Mary said. How did you know about the vinegar? I have a brother-in-law in Cuba, Jean-Claude said. He does transform surgery for Chinese and Russian tourists. He has spoken often of your skintype. Oh, Mary said. Thanks. Roselle led her to the bedroom. A canopy bed with mosquito netting and a wonderful multicolored quilt of embroidered animals and dancers waited against one wall, quilt and covers pulled down. You will not need the netting. We have only friendly mosquitoes in Port-au-Prince. But it is quaint, no? Roselle said. Her clothing had been hung in an aromatic teak armoire. Mary bristled internally at the thought her luggage had been gone through without permission, but she smiled at Roeelle. Its lovely, she said. Your dinner awaits in the dining room. We will serve you if you wish, but if you find personal service discomforting, we can arrange for robots to bring in your meal, Jean-Claude explained. If you use robots, however, we will not be paid as much. He half winked. Please relax and do not feel inhibited. This is our job and we are professionals. How many times had they addressed diplomats or company officials thus? The attractions of Hispaniola were obvious. These people seemed more than sincere; they seemed truly friendly, as Soulavier had been friendly. There might be nothing more than this to the hanging up of her clothes. Will Mademoiselle need anything else before dinner? Mary declined. Ill get cleaned up and then Ill eat. Mademoiselle would enjoy company, perhaps? Roselle suggested. University student, farmer, fisherman? Friendly and guaranteed souls of discretion. No. Thank you. We will have dinner set out for you within the half hour, Jean-Claude said. Time for you to shower and refresh from your journey. They withdrew. Mary picked up the hairbrush from the dresser and inspected IL It did not appear to have been tampered with. She returned it to its place beside the comb and makeup box. Hereafter she would keep it with her whenever she left the house. She took a deep breath and removed her slate from its protective purse. Keying in a security string, she then pressed two additional keys. The slate displayed a rough schematic of the room she was in and thenworking from field strengths of electrical lines and equipment placed throughout the housea clear floorplan of the house itself. Beneath the schematic, the slate said, There are no easily detectable listening devices within this building. That meant little; the vibrations of the house itself could be analyzed from outside and voices filtered from the background noise. She still had no overt reason to suspect she would be monitored; but call it instinct. She removed one of two bracelets from her arm and laid it on the bed. If anyone entered the bedroom while she was within a kilometer of the house the second bracelet would alert her. She undressed and walked into the bathroom adjacent to the bedroom. All fixtures were white porcelain in the rounded style of the early twentieth century, sparkling clean bulbous and awkwardly elegant. The shower stall was tiled with patterns of flowers on the walls and swimming fish on the floor; the glass doors were etched with longlegged birds perhaps herons or egrets; she was no expert on birds. She told the water in the shower to emerge at twenty eight degrees Celsius but the fixture did not respond. Chagrined, she twisted the handles manually, briefly almost scalded herself, bent to reexamine the two white ceramic caps marked C and F and decided that C certainly did not stand for cold. F might mean frigid, but the water was merely tepid. She made a note to inquire of the slate what the French words for hot and cold were. Once she had mastered the shower she enjoyed a few minutes sluicing herself and emerged to find Roselle standinR in the bathroom with a huge white terry cloth towel, smilii broadly. Mademoiselle is truly beautiful, she observed. The bracelet had given Mary no warning whatsoever. Thank you, she said coolly. She had little doubt her status now. With wonderful obliqueness she had been in her place; elegant old-world comfort and no slack in her leash whatsoever. Sangfroid. That was what F meant. Froid. Cold. Colonel Sir left no doubt as to who was in charge. However comfortable the house seemed and however friendly the servants, there would be no true rest until she returned home and that might not be for days. Dressed in a casual midsuit she followed Roselle in to dinner and sat alone at a table that would have comfortably seated six. Jean-Claude brought out bowls of broiled fish and vegetables, all natural and not nano-made, a bowl of sweet looking dark yellow sauce, white wine with Colonel Sirs own label (Ti Guin2045) and a pitcher of water. No courses; no ostentation. Just dinner. That suited her mood perfectly. She wondered if the pair were mind readers. The fish was wonderfully flavorful, flaky and moist; the sauce was mildly sweet and much more. Fiery, savory, delicious. She finished and thanked the pair yet again. As they cleared the table Jean-Claude told her Colonel Sir was delivering a speech on the LOuverture net. There is a screen in the living room, Mademoiselle. Youll tell me when my companions arrive? she asked. Indeed yes. She sat down before the small screen. A portable remote the size of her slate controlled the lights and other appliances. She viewed a tiny tutorial on the remote for a moment then entered the keypad control sequence to turn on the screen, which automatically tuned to the islands vid net, named after Haitian hero Toussaint LOuverture. Idyllic scenes of this evenings sunset were being broadcast to soothing strains of Elgar; sun falling low over cactus forest and ocean dipping beyond the Cul-de-Sac plain and Port-au-Prince, twilight in a mahogany grove, cruise ships moored off Santo Domingo, the Santo Domingo airport with perhaps her own scramjet dropping slowly to a landing. The music rose over one final spectacular view of Jean Christophes La Ferriere, ironically named after a blacksmiths bag: the immense fortress built to