Return to 1997 AUTUMN Index
by Jonathan Day
Lambert had learnt of the vanity of his ancestors, their need to dress up and cover their faces. He had once produced some work on the use of masks in rituals but he doubted if more than five or six people had seen it. After all it had been a merely academic exercise, intended to test his skills at research. He had never seen a mirror before, although he had described one in the same piece of work. He stood. fascinated, in a room, for want of another word, carved out of rock. The cavern had led into a maze of rooms of which Lambert had never dreamt could exist. And in each of the rooms were instruments and equipment that looked ancient. He had seen some age old machinery in a museum when he was younger but it had been nothing like this. He could not fathom it's existence let alone it's use.
He looked at himself in the full length mirror which was attached to the wall and although there was little light he could make out an image of himself. He could establish the physics of the situation, the idea of light waves reflecting etc., but the reality of seeing himself in a full length mirror for the first time was unique. He had dark, short hair that was shaped neatly. The same retro drugs that inhibited facial hair growth also curtailed head hair growth. These drugs were standard and were found in the water supply, but they were as much a part of him as anything else. That was why he expressed shock at the colour of his chin, a light grey. He ran his hand over the normally smooth skin and found it to be unusually rough. Shocked at first after a while he found he liked the feeling. He was no longer dressed in the clothes that he always wore but in the same type of clothes as the men he had met. Jarro had insisted on it. Still Lambert did not understand.
One of the men he had recently been introduced to came into the room. He was the pipe smoker. His name was Colombus.
"You look fine." He said in a rough , low voice. Lambert didn't answer. "For a man of twenty five."
At this Lambert chuckled.
Columbus' reaction was not to laugh with Lambert, as any other man would have done but was a heavy stare, matched only by his grim silence. "So Jarro tells the truth." He said finally.
"I don't understand your meaning."
"How old are you?" Asked Colombos.
"What? To the year. I'm not sure. I loose track." No-one had ever asked Lambert his age before. "I'm coming towards the end of my seventh decade."
Colombus's expression changed. His eyes now betrayed anxiety. No it was more than that, fear.
Lambert felt uncomfortable and in attempt to alleviate the feeling and return to conversation he asked, "And how old are you Colombus?"
Colombus just continued his stare. It didn't seem as if he was going to say anything at all, but then he changed his mind. "You have the body of a son, yet claim the mind of a grandfather. We have been wronged. Your ancients are our ancients. Yet you live and we die." At that he turned and left. Lambert felt more confused than ever.
They were outside in the night air. The skies were clear, and for once their was no rain. Lambert judged the area to be outside designated agricultural land and for that reason the automatic weather stabilisers had not kicked in to encourage rain. It was chilly though. Jarro was with him, had actually insisted on his presence. The little distance he had walked had been in silence. After a while they stopped.
"What do you suppose," Said Jarro, "might be up there?" He was looking skyward.
"Up where?" Responded a confused Lambert.
"There in the sky."
"You know Jarro you confuse me. For most of the time you are so logical and easy to read. Then you start on some nonsensical angle."
"I see." Said Jarro, and smiled. It was the first time Lambert had seen Jarro smile.
"What then about those points of light in the sky?"
"You mean the skycat's eyes?" Jarro's grin grew broader.
Lambert grew annoyed. "You know perfectly well they are gas anomalies that reflect the last remnants of the sun's rays. By dawn they will be gone. Atmospheric conditions at this time of year mean they will reappear the following night in similar positions, perhaps brighter, perhaps not. In the cold seasons less are seen. Some people have given these anomalies names. That one there is Cretcus." Lambert felt Jarro's eyes on him and became silent.
"Let me try another track." Said Jarro. " Why is it that you are here?"
"To help you, an interrogator, who might, or might not be, an android, to catch a murderer. I am here because you bought me here. I do not know who these men are, nor what tricks you are playing but there is a limit. I grow weary of games. I am not a boy."
"It's taken a long time for your anger to appear. Don't you get angry often?"
"Normally there is no need. Now Jarro, stop fooling with me. Explain what is happening."
"It's a lengthy explanation. Tell me do you ever think about the rain?"
"What," said Lambert, his voice adopting an angry tone, "has rain got to do with anything?"
"The weather stabilisers, ever wondered how they work?"
"I don't need to wonder. That information is freely available to anyone who can use a datapad."
"And how do you suppose someone discovered the secrets of the weather?" Jarro's face had now taken on a serious expression.
"Look," replied Lambert, "Someone did some research, someone else turned the theory to practice. Hundreds of years ago. More like a thousand I think."
