CHAPTER 18
Note
!CHK possessive of Vendacious, Tines
Scriber Jaqueramaphan didn't tell anyone about his meeting with the Two-Legs. Of course, Vendacious's guard had overheard everything. The fellow might not speak much Samnorsk, but he had surely gotten the drift of the argument. People would hear about it eventually.
He moped around the castle for a few days, spent a number of hours hunched over the remains of his notebook, trying to recreate the diagrams. It would be a a while before he attended any more sessions with Dataset, especially when Johanna was around. Scriber knew he seemed brash to the outside world, but in fact it had taken a lot of courage to walk in on Johanna like that. He knew his ideas had genius, but all his life unimaginative people had been telling him otherwise.
Note
!BKG ID At least for sake of sequels, it should be "The <adj> Republic"
!V Gonna try for Long Lakes Republic
!V (also "Republic of the Long Lakes" or "the Long Lakes") DONE
!ID BKG Probably what happens is that a pack as three or four puppies
! (raising the count up to 7-10), at which point fission is unavoidable
! unless some of the pups are given away
!V NÆH: CHK "Rangathir" v "Rangolith<?>"
!V Jim, you suggested that there be earlier (and more?) background
!V about Scriber.
!V I haven't yet gotten around to doing that. One possibility is
!V is just to move some of the stuff in the following to earlier in
!V the story.
!jrf suggests "see Scriber do more before you kill him" ... "Perhaps in
!jrf in the boat"
!V Tuchman p238 says the king of France in 1373 had a library of
!V 1000 volumes -- and was admired for it.
!V Somewhere I read that the Caliph of Alexandria had a library of
!V 250,000 volumes
In most ways Scriber was a very fortunate person. He had been born a fission pack in Rangathir, at the eastern edge of the Republic. His parent had been a wealthy merchant. Jaqueramaphan had some of his parent's traits, but the dull patience necessary for day-to-day business work had been lost to him. His sibling pack more than retained that faculty; the family business grew, and -- in the first years -- his sib didn't begrudge Scriber his share of the wealth. From his earliest days, Scriber had been an intellectual. He read everything: natural history, biography, brood kenning. In the end he had the largest library in Rangathir, more than two hundred books.
Even then Scriber had tremendous ideas, insights which -- if properly executed -- would have made them the wealthiest merchants in all the eastern provinces. Alas, bad luck and his sib's lack of imagination had doomed his early ideas. In the end, his sib bought out the business, and Jaqueramaphan moved to the Capital. It was all for the best. By this time Scriber had fleshed himself out to six members; he needed to see more of the world. Besides ... there were five thousand books in the library there, the experience of all history and all the world! His own notebooks became a library in themselves. Yet still the packs at the university had no time for him. His outline for a summation of natural history was rejected by all the stationers, though he paid to have small parts of it published. It was clear that success in the world of action was necessary before his ideas could get the attention they deserved, hence his spy mission; Parliament itself would thank him when he returned with the secrets of Flenser's Hidden Island.
That was almost a year ago. What had happened since -- with the flying house and Johanna and Dataset -- went beyond his wildest dreams (and Scriber granted that those dreams were already pretty extreme). The library in Dataset contained millions of books. With Johanna to help him polish his ideas, they would sweep Flenserism from the face of the world. They would regain her flying house. Not even the sky would be a limit.
Note
!PRB try to avoid using "human" here
So to have her throw it all back at him ... it made him wonder about himself. Maybe she was just mad at him for trying to explain Peregrine. She would like Peregrine if she let herself; he was sure of it. But then again ... maybe his ideas just weren't that good, at least by comparison with humans'.
That thought left him pretty low. But he finished redrawing the diagrams, and even got some new ideas. Maybe he should get some more silkpaper.
Peregrine stopped by and persuaded him to go into town.
Note
!PRB small: I'd like a place to say "sharp-cobbled"
Jaqueramaphan had made up a dozen explanations why he wasn't participating in the sessions with Johanna anymore. He tried out two or three as he and Peregrine descended Castle Street toward the harbor.
After a minute or two, his friend turned a head back. "It's okay, Scriber. When you feel like it, we'd like to have you back."
Scriber had always been a very good judge of attitude; in particular, he could tell when he was being patronized. He must have scowled a little, because Peregrine went on. "I mean it. Even Woodcarver has been asking about you. She likes your ideas."
Comforting lies or not, Scriber brightened. "Really?" The Woodcarver of today was a sad case, but the Woodcarver of the history books was one of Jaqueramaphan's great heroes. "No one's mad at me?"
"Well, Vendacious is a bit peeved. Being responsible for the Two-Legs' safety makes him very nervous. But you only tried something we've all wanted to do."
Note
!IMP PRB ID Somewhere you should say (and make consistent) that proximity
! can also be a source of ideas (as in human dreaming)
!V DONE later in this chapter
!?PRB I'm not sure you've made the Tinish awkwardness clear enough
!V June 2, 1991 The Woodcarver theory late in the paragraph may be in
!V conflict with her thoughts about human inferiority late in the
!V story.
"Yeah." Even if there had been no Dataset, even if Johanna Olsndot had not come from the stars, she would still be the most fascinating creature in the world: a pack-equivalent mind in a single body. You could walk right up to her, you could touch her, without the least confusion. It was frightening at first, but all of them quickly felt the attraction. For packs, closeness had always meant mindlessness -- whether for sex or battle. Imagine being able to sit by the fire with a friend and carry on an intelligent conversation! Woodcarver had a theory that the Two-Legs' civilization might be innately more effective than any Packish one, that collaboration was so easy for humans that they learned and built much faster than packs could. The only problem with that theory was Johanna Olsndot. If Johanna was a normal human, it is was a surprise that the race could cooperate on anything. Sometimes she was friendly -- usually in the sessions with Woodcarver. She seemed to realize that Woodcarver was frail and failing. More often she was patronizing, sarcastic, and seemed to think the best they could do for her insulting.... And sometimes she was like last night. "How goes it with Dataset?" he asked after a moment.
