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The boat of a million years by Poul Anderson. Chapter 18-2

“Except peace.” Asagao’s voice came troubled. “No, I fear— Shan, my husband, I fear we would never again have freedom of the soul. Let us make provision for the children and then let us retire, retreat, and seek for tranquility and virtue.”

“I hate to lose this land,” Tu Shan protested.

“Aliyat’s right, you’d be hounded off it regardless,” Hanno warned. “Or taken into protective custody. You’ve lived sheltered lives, you two. You don’t know how many murderous types are out there. Lunatics, fanatics, the insanely jealous, the little snots who’ll kill just to get noticed at last. Until immortality was common, I suspect we’d still need a squad of bodyguards around the clock for decades, before we got taken for granted. No, let me show you some fresh countryside.”

He turned to Aliyat. “That kind of existence may look glamorous to you, my dear,” he continued. “Riches, high society, fame, fun. Maybe you wouldn’t mind the dangers, the need for guards—“ he chuckled—“provided they’re young, handsome, and virile, eh? But please think deeper. How much actual freedom would you have, how much real opportunity?”

“You spoke of finding meaning, purpose, in the Unity,” Svoboda said softly, to Aliyat and Macandal both. “Can we not win to it together, we seven? Can we not work secretly for what is good, and do it better than in a glare of light and storm of noise?”

Aliyat’s hand lay on the table. Macandal reached to take it in hers.

“Of course, if any of us wants to go out and reveal himself or herself, the rest of us have no way of preventing it,” Hanno said. “We can only ask that you give us time to get well hidden. For my part, I intend to; and I and whoever goes with me will not leave behind any clues to our whereabouts. For one thing, I don’t want to be around and visible when this country becomes the People’s Republic of America”

“I do not agree that is inevitable,” Macandal said. “We may be past that stage of history.”

“Maybe. I’ll keep my options open.”

“That would stick anybody who wanted to unmask with a problem,” Wanderer observed. “You’ve tucked away evidence that you’re an immortal, but how could we others prove we weren’t lying or crazy?”

“I think we could provide enough indications that the authorities would be willing to wait and see,” Macandal said meditatively.

Hanno nodded. “Also,” he admitted, “Sam Giannotti whom I’ve told you about, he’d doubtless feel released from his vow of silence, and he’s a respected man.”

“Might he talk if we all disappeared?” Svoboda wondered.

“No, in that case he’ll have nothing to back so wild a story, and better sense than to spread it. He’ll be heartbroken, poor decent fellow, but he’ll plug on with the research. I’ll try to arrange continued funding for the Rufus Lab, mainly for his sake.”

“Do you really mean to liquidate your companies?” Macandal asked. “You would lose … what? Hundreds of millions of dollars?”

“I have plenty hoarded, and I can make more,” Hanno assured her. “The termination must be done as plausibly as is consistent with speed. Tomek will die and be cremated abroad, in accordance with his wishes. Robert Cauldwell— m-m, something similar had better happen to him, because unfortunately, he’s left a potential trail. Joe Levine will get a job offer from an out-of-state firm… Oh, I’ll be busy for the rest of this year, but I do have standing preparations for a variety of emergencies, and I expect I can make things fade out in natural-looking ways. There’ll be loose ends, inevitably; but then, there generally are in ordinary life, and the investigators will leave them dangling once it seems dear they wouldn’t lead to anything much. Policemen don’t lack for work, you know. Their lot is not a happy one.”

“But you could do so much with the money,” she begged. “Yes, and with the power you, we, would have, the influence of our fame, in spite of any drawbacks. So much that cries out for doing.”

“Do you feel we are being selfish in wanting to stay hidden?” Svoboda queried.

“Well— Do you, then, want to?”

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Categories: Anderson, Poul
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