Instead of the envy and jealousy he would have felt on Earth, Eric received only compliments and good wishes from his associates when he was promoted to supervisor in charge of all computer-related activities on Eden. Eric enjoyed it because he was able to spend more time with Jeeter Sa-Nos-Tee. He was on a first-name basis with most of the population of Snake by now, and as he felt more and more at home among the Edenites, his hitherto reclusive personality expanded like a flower in the sun.
Like most secrets in small communities, the secret of Ericâs and Lisaâs origins could not be kept hidden for long. Revelation bore out the truth of Councilwoman Madrasâs claim. No one gave a damn. Lisa grew close to an agri specialist before she learned that Aelita Marcensky was an artison like herself.
As the months passed, Eric relaxed more and more, though he still couldnât completely convince himself that they were safe. There was always the fear that the authorities might send a suicide team through to ensure that the Syrax plan, gone astray or not, could not harm the colony.
He carefully scrutinized each new group of arrivals alongside Jeeter, but evidently the authorities had been satisfied with his defection. Eric still lived, but the Syrax had failed in their attempt to steal the secret of the GATE, and the prosaic Colligatarch should count that a sufficient success. In any case, there were no kamikazes among the newcomers, and none of them mentioned Ericâs or Lisaâs history to the Council. There would be no point to it, since the deceived Edenites would hardly jump to do WOSAâs dirty work.
"Tell me something, Jeeter,â Eric asked him as they performed minor surgery on part of the GATE circuitry one day, âdo you think many people would go back to Earth if they were given the opportunity?â
Jeeter slid out from beneath the console he was working on, pushed back his red headband, and looked thoughtful. âI donât think so, Eric. Independence is worth a lot. This planet may not be the promised land, but the society weâve been able to develop here is a thousand years ahead of Earthâs. There are only two clinical psychologists and no psychiatrists to serve everyone on Eden, and they spend a lot of their time skiing. No, I donât know anyone whoâd go back to that cauldron of tribalism and petty personal rivalry and crime. Life here is tough, but at least itâs sane. And thereâs no Colligatarch to âsuggestâ how weâre to run our lives.â
Eric nodded. âThe Earth couldnât function anymore without the Colligatarch. Populationâs too big and unstable.â
âWell here itâs sensible and stable. Iâve read a lot about this Colligatarch. It runs everything, doesnât it?â
âNot exactly. It has no real power. It just advises.â
âUh-huh.â Jeeter was nodding knowingly, a rueful smile on his face. âAnd like everything else, I suppose it âadvisedâ an embryonic WOSA to set up the lie about paradise worlds that lured my grandparents and everyone else through the GATE.â
âI donât see how the deception could have been arranged without the machineâs connivance,â Eric agreed.
âI didnât know that it was possible to design a duplicitous machine.â
âThe Colligatarchâs much more than a machine,â Eric explained. âIt possesses consciousness along with extraordinary computational abilities. Itâs tied into every major computer ganglion on the planet.â
âNo, most of us wouldnât care to live with something like that watching over us, no matter how beneficent its motives.â
âThatâs why Iâve been wondering about your local computer setup. It strikes me as pretty sophisticated for a population of seventy-five thousand.â
âIt has to be, to help us cope with our âparadise,ââ Jeeter pointed out.
âDoes it? You know what Iâve been thinking? That within another fifty years or less youâre going to receive some innocuous-looking program that, once inserted into the local system, will turn it into a smaller analog version of the Colligatarch.â
Jeeterâs expression darkened. It was the first time Eric had ever seen him really upset. âNow, why would it want to do that?â
âTo extend its reach to the colonies. Remember that the machine had to have been in on the deception from the beginning. Subsequently it helped in the expansion and design of all colony facilities. It passes on what supplies youâre to receive, how many specialists in what fields. Iâm frankly surprised it hasnât sent an operative piece of itself through to be integrated into our network already. Itâs only a matter of time.â
Jeeter sat up. âWe have to inform the Council. At least we can be on our guard from now on. We can scan each program package as it comes through.â
âYou think thatâll be enough? The Colligatarch and WOSA have been fooling the colonists for a hundred and fifty years. You think they wonât be capable of fooling you in the future?â
âWell then, youâll be able to detect it. Youâre the best we have, Eric.â
âThanks, but what happens fifty years down the road? Programming and procedures on Earth may have advanced so much by then that not even I will be able to see through the deceptive techniques.â
âSomething has to be done. The settlers here wouldnât stand for that kind of control. Itâs one of the things they came here hoping to get away from.â
âThey wonât have any choice in the matter,â Eric said grimly. âOnce the Colligatarchâs electronic satrap takes control of the local system, youâll never be able to dig it out. Eden will be forced to deal with Colligatarch-generated âsuggestionsâ whether it wants to or not.â He grinned humorlessly. âBesides, whatâs the harm in that? The Colligatarch only wants to make life better for you. Thatâs all itâs programmed to do. Making decisions will become so much easier.â
âWe like making our own decisions, as you know. Our computer network is useful, sure. So are plows and hydroelectric generators, but theyâre all nothing more than tools. We donât need a machine making decisions for us, even under the polite guise of suggestions. I know the history. Sure, itâs made life on Earth easier, but after a while everythingâs left up to the machine. We donât want our own brains to atrophy.
