friends in the Drama Simulation were progressively diverging from her. These were the people she thought shared her determination to create and maintain a space free of ITE monitoring and interaction. The very Group existed to find ways to jump from one strong emotion - like laughing - to another - like crying. ITE coding could not follow, and lagged behind actual thought and feeling. For a few seconds or a few minutes, a person could think and feel free of ITE.

Too, the group had to experience the Drama just as if it were real. ITE could tell a biophysical lie from the truth. Lee had the energy and intensity needed to escape control. Despite the fact that he was a process control kind of guy, she voted to allow him to join.

She regretted the vote at the very next meeting. He misinterpreted the Romance Scenario -based on a pre-Migration play called West Side Story - and made a pass at her. She placed herself in his arms in accordance with the script and the simulated emotions of the moment and he hits her with a full intensity beam declaring his attraction for her, and implores her to come and have dinner with him that very night.

Angrily, she pushed him away, and grabbed her portaled wrist to prevent his further invasion of her thoughts. "Beaming a serious implore is not the purpose of this exercise!" she hissed at him. The other members of the group added their unanimous dissent against Lee's actions. He apologized profusely to one and all, and several times to Vanessa directly. His eyes, however, belied his already transmitted desire to see more of her. The blush in her cheeks and fire in her eye belied her actual state of emotional excitement. She didn't need ITE to tell her that Lee intended to follow up on his ill-timed overture. Two other members tried on the characters of the lovers while Lee and Vanessa watched. Lee kept as much of an eye on Vanessa as he did the action of the Drama. She decided to take matters into her own hands.

"I will have dinner with you tonight, Lee," she beamed at him, catching him unawares. Her ITE executed a short bioenergy probe on him, just enough to confirm that she did catch him unawares, as she intended. This made her smile the more. "Meet me in Government Hall, in front of the holibrary. At six thirty."

His surprise showed on his face too. Those Asian eyes widened, pushing his bolt-shaped eyebrows toward the ceiling. He almost wasn't sure he wanted to accept this invitation, but his ITE quickly applied a wiser logic to his thinking. It was only natural, ITE reminded him, for people to back away from strong and unexpected overtures. Once they had a chance to process, people reacted to the actual content of the message. "Six thirty then. I know of a place - and if you like we can go to the Zas Infrastructure Critical Control Center. I have a pass."

All scitizens were allowed into the Control Center, buried deep beneath Government Hall. Few, however, were allowed in the Critical unit. Vanessa was pleased. She smiled and beamed her unconditional approval. He sent back a similarly harmonious beam, and cracked his stone-like features into a smile. This bothered her.

Vanessa intended to use the evening to find out more about this strange Lee, and also to tell him to amend his intentions toward her. He was definitely not her type. She was looking for somebody to share her determination to create and maintain a space free of ITE monitoring and programming, a living space where she could discover who she was as a person and a human being. This Lee was an Infrastructre Engineer engaged in turning coded human desires into actual infrastructure responses. Almost precisely the opposite of what Vanessa was attempting. Yet she found herself drawn in by him - and for no good reason. His smile made this fact entirely clear to Vanessa. It turned her off and opened her up to him. She was attracted precisely because there was no good reason to see him. She knew it, too. He worked for everything the opposite of her own goals. It was purely emotional so she did it.

Now, tears streaming on her face as the echoes of Lee in the hall faded away, Vanessa remembered and heightened the impact of that moment in Drama Simulation. And she thought she was taking control of the situation by accepting his invitation! ITE warned of a potential overload in emotive processing and probed Vanessa's mind for the biodata needed to select the appropriate solving sequence to apply. Vanessa took the instant to leap to another memory of Lee.

They met at the appointed hour, in the appointed place. He arrived five minutes early and she arrived two minutes early. They arrived at the small bistro-style restaurant on the lake shore exactly on time. She had been here before and liked the preparation and the atmosphere. She liked the fact there were no robots. The hostess led them through the steel and glass, black and white main dining room to a quieter enclave, appointed in softer leathers and marble and stepped down to the windowbooths. Vanessa concealed her frown as they settled into an intimate corner.

He politely inquired about her current service, though he knew the particulars from her transmitted bio. She told him about her work in the aircar assembly plant, Zas Air5, over in the northern industrial zone. The plant was on freeform rotation now, allowed to alter the standard assembly procedures for the variety and possible improvements this yielded. Vanessa was walking the final assembly line at the moment, one of the first workers in the plant allowed to do so. She explained to Lee how she began at the very start of the line, where the basic frames came into the plant, and with a flexible team of workers, proceeded to assemble the entire aircar. Both the team and the aircar moved down the standard assembly line, so she learned to install every last part of the final car. This very day she'd had the rare thrill of building into the car the very guidance control system she'd built in subassembly only a month prior.