repel the French, filled with blacksmiths scrap ironancient cannon that had never fired a shot. What was it the exile had said two nights before, Christmas Eve... That William Raphkind should have killed himself with a silver bullet as Christophe bad, over two centuries ago. A silver bullet fired from a golden pistol to kill a supernatural being. Raphkind had killed himself with poison. A male announcer appeared in cameo over the virgin fortress. Good evening, mesdames et messieurs. Colonel Sir John Yardley, President of Hispaniola, has scheduled this time for a public address. The President speaks before the parliament and the National Council in the Court of Columbus in Cap Haitien. Mary settled back, drowsy with food. She heard Roselle singing softly in the kitchen in Creole. Colonel Sir John Yardley appeared in closeup, tight full head of ashen hair, long tanned face quite wrinkled but still sharp featured and handsome, full lips held in a self assured half smile. He nodded to the unseen council and members of the island parliament and without formalities began. My friends, our situation this week is no better than last. Reserves in banks domestic and foreign have fallen. Our credit is refused in twelve nations now including the United States and Brazil, heretofore among our strongest allies. We continue to tighten our belts and fortunately, Hispaniola has been prosperous for long enough and we have enough reserves that we do not suffer. Yardley retained a distinct British accent, but after thirty years it was tempered by the precise singing diction of the islands. But what lies in the future? In the past our children wandered around the globe seeking education, and now we accept students who travel here to be educated. Our island has come of age and we are mature enough to face hardship. But what of our anger at being slighted yet again? Hispaniola is well aware of the winds of history. Never has any spot on Earth suffered so much at the hands of outsiders. The natives who first dwelled here in Paradise were killed not just by Europeans, but by other Indians, the Carib, who in turn were massacred by Europeans... And then Africans were brought here by the French, and they were slaughtered, and they turned around and slaughtered their masters, and were slaughtered yet more; and then blacks slaughtered each other and mulattoes slaughtered blacks and blacks slaughtered mulattaes. Into this century the slaughters continued as we labored under travesties of Napoleonic codes and laws that condoned misery and starvation and the rule of incompetents. Dictators and democratic governments, more dictators, more governments. We have faced far worse times than these, have we not? And now we are cast out again, though our sons and daughters have bled and died fighting their wars, though we wine and dine them and give them refuge from their cities and overdevelopment.. Mary listened to the droning words, wondering what was so dynamic about this man. His speech seemed to go nowhere. Jean-Claude brought her an aperitif which she politely refused. Im sleepy enough as is, she said. Merdfuily the speech lasted only fifteen minutes, reaching no apparent conclusion, trailing off into platitudes about the corruption of the outside world and its continuing mistreatment of Hispaniola. Colonel Sir was blowing off steam and keeping up appearances. One message was clear enough; Colonel Sir and therefore all of Hispaniola was angry and resentful about their growing outcast status. When the speech was over the vid almost immediately resumed with a flatscreen cartoon of the adventures of a skullfaced man in long pants, black coat and tails. Mary recognized Baron Samedi, Geg Nago, the trickster ba of death and cemeteries. Baron Samedi leaped into a river to go Under the Water, sou dleau, to the land of the dead and the gods of old Haiti. Colonel Sir had used vodoun to his advantageas had many other rulers on the island before himand then had slowly converted the countless ba into comic book and cartoon heroes, defusing the faiths power for younger generations. Under the Water, Baron Samedi conversed with Erzulie, the beautiful lan of love, and with Dambafla. a rainbow-colored snake. She turned the screen off, retired to the bedroom and found there on the nightstand a bound volume of Colonel Sirs speeches and writings. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Mary thumbed through this book, picked up her slate and called up other research, trying to fight away the drowsiness. On her slate a map of the Gulf of Gonave showed a shape like an unhinged jaw waiting to swallow Gonave Island and whatever else came too close. After an hour of reading and waiting she went into the kitchen and found Roselle sitting quietly knitting. Roselle looked up, eyes warm and welcoming. Yes, Mademoiselle? My companions flight should have arrived by now. jean-Claude checked on them a few minutes ago. He said the airliners are delayed. Did he say why? It often happens, Mademoiselle. Our citizen army maneuvers at one airport in the evening, and another airport must be chosen and flights arrive later. But he did not say why. Is there anything else? Mary shook her head and Roselle resumed knitting. In the bedroom, lying under the gauzy canopy, she was far too out of place to feel out of place. She looked at her hands, more like the hands of a mannequin than the vitally black hands of Roselle. Marys palms were black, smooth and silken, tough as leather yet supple and flexible, super-sensitive on command; excellent high biotech skin. Then why did she feel vaguely ashamed to wear that skin here? Neither Jean-Claude nor Roselle seemed to think it a mockery; but theirs was a professional politeness and what they really thought might never be revealed. The inhabitants of Hispaniola had earned their blackness across centuries of misery. Marys lossesfriends, family and large parts of her pastwere minor sacrifices. She picked up Colonel Sirs book again and began a long article on the history of Haiti and the former Dominican Republic.