Note
!INCON QU I don't want to have "gunpowder" and "cannon" in italics later
Peregrine shrugged. "About like before. Both Woodcarver and I can read Samnorsk pretty well now. Johanna has taught us -- me via Woodcarver, I should say -- how to use most of Dataset's powers. There's so much there that will change the world. But for now we have to concentrate on making gunpowder and cannons. It's that, the actual doing, that's going slow."
Scriber nodded knowingly. That had been the central problem in his life too.
"Anyway, if we can do all that by midsummer, maybe we can face Flenser's army and recapture the flying house before next winter." Peregrine made a grin that stretched from face to face. "And then, my friend, Johanna can call her people for rescue ... and we'll have all our lives to study the outsiders. I may pilgrimage to worlds around other stars."
It was an idea they had talked of before. Peregrine had thought of it even before Scriber.
Note
!IMP avoid Norskisms in Tinish
!CHKd these smells are consistent with t2, I think
!PRB small stationer's v Woodcarvers
!V CHK BKG INCON 20000 population (actually, 10000 is consistent
!V with medieval Oslo, but low for other medieval cities --
!V could CHK Tuchman) <medieval>
They turned off Castle Street onto Edgerow. Scriber was feeling more enthusiastic about visiting the stationer's; there must be some way he could help. He looked around with an interest that had been lacking the last few days. Woodcarvers was a fair-sized city, almost as big as Rangathir -- maybe twenty thousand packs lived within its walls and in the homes immediately around. This day was a bit colder than the last few, but it wasn't raining. A cold, clean wind swept the market street, carrying faint smells of mildew and sewage, of spices and fresh-sawn wood. Dark clouds hung low, misting the hills around the harbor. Spring was definitely in the air. Scriber kicked playfully at the slush along the curb.
Note
!hld Streets might avoid straightness, but zig-zag with sound baffles
!hld to limit "line of sight" sound propagation. Building walls definitely
!hld want to be off parallel to reduce standing waves IMP (V)
!V I have now mentioned this (without explaining it) in c12
!V It is a good point for SEQ BKG
Peregrine led them to a side street. The place was jammed, strangers getting as close as seven or eight yards. The stalls at the stationer's were even worse. The felt dividers weren't that thick, and there seemed to be more interest in literature at Woodcarvers than any place Scriber had ever been. He could hardly hear himself think as he haggled with the stationer. The merchant sat on a raised platform with thick padding; he wasn't much bothered by the racket. Scriber kept his heads close together, concentrating on the prices and the product. From his past life, he was pretty good at this sort of thing.
Eventually he got his paper, and at a decent price.
Note
!mARK 21Jun89
"Let's go back on Packweal," he said. That was the long way, through the center of the market. When he was in a good mood, Scriber rather liked crowds; he was a great student of people. Woodcarvers was not as cosmopolitan as some cities by the Long Lakes, but there were traders from all over. He saw several packs wearing the bonnets of a tropic collective. At one intersection a redjackets from East Home was chatting cozily with a labormaster.
Note
!CHKd sp nonstop
!V IMP I think this paragraph legitimizes my use of "choir" (though
!V a little late) -- but also discussed in c04
!V For SEQ must re-research humidity and temperature
!V affects on ultrasound
When packs came this close, and in these numbers, the world seemed to teeter on the edge of a choir. Each person hung near to himself, trying to keep his own thoughts intact. It was hard to walk without stumbling over your own feet. And sometimes the background thought sounds would surge, a moment where several packs would somehow synchronize. Your consciousness wavered and for an instant you were one with many, a superpack that might be a god. Jaqueramaphan shivered. That was the essential attraction of the Tropics. The crowds there were mobs, vast group minds as stupid as they were ecstatic. If the stories were true, some of the southern cities were nonstop orgies.
Note
!IDEA writing without hypertext may become like black&&white films or
! silents -- a continuing
! art form even though (or because) it has limitations
They had roamed the marketplace almost an hour when it hit him. Scriber shook his heads abruptly. He turned and walked in lockstep off Packweal, and up a side street. Peregrine followed, "Is the crowd too much?" he asked.
"I just had an idea," said Scriber. That wasn't unusual in a close crowd, but this was a very interesting idea.... He said nothing more for several minutes. The side street climbed steeply, then jinked back and forth across Castle Hill. The upslope side was lined with burghers' homes. On the harbor side, they were looking out over the steep tile roofs of houses on the next switchback down. These were large homes, elegant with rosemaling. Only a few had shops on the street.
Note
!CHK is there such a word as rosmaling?
!jrf |||||||||??
^ jrf2 |||||||||?? rosmaling
Scriber slowed down and spread out enough that he wasn't stepping on himself. He saw now that he'd been quite wrong in trying to contribute creative expertise to Johanna. There was simply too much invention in Dataset. But they still needed him, Johanna most of all. The problem was, they didn't know it yet. Finally he said to Peregrine, "Haven't you wondered that the Flenserists haven't attacked the city? You and I embarrassed the Lords of Hidden Island more than ever in their history. We hold the keys to their total defeat." Johanna and Dataset.
Peregrine hesitated. "Hmm. I assumed their army wasn't up to it. I should think if they were, they'd have knocked over Woodcarvers long before."
"Perhaps, but at great cost. Now the cost is worth it." He gave Peregrine a serious look. "No, I think there's another reason.... They have the flying house, but they have no idea how to use it. They want Johanna back alive -- almost as much as they want to kill all of us."
Note
!RETRO PRO or delete: "bitter sound". Do a general compilation
! of Tinish expressions. IMP ID
!V Make more use of synesthesia in connection with sounds
!V and sounds with emotion (actually, this may be partly present now
!V but phrased in terms of thought).