At this point she glanced about for listening ears, then lowered her voice. "I admit that I pressed my namesign in the housing of the guidance system. Lee, I couldn't help it - I'd put my namesign in just the right place on the system box, it lined up so harmoniously with my namesign on the housing. Some people work in that factory for years without ever getting the chance I had." Vanessa straightened back and suddenly realized what she'd just admitted to him. By stamping her namesign into the guidance subsystem housing on the aircar frame, she claimed more credit than the thousands of others whose work went into the final aircar. "I know it was selfish. You don't think worse of me, I hope? Do you?" Her ITE reminded her how she'd acted impulsively against the better advice of Community programming. ITE added that it was a good idea to air this weakness with others and approved of this discussion with Lee.

"I'm sure your intentions are honest, Vanessa. We are all human, after all. As you said, there are many who never get the chance. The probabilities are against it, surely." Lee was diplomatic. His ITE pointed out the incontrovertible selfishness of the act. Lee didn't need ITE to see that Vanessa must surely have acted at the time against the better advice of her own ITE. It was imbedded in Community source code: Selfish acts do not promote harmony. Her ITE had to be warning her against the impulse. Yet she did it anyway. Lee had to admit he felt the same desire to do as she did. The chance would never come again. Lee ordered ITE to take full biosigns and store the information for further analysis. Here was an essence of human behavior at work, moving Vanessa to act even despite the corrections of ITE and a lifetime of Community programming.

She watched his reaction closely. He seemed confused, but sympathetic to her feelings. She felt he retreated to ITE processing to handle her sudden confession. He was off balance. This was just what she wanted. The salad came, and the refreshing waters. Here was the perfect opportunity to tell Lee that she liked him, but that was all. She opened her mouth to tell him - and instead filled it with a forkful of spinach salad.

Vanessa could feel ITE catching up with her feelings, ready once again to take control. She jumped to another memory.

The voices of his ITE and her ITE mingled and spoke simultaneously. I love you, Lee and Vanessa thought, meant, intended and felt. Lee's ITE told Lee Vanessa wanted him more deeply. He squeezed her sweat-sheened body closer to his own, straining to put himself entirely in her entirety. Vanessa's ITE told her Lee wanted to be held, gripped, pulled into her very core. She squeezed him, matching his hardness with her own pulsating force. They exploded. He holographed involuntarily, she holographed a flower, a red flower opening petalled, silken petalled within petalled within petalled opening and intertwining, simultaneously complementing interlocked and as the rush of orgasm subsided in their minds and bodies the holographic roses blooming from their linked portals closed, interlapped, into a deeply layered, doublestemmed rosebud. Then, the voices of ITE stilled. Silence overwhelmed them, like the tide on a beach.

Vanessa revelled in the open silence, hugging Lee over and over again. She never expected to be able to silence ITE this way. The vast waves of post orgasm washed through their bodies, far beyond anything ever coded. Lee revelled in the bonus discovery of previously unmonitored emotional responses attached to sexlove acts and hugged her back just as hard. I love you, pulsed the voices of their ITE simultaneously. Vanessa wanted to feel the friction of him, slowly, a warm long rubbing a movement of him in her so he did and Lee wanted to feel her stroke, her silken clinging sliding and she undulated beneath him slowly, rubbing her small erect breasts against his chest and taking him into her again. He kissed her, he dived into her, he let himself go completely into her.

Now, sitting on her leather sofa, her head leaned back against the back of her living room wall, she remembered the stilling rush of that moment. She fixed her gaze against the silent, unmoving rock cliff ITE recognized this state of revery and knew how to deal with this inappropriate condition. 'Loading sequence now', it boomed in her mind, shattering the silence. She pushed her head against the brick wall behind her; the cliff grew harder and unforgiving. She leapt to yet another memory, at another time.

She broke off the kiss, pulled her wrist away from his, breaking his sudden and deep touchlink. It was a probe, really, another of his surprise probes to monitor her free space. She did not break his embrace, her looked backed him out of it. "Why did you do that?" she challenged him. He held his hand up to his shoulder, exposing his portal. His ITE quickly read disturbed patterns and a low level fear condition in her biosigns. After almost a year with her, he knew what about, and he was not sorry he probed her when she did not expect it. "Happiness is the logical reality," he replied. He projected their special flowergraph; it bloomed from his wrist portal. She watched it open, her ITE measuring and reporting its dimensions, each petal of his an exact compliment of hers. After a few layers unfolded, her ITE began predicting the pattern of his rose. The prediction ran true to within two percent error almost to the very core of his rose. He face dropped, pain flashed in her eyes. After all this time together, he was trying to program the rose. He was trying to probe her free space so he could program the rose. An entire year of effort, wasted it seemed to her. All he wanted to do beyond the frontiers of ITE and Control was program the unprogrammed. But she always knew this. Her ITE told her that happiness was logical. She had only to be logical to be happy. Quite logically, he wanted to be happy with her so it was only logical that she be happy with him now. "You are right, love," she said, deferring, backing down immediately from the superior force of Lee's logic and ITE Community programming. "Have a productive day." See how logical it is to be happy she thought to herself, his ITE chiming total agreement. Lee smiled, satisfied that another of Vanessa's moments of strange behavior was over, and she was her sensible self once again. Like so many mornings, Lee went off down the hallway to the airstairs and the outside world.

