Hellspark (45 page)

Bayd was silent for a long moment. At last she said, “Then you were right. It’s happened.”

“I think so, yes.” To Geremy, who gaped, she added, “I told you Garbo wouldn’t be so dumb if you’d put a little money into memory for her.” She turned her attention back to Bayd. Bayd’s own ship was older, no less treasured than Tocohl’s as a craft—but its computer was not an extrapolative computer and could not hold the same promise as Geremy’s Garbo.

From the regret on Bayd’s face, Tocohl knew she was thinking along the same line. “I’ll look after

Maggy, Tocohl, if for any reason you can’t…”

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“You know the reason, Bayd. The penalty for impersonating a byworld judge is restriction to one world for life. Maggy’d go crazy restricted like that; she’s not meant for it.”

Frowning, she added, “Neither am I, if I spoke in Jenji, but I knew that. As long as you’ll look after Maggy, I’ll have one less worry.”

Bayd snapped her fingers; the sound was loud in the stillness between thunderclaps.

“Thanks, Mom.”

With effort, Tocohl produced a wry smile. “You’ll have to look after the sprookjes, too. You’ll need

Maggy’s help for that. Did they tell you anything about the sprookjes’ language?”

“Only that they ruffle their feathers.”

“That they do.” This time Tocohl’s smile was genuine. “You’ll love it. Do you know almost missed

I

it? Let me tell you—Wait, let me show you as well.” (Maggy?) (You’re supposed to be resting.)

(I am resting. I can rest and talk at the same time.)

(Oh. Would you like to watch?)

(No, I want to brief Bayd on the sprookjes’ language. Can you link up with her spectacles too?

And

Geremy’s.)

(Bet your ass. Better I show her than you get up and demonstrate.) (Cheeky,) said Tocohl.

(Yeah,) Maggy agreed, and she sounded very pleased with herself.

Tocohl smiled and got on with the business at hand. With the help of Maggy’s tapes, she’d need only a few hours to teach Bayd everything she’d learned of the sprookjes’ language and the pidgin they’d been creating as well.

They were well into it—Bayd had spotted two sprookje “expressions” from the tapes alone—when

Maggy cleared Tocohl’s spectacles. She must have simultaneously done the same for Bayd and Gererny as well, for they both raised their heads to query Tocohl.

“Swift-Kalat wants to talk to you, Tocohl,” said Maggy, and this time the voice issued from the arachne’s vocoder. The three Hellsparks turned: swift-Kalat stood at the doorway, toweling off the dripping arachne. “He said I should bring the arachne because it’s easier for him to talk to me this way.”

“All right,” said Tocohl. “What is this about, swift-Kalat?”

“It’s about Maggy.” He strode toward them, wiping rain from his arms as he came. The arachne scuttled along at his heels.

“About me?” Maggy asked, putting just the proper amount of surprise into her phrasing.

Draping the towel around his neck, swift-Kalat watched the arachne for a moment. Maggy, not receiving an answer to her question, trotted the arachne around to tug at Geremy’s ankle.

Geremy bent to lift it onto the bed, where Maggy sent it—delicately—the length of Tocohl’s body to stare up at swift-Kalat. “About me?” she repeated and began to rock the arachne.

Tocohl pointed a long finger, knowing Maggy could see equally well from the rear of the arachne, and said, “Stop that.” The arachne stopped instantly. “What about Maggy, swift-Kalat?”

He frowned, first at her and then at the arachne. Bayd said, in Jenji, “Would you find it more appropriate to speak your own language?”

His frown deepened. “No,” he said at last, “Maggy must understand what I say.”

“I speak Jenji,” Maggy said, sounding offended.

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“He means no offense, Maggy,” Tocohl said. “He means to make things easier for you. He’s being polite. Your Jenji really isn’t good enough to handle complex ideas.”

“If you say so,” Maggy said. “No offense taken, swift-Kalat.”

“I can translate for you, if you like,” Tocohl said.

Again he hesitated. Then he looked down at the arachne. “Maggy, are you sentient?”

Maggy gave the question her due-consideration pause, then she said, “Not legally.”

“Yes, not legally,” swift-Kalat said, “but without reference to legalities, Maggy—are you sentient?”

Tocohl, who had been hoping the question wouldn’t be raised publicly, frowned at the arachne.

“Just a moment, Maggy. Geremy, watch the door; warn us if anyone comes.” When Geremy was in position, Tocohl said, “All right, Maggy. I’d like to hear your answer to that too.”