!IMP Note the implication here that they don't know that Jefri is alive
Peregrine made a bitter sound. "If Steel hadn't been so eager to massacre everything on two legs, he could have had all sorts of help."
"True, and the Flenserists must know that. I'll bet they've always had spies among the townspeople here, but now more than ever. Did you see all the East Home packs?" East Home was a hotbed of Flenser sentiment. Even before the Movement, they had been a hard folk, routinely sacrificing pups that didn't meet their brood standards.
"One anyway. Talking to a labormaster."
"Right. Who knows what's coming in disguised as special purpose packs? I'd bet my life they're planning to kidnap Johanna. If they guess what we're planning with her, they may just try to kill her. Don't you see? We must alert Woodcarver and Vendacious, organize the people to watch for spies."
"You noticed all this on one walk through Packweal?" There was wonder or disbelief in his voice, Scriber couldn't tell which.
"Well, um, no. The inspiration wasn't anything so direct. But it stands to reason, don't you think?"
They walked in silence for several minutes. Up here the wind was stronger, and the view more spectacular. Where there wasn't the sea, forest spread endless gray and green. Everything was very peaceful ... because this was a game of stealth. Fortunately Scriber had a talent for such games. After all, hadn't it been the very Political Police of the Republic who commissioned him to survey Hidden Island? It had taken him several tendays of patient persuasion, but in the end they had been enthusiastic. Anything you can discover we would be most happy to review. Those were their exact words.
Note
!V "waffle" not in my dictionary; I am taking liberty wtih the slang
!V version
Peregrine waffled around the road, seemingly very taken aback by Scriber's suggestion. Finally he said, "I think there is ... something you should know, something that must remain an absolute secret."
Note
!V The following expletive is anachronistic compared to the "hell
! withit"
!V that jrf complained about in c02. May want to go back and change the
!V earlier NÆH: that's Pilgrim that is being slanging, so I say it's
! okay
"Upon my soul! Peregrine, I do not blab secrets." Scriber was a little hurt -- at the lack of trust, and also that the other might have discovered something he had not. The second should not bother him. He had guessed that Peregrine and Woodcarver were into each other. No telling what she might have confided, or what might have leaked across.
"Okay.... You've tripped onto something that should not be noised about. You know Vendacious is in charge of Woodcarvers security?"
"Of course." That was implicit in the office of Lord Chamberlain. "And considering the number of outsiders wandering around, I can't say he's doing a very good job."
"In fact, he's doing a marvelously effective job. Vendacious has agents right at the top at Hidden Island -- one step removed from Lord Steel himself."
Scriber felt his eyes widening.
"Yes, you understand what that means. Through Vendacious, Woodcarver knows for a certainty everything their high council plans. With clever misinformation, we can lead the Flenserists around like froghens at a thinning. Next to Johanna herself, this may be Woodcarver's greatest advantage."
"I --" I had no idea. "So the incompetent local security is just a cover."
Note
!mARK 22Jun89
"Not exactly. It's supposed to look solid and intelligent, but with just enough exploitable weakness so the Movement will postpone a frontal attack in favor of espionage." He smiled. "I think Vendacious will be very taken aback to hear your critique."
Scriber gave a weak laugh. He was flattered and boggled at the same time. Vendacious must count as the greatest spymaster of the age -- yet he, Scriber Jaqueramaphan, had almost seen through him. Scriber was mostly quiet the rest of the way back to the castle, but his mind was racing. Peregrine was more right than he knew; secrecy was vital. Unnecessary discussion -- even between old friends -- must be avoided. Yes! He would offer his services to Vendacious. His new role might keep him in the background, but it was where he could make the greatest contribution. And eventually even Johanna would see how helpful he could be.
-=*=-
Note
!V AAAA/BBBB taken from c21, in hopes of breaking up a block of news
!V messages. I don't know if it works or not.
!V IMP decide and install chapter breaks
!AAAA
!V I had an Eye in the U reference in this paragraph
Down the well of the night. Even when Ravna wasn't looking out the windows, that was the image in her mind. Relay was far off the galactic disk. The OOB was descending toward that disk -- and ever deeper into slowness.
Note
!V CHK INCON 50 ly/hr
But they had escaped. The OOB was crippled, but they had left Relay at almost fifty light-years per hour. Each hour they were lower in the Beyond and the computation time for the microjumps increased, and their pseudovelocity declined. Nevertheless, they were making progress. They were deep into the Middle of the Beyond now. And there was no sign of pursuit, thank goodness. Whatever had brought the Blight to Relay, it had not been specific knowledge of the OOB.
Note
!V CHRON CHK 3d; note that this timing is an attempt to squish
!V everything up to close to their departure from Relay
!V This should also affect the dating on the messages at the end of
!V this chapter
Hope. Ravna felt it growing in her. The ship's medical automation claimed that Pham Nuwen could be saved, that there was brain activity. The terrible wounds in his back had been Old One's implants, organic machinery that had made Pham close-linked to Relay's local network -- and thence to the Power above. And when that Power died somehow the gear in Pham became a putrescent ruin. So Pham the person should still exist. Pray he still exists. The surgeon thought it would be three days before his back was healed enough to attempt resuscitation.
Note
!V small INCON implication that deploying the swarm is rarely done
!V and perhaps can't be done when the ship is under way
!V I don't see such an implication here
!IMP BKG note though: the antenna swarm is mainly so they can listen
!V to Jefri. It's not really needed (or not always needed in full
!V glory) to do what is described in the next paragraph
In the meantime.... Ravna was learning more about the apocalypse that had swept over her. Every twenty hours, Greenstalk and Blueshell jigged the ship sideways a few light-years, into some major trunk line of the Known Net to soak up the News. It was a common practice on any voyage of more than a few days; an easy way for merchants and travelers to keep track of events that might affect their success at voyage's end.