Now, she could hear Lee stamping on the stairway as he left her apartment now. The tears on her face were dry; her eyes burned rather with the anger and outrage of that moment of violation as she remembered it. He did it so many mornings in a row! Why did she not realize what he wanted! Much to Vanessa's joy, ITE could not possibly keep up with her emotional velocity. ITE fell silent, waiting for the chance to appeal to Control for help. In the silence of her mind, she listened to him fade away, glad he was gone. So very glad he was gone.

She did not want to hurt him, she did not want to lose him. She had just driven him out! She loved him, she hated him, she looked at him objectively and rejected him. She thought of the void without him and wanted him back.

How could she make him see what he was doing to their togetherness. ITE repeatedly warned her of dangerous emotional intensity, loaded first a sorrow-solving sequence, then a hatred-solving sequence, then a calming sequence, executing none of them. ITE prepared to calculate the logical probability of reestablishing contact with Lee. Vanessa got off the sofa and paced around the room, hoping to stay in front of ITE.

Lee stormed out of Vanessa's Habitat rooms. He steamed down the corridor, all the while pulling his immaculately vertical hair. Boarding an upflight on the stairway, he stomped on the airstair, making it shudder away like a powerboat. The stair simply could not move fast enough for him; he frequently stomped his heel down to make the machine move faster. He was rapidly arriving at a conclusion: He had to do something about Vanessa fast. She was off the path, she was crazy, she was refusing the happiness and harmony that opened to her, thanks to ITE. The airstair simply did not move fast enough; he jumped off it and ran up the ramps to the ground level courtyard.

What could he do? What could he do to stop her from her illusion? To get her back, reopen the way of his dream, her dream? Nothing! she would not even listen to him, never mind touch link with him! That was not the pattern of Vanessa as he knew and recorded it. What, he nearly screamed out loud, happened to the dream of the rose? When he projected it, she cried. How did he hurt her? What did he do wrong to drive her so far away? ITE warned him of dangerous emotional intensity and increasing formation of illusion bases. This calmed him slightly. Dependable ITE, once again reminding him of the true meaning and scope of things. The problem was not his, it was hers. He had to help her.

He ran to the touchpost at the gates of the courtyard, touched in for Vanessa's cell. The attention signal rang and rang, she did not answer. Finally, he requested access to her message tape. "Vaness," he pulsed, his intensity nearly a shout, "let me help you. I'll go away then - just let me help you, please." ITE informed him he overloaded the capacity of the messager and it automatically reduced the recorded intensity of his signal. This warning set him completely straight. He applied to ITE for an emotional solving sequence, and went to sit on a courtyard bench.

He was no less a person because she rejected him, ITE intoned, soothingly, he was no less masculine, no less capable, no less caring, no less open. He participated with her, some faults were his faults. He was a scitizen, her faults were known faults, what was known could be logically helped, his problems could be dosed and his path opened.

I participate with her, interrupted Lee's own mind, her problems are our problems are my problems. What is her problem? I have touched all of her, her problems are known problems except where I cannot probe, where she will not probe. ITE increased intonation in response to Lee: It is logical to help Vanessa, a scitizen who is logical is happy. Happiness is logical, harmony is attainable. You are no less a person, no less caring, no less open. Be calm now.

Lee said a silent prayer of thanks to the Tree of Being. Now he knew what to do. He was the one who bore the open promise, he still had purpose and an open direction. It was up to him to hold the promise open for her, to help her. If he was patient, if he could watch, the time would come when she opened to him again. Then it would be his duty to offer her the promise again.

He returned to the touchpost to call her rooms again. "Vanessa, please hear me. Please call me when the moment comes. I will not be far. I am open, let me help." He instructed his ITE to leave his private impulse on the tape as his signature. He knew she was there, listening, receiving. She would get the message this way.

This done, Lee turned his mind to the rest of his life. The enormous and somehow forgotten fact of the Transportation guest boomed back into mind. Oh my, he thought, how could I forget such a thing? It is all right, intoned ITE, ITE never forgets. Please maintain touch with Community until arrival of airbus.

You are three and a half pulses late for work. Here is Global Channel One.

Councillor Andrew objected to the jump in conclusions assumed by both Anthony and Edmund when they raised the question of whom to send as emissary to greet the Guest now in the Museum.

