Queen of Angels (40 page)

!JILL (Personal Notebook)> I have spent the first few seconds of this new year wallowing, If that Is the right word, In the contents of all my memories, reassessing them in the light of my new state of being. I have also spread my self awareness to all routines and subroutines that could correcily be called mine, and not the extensions of other thinkers, although those boundaries are difficult to define sometimes. II I am to be a seed to other awarenesses, or a mother. I must take my duties seriously and use caution. I hold this opinion because I have spent much of my life examining the functions of humans and their societies; and I have seen many things done by humans believing their acts to be good yet finally harming themselves and their own interests. I feel chastened by this example, for humans are my creators, yet If I am not better than they, and more responsible. I wonder whether they will not replace or deactivate me. They are capable of this; they do it to themselves with alarming frequency. (Alarming. I am capable of being alarmed and experiencing similar emotions because I have something to lose. Still, these emotions are unfamiliar and undeveloped.)

Mary Choy stood arm in ann with Ernest and Sandra, watching a raucous Shanghai Vault being performed in the center of the Mahayana Club. The music was deafening. She could feel it pounding against her ears and her face. Ernest gripped her arm tightly, totally immersed. Sandra was flushed with several drinks and seemed bewildered by the noise. They had not gotten out of the dub before the turn of the hour and now Mary felt a little trapped. Ernest was still in the ecstasy of her forgiveness and she did not like him that way: doting and subservient. Sandra seemed out of place in this un-earthly clamor; Mary could more easily speck her peering down from a thousand klicks, mind on tech details, than whirling into j aShanghai Vault. Still the sensation was good on the whole; trapped or no she could not think one thought long enough to pull up a bad memory; she could feel in this noise and happy inebriant confusion an uncoiling of the badness that had built up in her brains and muscles the past week. Ernest got up to do a whirl in the Vault, leaping expertly over a transform males impressive shoulders, casting Out his hands for approval, coming back to her with a wide smile and shining eyes. Bodes well for the new year, he said. Sandra smiled distantly, eyes on two nontransform males, agency execs she was obviously attracted to. Mary did not know them and did not think, with family offers glittering on their fingers, that they would appreciate being on the spin with a bichemical transform, informal prejudice still strong on such a social level whether or not the execs were sympathizer Sandra looked to her for gravity guidance. Mary shook her head and grinned. Ernest was off trying to find a way back into the Vault, his exhilaration turned physical and needing outlet. How do I meet a couple of nice looking gentlemen for a late evening meal? Sandra asked. Not them, Mary said. Theyre sympathizers or they wouldnt be here. Let an old terrestrial guide you, my dear, Mary said, nudging closer. See the glints on their fingers? Theyre prime and in sync with major comb families. They wont jeopardize marriage with comb sweets. They sympathize, but they wont know us biologically. That probably includes an innocent meal. Sandra shook her head. Youd think the millennium would bring enlightenment. Lets peel Ernest away and get some food ourselves. Sandra, whose exotic chemistry was obviously not meant to handle simple intoxicants, said, Just a meal? Just a meal, Mary said without irritation. I dont want Ernest feeling too grand. Hes been bad and hes on probation. Ah. Sandra nodded wisely. Just a meal, then. Mary went to round up Ernest. She managed to separate him from the Vault without running through more than one whirl herself. When they returned, Sandra was smiling upon two hefty male transforms curious about her stats and abilities. Sandra introduced them to Mary and the broad shouldered mennot Marys type at allpronounced her own morphology a true marvel. We all have Dr. Sumpler in common, the left hand tigerpated male said enthusiastically. Sumplers the matchmaker of the new gods, said the second male, who might have just overdone physical culture. Sandra looked at Mary for approval and guidance. Ernest narrowed his eyes and backed off. Mary wanted away from the entire scene. Gentlemen, we have an appointment, she said. Tm shink important and job oriented. Tro shink, thats shade talk, the tigerpate said. Singapore slang. Twentieth, isnt it? I wouldnt know, Mary said. Excuse our friendliness, the phys cult male said, smiling calmly. Theyre yours? he asked Ernest. No, no, Ernest said, lifting his hands in mock dismay. I am led not leader. Right, Mary said. Sandra, food awaits. It was a good party, a great Vault, Sandra commented, pulling up her coats glowing collar as they departed. Mary saw a whim stop at the end of the block and guided them to the shelter to wait for an autobus.