âWe donât need a Colligatarch here. Weâre not subject to Earthâs periodic threats of war, or mass starvation, or epidemics. Weâll just have to watch the deliveries as close as we can.â
âThereâs something else that might be done,â Eric murmured. His attention was focused on something off in the distance. Jeeter let him concentrate on his thoughts for several minutes before interrupting the silence.
âWhat? Some kind of advanced alarm procedure we can build on to the network?â
âNo. I canât outthink or out-anticipate the Colligatarch. It will slip itself into our system no matter how carefully we try to prepare. It may already have begun to do so.â
âThen weâre helpless, short of throwing away our entire network and scrapping everything new that comes through from Earth.â
âNot necessarily. You see, I know where paradise is,â he said quietly.
Jeeter said nothing. Conversation at several other tables died as the eavesdroppers no longer were able to conceal their interest. Eric didnât suggest that they leave. Everyone would know sooner or later.
âOh, you mean Garden,â Jeeter finally said.
âI doubt it. Gardenâs probably much like Eden. It wouldnât make sense for WOSA to send half the colonists to a rough world like Eden and the other half to the promised land.â
âWhy not? We certainly wouldnât know the difference.â
âNo, but the psychological profiles and task requirements of all colonists are the same. Different profiles and skills would be demanded if differing worlds were being settled. I think anyone with access to a list of such items for the past century or so could figure out neither Eden nor Garden is what itâs advertised to be. I think the population of Gardenâs no better off than we are here.â
âThen what the hell are you talking about, Eric?â
âYou know what I am.â
âSure.â Jeeter appeared embarrassed that his friend had thought it necessary to mention the matter. âYouâre an artison built by an alien race, the Syrax. So what? To me and everyone else on Eden, youâre just another citizen. More gifted than most, no less human than most. We donât give a damn if you were produced in a womb, a test tube, or some kind of alien pressure cooker.â
âThanks.â He forced down the lump in his throat, sought to cover with information the emotions he was feeling. âThe Syrax supplied me with an enormous amount of usable information. I drew on this store without being aware of it. The rest subsequently became available when I was made aware of my origins at GATE Station and when the now obliterated transmitter in my brain was activated.
âIâve had a lot of time to run through those implanted memories. Some of it I donât understand. My perspective is too human. Much of it is fairly comprehensible, like mathematics and other nonabstracts.
âThe Syrax are a very old race, Jeeter. Travel through space via starship is a long, tedious process, but theyâve been at it for thousands of years. Some of their drone ships have taken that long to reach their programmed destinations and return. Some are still outbound after millennia and wonât return until all of us are long dead.
âWhy do you think theyâve been trying so hard to steal the secret of the GATE? Because theyâve amassed a catalog of habitable worlds, worlds that would take hundreds of years for colonizing ships to reach. Since their society abjures war, and is far more moral than ours, thereâs little they can do except try to buy the secret from WOSA, or bend their rules to the breaking point by attempting to steal it.â
âWhy not just make a fair trade for the information?â
âTheyâre a little bit afraid of humankind, I believe, and theyâd like very much to keep us pinned down on Earth and its two colonies. Thatâs another decision thatâs caused them a lot of moral anguish. Theyâre at once contemptuous, fearful, and intrigued by us. One day weâll either be friends, or thereâll be a war which I fear mankind might lose.
âIncluded in their catalog are a number of worlds suitable for human occupation. Some are more than merely suitable. The one I have in mind might as well be named Paradise.â
âIf they think youâve gained access to all your stored information after having turned your back on them, the Syrax must consider you the most dangerous being alive. They must be worried to death that after accepting your humanity, youâll turn your information over to human authorities.â
âI suspect thatâs exactly what they think, but I donât think theyâre worried. They must know by now that Iâve fled beyond human as well as Syrax reach. Of course, human authorities feel exactly the same way about me.â
âIsnât it nice to be popular,â Jeeter muttered sarcastically.