The advent of nano therapythe use of tiny surgical prochines to alter neuronal pathways and perform literal brain restructuring gave us the opportunity to fully explore the Country of the Mind. I could not find any method of knowing the state of individual neurons in the hypothalamic complex without invasive methods such as probes ending in a microelectrode, or radioactivity tagged binding agentsnone of which wauld work for die hours necessary to explore the Country. But tiny prockines capable of sitting within an axon or neuron, or sitting nearby and measuring the neurons state, sending a tagged signal through microscopic living wires to sensitive external receivers... I had my solution. Designing and building theta was less of a problem than I expected; the first prochines I used were nano therapy status-reporting units, tiny sensors which monitored the activity of surgical prochines and which did virtually everything I required. They had already extsted for five years in therapeutic centers. Martin Burke, The Counby of die Mind (20432044)
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Goldsmith had a late lunch, Lascal told Martin. He says hes ready. Martin glanced at Carol and his four assistants seated in the observation room. Well break our group into two teams. One team will not enter the Country and can meet with Goldsmith, interview him, establish a relationship. Erwin, Margery, you re in that team. Youll ask questions, take care of him in the theater, keep him calm. He sighed. Im still not happy with the remote diagnostic. I want to do some of my own background work. Margery Underhill was twenty six and heavyset with long blond hair and a square pretty face. Erwin Smith was the same age as Underhili, moderate in stature, strong and slender, with fine mouse brown hair and a perpetual quizzical expression. Their colleagues, Karl Anderson and David Wilson, waited patiently for their assignments. Karl was the youngest, twenty five, tall and very thin with a forward cut wave of jet black hair. David was a sleepy looking man of thirty, balding and pudgy-faced. Martin looked them over critically but could find no fault other than what he found in himself. What had Albigoni promised them? Now was certainly not the time to ask. Karl, David, youll be in the second team. Youll keep constant watch on the interfaces and electronics. Youll replace Carol and me in an emergencyor youll enter the Country and extricate us. Were missing the buffer and we cant replace it, so there wont be any actual time delay. Well he completely immersed in Goldsmith. Albigoni came into the observation room. He looked exhausted and lost. Martin gestured for him to take a seat beside him. Albigom nodded gratefully, sat down and pursed his hands in front of him. Were going to begin interviewing Goldsmith in a few minutes, Martin said. Margery and Erwin will ask some questions designed to give us clues about the nature and configuration of Goldsmiths Country." Martin handed Albigoni the five-page list. The exploration team will listen and watch. I call this shell mapping. When thats done, Carol and I will enter as pure observers, not interacting. Well see if we can match the shell map with what we observe. Then, sometime late tomorrow or the day after tomorrow well do a brief interactive entry. If that goes well, well take a break, discuss our plan, relax for a while and then begin the full triplex probe. That shouldnt take more than two hours. If it does last longer, well... We should finish the probe anyway. Carol, what was the maximum anybody ever spent in Country? Ive spent three and a half hours in machine Country in Jill, Carol said. In humans? Martin asked, slightly irked. He still didnt think the comparison was useful. Two hours ten minutes. You and Charles Davis, working with Dr. Creeling. Martin nodded. Thats what I thought. Albigoni lifted his hand like a student in class. Selectors have been on Goldsmiths trail since the day after the murders. Sources tell me hes a prime candidate; they want to get to him before the pd finds him. They dont know where he is but I dont trust all the people Ive had to work with to make these arrangements; Selectors have been flashing around some very impressive funding recently. Within four days theyll probably know we have him and where he is. We cant go to the pd for help, obviously. Now, if they have to. our security people can keep Selectors away from here, but I doubt that a siege will make this any easier. Well be done within three days, Martin said.