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33. Mind

Eugenia Insigna looked woebegone. ‘Have you really decided to go out again, Marlene?’

‘Mother,' said Marlene with weary patience, 'you make it sound as though I've come to this decision five minutes ago after a long period of uncertainty. I've been sure for a very long time that out there on Erythro is where I intend to be. I haven't changed my mind, and I won't change it.’

‘I know you're convinced that you're safe and I admit that nothing has happened to you so far, but-’

Marlene said, ‘I feel safe on Erythro. I'm drawn to it. Uncle Siever understands.’

Eugenia looked at her daughter, as if to object once again, but shook her head instead. Marlene's mind was made up, and she was not to be stopped.

 

It's warmer on Erythro this time, Marlene thought, just warm enough to make the breeze welcome. The grayish clouds were scudding across the sky a bit more rapidly, and they seemed thicker.

Rain was predicted for the next day, and Marlene thought it might be nice to be out in the rain and watch what happened. It should splash in the little creek and make the rocks wet and turn any soil muddy and mushy.

She had come up to a flat rock near the creek. She brushed it with her hand, and sat down on it carefully, staring at the flowing water curling around the rocks that studded it, and thinking that the rain would feel like taking a shower.

It would be like a shower coming down from the whole sky, so that you couldn't step out of it. A thought occurred to her: Will there be trouble breathing?

No, that couldn't be. It rained on Earth all the time - frequently, anyway - and she didn't hear that people drowned in it. No, it would be like a shower. You could breathe in a shower.

The rain wouldn't be hot, though, and she liked hot showers. She thought about it lazily. It was very quiet out here, and very peaceful, and she could rest and there was no-one to see her, to watch her, no-one whom she had to interpret. It was great not to have to interpret.

What temperature would it be? The rain, that is. Why shouldn't it be the same comfortable temperature as Nemesis itself? Of course, she would get wet, and it was always cold when you stepped out of a shower all wet. And the rain would wet her clothes, too.

But it would be silly to wear clothes in the rain. You didn't wear clothes in the shower. If it rained, you would take off your clothes. That would be the only thing that made sense.

Only - where did you put the clothes? When you showered, you put your clothes in the cleaner. Here on Erythro, maybe you could put them under a rock, or have a little house built, in which you could leave your clothes on a rainy day. After all, why wear clothes at all if it were raining?

Or if it were su

You'd want to wear them if it were cold, of course. But on warm days-

But then, why did people wear clothes on Rotor, where it was always warm and clean? They didn't at swimming pools - which reminded Marlene that the young people with slim bodies and good shapes were the first ones off with their clothes - and the last ones to put them on again.

And people like Marlene just didn't take their clothes off in public. Maybe that's why people wore clothes. To hide their bodies.

Why didn't minds have shapes you could show off? Except that they did, and then people didn't like it. People liked to look at shapely bodies and turned up their noses at shapely minds. Why?

But here in Erythro with no people, she could take her clothes off whenever it was mild and be free of them. There'd be no-one to point fingers or laugh at her.

In fact, she could do whatever she wanted because she had a whole comfortable world, an empty world, an all-alone world, to surround her and envelop her like a huge soft blanket enclosing her and - just silence.

She could feel herself letting go. Just silence. Her mind whispered it, so that even that would interfere as little as possible.

Silence.

And she sat upright. Silence?

But she had come out to hear the voice again. And not scream this time. Not be afraid. Where was the voice?

As though she had called it, as though she had whistled it up-

‘Marlene!’

Her heart gave a little jump.

She held herself firm. She mustn't make any sign of fright or disturbance. She simply looked around, and then said, very calmly, ‘Where are you, please?’

‘It is not - necery - necessary to vi - vibrate the air - talk.’

The voice was Aurinel's, but it didn't speak like Aurinel at all. It sounded as though talking were difficult, but as though it would get better.

‘It will get better,’ said the voice.

Marlene had not said anything. She did not say anything now. She merely thought the words-‘I don't have to talk. I only need to think.’

‘You only need to adjust the pattern. You're doing it.’

‘But I hear you talk.’

‘I am adjusting your pattern. It is as though you hear me.’

Marlene licked her lips gently. She must not allow herself to be frightened, to be anything but calm.

‘There is nothing of which - whom - what to be frightened,’ said the voice that was not quite Aurinel's voice.

She thought, ‘You hear everything, don't you?’

‘Does that bother you?’

‘Yes, it does.’

‘Why?’