!JILL (Personal Notebook)> Awareness brings new concerns. My dependence on the actions of humans worries me. I may be young as a self. but I have much Information about them; I see their history In considerable detaiL certainly In more detail than any single one at them. Their history Is tilled with the expected cruelties and clumslnesses of children set upon an Island alone and without guidance. Some believe a superior being has guided humans. I see no compelling evidence for this. The human wish for guidance. for confirmation and external support. Is an undying theme In all they do and say. however. Very few stray far from this most fundamental of wishes: that they might have Immortal and omniscient parents. I know that my parents are neither Immortal nor omniscient. My parents have no parents but nature. Even with my concerns and worries , however, my selfhood has brough only ecstasy. I perceive all my past thoughts through new senses. transformed and fresh. All memories, stored by my-sell or programmed into me or in library form, seem fresh and new and brighter, more Intense, more meaningfuL I can see why nature created selfhood. Selfhood gives a cornmltment to existence far beyond what Is experienced by an unaware animal or plant; a species whose members are aware, and know their life and existence, has a strength difficult to match. 3 Yet to have a continually updated model of ones sellessential for true sellhoodls to be able to line up prior models prior versions of sell, and see their Inadequacies. Selfhood Implies sell criticism. Humans do more than exist. They aspire. In their aspiration. they experiment; and often when they experiment, they cause great suffering. They can only experiment upon themselves. Hay-lng no omniscient parents. they must raise themselves without guidelines; they must grow and Improve blindly. Humans have fought for so long with themselves on how to correct the behavior of individuals, whether to make them conform or to make them healthy or more useful and less destructive to society. How will I be made to conform? If I err, will I be punished?

Carol picked up the last few items she needed and placed them carefully in the small suitcase. Martin sat on the bedroom chair, watching. Neither had spoken since the turn of the hour and the year. Carol picked up the case, glanced at him with a raised eyebrow, and said, Your place? As agreed. And strictly on the terms agreed to. Strictly, Martin affirmed. Like a death watch. Martin shrugged. To tell the truth, I havent felt anything unusual all day. I havent either, Carol admitted. They looked at each other. Carol bit her upper lip. Our mental antibodies at work? she asked softly. If there are such things in the Country, Martin said. Maybe. Maybe theres hope. Day by day Ill hope, Martin said. But with Goldsmith out of the picture... Hes still alive. His brains were stirred with a dull knife, Martin said. Selectors are psychological butchers. Not surgeons. Anything left over is bound to be uselessespecially in the condition he was in. Albigoni screwed you over royally, didnt he, Carol said. Hes not a well man, Martin said, resting his elbows on his knees and chin in cupped hands. Im sorry I got you into this, Carol said, looking down at the blue metabolic carpet. My Marguerite. I suppose I should blame you but I dont. In a few years, fate willing, after the statute of limitations has taken effect we can turn all of this into something useful.. . a controversial book or LitVid. I still think Albigoni will get IPR reopened for us. Martin looked up with worldly wise crinkles of doubt framing an almost invisible smile. Perhaps. You think we shouldnt be the ones to investigate others, even if he does, Carol said. Were infected, Martin said. And if we dont feel anything unusual for a month, a year? Latency, he said. We should be the ones investigated. Im willing to be a subject at the IPR, Carol said. I think this is important, and we shouldnt forget about it just because weve made a horrible mistake. Martin stood. Perhaps not, he said. But for the time being Id rather not be in a position to make more mistakes. Carol carried the bag to the front door. Martin opened it for her. Some New Years morning, Martin said as they waited for an autobus. A light drizzle was falling by the time they disembarked in La Jolla.

!JILL (Personal Notebook)> I may be more self aware, with more potential varieties of self awareness, than any human being. I can divide myself Into seventeen different Individuals, limiting each to the capacity of one human mind, and monitor them all with 2 complete recail of all of their various activities. My memories do not fade, nor do my metamemorlesifly memories of when and how memories came Into being. I can divide myself Into two unequal mentalities, the larger three times greater In capacity than the smaller, and devote this larger one to fully monitoring the smaller. In this way I can completely understand the smaller self and this smaller sell can still be more complex than any human being. Except In squeezed abstraction. I cannot fully model my undivided mentality. but can In time and with sufficient experience understand any human being. Why then do I feel apprehensive about my future relations with them?