Andrew insisted that the first question of the decision tree was whether or not to send anyone at all. It was possible, after all, to obtain a sample from the Guest by mechanical means and avoid possibly corruptive contact. Edmund and Anthony argued that full development of the decision tree required that all options be explored for the benefit of Community, which included sending an emissary, and necessarily then which one or ones. Control reported that Anthony was now experiencing some fading of intensity, and a change of thought pattern.

Lee realized that he did not have enough background to follow the proceedings in Global Council.

He requested a Control brief, via his ITE. At the same time, ITE announced that his bus was a mere 47 seconds away.

ITE loaded a full event history, reiterating for Lee the arrival of Alissa in the street in the Museum, and all of her activities inside the townhouse, where she was now. This was all information he'd missed while he was interacting with Vanessa. He still could hardly process or understand how Vanessa could become so suddenly individual after the supreme moment of selfless belonging in harmony, which brought Alissa to the Museum in the first place. ITE reminded him that it was a sickness, and not Vanessa's fault.

The bus arrived. Lee quickly boarded it and placed his wrist portal against the radio-portal imbedded in the armrest of his seat on the bus. Once again connected to Global Channel One, Lee bent his head in absorption. He paid no attention to the scenery passing by out the full-arc windows of the bus.

Anthony had changed his mind. Now the Councillor reasoned out a critical danger. If the Guest was, as Control asserted, a human from the past, the Thracean dimension could be closed. With the knowledge of the future, a person returned to the past could change that future, without intending it or knowing how, why, or even that it happened. Thracean culture could never come to be.

Sighing, Edmund led all three other Councillors in a request for Control requantification of the probabilities. After all, Council and Community already considered these odds, before the Transmigration.

Anthony read this thought through the networks, as did every other scitizen touched into the network. "Things have changed. We have more data. The Guest has been here now. Council has questioned the rashness of determining emissaries without considering the options. It is wise always to know the probabilities. Don't you agree, Edmund," broadcast Anthony through the networks. Again Edmund sighed, and issued the request to Control.

Control put the probability at one light year to one. Edmund held back none of his sense of satisfaction. Lee wished he was not connected at a buspost, it could not carry the intensity of solidarity Lee felt with Edmund.

Anthony asked for the Probability Scenario. Edmund grew apoplectic. "Why do you stall!" Edmund cried out, using his own voice to speak across the table to Anthony. The buspost connection carried well enough for Lee to feel just what it was like to be Edmund, looking across that fabulous table, at the stubborn face of Councillor Anthony. Lee's eyebrows fell square, like Edmund's.

Councillor Bernard jumped quantum in intensity in agreement with Edmund. Andrew remained silent, thinking. Lee could not understand Andrew's doubts, so he asked for Control link to direct thought monitoring of Andrew. His ITE proudly announced the moment of link. "Direct access, Councillor Andrew, now," it told Lee.

Lee saw the matrix of possibilities, assigned by probability, that existed in Andrew's thinking. The Councillor wavered between simply taking a genetic sample by mechanical means and establishing full contact. Andrew sought prudence, and Lee had to agree that the single most prudent course was not clear.

Lee just knew in his gut that full contact was the best way.

"To ask for knowledge of the consequences is wise," replied Anthony. "Many in my plenum recall that the odds against ever opening a dimensional portal were also a light year to one. Control reminds that the calculated probability was still higher by ten power when research first began. Now things change quickly. The Guest has already experienced the moving painted pictures and the thought-responsive piano.

What could full contact show her?" Control confirmed Lee's suspicion that Anthony capitalized on the wavering mind of Andrew.

"You do intend prudence in this action, do you not, Edmund," added Anthony, his intensity rising suddenly. Lee thought Anthony was getting too aggressive now.

Control intervened. "Twenty-six percent of Community desires to know the worst case scenario, as proposed by Councillor Anthony. Plenum scores originate from Anthony and Andrew only."

Edmund slumped in his chair. Control went on, inevitably. "Scenario to broadcast in two pulses.

Disclaimer: worst case scenario."

"Please attend this matter closely - this will be the last time we consider it" Edmund slipped the pulse into the network just as Control initiated the Scenario broadcast.

Lee cursed the speed of the bus. It had no holographer, he had no choice but to close his eyes and watch his own brain's imperfect projections against the back of his eyelids.

The Scenario began. Ancester Alissa returns to Pre-Migration Earth, back to her own time and place. Frightened by the knowledge of the future retained in the back of her mind, Alissa delays by several years the birth of her daughter. Her daughter in turn does not marry the same man, and therefore does not have the daughter that is the grandmother to the man who invents the biomimic silicon chip. This delays by more than a hundred years the day the human race discovers how to transmogrify biomatter, at which point it is too late for more than a handful of humans to escape the nova implosion of the planet, which eliminates the existence of all the people on Earth.