"What would you say if I told you that no research was done but that the information was just found?"
"Just found? And where would anyone find information like that. It would take decades of research, perhaps longer. Jarro you
have some complicated but frivolous ideas. I find it hard to believe you hold the post of interrogator at all."
Jarro looked at him, slowly nodding his head. "I thought that you were brighter than most, Lambert Daniel. Haven't you
worked it out yet? I'm not an interrogator. I'm a spy."
Lambert had, in his days of youth, studied history. A man's life was mostly committed to educating himself. He had an implicit faith in what he had been taught and had never questioned those teachings. Even now he did not question them. Jarro, and his colleagues, were rebels - political misfits - who for some yet undiscovered reason were trying to upset his, and others, stable world. Perhaps they were at fault genetically. He could accept that in a genetically controlled world mistakes could happen. All that was necessary was a trip to the interrogators, the true interrogators, and Jarro, Columbos and the rest would understand, they would be cured of their ailments.
Since their walk the previous evening Lambert had not attempted to talk with Jarro on any important topic. He merely asked for food and water but otherwise remained silent. He watched Jarro and the other men, who seemed to be preparing for something or at least planning it. To him Jarro seemed nervous, a completely different man from the one he had known. Lambert's thoughts were of escape. Since Jarro had revealed his true nature Lambert felt as if he were a prisoner, held against his will for a reason he didn't comprehend. As it happened events took a new turn before he could put his plans for escape into action.
Lambert was sat in the second cave in when it happened. His was finishing of his midmeal , contemplating the strange nature of the food he was eating. There were two men in the cavern with him. He had not been introduced to them but knew the bigger of the two as Trantor. There was a commotion outside, near the entrance.
"What might that be?" Said the other man to Trantor.
Trantor did not reply but stood, ready to head of towards the noise. He never made it. After a step he was hit by a blue pulsating wave of light and fell to the floor. The other man who was behind him collapsed as well. Lambert was frightened. He had never witnessed violence first hand before. There was a man in front of him holding an object in his hand, the source of the blue light. Lambert looked up at him but wasn't able to say anything.
"I've come for Jarro. Where is he?"
Lambert recognised the voice but this time there was no indication of civility or politeness. Hoven pointed the object towards him and waited.
Lambert was at a complete loss. He had never been faced with a situation that required reactions outside of the routine. But no normal response would save him now. Nonetheless the words came clearly to him.
"I'm glad you've come. I have been unable to report the situation until now. I think there are about eight men in the group, led by a man called Jarro. They are rebels of a cause I do not know, nor do I wish to. They must be reported to the interrogators for questioning and rehabilitation."
"Of course they must." Responded Hoven with a grin. Then he fired.
The room was sparse but practical. Everything within it had a purpose and there was no place for aesthetics or decoration. It was not a room intended to please the eye. There were no windows, not uncommon for a place of it's nature but it's occupant often wished there were. A view of the outside world might inspire him more. There was only minimal warning before a hidden door slid back and Chandler, 4539285 walked in. He came to the desk and spoke in short, sharp tones.
"You asked to see me?"
World council leader Myros Jackal looked up from the datapad he was studying.
"Indeed." He said. In the ensuing five minutes Chandler,4539285 did not become distracted or bored but merely waited patiently. At last his superior looked up and spoke to him.
"I need a team of experienced men. I think four should be enough. The task is slightly unusual but not out of our experience. I need to find three men. The first is a nobody, the second is one of us on the run, and the third could become a real somebody."
Chandler looked at him with no expression on his face. He had heard the leader say more baffling things.
It was Jarro's face that Lambert first saw when he woke up. He was still in the cave but this time his head hurt madly , it
pounded especially at the base of his skull, a pulsating that matched the beat of his heart. For that reason his first thoughts
were not for what had happened to him, nor even enmity at Jarro but just a desire for the pain to stop.
"My head." He moaned, at the same time grasping the back of his head with his hand, in a failed attempt to give himself some
comfort.
Jarro said nothing but produced a sonic pulsator from one of his pockets. He held it against the back of Lambert's head. After a while the pain stopped. Memories of recent events came back to Lambert. "Where's Hoven?" he asked, "What have you done with him?"
"You're defensive for a man who nearly took your life."
That thought hadn't really occurred to Lambert. Never the less he still continued on the same train of thought. "I should of known he was an interrogator. I knew there was something about him. Have you killed him?"
The question was not directly answered. "He was certainly government trained," said Jarro, "but not as an interrogator."
