āIāve been in contact with Colligatarch Authority on Earth,ā Uberaba began.
Eric interrupted him. āThis is crazy! I donāt know anything about the Syrax! Iām not a Syrax agent. What kind of idiocy is this?ā
āItās not a question of idiocy, but of engineering. You really believe in yourself, donāt you? Iām telling you, you are a construction. As surely as was the GATE, as surely as was this floating city, you were built.ā He nodded toward Lisa. āAs was the woman beside you, though her origin is different.ā
āLook, I know Iāve done some unusual things,ā he was about to say āinhuman thingsā but changed his words in mid thought, ābut that doesnāt prove what you say.ā
āYouāre quite right about that, but many seemingly unrelated things when placed alongside each other create a context from which explanations may be drawn, like the pieces of any other puzzle. As an engineer and designer you should know that better than anyone.ā
āI was born in Chandler, Arizona, a state of the North American Federation, inā"
Uberaba put up a hand. āSpare me. Iām sure your implanted memories are as detailed and strong as the Syrax could make them. They really are wonderful technicians. A pity they donāt share their knowledge.
āIāve been briefed on the extent of your āunusualā activities, Eric, and they are very impressive. Youāve done some remarkable things. But as you say, demonstrations of extreme physical ability do not in themselves constitute proof of extraterrestrial origin. But no artison or android could have done what youāve done, not even one designed as an athletic model.
āYou had an altercation in Nueva York, in Ms. Tamborās home. In addition to a lot of other blood, you left behind a very little of your own. Like everything else at the scene it was studied intensively in hopes of learning something about you. Itās very good blood, but itās not natural.ā
Eric listened silently while his brain screamed at him to grab Lisa in his arms and rush the GATE, to get away from these insane people and their droning madness before it engulfed both of them. But he couldnāt. He was too fascinated by the manās bizarre theory. He was too much the engineer intrigued by a possible solution to an inexplicable problem. Why, if you let your mind come apart, stopped thinking rationally, what Uberaba was saying made an abstract sort of sense.
āIn addition to your physical abilities, Eric, you were given a considerable if not profound independent intelligence. Use it now to consider what Iāve said. How did you imagine you managed one incredible escape after another? In Nueva York you defeated an entire squad of highly trained professionals.ā Around him, Oremaās people shifted uneasily.
āIn a suburb of Greater London you broke out of a prison hospital by running through a solid concrete wall while filled with enough dope to lay out a dozen weight lifters. And lastly there is the still unexplained business of your departure from an enclosed office in a building on the shore of the Thames, in London. Six reliable witnesses were within two meters of you when you both vanished, even as you were about to be shot. Where did you go, Eric, and how did you do it?ā
Construction. Creature of the Syrax. Good blood, but not quite natural, oh, most definitely unnatural.
Theyāre not mad at all, Eric thought suddenly. I am. I am, or the rest of the world. Looking to his left, he found Lisa staring up at him, and he could see that she didnāt want to believe either. But despite that, he saw what he wanted to see, what he needed to see. The love was still there, in her face, in her eyes. Man, android, artison, alien whatsis, no matter. Whatever Eric Abbott might be, Lisa Tambor loved him.
The catacombs of St. Paulās ā¦ how had they arrived there? At the time theyād accepted salvation without question because thereād been no time for analysis, Think back, further back. Back to what had seemed such a pleasant, normal life. Back to that night in Phoenix, in the restaurant. The appearance of the Syrax.
How indifferent its casual inspection of bar and patrons had been! How fluid and casual its movements. Had it materialized there to observe human recreational habits, or to run some kind of final check? On what? Its machine?
And right after that, the fateful glimpse of Lisa on the street, and events set irrevocably in motion. Accident? Coincidence? Or long-dormant programming activated?
Teleportation. A Syrax could teleport over a short distance. Thames to St. Paulās, defensive reaction triggered instinctively in the part of him that ā¦ wasnāt quite natural? How much of Eric Abbott was human and how much ā¦ something else?
āYouāre in love with the artison four in the Tambor series, arenāt you?ā the far-off voice of Uberaba was saying gently. āThatās what Iāve been told.ā
Eric stared at him. Nothing else in the room existed anymoreānot the colonists, not the security team with its weapons, not Orema, nothing. Only the vague presence of Lisa, himself, and Uberaba. Everyone else had ceased to exist, because only Uberaba had the answers. Eric ached with the need for answers.
āYes, I am in love with her.ā He held her close and almost cried when she did not pull away.
āYou know what youāre not,ā Uberaba explained patiently. āIām sure Tambor four has told you that itās impossible for her to love a human male. Donāt you find it strange that she should love you?ā
Eric didnāt reply. There was nothing to say.
Uberaba continued. āIt explains a lot, doesnāt it?ā
āWhy? What if what you say is true? I still donāt understand why.ā
The bioengineer whispered to Orema. āI think his ignorance may be genuine.ā Then, to Eric, āThatās fairly obvious: the GATE.