Collectively, the people of Community gasped. Lee could hear the stunned exhale of all of the other passengers on the bus. Prompted by Control, ITE repeated the worst case disclaimer and advised Lee to execute a ventilation sequence to dispel his tension. The sharp and regular breathing of the passengers filled the bus. Strangely, Lee did not feel he needed to execute the sequence. He felt that he had some experience, some background for handling unusual emotional states. He had a facility for dealing with emotions outside those completely coded. Vanessa taught him this ability.

Lee looked around at the bus passengers, all rocking back and forth with the cadences of the ventilation. He perfectly understood their anxiety: Lee felt it, the same as these scitizens. Still, it seemed to Lee that these scitizens could benefit from greater facility to deal with their feelings on their own. As Vanessa taught him to feel. At her best, Vanessa made him feel under control yet more free to think and feel and be the person that he was. Vanessa inspired growth - she called it liberation; Lee saw now her direction was right - as he'd always told himself.

Control spoke in the minds of the people of Thrae. 'Do the people want to continue on the path of action determined by sending an emissary to greet the Transmigrant human. Control will poll in ten seconds.

'Well, what are we going to do,' pulsed in Edmund, not expecting a response. None of the other Councillors broadcast a thought in response. Control announced three, then two then one then polling.

"We must go on!' Lee thought-pulsed with all the intensity he had. The idea of not communicating with the ancestor from Earth was unthinkable, total destruction or not.

At that same moment, he saw a way to help Vanessa. ITE quickly opened a RAM cache and helped him rough out the idea. He could use his subspecialty, biotechnology, to extend the range and flexibility of transmitting chips, bring a more organic structure to the emotional code of Control. This extension could bring logical happiness to scitizens like Vanessa, and bring more human feeling to the vast majority of others.

The data on human mental development available from the ancestor Alissa now appeared vital to Lee. It promised the needed data platform for flexibility in any new system. This plus his firsthand knowledge of Vanessa gave him a substantial body of information to shape into knowledge. Lee could apply for Service as a Researcher and live on Grant for a time. He dared not hope for Global fame, only the recognition and credits from Control. He really wanted to work on the team that digested the data gathered from the Transmigration.

The bus swished to a stop on the edge of the Plaza in Worker's Park. The section door rose up like a gull wing and let him leap out and run toward the first industrial building along the Plaza. Briefly, he paused at a touchpost on the way, and learned that Community voted overwhelmingly to continue, and choose an emissary. Council was once again in Debate.

Lee hurried now for his cell at work. He could spend the next eight hours letting his ITE run his robots while he occupied himself with the proceedings of Council.

The messager turned on, quietly broadcasting the message into her cell as it was recorded.

"Vanessa, let me help you. Call me when you need help. I will not be far away." Lee's personal imprint sounded, sweetly as always, clear through Vanessa's rooms.

"I don't want your help!" she shouted at the box in the wall, its blinking red light infuriating her.

She turned to his portrait. "I need your help. I don't want you to go away this way. I want you to learn to leave me to be free, with you. Free of ITE. ITE is you."

She did not want to hurt him, she did not want to lose him. She had just driven him out. She looked at him objectively and rejected him. She thought of the void without him and wanted him back.

How could she make him see what he was doing to them? ITE repeatedly warned her of dangerous emotional intensity, loaded first a sorrow-solving sequence, then a hatred-solving sequence, then a calming sequence. ITE prepared to calculate the logical probabilities for re-establishing contact with Lee.

Every time ITE loaded another action, Vanessa ran on to another thought.

How could she make him see that he programmed their happiness. He programmed more and more of the love they built together, she could not get through his programming. A programmed solution is a certain solution, intoned ITE, in the same tones used so often by Lee. Resolution is logical, happiness is logical, resolution is happiness, a certain solution is happiness, a programmed solution is happiness is logical is certain. Lee and ITE were no different. Vanessa did not love ITE.

She had to be careful now: ITE could easily identify anti-ITE sentiment, and this was always considered a cause for concern. Strong rejection of ITE resulted in treatment by a MedCenter team. She quickly hurried her thought along to a different topic.

Look at my walls, she thought. They are brick, a special fire-treated red brick, a warm brick that Lee and I made. It is a good color, it is a happiness color, it is ours.

Vanessa wanted now to rip down the walls, beautiful as they were.

She went to the balcony window, looked out at the blue sky. Here and there on the windows, themselves, small panes of colored transparencies turned the blue sky purple, or rose; a space sailor wafted lightly in the midnight blue of another pane, brightly colored flowers exploded with the daylight behind them in another pane.

These are my windows, thought Vanessa, the windows we made together. These are real windows, that hide the real blue sky. I don't want these windows, I want the sky. I want me!

