ENTOVERSE

“And never for anything beyond that?” Gina asked.

Danchekker started showing the first hint of irritation at being cross-examined. “Beyond that? What do you mean? What else is it supposed to do?”

Gina sat forward, raising a hand momentarily as if mentally rehears­ing herself to get this right. “Professor. . . with all due respect, could I suggest that your impression has been restricted by a professional attitude that sees VISAR purely as a technological tool?” She added hastily, “And the same’s true of Vic. You’re both scientists, and you’ve never thought of it as being anything other than a piece of technical equipment. But it’s far more than that. It’s a self—adapting environment in its own right, which interacts directly with the mind. And like any interactive environment, it can shape, as well as be shaped.”

“Tailored realities, guided by what it dredges up from your sub­conscious,” Sandy said.

“VISAR doesn’t read minds,” Danchekker retorted. “That’s something which is excluded quite specifically by the Thurien oper­ating protocols.”

“It can if you permit it,” Gina said.

Danchekker blinked, then stared at her. “I’d never thought to ask about that,” he admitted. Which made her point. There was no need for anyone to say so.

“And JEVEX worked by different rules,” Sandy reminded him. “Rules that didn’t embody Thurien notions of privacy and rights.”

“You’ve experienced this phenomenon, both of you?” Danchek­ker asked. They confirmed it. “Tell me about what you found,” he said.

They related what they had discovered and its effects, leaving out unnecessary personal details. Hunt had warned Gina that Danchekker could be cantankerous at times, and she had come prepared for a fight. But instead of scoffing, Danchekker listened closely to what they had to say. When they had finished, he got up from his stool and walked slowly over to the far side of the lab, where he stood looking thoughtfully at a chart of Jevlenese phylogeny.

After a while Sandy, reassured by his manner, said to his back, “It might not be just us who are finding an alienness in the Thurien mind that we’re having trouble relating to. Maybe having a common biological ancestry isn’t what matters.”

It was clear that she meant the Shapieron Ganymeans, who were from a culture estimated to have been only a hundred years or so ahead of twenty-first-century Earth’s. They, like Terrans, were from a culture in which people were where they thought they were, objects and places were what they seemed to be, time and space meant what common sense said they did, and i-space had never been heard of. The civilization of Thurien—even allowing for a long period of stagnation that had almost brought about its demise-had evolved far beyond either.

“Perhaps now we know why Garuth turned for help in the direc­tion he did,” Gina said.

Danchekker turned to face them. “Most interesting,” he pro­nounced. “Have you talked to Vic about it?”

“Not yet. He’s gone out into the city. We came straight here,” Gina said.

“What’s he doing?”

“I’m not sure. Trying to get a lead on Baumer, I think.”

“ZORAC,” Danchekker called.

But just then, ZORAC announced an incoming call for Gina. The pale, bespectacled features of Hans Baumer appeared on one of the screens. The face broadened into a smile as Gina moved closer.

“Oh, you’re with company, I see. Is this an inconvenient time?”

Gina shook her head. “No, go ahead. It’s okay.”

“About our talk the other day. Look, I’m sorry if I was a bit terse. You caught me at a bad time. Those Jevlenese were being awkward,

and things have been piling on top of each other lately. Of course, I’d be happy to show you a little more of Shiban. So, if you’re still interested, when would be a good time for us to get together?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

The place was the same gaudy, impenitent clutter that it had been the first time Hunt was there. “Hi, Vic come back,” Nixie greeted, smiling as she let him in. She was wearing a blue metallic top showing red nipples through a pair of circles cut out for the purpose. “No girl in PAC? Get lonely? We fuck now?”

Murray killed the movie he had been watching and got up from one of the form—molding chairs. “Hell, I like the initiative, but ease off,” he told her. “He’s only here socializing.” He held out a hand to Hunt. “Wondered when you’d be back. How’s the acclimatiza­tion going?”

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