āIn most of the sciences the Syrax are far in advance of us. They continue to mete out information in tiny dribs and drabs in the hope that someday theyāll be able to wheedle the secret of the GATE out of us. In that one area of physics weāve not only equaled, but have jumped far beyond, their accomplishments, thanks to a lucky guess on the part of some incredibly fortunate researchers.
āTheir starships are far more efficient than any vessels weāve built, but they still take years to reach Earth. In comparison to the GATE, they donāt move at all. Ever since they made contact with us and learned about the GATE, theyāve worked at duplicating it. They canāt, because its discovery was pure accident.
āThe Station here is shielded, which means they canāt teleport in. Why do you think we take such security precautions here, Eric Abbott? To keep out terrestrial iconoclasts? No. To protect the GATE. Itās our one hold over the Syrax, and they badly want to break it. Theyāve been trying for a hundred years.ā
I know how the GATE works, Eric thought suddenly. I scanned the records in the computer here. But why? You donāt have to know the secrets of its operation to use it. All you have to do is step through. Why did I research that?
A tremor passed through his body, a mental quiver as the realization, no longer avoidable, finally struck home.
The bioengineer was right.
Abruptly his perception of his surroundings underwent a subtle shift. He saw Orema and his people and Uberaba and everyone else in the room differently, as though the world had suddenly gone slightly out of focus. Except he knew that wasnāt true. He was the one out of focus.
And yet he didnāt feel different emotionally, didnāt feel like a puppet or the extension of some extravagant computer program. He still felt like Eric Abbott, alive with all the feelings and thoughts and desires and hopes Eric Abbott had always possessed. Oh, theyād fashioned him fine, had the Syrax! Their work reached a new nadir of bioengineering perfection in him. It had to, to have fooled everyone for so long. Even the shield Uberaba spoke of had not kept him out of GATE Station.
The bioengineerās voice and face were full of sympathy. He saw the pain on Ericās face. āI know how difficult this must be for you to accept, but if you need further proof ā¦ā He reached behind him. Eric tensed, but what the bioengineer produced was no weapon.
The small, triangular metal unit displayed a few tiny readouts and a couple of adjustment controls. As Eric stared, Uberaba nudged first one, then its companion. A whispery hum filled the room.
āThatās a carrier wave, Eric.ā He held out the unit so that Eric could see the signal dancing across a miniature opto. āThatās you. Youāve been broadcasting it all along, I suspect. Iāve been told itās a very deceptive carrier wave, near impossible to detect without sophisticated sensing equipment. Youāre transmitting, Eric, without being aware of it.
āThere are two Syrax ships orbiting Earth right now. Not in the same orbit as GATE Station: that would be too obvious. Theyāre far away, but not behind the curve of the planet. Which one do you think youāre transmitting to?ā
āI donāt know,ā Eric mumbled. His free hand went to his head, touched gingerly, as a man might caress a live bomb. āI didnāt know I was doing that. I donāt feel anything. Please, youāve got to listen to me! Maybe I am what you say, a construction of the Syrax, but Iām an independent construct. Iām not a slave. They couldnāt make me a slave or their deception wouldnāt have worked ā¦ā he broke off.
āAs well as it has?ā Uberaba finished for him. āSeems to me youāve accomplished almost everything they planned for you.ā
āNo! I am independent. Circumstances have brought me here, yes, maybe as they intended, but Iāve acted alone in everything.ā
āYou know the secret of the GATE. You havenāt broadcast it yet. We know because weāve deciphered and can interpret the carrier wave theyāre using. But youāve learned it. You ran it through a terminal." He gestured across the room. āThat terminal. Itās been checked. No one knows how you managed to crack the codes so fast, but ā¦ā
āYou forget that I worked for the company that designed many of the components,ā Eric told him softly.
Uberaba nodded, looked satisfied. āSo subtle. Subtle and patient. They function on a different time-scale than we do.ā
āLet us go through the GATE,ā Eric pleaded with him. āItās ready. Just give us a second and let us go across to Eden. You know we canāt come back. The GATEāS a one-way trip to anonymity.ā
āThe Syrax probably have a good idea where Eden is located, and their ships are better than ours. They could go there, pick you up, and drain the information out of you. Theyāre very patient.ā
āPatience wonāt be enough,ā Eric pointed out excitedly. āOne of their starships would take a hundred years to reach Eden, even if they do know where it is.ā He did not add that he was certain they did know, because, he realized suddenly, he knew. How did he know? It was part of his stored knowledge, information sequestered in the back of his brain that lay dormant until required.
What else did he know that he didnāt know he knew?
āIād be dead by then and ā¦ā he stopped in midsentence and a look of puzzlement spread across his features.
There was a voice in his head, soft and feathery. Actually it wasnāt a voice so much as an aural projection. It wasnāt telepathy; the Syrax were not telepathic, but rather mind speaking to mind via an infinitesimally small communications device implanted in his skull.