Note
!V QU Is it clear that the Known Net is anarchical (no central admin
!V possible)
!jdv p335 Unintelligible paragraph <somewhere near here>
!V here might be a place for backwards echo on the people they were not
!V able to save
!?V INCON CHK "documented history" assertion
!V last scene was the first use of thralls, you should grep for it, too,
!V and decide on usage.
According to the News (that is, according to the vast majority of the opinions expressed), the fall of Relay was complete. Oh, Grondr. Oh Egravan and Sarale. Are you dead or owned now?
Parts of the Known Net were temporarily out of contact; some of the extra-galactic links might not be replaced for years. For the first time in millennia, a Power was known to have been murdered. There were tens of thousands of claims about the motive for the attack and tens of thousands of predictions about what would happen next. Ravna had the ship filter the avalanche, trying to distill the essence of the speculations.
The one coming from Straumli Realm itself made as much sense as any: the Perversion's thralls gloated solemnly about the new era, the marriage of a Transcendent being with races of the Beyond. If Relay could be destroyed -- if a Power could be murdered -- then nothing could stop the spread of victory.
Note
!?V "outside of the Net's records"; I'm not sure I want to get into
!V the implication of initializing catastrophes here.
Some senders thought that Relay was the ancestral target of whatever had perverted Straumli Realm. Maybe the attack was just the tail end of some long ago war, a misbegotten tragedy for the descendants of forgotten races. If so, then the thralls at Straumli Realm might just wither away and the original human culture there reappear.
Note
^ Page 279, INSERT N [at the beginning of a paragraph]:
A number of items suggested that the attack had been aimed at stealing Relay's archives, but only one or two claimed that the Blight sought to recover an artifact, or prevent the Relayers from recovering one. Those assertions came from chronic theorizers, the sort of civilizations that get surcharged by newsgroup automation. Nevertheless, Ravna looked through those messages carefully. None of them suggested an artifact in the Low Beyond; if anything, they claimed the Blight was searching for something in the High Beyond or Low Transcend.
Note
!V CHK network capacity issue here
!V June 13, 1991 400s at between 1 and 10 MB/s says message is
!V between 400MB and 4000MB. If they can receive it in 2d, that's
!V between 2.3KB/s and 23KB/s ... hmm, so that's consistent with
!V elsewhere, I guess. (Toward end of story you imply about 15KB/s)
There was network traffic coming out of the Blight. The high protocol messages were ignored by all but the suicidal, and no one was getting paid to forward any of it. Yet horror and curiosity spread some of the messages far. There was the Blighter "video": almost four hundred seconds of pan-sensual data with no compression. That incredibly expensive message might be the most-forwarded hog in all Net history. Blueshell held the OOB on the trunk path for nearly two days to receive the whole thing.
Note
!V CHK 400s against the length of the following talk
!V Gotta decide if this is to be from Straumli Main or the High Lab
!V Gotta decide whether to have this at all
!V Gotta get consistent on how far down the Blight intends to extend
!V and how far it can have thrall-type control
!V Some of this might be resolved (may already be resolved) in
!V the Net speculation that follows
!V Actually, the badness speculated on in the following news items
!V is something that is apparently not completely unknown at the Top
!V of the Beyond and certainly in the Low Transcend (see earlier
!V messages). Perhaps this is something that should be mentioned
!V in these messages NÆH June 13, 1991
!V On this pass through the ms, I am only doing obvious shaving of the
!V Net News.
!V IMPER in fact, the Net News may be best hope for SOLN some of the
!V stories major INCONs
!V Is it too confusing that Ravna is from Sjandra Kei and yet she
!V recognizes a famous individual from Straum
!V April 26, 1991 This section may be the best place to work in the
!V notion of Blight as something long-term stable
!
!V ID when you do the video from the Blight, you might make some of your
!V points about why Known Net messages look a lot like 1985 internet
!V messages
!V From: tag
The Perversion's thralls all appeared to be human. About half the news items coming out of the Realm were video evocations, though none this long; all showed human speakers. Ravna watched the big one again and again: She even recognized the speaker. Øvn Nilsndot had been Straumli Realm's champion trael runner. He had no title now, and probably no name. Nilsndot spoke from an office that might have been a garden. If Ravna stepped to the side of the image, she could see over his shoulder to ground level. The city there looked like the Straumli Main of record. Years ago, Ravna and her sister had dreamed about that city, the heart of mankind's adventure into the Transcend. The central square had been a replica of the Field of Princesses on Nyjora, and the immigration advertising claimed that no matter how far the Straumers went, the fountain in the Field would always flow, would always show their loyalty to humankind's beginnings.
There was no fountain now, and Ravna felt deadness behind Nilsndot's gaze. "This one speaks as the Power that Helps," said the erstwhile hero. "I want all to see what I can do for even a third-rate civilization. Look upon my Helping...." The viewpoint swung skywards. It was sunset, and the ranked agrav structures hung against the light, megameter upon megameter. It was a more grandiose use of the agrav material than Ravna had ever seen, even on the Docks. Certainly no world in the Middle Beyond could ever afford to import the material in such quantities. "What you see above me is just the work barracks for the construction that I will soon begin in the Straumli system. When complete, five star systems will be a single habitat, their planets and excess stellar mass distributed to support life and technology as never before seen at these depths -- and as rarely seen in the Transcend itself." The view returned to Nilsndot, a single human, mouthpiece for a god. "Some of you may rebel against idea of dedicating yourselves to me. In the long run it does not matter. The symbiosis of my Power with the hands of races in the Beyond is more than any can resist. But I speak now to diminish your fear. What you see in Straumli Realm is as much a joy as a wonder. Never again will races in the Beyond be left behind by transcendence. Those who join me -- and all will join eventually -- will be part of the Power. You will have access to imports from across the Top and Lower Transcend. You will reproduce beyond the limits your own technology could sustain. You will absorb all that oppose me. You will bring the new stability."