“Yes,” said Maggy, then, “Yes! Yes!” and the arachne bounced to her excitement. This time Tocohl did nothing to inhibit the arachne’s display. In a moment, it stopped rocking of its own accord, ran the length of Tocohl’s body—not nearly as delicately as it had the first time—to peer at her from her pillow.

“You’re not surprised,” Maggy said, accusingly. “Not a single sensor’s worth!” There was a pause, as if

she were double-checking. “You’re worried.” The arachne hunched, reflecting that worry.

Tocohl laid a hand on its side. “A gesture meant to reassure,” she explained. “You haven’t done anything wrong, Maggy, but yes, I’m worried.” She cocked her head to look at swift-Kalat, considering him carefully. “I should have expected swift-Kalat to notice.”

“You mean you’re not surprised because you knew?”

“Exactly. Ask Bayd and Geremy if you don’t believe me.”

“She’s been expecting it for some time,” Bayd said; she too kept her eyes on swift-Kalat.

“Then why are you worried? I don’t understand.”

“Because swift-Kalat expects me to take your case to the byworld judges—there are four of them.

That was your thought, wasn’t it, swift-Kalat?”

“Yes, of course.” He looked puzzled. “If you can prove the three legal requisites, Tocohl. No one could deny her ability to use language, and she invented the Hellspark ritual of change.”

Tocohl raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps I told her to say that,” she suggested.

(You !) said Maggy, but she kept her outrage private.

lie

(Please wait, Maggy. I promise I’ll explain.)

(You’d better,) Maggy replied, a touch of warning in her voice.

Swift-Kalat frowned at Tocohl. “You were not in contact with her at the time.”

“True, but perhaps I left her with the idea in case of an emergency.”

“And told her to claim responsibility as well?”

“Why not?”

Swift-Kalat jammed his bracelets against his elbow. “I see: That is the argument the judges will take.”

Abruptly, he switched to Jenji, “

Did you invent the Hellspark ritual of change?”

“No,” answered Tocohl in the same language, “I did not. Maggy did.”

“Tocohl, the judges all speak and understand Jenji reliably.” He snapped his forearm and his bracelets dislodged to clash authoritatively. In GalLing’, he went on, “There remains only art to prove her legal sentience.”

In spite of herself, Tocohl chuckled. “Oh, swift-Kalat—forgive me for saying so, but you did not hear the full import of Maggy’s ritual of change.”

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“What have I missed?”

“She might, very simply, have said: You’re now my sister, swift-Kalat. She didn’t. She added,

‘Hey, presto!’—and that, in no uncertain terms, is art.”

“Yes! Yes, of course!” Swift-Kalat smiled broadly. “You can prove her sentience to the judges!”

“No.”

The word came out more sharply than she’d intended, and swift-Kalat stiffened, his smile shifting and setting into a frown of distaste that verged on anger.

“Wait, swift-Kalat. Hear me out. I have good reason not to bring Maggy before a panel of judges.”

He folded his arms across his chest. He would wait, the gesture signified, and he would wait patiently.

Tocohl, without turning, reached out to the arachne once again. “Maggy, please bear with me. I will explain.”

“Okay,” said Maggy and settled the arachne in the curve of her arm. Its metal shell seemed to warm to her touch as Maggy adjusted the temperature of her 2nd skin to compensate for its coolness.

“How old is Maggy, swift-Kalat?”

“Three years old, by her own count. Although I believe that was your estimate.”

“Yes. Now, if you were to assume a human being were directing all of her actions, what age would you assume that human being to be? I’m asking a rough estimate only.”

“A very bright seven-year-old, I’d say.”

Tocohl glanced at the arachne. “Your reliability in Jenji is higher than I thought. Sorry, Maggy, I’ll keep that in mind in the future.” Turning back to swift-Kalat, she said, “Is a seven-year-old sentient?”

“Tocohl—” he began, astonished.

Tocohl spread her hands. “Without reference to legalities and in Jenji

, swift-Kalat, Maggy is a

seven-year-old sentient?” She was cheating ever so slightly by forcing him into Jenji and she was well aware of it, but he would understand her point quite clearly as a result.

In Jenji, there was only one possible answer to her question and, reluctantly, he gave it: “No. A seven-year-old is not sentient.”

“Not?” said Maggy, lifting the arachne to its full height to stare at him.

