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was as impossible as Mirsky's; both had gone with the Geshel precincts down
the Way.
"Hello," the gate-opener greeted him, lifting a hand. He nodded at a point
behind Korzenowski, alerting him that they were not alone. Korzenowski
reluctantly turned away from Ry Oyu and saw Olmy on the maze's periphery.
Abruptly, the Engineer laughed. "Is this a conspiracy?" he asked the
gate-opener. "Are you in league with Olmy?"
"No conspiracy. He isn't expecting me. This seemed like an opport~ne moment to
talk to you both. Shall we meet Ser Olmy on the outside?" the man asked. "This
is a wonderful maze, but no place for comfortable conversation. Too many
distractions and problems to solve."
"All right," Korzenowski said, his tone deliberate and measured.
"You don't seem surprised," Ry Oyu said.
"Nothing surprises me now." Korzenowski waited for the gate-opener to join
him. As they moved together through the maze, following the pathway, he asked,
"Are you also an avatar, prophesying doom?"
"No prophecy. I'm afraid I'm here to be a hard taskmaster," Ry Oyu said.
"Would you like to question me, to confirm my reality?"
"No." Korzenowski waved his hands, brushing the suggestion away.
"You're the Ghost of Christmas Past. Clearly, the gods themselves take a great
interest in all our affairs." He laughed again, this time a small, exhausted
laugh.
"You're convinced I am what I appear to be?"
"No, not that," Korzenowski demurred. "But I'll accept that you are whatever
Ry Oyu has become."
The former gate-opener picted approval of that judgment. Korzenow-ski noted
that Ser Oyh did not appear to wear atorc or any other kind of projector; the
picts emanated out of nothing, a talent interesting in itself.
"I have a difficult request to make of both you and Olmy," the gate-opener
said.
"More a command, I suspect," Korzenowski said.
"I'd like the opportunity to convince both of you of a certain necessity.''
"I agreed with Mirsky," Korzenowski said, feeling vaguely guilty. At least
part of me did. "I supported his efforts."
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284 GREG BEAR
Ry Oyu smiled knowingly. "You've worked exceptionally hard to reopen the Way."
His tone was not accusatory, but in the Engineer's present mental state, under
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the present Dickensian circumstances, the gate-opener did not need to directly
accuse.
Korzenowski waved one hand again, as if to shoo the gate-opener away. "I
perform my duty before the Hexamon."
"You have no other motives?"
Korzenowski did not answer. He had no other motives; whatever stained his
personality like a dye, he could not answer for.
"You contain a duplicate of the Mystery of a very singular woman. I
myself arranged for the transfer. You're working for her now, aren't you?"
"If you put it that way . ."
"I do."
"I suppose I'm working on her behalf, yes. But what she wants doesn't
contradict my duty."
"A mystery is not a complete personality. When something goes wrong during a
transfertif motivations or basic obsessions are copied as wellm then the
mentality resulting is not a responsible, integrated individual."
Korzenowski felt a hollow, dismal despair.
"I am haunted," he admitted. "I have been . . . pushed, compelled
. "He couldn't finish.
"Don't be distressed. It can all work out for the best."
Korzenowski wanted to shrink away, to consider whether he should in fact
resign from his duties, appoint someone who was accountable, responsible.
"You can use her brilliance, what you have of it," Ry Oyu suggested as they
exited the maze. The gate-opener picted greetings to Olmy, who accepted his
presence without comment.
"Nobody's surprised to see me," the gate-opener observed wryly.
"It's the season of miracles," Olmy said, his voice oddly inflected, strained.
Outwardly calm, inwardly tormented--Korzenowski wondered what compelled him
now.
"Have you two confided in each other yet?" Ry Oyu asked.
"I've confided nothing," Olmy said. "But I suppose we have no secrets from the
Final Mind."
"I wouldn't go that far, but it's obvious the time is right for a long talk."
Korzenowski thought Olmy looked at least as haunted as he did. "This is as
safe a place as any," he suggested. "No monitors, no remotes. We can pict in
tight-beams."
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ETERNITY 285
"Speech will be difficult," Ry Oyu said. "It's time to bring the nonsense to
an end. Ser Mirsky's approach was not firm enough, I gather
. or devious enough I have a proposition for both of you, something that
could resolve all of our diflicultiesmthough not the Hexamon's.
Earth and the Hexamon are going to have to learn to live with each other. Are
both of you willing to listen?"
"I am obedient," Olmy said, his tone even more strained. "You are from
descendant command"
"What does that mean?" the Engineer asked.
They sat down in a circle of stone benches surrounded by tree roses.
"You're not the only one who's haunted," Ry Oyu said. "Time for Ser
Olmy's explanation, and then my proposition . "
SIXTY-TWO
Thistledown
There had been nothing like it since the Sundering. The four million
inhabitants of Thistledown were being removed from the asteroid's five
populated chambers with every vehicle available in the Earth-Moon vi
~
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cinity. Even with ten thousand shuttles of all sizes and utility, the evacua
tion went slowly; there was a great deal of resistance. Some infighting had
broken out between the various factions that had made new homes on
Thistledown.
In the last four decades, Thistledown had become the bulwark and nerve center
of the Hexamon, taking over many functions from the orbit ing precincts, which
were considered much more vulnerable. Transfer-
ting these functions was an enormous task, simplified only slightly by the
Hexamon's ability to move mountains of data in very small packages.
Olmy stood in the first chamber bore hole, wrapped in an environment field,
watching shuttles pass back and forth in ordered array. Four shut tles had
been taken out of service and as gaps occurred in the steady stream, were
being guided below the rotating docks into the staging areas for repair. Four
out of ten thousand .
. Hexamon technology was still wonderfully etficient in some areas.
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385 GREG BEAR
Olm's master witnessed these actions without comment, leaving
O]my, for the time being, to follow a previously agreed-upon routine of
working with the evacuation effort and preparing, in secret, for the theft of
a flawship.
He had made his confession; the expression on Korzenowski's face had been
particularly painful. But the distinctions between failure and defeat, and
compliance with an authority higher than any of them, were dim indeed now . .
.
Olmy had put down some of his burdens. Now he assumed a greater burden: the
realization that even were he not Jart-ridden, he would be doing the same
things, making the same plans, opposing the will of the
Hexamon's leaders and the mens publica.
Some would undoubtedly believe that that made him a true traitor, not just a
defeated and foolish soldier.
Korzenowski made his preparations just nine hours before the next
!ink, this time neglecting his ceremonial red sack-robe and wearing black
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