The third or fourth time she watched the item, Ravna tried to ignore the words, concentrate on Nilsndot's expression, comparing it to speeches she had in her personal dataset. There was a difference; it wasn't her imagination. The creature she watched was soul-dead. Somehow, the Blight didn't care that that was obvious ... maybe it wasn't obvious except to human viewers, and they were a vanishingly small fraction of the audience. The viewpoint closed in on Nilsndot's ordinary dark face, his ordinary violet eyes:
Note
!V CHK 4 billion years
!V "a new stability" (see above) -- could be echoed sarcastically in
!V responses
"Some of you may wonder how all this is possible, and why billions of years of anarchy have passed without such help from a Power. The answer is ... complex. Like many sensible developments, this one has a high threshold. On one side of that threshold, the development appears impossibly unlikely; on the other, inevitable. The symbiosis of the Helping depends on efficient, high-bandwidth communication between myself and the beings I Help. Creatures such as the one now speaking my words must respond as quickly and faithfully as a hand or a mouth. Their eyes and ears must report across light-years. This has been hard to achieve -- especially since the system must essentially be in place before it can function. But, now that the symbiosis exists, progress will come much faster. Almost any race can be modified to receive Help."
Almost any race can be modified. The words came from a familiar face, and in Ravna's birth language ... but the origin was monstrously far away.
Note
^ V No section break here!
There was plenty of analysis. A whole news group had been formed: Threat of the Blight was spawned from Threats Group, Homo Sapiens Interest Group, and Close-Coupled Automation. These days it was busier than any five other groups. In this part of the galaxy, a significant fraction of all message traffic belonged to the new group. More bits were sent analyzing poor Øvn Nilsndot's mouthing than had been in the original. Judging from the flames and contradictions, the signal-to-noise ratio was very low:
Note
!hld you mean very low S/N
!V as constituted these messages set up the background for what
!V perversions can be by the Conventional Wisdom
!V This Khurvark one could also make some points about
!V the Net not being like a local net -- If you do this should
!V have some indication the this poster is somehow especially naive.
!V If you do this, it might also fit will with the flamer response.
Note
^ [Light gloss]
Crypto: 0
Note
^ Syntax: 43
As received by: OOB shipboard ad hoc
Note
^ (full-gloss channel)
Language path: Acquileron->Triskweline, SjK units
From: Khurvark University [Claimed to be habitat-based university in the Middle Beyond]
Subject: Blighter Video
Summary: The message shows fraud
Distribution: War Trackers Interest Group, Where are they now Interest Group, Threat of the Blight
Date: 7.06 days since Fall of Relay
Note
^ CHRON" Date: 610.12 Ksec since Fall of Relay
! 1.496 Msec since Fall of Relay
! (Clock Slop < 500 seconds)
Text of message:
It's obvious that this "Helper" is a fraud. We've researched the matter carefully. Though he is not named, the speaker is a high official in the former Straumli regime. Now why -- if the "Helper" simply runs the humans as teleoperated robots -- why is the earlier social structure preserved? The answer should be clear to any idiot: The Helper does not have the power to teleoperate large numbers of sentients. Evidently, the Fall of Straumli Realm consisted of taking over key elements in that civilization's power structure. It's business as usual for the rest of the race. Our conclusion: this Helper Symbiosis is just another messianic religion, another screwball empire excusing its excesses and attempting to trick those it cannot directly coerce. Don't be fooled!
Note
^ [Light gloss]
Crypto: 0
Note
^ Syntax: 43
As received by: OOB shipboard ad hoc
Note
^ (full-gloss channel)
Language path: Optima->Acquileron->Triskweline, SjK units
Note
!Probably should also say relation to galactic plane
!INCON the way the end of the story is set up [08Aug90 ], you
! should put this organization much further away
From: Society for Rational Investigation [Probably a single system in Middle Beyond, 5700 light-years antispinward of Sjandra Kei]
Note
!V June 10, 1991 antispinward
Subject: Blighter Video thread, Khurvark University 1
Key phrases: [Probable obscenity] waste of our valuable time
Distribution: Society for Rational Network Management, Threat of the Blight
Date: 7.91 days since Fall of Relay
Note
^ CHRON" Date: 695.23 Ksec since Fall of Relay
! 1.587 Msec since Fall of Relay
! (Clock Slop < 200000 seconds)
Text of message:
Note
!V CHKd 5 billion years
!V May 4, 1991 Inconsistent gloss style below?
Who is a fool? [probable obscenity] [probable obscenity] Idiots who don't follow all the threads in developing news should not waste my precious ears with their [clear obscenity] garbage. So you think the "Helper Symbiosis" is a fraud of Straumli Realm? And what do you think caused the fall of Relay? In case your head is totally stuck up your rear [ ← probable insult], there was a Power allied with Relay. That Power is now dead. You think maybe it just committed suicide? Look it up, Flat Head [ ← probable insult]. No Power has ever fallen to anything from the Beyond. The Blight is something new and interesting. I think it's time that [obscenity] jerks like Khurvark University stick to the noise groups, and let the rest of us have some intelligent discussion.
And some messages were patent nonsense. One thing about the Net: the multiple, automatic translations often disguised the fundamental alienness of participants. Behind the chatty, colloquial postings, there were faraway realms, so misted by distance and difference that communication was impossible -- even though it might take a while to realize the fact. For instance:
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^ [Light gloss]
Crypto: 0
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^ Syntax: 43
As received by: OOB shipboard ad hoc
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^ (full-gloss channel)
Language path: Arbwyth->Trade24->Cherguelen->Triskweline, SjK units
From: Twirlip of the Mists [Perhaps an organization of cloud fliers in a single jovian system. Very sparse priors.]
