Iranaputra smiled. “Could we have a little privacy, please? I’ll wave when we need you.”
“As you wish.” Sounding slightly miffed, the blue ellipse darted toward the far end of the huge chamber, mumbling to itself. “Very confusing.”
“I wonder if it is still listening to us.” Iranaputra followed the Blueness as it retreated.
“There isn’t much we can do if it is,” Gelmann noted.
“I’m hungry,” Shimoda announced. Everyone ignored him.
“I don’t see how this ship can be a million years old,” she went on. “Nothing that old should look this clean and fresh, or function so efficiently.”
“Oh, I dunno.” Hawkins wore a speculative expression. “Inezz Nandu over in Wing D is a hundred and eighteen and she still works pretty good. Doesn’t look too bad, neither.”
“Who are we to say how things can last and things can work?” Shimoda pouted as he checked his girth. “This is nonhuman technology we are dealing with, sustained by inconceivable means. We are surrounded by wonders we have only just begun to experience.”
“I wonder what the crew looked like,” said Gelmann. “There must have been thousands of them. Maybe tens of thousands. Maybe this is some kind of gigantic transport.” She glanced around the vaulted chamber. “There’s nothing to indicate what they looked like. No chairs or couches, no handles to pull; nothing.”
“You wouldn’t need a large crew. Not with floating operating controls like the Autothor.” Follingston-Heath cast a benevolent eye on his companions.
“The place is attractive too,” Gelmann added. “Though I would have gone with some bright colors instead of all this unrelieved silver and gold. A nice pastel or two, maybe a light pink, you shouldn’t think me presumptuous.”
“Maybe the Autothor will let you redecorate,” said Hawkins sardonically. “Curtains and carpet. A little flowery wallpaper.”
“It wouldn’t hurt.”
An exasperated Iranaputra felt he had kept silent long enough. “What are we going to do about the air controllers?”
“How about we head for Baltimore and land on that bigmouth supervisor’s head?” Hawkins suggested.
“Wallace, you quit talking like that.” Gelmann wagged an admonishing finger at him. Hawkins grinned. He’d gotten Gelmann’s goat often enough to start a farm.
“He is only asking that we move out over the ocean. I would feel better if we did that too,” said Iranaputra. “I do not like to think of what could happen if this ship suddenly experienced a motive failure. Other people would suffer.”
“Tough for them,” Hawkins grumbled, but under his breath.
“Quite so, old chap,” agreed Follingston-Heath. “If it is indeed a million years old, it’s not unreasonable to assume it could break down at any time. We should consider our responsibilities.”
Iranaputra nodded, found himself wondering how a vessel this size handled such matters as waste disposal and recycling. Maybe later the Autothor could give him a tour. He winced at the thought. His relatives were right: he might retire physically but he could never do so mentally. Once a sewage specialist, always a sewage specialist.
“I worry about it.” Gelmann glanced across the chamber in the direction of the distant, patiently waiting blue ellipse. “It keeps talking about how confused it is.”
Hawkins grunted. “We better hope it stays confused. If it straightens itself out, it might start to wonder what the hell business the five of us have here. Hey, what’s that?”
Everyone turned. An imaging screen only slightly smaller than the west wing of Lake Woneapenigong Village had suddenly come to life high up on the south wall of the chamber. As they stared, half a dozen others of varying size appeared. They displayed depth as well as height and width, but they were not true holos.
“What’s happening?” Gelmann exhibited more curiosity than concern.
Starfields appeared on several of the screens, world schematics on others. There was more of the peculiar angular writing they had noticed on the raised panel in the entrance chamber. No one, including Follingston-Heath, recognized or could make sense of any of it.
Iranaputra turned and waved expansively toward the glowing ellipse, shouting as he did so. It promptly returned to them.
“You’ve had enough privacy?” It no longer sounded peeved.
“Yes, thank you,” said Shimoda.
“Good. I was starting to feel lonely. Over a million years, such feelings tend to accumulate.”
“What is the significance of these screens?” Gelmann gestured unnecessarily. “Did you activate them?”
“Not precisely.”
“What d’you mean, not precisely?” Hawkins frowned.
“I am required to initiate specific post-hiatal functions. These in turn activate other cognitive nexi which have their own responsibilities. While various ship functions such as these navigation screens continue to come on-line, I am not directly responsible for such activity. This continues even as we speak. You should not be alarmed. It takes time for a vessel of this size to fully reactivate.”
“Then you’re still not fully functional?” Shimoda pressed.
“Oh no! Not nearly.”
“How much longer will that take?” Follingston-Heath inquired.
“I can’t give you an exact time. There is so much to do and everything is very confused. But I can tell you that reactivation is proceeding adequately. As you have observed, power has been restored and we have acquired mobility.”
“Can’t expect precision from a million-year-old machine,” Shimoda pointed out.
“We’ve been asked to move away from land and out over the ocean. Could you do that?” Gelmann asked.
“A couple of hundred kilometers should be sufficient,” Follingston-Heath added.
