Should they, I would be happy to be gathered in.
Killeen snorted in fear and anger and emotions he could not name.
For you, a reminder—
A shifting haze as white as steam condensed to his left.
Toby was walking steadily out of the solidifying mist. He was grinning. Smaller and thinner than Killeen remembered. Toby said something that got snatched away by a gathering wind and the tone was wrong and as Toby’s jaws yawned the lines in his face broadened to jagged cracks.
Toby came apart. In precise zigzags. Each one gave a brittle pop as his son burst apart.
Decision Tree
If the Way of Three is correct, then we need only the genetic coding of these primates.
It would seem so.
How simple! We missed it for so long.
That is what worries me.
Why should it? They employ a particularly awkward method of self-reproduction. Much of their genetic code is useless baggage, carried along solely because it can copy itself, but conveying no worthwhile message. An ugly mess, dictated by their random evolution.
I/We suspect . . .
What?
That is what concerns me. I do not know what my misgivings mean, since they are so . . .
Tentative?
Yes. I deplore hesitation. Still, I sense danger. Undefined, but danger, definitely.
We have waited long enough to deal with these. We entertained endless discussion of art, aesthetics, and how beautiful in their way these primitive forms are. Very well, some have been recorded as we terminated them. Done!
You advocate the harsh method?
Of course. We need only the three generations of data. Very well, kill them all and let the Exalteds sort them out.
All? Everywhere?
I believe we can do it.
We could tear momentary openings in the Wedge, that I grant. To ransack the entire space-time geometry may not even be conceptually possible.
Such niceties I leave to the savants of geometry. We need not cleave all Lanes—only enough to discover the Three. A random sampling of the human-habited Lanes should suffice. Perhaps a hundred.
Some levels of All/We will be displeased at the erasure of so much potentially useful data.
Once we have the Three and can decode—that should be trivial—the remaining data is mere trash.
There is the faction/submind of us/you which holds that both prudence and aesthetic issues—
Enough of this. Decision is made.
But truly, wait—
We/You are the majority.
I understand.
All/You must remember to keep to our/your proper station. Act!
I must.
PART FIVE
The Silver River Road
From too much love of living,
From hope and fear set free,
We thank with brief thanksgiving
Whatever gods may be
That no life lives for ever;
