Kiln People

He knew that I thought him responsible. Prove it, he’d be thinking. Offer a motive anyone would believe.

What about the filmstrip Palloid and I found at the Rainbow Lounge? Why did Kaolin, disguised as spiral-Beta, want me to transmit it? To undermine my reputation as an honest investigator? Or to muddy the waters? Clara tried explaining once, but the interconvoluted logic fell right out of my floppy brain.

It’s what I deserve for getting mixed up in a war among prodigies. All my “victories” were gained through sheer doggedness. That plus -

Across the meadow, I saw realAlbert pluck up something from the path to show Pal. A pebble maybe, or another miracle -

— plus some help I’ll never understand.

No, the key to all of this wouldn’t be found among the murky twists and turns. In an era when everyone has means, opportunity, and too-easy alibis, just one thing stays elemental.

Motive.

How strange to see through a clever eye in my paw. No stranger than having paws, I guess. Or a brain too small for speech.

Grabbing another stolen glimpse through this “opaque” window, I feel like a stealthy, leering predator. Inside, sitting or pacing the room nervously, I see a covey of conspirators.

Three are easy to recognize. The perversion queen, Gineen Wammaker. And James Gadarene, who preaches that folks should go back to living one life at a time. Those two are easy because they’re real. And Farshid Lum, the fanatic “mancie” who claims that mayfly creatures like me should get the vote. His duplicate wears an honest copy of his own face.

Three others came today as nondescript dittos, but we already know their names — movers and shakers who want to help control the coming changes in dittotech.

Which of them is worth watching before I move on?

Easy! The maestra crosses her long legs, seductively vamping the puritan, Gadarene, who stomps away. But seconds later he can’t help looking back again!

Blushing in shame, he’s under her spell, poor Jimmy-boy.

Oh, she’s the maestra all right. In every provocative remark and saucy move, queen of the city’s seamy side, tantalizing with subtly implicit sadomasochistic thrills that her fans prize.

And me, drooling at the window? I’m relishing it, too!

“Those virus warheads changed everything around here,” Kaolin said.

“No kidding,” Clara replied. “Six current and retired Dodecs in prison. The whole defense establishment—”

“No, around here.” The platinum ditto motioned toward the house, with an upward emphasis.

“Oh, you mean upstairs. Your real …”

“My lifestyle has been ridiculed by carping fools for over a decade. But since that close call with the germ rockets, thousands have sought my advice. I’m thinking of starting a new line of business.”

“Helping people to cut themselves off from the world?” Clara asked.

“You could put it that way. No offense, Major, but your mission to restore public confidence is doomed. Our near escape from Yosil’s mad effort to liberate souls revealed a key truth.”

“What truth?”

“Humanity’s vaunted technology now threatens us with a

“It always has. So?”

“We’ve been shaken from our complacency. Organic flesh is vulnerable, as you should know better than most!” Kaolin jabbed a finger at me. Where an organic might have flushed, his ditto cast an angry glow, revealing a fine pattern of speckles that I quickly recognized.

He’s been replenished. Often.

The flush also highlighted a scar where ditKaolin’s shoulder met his neck. Repair spackle, dyed to match his skin. Dang, I thought, remembering when that injury was made. Two weeks ago. Over a dozen life-times.

I can’t stop watching Wammaker through this tiny eye in my paw!

Odd. Albert always found her voodoo charm repulsive. But my tastes seem shifted by … this body Pal provided! Among all the high-energy built-ins, he must have slipped something kinky as a practical joke. Thanks loads, Pal.

Well, I know a remedy. Think of it as having something in common with Gadarene!

Okay, I’m cured. Mental note to self: Don’t let anyone talk you into wearing the body of a weasel, ever again.

Our host regained his composure, and sighed. “Sometimes I wish Yosil and Bevvisov never showed up at my studio, offering to give souls to my animated dolls.”

“You’re kidding.” Clara glanced at our surroundings, paid for by the industry spawned that day.

“Am I? Since helping usher in a Golem Age, I’ve seen how new things get misused when they’re shared with the masses. From printing to cybernetics to bioengineering, every new medium becomes a conduit for pornography and callousness toward the human form.”

Didn’t he say the same thing, last time I was here? Another of Kaolin’s characteristic memory lapses. “Each of those tech-revolutions also unleashed unparalleled criticism and creativity,” Clara answered.

“Along with social upheaval, alienation—”

“And empathy. New ways to know different, races, genders, species—”

“Ditexperience junkies and rox-potatoes—”

“Inventors of new sports, new art forms and explorations.” She laughed. “Every step in human progress challenges us, Vic. Some wallow in excess. Others fearfully reject change. And a surprising number combine the new with verve and common sense, rising beyond all expectations.”

“Progress? Is that what you’d call events in Yosil’s secret lab?”

I joined in. “You said the key word: ‘secret.’ Maharal tried to shortcut the way science uses criticism to avoid error, with near-catastrophic results. But the actual problems he was working on — long-range dittoing, non-homologous imprinting …”

“Mythologies! My friend was obsessed, guilt-ridden, demented from trying experimental processes on himself.”

“Some top minds in soulistics think he was onto—”

“Ravings!”

“Well, something blasted those ditto ‘mirrors’ and left realAlbert in this state. Beta and Ritu believed in their father, enough to join forces at the end—”

“All right.” ditKaolin waved a hand. “Assume it’s true! Yosil discovered a vast plane of hyper-reality, ru

“It will be decided by an angry God.”

Being real, Wammaker and Gadarene arrived here in a black limo, believing no one could see inside. Another conspirator came disguised as a red-striped security guard. Two were shipped in canisters and thawed. All for a risky/urgent meeting with one goal, to get their stories straight!

Only then Clara and Gumby/Albert appeared, interrupting and dragging their host away. It’s got them nervous. The awkward allies fidget, mostly avoiding each other.

What mix of bribery, blackmail, idealism, and self-interest binds them? Even a brief try to theorize hurts the brain inside this little skull.

Enough. Away!

Attaching a tiny transducer to the window, I go back to climbing the sun-drenched wall. Slither a bit. Dig in diamond claws. Hunker while my pixelated back resembles stone. Check the way ahead for traps and sensors.

Then slither up some more

Across the meadow I glimpsed Pal and realAlbert unfolding a gold and red kite, laughing as the wind filled its gull wings. It leaped, a symbol of soaring i