Subject: Blighter Video thread
Key phrases: Hexapodia as the key insight
Distribution: Threat of the Blight
Date: 8.68 days since Fall of Relay
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^ CHRON" Date: 750.44 Ksec since Fall of Relay
! 1.588 Msec since Fall of Relay
! (Clock Slop < 1000 seconds)
Text of message:
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!V Terminology, "evocation".
!V Certainly as we get greater and greater smarts in our
!V endpoint hardware, low-bandwidth links will be "augmented" by
!V guesses that the receiver makes about the incoming message (partly
!V based on cues inserted by the sender).
!V Frank Herbert had a story many years ago that used this idea,
!V but I don't remember him calling the trick evocation. However, it
!V will probably be a dominant feature of video comm over the next
!V few years.
!V Where to draw the line: IDEA:
!V Write a story about a guy who is almost convicted of murdering his
!V wife: The murder was seen by a witness, but over the phone. And of
!V course it turns out that the link was such low bandwidth that the
!V evocation at the witness's end showed hi-res images of the
!V defendant because the receiver had some reason to believe the
!V defendant was the only other person who could be in the murder
!V victim's room.
I haven't had a chance to see the famous video from Straumli Realm, except as an evocation. (My only gateway onto the Net is very expensive.) Is it true that humans have six legs? I wasn't sure from the evocation. If these humans have three pairs of legs, then I think there is an easy explanation for --
Hexapodia? Six legs? Three pairs of legs? Probably none of these translations was close to what the bewildered creature of Twirlip had in its mind. Ravna didn't read any more of that posting.
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!V Heh, heh: ... or three pairs of wheels? I wonder what would have
!V happened if Ravna had just read a little further. In some weird
!V way, Twirlip knows the Secret of the Riders. I wonder how many
!V people will catch this. It's really not up to the level of a
!V legitimate clue (I didn't notice it until after I wrote it) -- but
!V if it were, Ravna would have instantly caught on to it.
!V This is a special case of something you might use elsewhere:
!V Even though the Known Net has enormous connectivity, the interests
!V of the participants and the prejudices of the newsfilter software
!V would tend to create virtual partitions. There could be large
!V segments that, sometimes unknowingly, are ignoring each other. Most
!V of the time this would just improve efficiency; in some cases
!V great insights would be lost. (Hence, I bet some people or
!V their automation would expend lots of effort dredging the
!V unintelligible. Even that would not eliminate the problem.)
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^ V decide on single-spacing v double-spacing on these messages
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Crypto: 0
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As received by: OOB shipboard ad hoc
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Language path: Triskweline, SjK units
From: Hanse [No references prior to the Fall of Relay. No probable source. This is someone being very cautious]
Subject: Blighter Video thread, Khurvark University 1
Distribution: War Trackers Interest Group, Threat of the Blight
Date: 8.68 days since Fall of Relay
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^ CHRON" Date: 750.47 Ksec since Fall of Relay
! 1.589 Msec since Fall of Relay
! (Clock Slop < 500 seconds)
Text of message:
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!V April 20, 1991 It may be possible to slim this down:
Khurvark University thinks the Blight is a fraud because elements of the former regime have survived on Straum. There is another explanation. Suppose the Blight is indeed a Power, and that its claims of effective symbiosis are generally true. That means that the creature being "Helped" is no more than a remotely controlled device, his brain simply a local processor supporting the communication. Would you want to be helped like that? My question isn't completely rhetorical; the readership is wide enough that there may be some of you who would answer "yes". However, the vast majority of naturally evolved, sentient beings would be revolted by the notion. Surely the Blight knows this. My guess is that the Blight is not a fraud -- but that the notion of surviving culture in Straumli Realm is. Subtly, the Blight wanted to convey the impression that only some are directly enslaved, that cultures as a whole will survive. Combine that with Blight's claim that not all races can be teleoperated. We're left with the subtext that immense riches are available to races that associate themselves with this Power, yet the biological and intellectual imperatives of these races will still be satisfied.
So, the question remains. Just how complete is the Blight's control over conquered races? I don't know. There may not be any self-aware minds left in the Blight's Beyond, only billions of teleoperated devices. One thing is clear: The Blight needs something from us that it cannot yet take.
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!jrf2 How about some Ravna response here, perhaps talking to Blueshell
!jrf2 and Greenstalk? How about progress in re Pham's recovery? This
!jrf2 scene just sits here, needs transition to
!jrf2 the next page<?V>
And so it went. Tens of thousands of messages, hundreds of points of view. It was not called the Net of a Million Lies for nothing. Ravna talked with Blueshell and Greenstalk about it every day, trying to put it together, trying to decide which interpretation to believe.
The Riders knew humans well, but even they weren't sure of the deadness in Øvn Nilsndot's face. And Greenstalk knew humans well enough to see that there was no answer that would comfort Ravna. She rolled back and forth in front of the News window, finally reached a frond out to touch the human. "Perhaps Sir Pham can say, once he is well."
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!V QU Does this increase too much the justifiable
!V suspicion that there should be of the Riders later? (c32:892)
!V April 20, 1991 improved this aspect, at the end of the paragraph.
!V April 20, 1991 Blueshell's imagery here may not be very Riderish
!V April 21, 1991 Blueshell could say something thoughtless about the
!V control issue, eg: "What do you expect of a Type 2 perversion?
!V The difference here is that this is so far spreading and powerful."
Blueshell was bustling, clinical. "If you're right, that means that somehow the Blight doesn't care what humans and those close to humans know. In a way that makes sense, but ..." His voder buzzed absentmindedly for a moment. "I mistrust this message. Four hundred seconds of broad-band, so rich that it gives full-sense imagery for many different races. That's an enormous amount of information, and no compression whatsoever.... Maybe it's sweetened bait, forwarded by us poor Beyonders back to our every nest." That suspicion had been in the News too. But there were no obvious patterns in the message, and nothing that talked to network automation. Such subtle poison might work at the Top of the Beyond, but not down here. And that left a simpler explanation, one that would make perfect sense even on Nyjora or Old Earth: the video masked a message to agents already in place.
