The Computer Connection

“No. This mission belongs to me.”

“To be sure. And no one will be permitted to cut into any piece of your credit. It’s all yours.”

“No. I don’t need help.”

“All right, another appeal. Your astonishing symbiosis with the Extro and the electronic network. That must be researched. It’s a giant forward step in evolution. Won’t you let us help you?”

“No.”

“Dr. Guess, you’re making history and yet you seem to be aborting yourself. Why? According to Guig’s reports you’re no longer what you were. Why? Aren’t you in control?”

“N.”

“Are you governed by the Extro?”

“N.”

“Do you govern it?”

“N.”

“It’s like a bad marriage. Does it know you’re hiding down here?”

“Y, but it can’t reach me down here.”

“Doesn’t your hover tattle when you’re up there?”

“A machine’s memory is only as long as the sophistication of its electronics. The hover has awareness of the moment, no more.”

“Existentialist. But the Extro remembers.”

“Y.”

“Is it alive?”

“Tell me what life is and I can answer.”

“I can answer, Dr. Guess. It’s alive through you. Tell me why you’re hiding from your partner down here.”

“Because I’m confused, damn you!” he shouted. The cryos recoiled. “Too much has happened to me and I’m trying to sort it out. I’m having difficulties with my cryos; they keep spooking and I don’t know why. There’s too much I don’t know. For God’s sake, leave me alone!”

“I understand and wilco, but in return you must leave us alone.”

“I told Guig. I have nothing to do with the killings.”

“Then you must stop giving life to the killers.”

“How?”

“Leave this planet. Go beyond transmission.”

“Never. I’ll take cover but I’m damned if I’ll run.”

“Ah. You’re headstrong. It’s the recent elevation. Intoxicating. Guig was like that after Krakatoa, imperious and sulky. It will pass. It must. When it does, come to the Group. Ready, Guig?”

He turned and I followed him out. Sequoya watched us go, looking angry and bewildered and yet stubborn. The cryos chased after us, humming for more ragtime, but they stopped short at the entrance to the chamber. “That’s the question you didn’t ask,” Hillel said. “The energy field holds them here. You’re one rotten inductor, Guig.”

“I’m one rotten everything.”

“That’s a silly self-down. Don’t you know that the Group envies you?”

“For what?”

“Something too many of us have lost.”

“What?”

“Passion. When you lose that you lose your humanity. Where’s Long Lance?”

I hissed and Long Lance appeared.

“I want him to stay, watch, and report,” Hilly said.

I made Sign. “Stay. Watch. Report.”

He made Sign. “Report where?”

“Big canoe.”

He nodded and melted. We got into Hilly’s hover and took off.

“Two things,” I said. “No, three. I must have it out with Nat. I want a conference with the Group. You know where they’re scattered. Collect them.”

“And the third?”

“There can’t be a hit. This brilliant son of a bitch has got to be saved.”

Hilly smiled. “Then there’s nothing to have out with Mrs. Curzon.” He began to hum “Hatikvah.”

13

“I scraped up all I could on short notice,” Hillel said. “We’re meeting in Retchvic. We can’t be eavesdropped in Iceland.”

“D’you think the Extro network tailed you to them?”

“Barely an outside chance. I used cash only; no ID. Your cash, by the way.”

“Mine?”

“Capo Rip’s. Mrs. Curzon handed it over to me.”

“How much?”

“About a million and a half. I have the balance waiting for you.”

“Who’d you get from the Group?”

“M’bantu, Tosca, Domino, Ampersand, Queenie, Herb Wells, and No-Name.”

“Oh, God! Not that nothing.”

“Then you, of course, myself, and our host, Erik the Red.”

Y. Erik owns most of Greenland and Iceland. He has geyser power and probably owns half the hot springs in this heat-hungry world.

“No Poulos?”

“The Greek’s not coming.”

“More important business?”

“No.”

“You couldn’t get in touch with him?”

“No.”

“That’s not like you, Hilly.”

“No one will ever get in touch with him again.”

“What!”

“He’s dead.”

“What? No. Not Poulos…”

“A Malay kris through the heart.”

I was speechless. At last I stammered, “I — No. Not the Syndicate. No. It couldn’t happen. He’s too brilliant — careful — aware…”

“Not enough for the Rajah.”

“Where did it—”

“Calcutta. Last week.”

“Give me a moment, Hilly…”

“All the time you need.”

When I came below from the deck I washed my mouth and face. I was in control again. “You said a Malay kris. How do you know?”

“Left in his heart.”

“But Malay?”

“A hired assassin. These kinks bind up their putz until they’re in agony and then carry out the holy mission. The local polizei say it was pla

“If the Rajah can hit the Greek—”

“We’re all as good as dead. How do you feel now? I know because it took me the same way in Calcutta. Have you got the strength to give me your news?”

“I can try,” I said heavily.

“Good man. Go ahead. Gescheft is gescheft. Business is business, and it’s our only salvation.”

“You were R, as usual. There was nothing to have out with Nat. She’s all for stopping our brother and saving him. She just didn’t want to go the hit route. I’ll bring her along to Retchvic.” It was painful, talking.

“Good. And?”

“Long Lance came back to the big canoe day before yesterday. Nothing to report. Sequoya is still down there educating his babies.”

“Even better. We can go on using transport safely while he’s separated from the Extro. The trouble is, we don’t know when he’ll come up again, so we’ll have to move fast. Where are the braves?” Hilly was v. brisk. It helped.

“Nat sent them back to Erie.”

“Gung. Let’s move it to Iceland.”

“What about this big canoe?”

“Gottenu! Who cares? We’ll leave it. Maybe it’ll start another Sargasso Sea in Lake Mitch. We’re for Retchvic.”

Erik’s pleasance in Iceland was a giant, steaming greenhouse festooned with exotic tropical plants. The guests from the Group were all there when we arrived and all in character; but as I’ve said, we’re all characters and always in character. A few touches: A drab little woman you wouldn’t look at twice was Tosca, the compelling actress who has been sweeping the media for generations with her electrifying performances. The flamboyant diva in eye-catching costume was Queenie in drag. We have never been able to persuade him to undergo a transsex transformation. He says he prefers remaining a faggot. Erik isn’t red and isn’t even a Scandy. He looks like a jolly Karl Marx.

There were greetings, of course, and the gallant M’bantu put Natoma on his arm and escorted her around, introducing her. He was particularly proud of the tremendous progress she’d made with her XX. I began to wonder whether I should shift my apprehensions from the Greek to the Zulu. Certainly both of them outclassed me, but when you get right down to it every member of the Group outclassed me with the exception of the nothing No-Name who now seemed on the verge of falling into a pitcher plant.

“This is Guig’s meeting,” Hilly said casually, “but I’d better brief you first. You’ll all recall that when I contacted you I handed you a slip of paper asking you to come to Erik’s immediately on an urgent matter. It warned you not to speak and to use cash transport without ID so that you couldn’t be traced. I didn’t use ear-beads or cassettes for a most interesting reason. The whole planet is enmeshed in the damndest electronic bugging network conceivable, the result of Guig’s recruitment of our newest and most splendid Group member. He’ll be our pride, but presently he’s created a crisis which you know about, more or less. Here’s the complete scene.” Hilly gave it to them, fast and acute. Then he turned the meeting over to me. I got to my feet and here is the conference, names withheld on the grounds of Group privilege.