Distress полностью

I thought I had an inkling of what she was suggesting. "It's a bit like saying that… the general principle that 'people form net clans with other people with whom they have something in common' has nothing to do with what those common interests happen to be. Exactly the same process brings together… fans of Jane Austen, or students of the genetics of wasps, or whatever."

"Right. Jane Austen 'belongs' to all the people who read her—not to the sociological principle which suggests that they'll get together to discuss her books. And the law of gravity 'belongs' to all the systems which obey it— not to a TOE which predicts that they'll get together to form a universe.

"And maybe the Theory of Everything should collapse into nothing but 'statements about numbers which have to be true.' Maybe pre-space itself has to melt into nothing but simple arithmetic, simple logic—leaving us with no choices to make about its structure at all."

I laughed. "I think even SeeNet's audience might have some trouble wrapping their minds around that." I certainly did. "Look, maybe it's going to take a while for you and Helen Wu to make sense of all this. We can always do an update on it, back in Cape Town, if it turns out to be an important development."

Mosala agreed, relieved. Throwing ideas around was one thing, but she clearly didn't want to take a position on this, officially. Not yet.

Before I could lose my nerve, I said, "Do you think you'll still be living in Cape Town, in six months' time?"

I'd braced myself for the kind of outburst the word Anthrocosmologist had produced—but Mosala simply observed drily, "Well, I didn't think it could remain a secret for long. I suppose the whole conference is talking about it."

"Not exactly. I heard it from a local."

She nodded, unsurprised. "I've been having discussions with the academic syndicates here, for months. So it's probably all over the island by now." She flashed a wry smile. "Not much into confidentiality, these anarchists. But what can you expect from patent violators and intellectual property thieves?"

I said, "So what's the attraction?"

She stood. "Can you stop recording, please?" I complied. "When all the details have been worked out, I'll make a public statement—but I don't want some off-the-cuff remark on the subject coming out first."

"I understand."

She said, "What's the attraction of patent violators and intellectual property thieves? That very fact. Stateless is renegade, they flout the biotech licensing laws. She turned toward the window, and stretched out her arms. "And look at them! They're not the wealthiest people on the planet—but no one here is starving. No one. That's not true in Europe, Japan, Australia—let alone in Angola, Malawi…" She trailed off, and studied me for a moment, as if trying to decide if I really had stopped filming. If she really should trust me at all.

I waited. She continued.

"What's that got to do with me? My own country's doing well enough. I'm not exactly in danger of malnutrition, am I?" She closed her eyes and groaned. "This is very hard for me to say. But… like it or not, the Nobel prize has given me a certain kind of power. If I move to Stateless—and state the reasons why—it will make news. It will make an impact, in certain places."

She hesitated again.

I said, "I can keep my mouth shut."

Mosala smiled faintly. "I know that. I think."

"So what kind of impact do you want to make?"

She walked over to the window. I said, "Is this some kind of political gesture against traditionalists like PACDF?"

She laughed. "No, no, no! Well… maybe it will be that as well, coincidentally. But that's not the point." She steeled herself. "I've had assurances. From a number of highly placed people. I've been promised that if I move to Stateless… not because I matter, but because it will make news, and create a pretext… the South African government will unilaterally drop all sanctions against the island, within six months."

I had goose bumps. One country might make no difference—except that South Africa was the major trading partner of about thirty other African nations.

Mosala said quietly, "The voting patterns in the UN don't show it, but the fact is, the anti-sanctions faction is not a tiny minority. At present, there's all kinds of bloc solidarity and surface agreement, because everyone believes they can't win, and they don't want to cause offense."

"But if someone gave the right little push, they might start an avalanche?"

"Maybe." She laughed, embarrassed. "Talk about delusions of grandeur. The truth is, I get sick to the core every time I think about it— and I don't actually believe anything dramatic is going to happen."

"One person to break the symmetry. Why not?"

She shook her head firmly. "There've been other attempts to shift the vote, which have all fallen through. Anything's worth trying, but I have to keep my feet on the ground."