Transcendence

As the shape of the new arrival became visible, Hans Rebka felt surprise, relief, and disappointment. He had met sentient Builder constructs before, on Glister and on Serenity. He had not expected to find one in the interior of Genizee, but now he suspected that this meeting would not be useful. The constructs probably intended no harm to humans, but pursuit of their own perverse agendas often led to that result. Worst of all, they had been in stasis or working alone for millions of years, ever since the Builders had departed the spiral arm. Their performance was eccentric, rusty, too alien, or all three. Communication with them was a hit-or-miss affair, and Hans Rebka felt that he missed more than he hit. But better the devil one knows…

“We are lost and we need help. Our party came here from far away.” As soon as the construct was fully visible, Rebka began to describe who they were, and how they had come to Genizee. As he spoke, the object in front of them began the familiar metamorphosis from quivering quicksilver sphere to distorted ellipsoid. A silver frond grew from the top, developing into the usual five-petaled flower. Open pentagonal disks extruded from the front of the ball, and a long, thin tail grew downward. The flower-head looked directly at Rebka.

He went on describing events, although he suspected that the sense of his words did not yet matter. Before communication could begin, the dormant translation system of the construct had to waken and be trained on a sufficient sample of human speech.

Rebka talked for a couple of minutes, then paused. That should be more than enough. There was the usual a

“On the boil!” Louis Nenda said. His arms and chest were covered with little blisters where droplets of corrosive fluid had spattered him. He ignored them. “But sluggish. Mebbe it needs a dose of salts—”

“One at a time during speech analysis,” Rebka interrupted. “You can all talk once it settles on human patterns.”

“… lost… and need help.” The gurgling voice sounded as if someone were talking through a pipe filled with water. ”… coming… coming from… far away…”

The quivering of the surface continued in agitated ripples, as the petaled head sca

“Now we’re in trouble,” Nenda said, in pheromones so weak that Atvar H’sial alone could catch his words. “Time to change the subject.” And then, loudly to the construct, “Who are you, and what is your name?”

The quivering stopped. The open petals turned to face Nenda. “Name… name? I have no name. I need no name. I am keeper of the world.”

“This world?” Nenda asked.

“The only world of consequence. This world, the future home of my creators.”

“The Builders?” Rebka thought the construct sounded angry. No, not angry. Peevish. It needed to be distracted from its shattered surroundings. “Your creators were the Builders?”

“My creators need no name. They made me, as they made this world. My duties were to form this world to their needs, and then to preserve it against change until their return. I have done so perfectly, ever since their departure.” The head turned again. “But now, the damage here—”

“ — is small,” said Rebka. Think positive! “It can be repaired. Perhaps we can help you to do it. But before we work we will need nourishment.”

“Organic materials?”

“Particular organic materials. Food.”

“There are no organics within this world. Perhaps on the surface…”

“That would be perfect. Can you arrange it?”

“I do not know. Follow me.”

The silver body turned and began to glide away across the floor of the chamber.

“What you think?” said Nenda softly to Hans Rebka, as they hurried to keep up with the construct. “Future home of the Builders, here? Nuts.”

“I know. Darya Lang says the Builders were free-space or gas-giant dwellers. This place is nothing like either. But I’ll believe one thing: World-Keeper, or however it wants to call itself, has slaved away for millions of years getting this place ready. It certainly thinks the Builders will be coming — just like The-One-Who-Waits is sure that Quake and Glister are the places where the Builders will show up again, and Speaker-Between knows it’s going to be out on Serenity. I think they’re all crazy as each other, and not one of them knows what the Builders want.” He paused. “Uh-oh. Are we expected to try that?”

The construct had reached one of the broad cha

“Hurry up!” Rebka cried. “We’re going to lose it.” But he was the last to move. Kallik and J’merlia had already jumped, closely followed by Atvar H’sial and Nenda.

Hans Rebka dived forward and fell flat onto a yielding golden surface. He thought for a moment that he was going to slide right across and off the other side, but then his body stuck fast and he was dragged along.

This was no acceleration-free ride. He felt strong forces whipping him on, faster and faster, until whole chambers went flashing past in an eye-blink. Kilometers of straight corridor appeared and whizzed by before he could move a finger. Then the pathway curved upward, and centrifugal forces drained blood from his brain until he felt dizzy. His whole body was racked with many gravities. If he was thrown off the moving ribbon, or if it came to an end at a solid object…

The ribbon vanished. Hans Rebka was suddenly in free-fall and in darkness. He gasped and dropped many meters, until he was caught by a velocity-dependent field that held and slowed him like a bath of warm molasses.

He landed gently and on all fours, in a chamber that dwarfed anything he had seen so far on Genizee. The gleaming roof was kilometers high, the walls an hour’s walk away. A bright silver pea halfway to the center of the cavern was presumably World-Keeper. Four moving dots, no bigger than flies, were scattered between Rebka and the Builder construct.

He stood up and hurried in their direction, reflecting as he did so that since they had entered the Torvil Anfract nothing had gone according to plan. Julian Graves had changed from expedition leader and organizer to passive observer and nonparticipant. The seedship had been forced to land when no landing was pla

Even the forces of nature were different in the Anfract. In a region of cut-sheet space-time and granular continuum and macroscopic quantum effects, who knew what might happen next? He thought of Darya and hoped that she was all right. If only the group back on the Erebus had the sense to sit tight and wait, rather than trying to rush through the nested singularities on some ill-pla

Atvar H’sial and Louis Nenda at least were still predictable. Unflappable, they were staring silently at their new surroundings as Rebka approached. He was sure from their postures that they were deep in pheromonal conversation.

“Can we agree on something before we have another session with the construct? Unless we’re already too late.” Rebka gestured ahead, to where J’merlia and Kallik were already advancing to join World-Keeper. “Those two used to be your slaves. Can’t you control them for a while, at least until we find a way out of here?”

“Don’t I wish!” growled Nenda. If he was faking the frustration on his face, he was a superb actor. “We just been talkin’ about that, me an’ At. We figger it’s all your fault, you an’ Graves. You took two perfectly good slaves, an’ you filled their heads with all sorts of nonsense about freedom an’ rights an’ privileges, stuff what neither of ’em wanted anythin’ to do with before you come along. An’ look at ’em now! Ruined. Kallik’s not all that bad, but At says she can’t even talk to J’merlia any more. He’s all over this place like he owns it. Watch him now! Want to guess what that pair’s sayin’ to each other?”