She spun away from the window, moved across the room to the rocking chair. It was not real wood, though it looked and felt like what real wood used to be. ITE confirmed that fact the day her parents gave her the rocker. She loved old things, ancient things from before the Migration. Her parents spent many credits to have this rocker, shaped like the rockers shown in the Museum, made for her. She loved it. Her parents had a portal imbedded in the arm of the rocker, so that she could sit and rock and learn of the times before the Migration. My parents are so logical, thought Vanessa. They gave me this rocker to make me happy and to make me stop spending time beyond ITE, see I cannot sit in it and be comfortable without touching into Control. Even her parents did not comprehend her!

Lee's portrait stood on the side table next to the rocker. She made the side table herself out of the trees she cut on Service. She put his portrait on that table because it was the only place it belonged. Now his portrait defiled her table. His smiling face defiled her now too as it looked at her from inside its frame.

Lee's portrait smiled at her with the smile of happiness.

Happiness! He wanted to program her happiness! It was his happiness, not her happiness. I love you Lee, she thought beamed at the portrait, why do you hate me so? She had only to project a beam from her portal at the portrait to hear him speak his love to her, to see the picture gain dimension and move.

"There you are," she said aloud at the portrait, careful to deny it contact through her portal, "in there where you belong," Lee seemed so at home there in his confined frame, able to express only what he'd left in the beamchip.

Totally calm now, Vanessa went into the sleeping room.

The bedroom window also looked out at the Lake, and the rising rock cliff. The bedroom window, however, was not as large and it was also polarized to prevent outsiders from looking in. The canopied bed faced the window, so that they - she could prop herself up on the pillows and watch the water of the Lake lap against the rock of the cliff. Once she had even managed to hypnotize herself into a state outside of ITE - and ITE's expert system immediately learned how to follow her into a state of hypnosis, which, of course, it did not think was mentally healthy.

She examined the carefully worked lace edges of the bedspread, made for her by two of her friends in Drama Simulation. The two became known in the western regions for their craftsmanship, after displaying this work on the holography networks. The lace carefully told the story of Vanessa's life, from a young girl who loved the out of doors, to her schooling in the mountain college to her Service building Recreation Peak Resorts to her leading position with the Drama group.

Vanessa looked at the smooth surface of the silken bedspread, lovingly worked in a quiet floral pattern. How many times they made love beneath that canopied bed! Loving times, times of the rose. The rose that she cherished as a living proof of their freedom to love as they felt. The rose that he worked so hard to program. She whirled away from the bed, with its dreamscreen that Lee installed beneath the canopy. They projected their fantasies there. Now it seemed that he used that bed as only a platform for his research. She could not look at it now. She removed her clothes, looked at herself in the full length mirror. Sandy brown hair worn long, just touching the tops of her bony shoulders. Freckles spilling from her shoulders to the crease between her breasts, firm belly, blonde hair framing her groin, long muscular legs leading to feet that were too big. Did he endeavor to program this part of her too? Did her body meet Lee, or did her body meet Lee's ITE? Did she give herself to Control. That's when she noticed the silence.

Silence everywhere. No ITE. Her head spun with confusion in silence. No ITE. No voice in her head thinking for her, or watching her think. The silence was unending. She exhaled, sharply, stretched her body out. There she was, just Vanessa. She wanted to jump for joy! Naked, and alone and free! No confusion, no obstacles, no constraints! Free!

Fear threatened to grip her - ITE could boot up at any moment. Hurriedly, she dressed herself again and ran into the living room. Still, silence.

ITE had no standard database to deal with the stew of confusion she'd stirred in her mind. It was only logical. Vanessa grabbed at the fact: Total emotional confusion destroyed ITE, so long as she could resist the standard solving sequences. She did it!

Seizing the chance to think for herself, she asked herself what she really wanted to do about Lee.

Her confusion quickly began building up again. She looked out at the stone face of the cliff. Then she laughed at herself.

How strong she thought she was. How different and important she though she was, trying to be without ITE. She didn't know what to do about Lee, she had no idea. Confusion liberated her from ITE and paralyzed her at the same time. What good was that? Lee was right. All this time spent with her friends in Drama, playacting, was a waste of time. It was only a game, they had not solved any important human dilemma, or even any visible individual dilemma. She could feel, oh, she could feel for herself within her own little world. What could she do with it? It separated her from Lee, from the promise of lifetime happiness.

Happiness is logical, intoned ITE, shattering the silence. Vanessa wanted to cry. It is logical that 1 will find a way, replied Vanessa, adamant. ITE advised a calming sequence with ventilation exercises. ITE apologized for deserting Vanessa at a time of need, but ITE had experienced an undocumented downtime.

