Distress полностью

Ve rolled vis eyes. "The Keystone is just another person. The first to grasp the TOE completely—but there's no reason why a billion others can't do the same, after ver. Someone has to be first—it's as simple as that. The Keystone is not—remotely—a 'god'; the Keystone need not even know that ve's created the universe. All ve has to do is explain it."

"While people like you stand back and explain that act of creation?"

Kuwale made a dismissive gesture, as if ve had no time to waste on metaphysical nit-picking.

I said, "So why are you so concerned about Violet Mosala, if she's nothing so cosmically special after all?"

Ve was bemused. "Does a person have to be some kind of supernatural being, to deserve not to be killed? Do I have to get down on my knees and worship the woman as Mother Goddess of the Universe, in order to care whether she lives or dies?"

"Call her Mother Goddess of the Universe to her face, and you'd soon wish you were dead, yourself."

Kuwale grinned. "And rightly so." Ve added stoically, "But I know she thinks AC is even lower than the Ignorance Cults; the very fact that we desist from god-talk only makes us more insidious, in her eyes. She thinks we're parasites feeding off science: following the work of TOE theorists, stealing it, abusing it… and not even having the honesty to speak the language of the anti-rationalists." Ve shrugged lightly. "She despises us. I still respect her, though. And whether she's the Keystone or not… she's one of the greatest physicists of her generation, she's a powerful force for technoliberation… why should I need to deify her, to value her life?"

"Okay." This whole laid-back attitude seemed far too good to be true—but it wasn't inconsistent with anything I'd heard from Conroy. "That's mainstream AC. Now tell me about the heretics."

Kuwale groaned. "The permutations are… endless. Imagine any variation you like, and there's sure to be someone on the planet who embraces it as the truth. We don't have a patent on Anthrocosmology. There are ten billion people out there, and they're all capable of believing anything they want to, however close to us in metaphysics, however far away in spirit."

This was pure evasion, but I didn't get a chance to press the point. Kuwale saw a tram ahead, beginning to move away from its stop, and ve started running for it. I struggled to keep up; we both made it, but I took a while to get my breath back. We were headed west, out toward the coast.

The tram was only half-full, but Kuwale remained standing in the doorway, gripping a hand rail and leaning out into the wind. Ve said, "If I show you the people you need to recognize, will you let me know if you see them? I'll give you a contact number, and an encryption algorithm, and all you have to do is—"

I said, "Slow down. Who are these people?"

"They're a danger to Violet Mosala."

"You mean, you suspect they're a danger."

"I know it."

"Okay. So who are they?"

"What difference would it make if I told you their names? It wouldn't mean anything to you."

"No, but you can tell me who they're working for. Which government, which biotech company…?"

Vis face hardened. "I told Sarah Knight too much. I'm not repeating that mistake."

"Too much for what? Did she betray you? To… SeeNet?" "No!" Kuwale scowled; I was missing the point. "Sarah told me what happened with SeeNet. You pulled a few strings… and all the work she'd done counted for nothing. She was angry, but she wasn't surprised. She said that's what the networks were like. And she bore you no real grudge; she said she was ready to pass on everything she knew, if you agreed to refund her costs out of your research budget, and maintain confidentiality."

I said, "What are you talking about?"

"I gave her the okay to tell you everything she knew about AC. Why do you think I made such a fool of myself, at the airport? If I'd known you were still in the dark, do you think I would have approached you like that?"

"No." That much, at least, made sense. "But why would she tell you she was going to brief me, and then change her mind? I haven't heard a word from her. She doesn't answer my calls—"

Kuwale fixed vis eyes on me, sad and ashamed, but suddenly, painfully, honest.

"And she doesn't answer mine."

We left the tram, at a stop on the outskirts of a small industrial complex, then walked southeast. If we were under professional surveillance, all of this incessant motion would change nothing—but if Kuwale believed it made it safe for us to talk more freely, I was willing to tag along.