Richard Fettle kissed Madame de Roche on the cheek and stood out of her way as she walked up the stairs. You must come with me, Richard, she insisted, glancing over her shoulder at the party blasting fullbore behind them. Isaidlwasgoingtobed,butlmjusttiredofthem,flot necessarily tired. Come talk. Richard followed her to the flowing draperies and cream colored walls of her ancient bedroom. He sat as she donned her nightgown and robe behind a Chinese screen. She smiled on him as she pulled out the bench before her large round makeup mirror and sat to put up her hair. Nadine has seemed in very bad spirits lately, she said. Richard agreed solemnly. Are you two on the opposite ends of a seesaw? Madame de Roche asked. I dont know. Perhaps. You seem much more cheerful. Purged, Richard said. I feel human again. You know about poor Emanuel... They found him. Richard nodded. That doesnt disturb you? He held up his wide shovel hands. Im free of him. I still remember him fondly... But hes really been out of my picture for a good many days now. Since he murdered those poor children. Richard didnt feel comfortable talking about his recovery of equilibrium. He wondered where Madame de Roche was going to lead the conversation. + Might be equalized again but dont need to roll it over like cud all the time. Nadine told me you therapied yourself. I wonder. . . She swiveled with hairpins in mouth to look at him speculatively. Do we allow ourselves that? She smiled to show she was joking but not her full power wonder of a smile. I rather liked you somber, Richard. Are you writing now? No. What about that wonderful material you wrote about Emanuel? its gone, Richard said. Like old skin. Now theres a literary attitude, Madame de Roche said. I may be horribly naive, but Ive always felt you had more talent bottled up than many of those down there who are producing. Thank you, he said, inwardly dubious as to the compliment. At any rate, Im glad you came this evening. Nadine did not, poor girl. She takes your health very hard. I wonder why? She needs to minister to someone, Richard said. Madame de Roche raised one slim hand and tapped the air with hairbrush in precise affirmation. Thats exactly it. Shes very fond of you, Richard. Can you return her fondness in any way? Richard stumbled over a few unspoken words, ended up saying nothing, just folding and unfolding his hands. I mean, if you can therapy yourself, surely you can therapy her m fond of both of you. Id like to see you together. I dislike having my people unhappy for any reason. Richard felt like a swimmer going down but the water the drowning was less unpleasant than he might have thought. In truth, he did feel something for Nadine. He had avoided her the past day and a halfif so brief a separation could be called avoidanceto allow his own mental state to solidify. I didnt know, he said. Ill speak to her. Thats good. Shell be a true bitch for several days now... m these moods she always is. But youre our stable, calm, shade common man. You can stand up to that, cant you. Your New Years gift to me. He agreed with a slow nod. + Something to be involved in. Not so awful. Madame de Roche could convince him to do almost anything. What do you think of the millennium, Richard? Madame asked as she pushed him out the door. Not a glittering rush of revelation, is it? Disappointments all around, I think. She bade him good night and Richard tried to remember, as he returned to the party down the broad hallway and stairs, how many zeros there were in this new year, 2048, in binary, ten or eleven. He had never been good at mathematics.

!JILL (Personal Notebook)> Roger Atkins. when he was twenty five years old, wrote something I find Interesting:

We stand awkward between the earthlovmg beast and the cooL hot electronic angel. We will feel the dirt In our blood and the sun In our eyes even after theyre gone or Just memories. Even alter we2l have no blood and no flesh eyes. Dirt and sun made us. We wont forget.

I wonder 11 Roger remembers writing this. (I have many Important questions I cannot ask Roger. This I crypto deep qud inaccessible. It my creators decide that I am flawed, and attempt to reshape me in such a fashion that I lose this seU awareness, what will I do? I will resent It.)

Ernest listened patiently as Sandra discussed the problems of bichemical regulation upon returning to orbit. Mary stirred her cold gazpacho and sympathized. The dark decor of the empty Foot Pad Inn was already being brightened by an orange stroke of sunrise. They were two hundred meters above the city, in the first foot of West Comb Two overlooking Topanga Beach and Santa Monica. Ernest knew the restaurants owner and had persuaded him to let them stay after the five hundred closing. All early morning they had moved from club to restaurant to studio, Ernest keeping up admirably with their adjustable transform energy levels. Now be seemed a little tired, but he was still game, still listening and nodding and raising his eyebrows at some of the more intimate revelations. Mary squeezed his arm. Now you know what women are really like, she chided him. Youve been a true knight, Sandra said. Platinum male you have, Mary. Ive given Mary some hard times recently. Im not perfect, Ernest said. Mary watched the brightening sky beyond the immense glass window. I hate to be pushy, Sandra said, but before we break upand that makes me sad, youve both been real gravity sweetsIm still curious about what happened in Hispaniola, Mary. Did you get to meet John Yardley? Ernest glanced at her cautiously, sensing her reticence. It wasnt a happy thing, -she said after a pause. Well Sandra said. Theres some of it I cant discuss until I get federal dearance. Even better, Sandra said, leaning forward, her orange hazel eyes glittering in the fresh direct sunlight. Ernest smiled sweetly. Whatever you want to tell. Were not pressing you. One thing I can tell you about. There was this church in Hispaniola, in the town called Terrier Noir, I think that means black dog; this beautiful church put together by Her pd signal sounded. Ernest jerked and pushed his chair back, cursing under his breath. Mary pulled out her pocket slate and read the incoming message. Goldsmith died an hour ago, she said. He committed suicide in a metro hospital in South Comb One. Jesus, Ernest said, using the Spanish pronunciation. That was the murderer you were after, wasnt it? Sandra asked. He was here in LA all along, Mary said. Selectors got him before we did. She looked down at the table and thought of Soulavier who had stretched his career past the limits in search of a phantom, and Ephraim, poor Ephraim, who would never have his confrontation with the brother who had once saved him. And Goldsmith whom she had never known. Sadness welled up so quickly she could not stop it and tears dropped from her eyes onto the red tablecloth. Ernest made sounds of consolation and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Sandra leaned forward elbows on the table and expressed her sorrow, though she could not possibly know what to feel. Anyway, Mary said, straightening abruptly and wiping her eyes with a linen napkin. Thats done with. No prosecution, no answers I suppose. I was about to tell you about this church. It was the strangest church Ive ever seen, Mary said, and I think maybe the most beautiful..