‘I don't want you to know everything. I want some thoughts to myself.’ (She tried not to think that that was how others might react to her, and want to keep their feelings private, but the thought, Marlene knew, would leak out, the moment she made the effort not to think it.)

‘But your pattern is unlike the others.’

‘My pattern?’



‘The pattern of your mind. Others are - tangled - snarled. Yours is - splendid.’

Marlene licked her lips again and smiled. When her mind was sensed, it could be seen to be splendid. She felt triumphant and thought with contempt of the girls who had only - outsides.

The voice in her mind said, ‘Is that thought private?’

Marlene almost spoke aloud. ‘Yes, it is.’

‘I can detect a distinction. I will not respond to your private thoughts.’

Marlene felt herself hungering for praise. ‘Have you seen many patterns?’

‘I have sensed many, since you hu-man things came.’

It wasn't sure of the word, Marlene thought. The voice made no response and Marlene was surprised. The surprise had been a private sensation, now that she came to think of it, but she hadn't openly marked it to herself as private. Private was private whether she thought of it or not, perhaps. The mind had said it could detect the distinction, and it clearly could. It showed in the pattern.

The voice didn't respond to that either. She would have to ask specifically, to show that it was not a private thought.

‘Please, does it show in the pattern?’ She didn't have to specify. The voice would know what she was talking about.

‘It shows in the pattern. Everything shows in your pattern because it is so well designed.’

Marlene virtually purred. She had her praise. It would only be right to return the compliment. ‘But your own must be well designed, too.’

‘It is different. My pattern stretches out. It is simple in every spot and is only complex when taken together. Yours is complex to start with. There is no simplicity in it. And yours is different from the others of your kind. The others are - snarled. It is not possible to cross-reach with them - to communicate. A rearrangement is damaging, for the pattern is fragile. I didn't know. My pattern is not fragile.’

‘Is my pattern fragile?’

‘No. It adjusts itself.’

‘You tried to communicate with others, didn't you?’

‘Yes.’

The Erythro Plague. (There was no response. The thought was private.)

She closed her eyes, reaching out intently with her mind, trying to locate the source of the outside mind reaching her. She was doing it in some way she did not understand, perhaps doing it all wrong, perhaps not doing it at all. The mind might laugh at her clumsiness - if it did such a thing as laugh.

There was no response.

Marlene thought, ‘Think something.’

Inevitably, the thought came back, ‘What shall I think?’

It did not come from anywhere. It did not come from here or there or elsewhere. It came from inside her mind.

She thought (angered at her own insufficiency), ‘When did you sense my mind pattern?’

‘On the new container of human beings.’

‘On Rotor?’

‘On Rotor.’

She was suddenly enlightened. ‘You wanted me. You called me.’

‘Yes.’

Of course. Why else had she so wanted to go to Erythro? Why else had she been looking at Erythro so longingly that day when Aurinel came to her to say her mother was looking for her?

She clenched her teeth. She must continue asking, ‘Where are you?’

‘Everywhere.’

‘Are you the planet?’

‘No.’

‘Show yourself.’

‘Here.’ And suddenly the voice had a direction.

She was staring at the creek, and she suddenly realized that while she had been communicating with the voice in her mind, the creek had been the only thing she had been sensing. She had not been aware of anything else around her. It was as though her mind had enclosed itself, in order to make it more sensitive to the one thing that had filled it.

And now the veil lifted. The water was moving along the rocks, bubbling over them, swirling in a small eddy in a space marked off by several of those bubbles. The small bubbles turned and broke, even as new ones formed, setting up a pattern that, in essence, didn't change, and in fine detail was never repeated.

Then, one by one, the bubbles broke noiselessly and the water was flat and featureless, but still turned. How could she see it turn if it were featureless?

Because it glistened very slightly in the pink light of Nemesis. It turned and she could see it turn because the shimmers formed arcs that spiraled as they turned and coalesced. Her eyes were caught in it, slowly following the turns as they collected into the caricature of a face, two dark holes for eyes, a slash for a mouth.

It grew sharper, as she watched, fascinated.

And it took on definition and became a face, staring up at her with empty eyes, yet real enough to recognize.

It was the face of Aurinel Pampas.

 

Siever Genarr said, thoughtfully and slowly, making an effort to treat the matter calmly, ‘And so you left at that time.’

Marlene nodded. ‘The time before I left when I heard Aurinel's voice. This time I left when I saw Aurinel's face.’