-=*=-
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!CHKd the claim that Vendacious is 100years old. Put in Chron.txt
!BKG CHK You imply three-way parenting here. Is that anyplace else?
!V I don't think I do mention it elsewhere
!ID Maybe later in the story, you could make it clear that at one time
! Vendacious was a decent fellow
Vendacious was well-known to the people of Woodcarvers -- but for mostly the wrong reasons. He was about a century old, the fusion offspring of Woodcarver on two of his strategists. In his early decades, Vendacious had managed the city's wood mills. Along the way he devised some clever improvements on the waterwheel. Vendacious had had his own romantic entanglements -- mostly with politicians and speech-makers. More and more, his replacement members inclined him toward public life. For the last thirty years he had been one of the strongest voices on Woodcarvers Council; for the last ten, Lord Chamberlain. In both roles, he had stood for the guilds and for fair trade. There were rumors that if Woodcarver should ever abdicate or wholly die, Vendacious would be the next Lord of Council. Many thought that might be the best that could be made of such a disaster -- though Vendacious's pompous speeches were already the bane of the Council.
That was the public's view of Vendacious. Anyone who understood the ways of security would also guess that the chamberlain managed Woodcarver's spies. No doubt he had dozens of informants in the mills and on the docks. But now Scriber knew that even that was just a cover. Imagine -- having agents in the Flenser inner circle, knowing the Flenser plans, their fears, their weaknesses, and being able to manipulate them! Vendacious was simply incredible. Ruefully, Scriber must acknowledge the other's stark genius.
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!ID really a theme: the delicate balance between discipline/concentration
! and freedom/imagination. The Tines are more flexible in changing the
! balance as is shown by both their attraction to Johanna and their
! liking for choirs
!QU Is Scriber too inconsistently bright?
And yet ... this knowledge did not guarantee victory. Not all the Flenser schemes could be directly managed from the top. Some of the enemy's low-level operations might proceed unknown and quite successfully ... and it would only take a single arrow to totally kill Johanna Olsndot.
Here was where Scriber Jaqueramaphan could prove his value.
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!CHKd castle terminology
!V "loop" archaic for "loophole"
!V "arrow loop" is used by Macaulay p30
!CHKd 20 feet thick? Macaulay's inner (bigger) curtain was 35' tall and
!V 12' thick (c p11)
!V "merlon" and "embrasure" as in Macaulay glossary
He asked to move into the castle curtain, on the third floor. No problem getting permission; his new quarters were smaller, the walls rudely quilted. A single arrow loop gave an uninspired view across the castle grounds. For Scriber's new purpose, the room was perfect. Over the next few days, he took to lurking in the promenades. The main walls were laced with tunnels, fifteen inches wide by thirty tall. Scriber could get almost anywhere in the curtain without being seen from outside. He padded single file from one tunnel to the next, emerging for a few moments on a rampart to flit from merlon to embrasure to merlon, a head poking out here, a head poking out there.
Of course he ran into guards, but Jaqueramaphan was cleared to be in the walls ... and he had studied the guards' routine. They knew he was around, but Scriber was confident they had no idea of the extent of his effort. It was hard, cold work, but worth the effort. Scriber's great goal in life was to do something spectacular and valuable. The problem was, most of his ideas were so deep that other packs -- even people he respected immensely -- didn't understand. That had been the problem with Johanna. Well, after a few more days he could go to Vendacious and then....
As he peeked around corners and through arrow slots, two of Scriber's members huddled down, taking notes. After ten days, he had enough to impress even Vendacious.
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!mARK 22Jun89
Vendacious's official residence was surrounded by rooms for assistants and guards. It was not the place to make a secret offer. Besides, Scriber had had bad luck with the direct approach before. You could wait days for an appointment, and the more patient you were, the more you followed the rules, the more the bureaucrats considered you a nonentity.
But Vendacious was sometimes alone. There was this turret on the old wall, on the forest side of the castle.... Late on the eleventh day of his investigation, Scriber stationed himself on that turret and waited. An hour passed. The wind eased. Heavy fog washed in from the harbor. It oozed up the old wall like slow-moving sea foam. Everything became very, very quiet -- the way it always does in a thick fog. Scriber nosed moodily around the turret platform; it really was decrepit. The mortar crumbled under his claws. It felt like you could pull some of the stones right out of the wall. Damn. Maybe Vendacious was going to break the pattern and not come up here today.
But Scriber waited another half hour ... and his patience paid off. He heard the click of steel on the spiral stairs. There was no sound of thought; it was just too foggy for that. A minute passed. The trapdoor popped up and a head stuck through.
Even in the fog, Vendacious's surprise was a fierce hiss.
"Peace, sir! It is only I, loyal Jaqueramaphan."
The head came further out. "What would a loyal citizen be doing up here?"
"Why, I am here to see you," Scriber said, laughing, "at this, your secret office. Come on up, sir. With this fog, there is enough room for both of us."
One after another, Vendacious's members hoisted themselves through the trapdoor. Some barely made it, their knives and jewelry catching on the door frame; Vendacious was not the slimmest of packs. The security chief ranged himself along the far side of the turret, a posture that bespoke suspicion. He was nothing like the pompous, patronizing pack of their public encounters. Scriber grinned to himself. He certainly had the other's attention.
"Well?" Vendacious said in a flat voice.
"Sir. I wish to offer my services. I believe that my very presence here shows I can be of value to Woodcarver's security. Who but a talented professional could have determined that you use this place as your secret den?"
Vendacious seemed to untense a little. He smiled wryly. "Who indeed? I come here precisely because this part of the old wall can't be seen from anywhere in the castle. Here I can ... commune with the hills, and be free of bureaucratic trivia."