ITE advised that Vanessa try to aid ITE by sticking with logical thought patterns, so that ITE could check its monitor point implants. Return to logic, of course, thought Vanessa in return. But it will be my logic now. Yes. I will find a logical way to use what I feel and know. She repeated this to herself over and over again, all the while doing the ventilation exercises requested by ITE. This was no time to be pulled into a MedCenter by ITE. She needed a distraction now, so she sat down in her rocker and touched into Global Channel One. The Guest, Alissa, was in the Museum, Council was in heated Debate. Referendum was imminent.

Watching Alissa move away, frightened almost, from the piano made Vanessa empathize immediately. Here was this woman from the past, alone and purposely isolated in a fake place like the Museum, confronted with a technology that didn't exist in her own time. How frightened she must be! Vanessa wanted dearly to give the woman back her bearings, return her to her own time and place.

Suddenly this seemed so clear that Vanessa wanted to have input to Global Council, to tell them to consider simply returning the Guest right away. It was inhuman! Vanessa formatted this thought and addressed the pulse through the network to Councillor Anthony. Leave her alone, she pulsed quite intensely, send her back immediately.

Yet, thought Vanessa, the woman has already come here. She has already experienced what she cannot understand. Even if she forgets, she will be haunted by the dream-memory in the back of her mind.

It was impossible to completely erase an experience from the human mind. This had been proven time and time again. Lee could explain it down to the molecular/chemical/electrical/atomic level. In the same position, Vanessa felt that she would want to know everything instead of only enough to disturb her.

Vanessa wanted to comfort the woman with an embrace and total acceptance. Vanessa wanted to replace Alissa's fear with understanding.

ITE advised Vanessa that communication with the Guest would probably be very difficult. This was why the Global Council could not easily arrive at a choice of emissary. Councillor Andrew even brought the issue back further: should there be any emissary at all?

Vanessa was now convinced that there should be contact, for the sake of the Guest. She tried again to reach through the network for Councillor Anthony, but Control reported that Anthony was in the process of changing his mind. In fact, had changed his mind.

"Is it not wise to have knowledge of all the possibilities? Is it not prudent? You do intend prudence in this matter, Edmund," beamed Anthony. We have a different priority now, pulsed Vanessa.

She watched with agony as Alissa sat on the windowseat, feeling all of the materials to see if they were real, or animated. Poor Alissa could trust nothing of her surroundings. Vanessa understood the situation quite well, or thought she did. ITE provided the availablce biodata, concluding for Vanessa that Alissa was not as panicked as Vanessa thought. Control announced the broadcast of the worst case scenario.

Vanessa watched the broadcast scenario with widening eyes and by the time the Earth blew up arrived at the certain conviction that the people of Community owed an explanation to Alissa. If Alissa knew the consequences, then history would not change. It made no sense to Vanessa to have the course of the human race altered due to a faulty and haunting memory harbored by a person who was taken by force out of her normal context of life.

Vanessa wondered, too, if Alissa really saw the world of the Museum around her now as so horrible. This was an assumption on the part of Control, an assumption based on the existing data platform, which could not and did not contain information about human behavior before the Migration.

How could Control know what she felt?

Vanessa wondered if Alissa would see her as human. There was the implant in her arm, even now feeding her knowledge and ways of thinking. Global Council resumed its debate for only a brief second before Control called for a final poll on the question of sending an emissary.

Could I help her? Vanessa asked herself. Could I reach her, could I understand how she really felt? Would she listen to me if she did not think I was human, like her?

If only Lee would listen first before he helped. When he could listen to what she wanted, then he would know how to help. Until then it was a closed path. Maybe Vanessa, or any scitizen, was unable to listen to what the Guest wanted.

Control announced polling thrcc two one now. Vanessa voted to establish contact. It was the only way.

Lee would listen to the woman from the past. Vanessa believed the woman would take care not to offend, and take care to tell the truth about what she saw. If she did not think the race of Thraceans to be human, or communicative, then Vanessa felt sure Alissa would say so. Alissa had no monitors attached to her nervous system, providing her with guidelines for thought and action. Alissa was free to think and be as she was, and no other way. Lee would have to listen to the Guest. Even if she told him what he did not want to hear, he would not be offended. He might employ his critical database, but he would find only that it did not apply. He could only take the Guest at her word. If only Lee could speak with the Guest! Then maybe he might understand Vanessa.

ITE advised Vanessa that her thinking contained an assumption that bordered on illusion. Right, thought Vanessa, keep the Guest away from Lee before she feels any more pain.

Control tallied the vote. Intensity was seven to two in favor of communication. Councillor Edmund pulsed grudging acknowledgement to Councillor Anthony. Anthony and Andrew spoke for many more than Edmund believed. Anthony accepted graciously and returned the favor. After all, Edmund did speak for the overwhelming number and intensity of scitizens.

Council proceeded quickly. Three emissaries were dropped in favor of two, then after some debate, limited to one scitizen. One scitizen reduced the risk of contamination and provided a less threatening overture to the Guest.