“In Jenji,” Tocohl explained, “the term for sentience carries a connotation it lacks in GalLing’—only an adult who is sound of mind can be sentient. A child lacks the responsibility.”

She gathered the arachne into her arm and said, gently, “You know a great deal, Maggy, but you haven’t had enough experience to go with it. You still have trouble sorting fact and fiction, for example.”

“I’m learning.”

“I know you are. The point is, you don’t know enough yet. Let me put it this way: Would you like to go off on your own now?”

The arachne hunched. Tocohl saw herself reflected in the ebony eye of its lens. “Do you mean without you?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I mean.”

“I wouldn’t like that at all. Who’d explain things to me? Who would I talk to?” The arachne began to rock. “You wouldn’t make me go away without you, would you, Tocohl? Say you wouldn’t. Say it in

Jenji.”

Tocohl pressed a hand to her side. The ache was not physical. “That’s something I can’t say in Jenji, Maggy. You know the penalty for impersonating a byworld judge as well as I do. But Bayd
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will look after you—she’ll be there to talk to and she’ll explain things to you and, believe me, she’s very good at it.

She looked after me until I was old enough to look after myself.”

“But she’s not you!”

“I know—but she likes you and you like her. That’s the important thing.”

“I

told you we should have skipped out.”

“Yes, and I told you—”

“We pay our debts,” said Maggy. She made a rude noise, drawing it out longer than a human would have been capable of, and settled the arachne once more in the crook of Tocohl’s arm.

Tocohl looked up at swift-Kalat. “I trust I’ve made my point?”

“With one minor exception: byworld judges can declare a species sentient. That does not interfere with the raising of that species’ young.”

“To my knowledge, Maggy is the only one of her kind. Geremy’s Garbo is exactly the same model of extrapolative computer but Garbo isn’t sentient, at least not yet. The judges would be forced to decide on Maggy and on Maggy alone. I won’t risk that—I’d rather trust her to Bayd until she’s grown up enough to take care of herself.”

“I understand,” said swift-Kalat. “I will not raise the question before the judges. But, in five years’

time, I will come to Hellspark to inquire into Maggy’s status.”

“In five years’ time, go to the Festival of Ste. Veschke on Sheveschke. Bayd and Maggy will both be there, along with sufficient judges to satisfy anybody. And make sure Geremy’s treating Garbo right, too.”

The arachne tilted slightly. “Garbo’s dumb,” said Maggy, “not as dumb as Kejesli’s computer, but dumb enough not to care how

Geremy treats her.”

From across the room, Geremy said defensively, “Garbo’s a baby. And I didn’t know she was a baby, Maggy. If she can learn the way you have, I’ll see that she has the chance.”

“Maybe you can advise him, Maggy,” Bayd put in. “Your experience might help him teach Garbo.”

“Really?”

“Really. Older children are often a great help with younger children—they remember what it’s like.”

“All right, I’ll help.” And from the vocoder came the sound of snapped fingers. “Get her lots of memory, Geremy.”

“There goes the new artwork for my 2nd skin,” said Geremy mournfully. “Ah, well. I think I’d rather have the company.”

“Geremy, if it makes you feel any better, Maggy offered to duplicate your Ribeiro for me, and she can do it too.”

“You said he wouldn’t like knowing that!” Maggy exclaimed. “Why are you telling him now?”

“Because now he will like knowing that. Situations change, and when they do, a human’s reactions will too.”

“Do you really like knowing that now, Geremy?”

Geremy laughed. “Yes, I guess I do.”

“And before? Would you have liked knowing that at the Festival of Ste. Veschke?”

“I wouldn’t have liked it a bit at the Festival of Ste. Veschke,” he assured her.

“I don’t get it,” said Maggy.

Bayd laughed. “Then make him explain it, Maggy. It will be good practice for him—it’ll help him when Garbo starts asking questions like that.”

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“Geremy? Will you explain—”

“Later, Maggy,” said Geremy. He left the door and strolled toward them. “Om im and layli-layli are back.”

Maggy, for once, was not to be put off. Thrusting the arachne to its full height, she sent it stalking toward him. “Later!” she said. “That’s all anybody ever tells me. Why does everybody say ‘Later, Maggy’”—she used a clip of Geremy’s voice and then followed it with a clip of Tocohl’s—“‘Later, Maggy.’ And then they don’t even remember when it’s later.