Jaqueramaphan nodded. "I understand, sir. But you are wrong in one detail." He pointed past the security chief. "You can't see it through all this fog, but on the harbor side of the castle there is a single spot that has a line of sight on your turret."
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!CHK QU is this too close NÆH
!CHKd castle terms ward, turret
!QU do I need to make it clearer that Scriber brought various optical
! devices? NO
"So? Who could see much from -- ah, the eye-tools you brought from the Republic!"
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!QU is this explanation of the provenance of the optics coming too late?
!V this might be connected with SOLN of jrf's request for earlier stuff
!V about Scriber
"Exactly." Scriber reached into a pocket and brought out a telescope. "Even from across the yard, I could recognize you." The eye-tools could have made Scriber famous. Woodcarver and Scrupilo had been enchanted by them. Unfortunately, honesty had required to him to admit that he bought the devices from an inventor in Rangathir. Never mind that it was he who recognized the value of the invention, that it was he who used it to help rescue Johanna. When they discovered that he did not know quite how the lenses worked, they had accepted his gift of one ... and turned to their own glass makers. Oh well, he was still the best eye-tool user in this part of the world.
"It's not just you I've been watching, my lord. That's been the smallest part of my investigation. Over the last ten days I've spent many hours on the castle walks."
Vendacious's lips quirked. "Indeed."
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!CHKd sp daresay
"I daresay not many noticed me, and I was very careful that no one saw me using the eye-tool. In any case," he pulled his book from another pocket, "I've compiled extensive notes. I know who goes where and when during almost all the hours of light. You can imagine the power of my technique during the summer!" He set the book on the floor and slid it toward Vendacious. After a moment, the other reached a member forward and dragged it toward himself. He didn't seem very enthusiastic.
"Please understand, sir. I know that you tell Woodcarver what goes on in the highest Flenser councils. Without your sources we would be helpless against those lords, but --"
"Who told you such things?"
Scriber gulped. Brazen it out. He grinned weakly. "No one had to tell me. I'm a professional, like yourself; and I know how to keep a secret. But think: there may be others of my ability within the castle, and some might be traitors. You might never hear of them from your high-placed sources. Think of the damage they could do. You need my help. With my approach, you can keep track of everyone. I would be happy to train a corps of investigators. We could even operate in the city, watching from the market towers."
The security chief sidled around the parapet; he kicked idly at stones in the rotted mortar. "The idea has its attractions. Mind you, I think we have all Flenser's agents identified; we feed them well ... with lies. It's interesting to hear the lies come back from our sources up there." He laughed shortly, and glanced over the parapet, thinking. "But you're right. If we are missing anyone with access to the Two-legs or Dataset ... it could be disastrous." He turned more heads at Scriber. "You've got a deal. I can get you four or five people to, ah, train in your methods."
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!QU Should I delete the sentence beginning "Finally"? (because it is
! to repetitious of Scriber's weaknesses?)
! Finally, he would have a chance to show what he could do!
Scriber couldn't control his expression; he almost bounced in enthusiasm, all eyes on Vendacious. "You won't regret this, sir!"
Vendacious shrugged. "Probably not. Now, how many others have you told about your investigation? We'll want to bring them in, swear them to secrecy."
Scriber drew himself up. "My Lord! I told you that I am a professional. I have kept this completely to myself, waiting for this conversation."
Vendacious smiled and relaxed to an almost genial posture. "Excellent. Then we can begin."
Maybe it was Vendacious's voice -- a trifle too loud -- or maybe it was some small sound behind him. Whatever the reason, Scriber turned a head from the other and saw swift shadows coming over the forest side of the parapet. Too late he heard the attacker's mind noise.
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!CHK for and remove usage that depends on mouth sound. Eg,
! "a waste of breath"
! "blabbermouth" "close-mouthed"
Arrows hissed, and fire burned through his Phan's throat. He gagged, but kept himself together and raced around the turret toward Vendacious. "Help me!" The scream was a waste of speech. Scriber knew, even before the other drew his knives and backed away.
Vendacious stood clear as his assassin jumped into Scriber's midst. Rational thought dimmed in a frenzy of noise and slashing pain. Tell Peregrine! Tell Johanna! The butchering continued for timeless instants and then --
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!mARK 23Jun89
Part of him was drowning in sticky red. Part of him was blinded. Jaquerama's thought came in ragged fragments. At least one of him was dead: Phan lay beheaded in a spreading pool of blood. It steamed in the cold air. Pain and cold and ... drowning, choking ... tell Johanna.
The assassin and his boss had retreated from him. Vendacious. Security chief. Traitor-in-chief. Tell Johanna. They stood quietly ... watching him bleed to death. Too prissy to mess their thoughts with his. They'd wait. They'd wait ... till his mind noise dimmed, then finish the job.
Quiet. So quiet. The killers' distant thoughts. Sounds of gagging, moaning. No one would ever know....
Almost all gone. Ja stared dumbly at the two strange packs. One came toward him, steel claws on its feet, blades in its mouth. No! Ja jumped up, slipping and skidding on the wet. The pack lunged, but Ja was already standing on the parapet. He leaped backwards and fell and fell...
... and shattered on rocks far below. Ja pulled himself away from the wall. There was pain across his back, then numbness. Where am I? Where am I? Fog everywhere. High above him there were muttering voices. Memories of knives and tines floated in his small mind, all jumbled. Tell Johanna! He remembered ... something ... from before. A hidden trail through deep brush. If he went that way far enough, he would find Johanna.
Ja dragged himself slowly up the path. Something was wrong with his rear legs; he couldn't feel them. Tell Johanna.
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!INCON make time of day consistent between Scriber's murder and going
! to Johanna's -- actually the time of day is okay, what's incredible is
!V is that Vendacious didn't manage to interecept Ja
!V I think I've rationalized even that now (2 paragraphs up ).