Vanessa dearly wished to be that person. If only she could talk freely with the Guest, perhaps the woman would say what Vanessa wanted to hear. What Lee and her parents and her friends needed to hear.

Councillor Edmund proposed that nominations be open to Global Community, that Thrae send the very best scitizen on the planet. "We must pay our Guest the proper amount of respect. She is not here on her own will."

Councillor Anthony protested. "Scitizens are Serving at this very moment for this purpose. I say let those who Serve see their task to completion. 'Those who Serve give All, though some may live and some my fall.' Anthony recited the creed of Service. 'I say our issue is to choose among those already nominated."

Like all Thraceans, Vanessa had Served. It was not taken lightly. A scitizen was expected to give all and take risks as they were assigned. She did her Service logging and grooming the slopes at Recreation Peak. It was dangerous work and a rigorous life. After the tree trunk rolled over her feet, she spent two months in a cast and to this day her feet were flat. She felt she deserved the mounting recognition for the work they accomplished. Recreation Peak was the finest facility in the Western NWNA mountains. The names of the workers who built it were inscribed, by popular approval, on two ornate columns at the base of the mountain. She touched her name in stone, her signature was engraved there forever, along with all the others. Those who Served were entitled to the risk and the reward. Vanessa agreed with Councillor Anthony.

Councillor Andrew put forward her very thought, with a slight modification. "We must send the right person, for the sake of the Guest and Thrae. I propose we consider those who Serve first, and then all if necessary. " Vanessa sent Andrew a pulse of approval for this.

'Agreed,' seconded Edmund sharply, looking at Anthony. The choices were no longer limited, just ordered. Andrew's motion carried easily with Bernard. Anthony had no choice.

Control broadcast the identities and bios of all those on Service for this action, some seven hundred people.

"I move for Control calculation and ranking of these seven hundred candidates," pulsed Anthony, taking Edmund by surprise. Pleasantly, Edmund jumped quantum on the proposal.

Control arrived quickly at three most probable choices. Bios followed through the network. Vanessa turned up the size and density of her holographic display.

Nicholas was a psychology programmer. Vanessa disliked him immediately upon hearing his voice pulse. Nicholas had the endorsement of Edmund. Mary was a biotheorist and independent portrait holographer. She often painted canvas in the ancient way in preparation for a holograph. Lee hired her to do the portrait that sat on Vanessa's handmade table. Mary's fame was widespread. Vanessa pulsed her approval. Mary had a good sense of who people were. Mary also had the endorsement of Andrew and Bernard. The third choice was Susan, an Olday. Vanessa stood up in disbelief. Across town, Lee sat bolt upright in his lounger. These two were not alone in their reactions.

"What is your intention," boomed Edmund, reacting to the further shock of Anthony's endorsement of this candidate.

Suddenly, Vanessa knew Susan had to be the one. Susan was an Olday - Susan was free of ITE, like her Olday mother and grandmother and every mother before her. Susan's people never accepted the implant, even during the Migration. For the Guest's sake, it had to be Susan. Only Susan could understand a person like Alissa. Susan did not have the implant on her body. ITE admitted that Susan represented the least contamination risk. An Olday did not know what was in the networks, and therefore could not reveal it to the Guest from the past.

Vanessa fell back into her rocker and touched back into the system. She bent all her might into a pulse of approval for Susan.

Across town, Lee pulsed just as strongly against the Olday candidate as an absurd choice.

Control eliminated Nicholas, based on insufficient relative approval intensity. Edmund switched his support to Mary.

"We must consider our Guest," began Anthony. Vanessa watched as Anthony's thin figure rose in the light cube of her holographer. "And we must consider our goal. The citizen Susan Olday is most able, of all Thraceans, to understand our Guest. Susan can access the feeling in a citizen who has been without ITE. How many of us can imagine it? I cannot!"

Lee could, and sent a pulse to Anthony to tell him so. Lee knew Vanessa. That was enough.

Vanessa could imagine it with no problem, she felt. Still, she felt harmony with Anthony on this point.

"You would send a misfit to represent all scitizens," concluded Edmund. "I question your best intent, Councillor.

"Let the Community decide," replied Anthony, tossing up his hands.

Vanessa could barely contain herself. ITE muttered increasingly sharp warning signals. There was entirely too much unchanneled energy collecting in her emotional centers. Vanessa started laughing. Lee must be burning his chips, she thought. Susan was an Olday. He would never know how the emissary really felt. Lee could not plug into an Olday. There was no code at all. He could not analyze away all the meaning, including the ambiguities of such imprecise communication. He wouldn't have all the information. Lee would have only the word of the woman from the past, spoken with her own meaning.

Vanessa laughed and laughed, until ITE quieted away again. Now there was hope. She voted tin and again for Susan, though Control allowed only one instant of polling to register her desires.

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