Lambert attempted to sit up and despite obvious discomfort succeeded. "There will be more interrogators. They'll keep coming until you and your men are tracked down."
"You have a lot of faith in the interrogators."
"They are necessary for situations such as this." Replied Lambert, at once feeling he had made a mistake for attempting to justify a system he had known all his life.
"Remember the library, searching for Dr.Forsyth's hololecture, just before the fire."
"I remember it well, but I see no connection with that and the present moment."
Another man spoke up. It was Columbus, the pipe smoker. "All moments are connected," he said solemnly. "All are part of a whole. This moment, that moment, the moment to come." Lambert looked at him blankly and Jarro held up his hand. Columbus became silent.
"Remember I guessed the access code, it was password protected. Only I didn't guess it. It was your personal identification code." Continued Jarro.
The memory came rushing back to Lambert. Since then other events had occupied his mind but the confusion he had felt then he felt now. "I remember. I just don't understand."
"It's simple. The man, Hoven, the one you assume was an interrogator, followed you from the archaeological dig to your home. There he deactivated and took the security field from your personal rooms."
Lambert looked confused. Jarro continued. "He needed a security field to protect the hololecture and he needed one quickly. He used yours."
Lambert recalled not being able to use the autoentrance that night and having to ask the porter to let him in. He had dismissed it as a routine fault. He had no reason not too. "You are making this up." He said, but knew that it was a plausible explanation, that fitted the facts he had in his possession.
"I see you do not believe me." Said Jarro. "There is much more I have to tell you that you will not believe."
Lambert didn't answer but inside he was growing restless. He didn't know who were his friends and who were enemies.
"See our friend here," continued Jarro, pointing at Colombus. "How old do you think he is?"
"I've been asked that same question myself. I do not see how it is relevant."
Jarro looked at him with something resembling pity. "All things are relevant." He said. "Colombus here is sixty two years of age. He is the oldest man from his province by twenty years and knows not how much longer he will live. You see no-one has lived that long, no-one he knows."
"Don't be ridiculous," countered Lambert, "six decades is nothing. He has hundreds of years to live." But there was doubt etched into his face.
"I assure you this man will be dead within thirty years."
"But how can that be?" Lambert replied with genuine concern.
"You stole his life, Lambert Daniel."
In the silence that followed Lambert chose to ignore Jarro's accusation. Instead he concentrated on the physical labour of getting to his feet.
"There was little point in attempting to stand up" said Jarro. " Colombus will you kindly fetch us some food, and a blanket to sit on."
Colombus was not gone long and bought back with him a few containers and a blanket. Lambert looked distrustfully at them. "Thank you, my friend." Said Jarro. Colombus bowed his head and left them.
We eat and we talk. An old earth habit I believe."
"An old what?" Asked Lambert.
"A custom they had on the planet Earth."
" I do not understand your language, Jarro."
"Ah yes" said the other man, "another time perhaps. Let us talk about longevity. Tell me what do you know?"
"I know that human life has evolved, especially in the field of genetics and medicine and a man can live to be three hundred and more."
"And that's all there is to it?"
"I am not a doctor, I have no need to know the ins and outs. What happened to Colombus, was he in an accident or something?"
"Something like that. Ten hundred years ago there was a war amongst the peoples of this world."
"I know. Half of the planet was destroyed."
"As you know so much why don't you tell me about it."
Lambert humoured the man. "There's not much to tell. Most of the records were destroyed. No-one knows why the war began, something to do with the insecure and isolated nation states of the time. It is believed it was connected with the development of gene therapy. There were the protesters who believed it was immoral , and against the laws of their god, for research into genetics to take place. The scientists disagreed. They were on the verge of something great, a new step in the evolution of mankind. Whole nations took sides in the disputes, they escalated and weapons were unleashed, weapons banned ever since."
"Weapons like the one Hoven used on you?"
Lambert ignored the question. "After the conflicts were over the planet was devastated. The whole southern hemisphere remains uninhabitable. The scientists won and took the world into a new era. As genetic therapy advanced the worst of man's characteristics were eradicated. No more violence, no more animal desires. Population controls were developed. V-gene therapy was used to both alter and prolong life. A better society was made."
Lambert paused. "Now, so much for the history lesson."
"What would you say," said Jarro, looking at him full on, "if I told you no such war took place and that Nikol Lafrey, the man who bought us all this, was a fraud?"
Lambert laughed. "You're talking about established history. Niikol Lafrey is a legendary man, a great man. He bought us everything we have today."
"He was a liar and a thief."
"Before Jarro, I had some doubts you were a bad man, perhaps misled. But now I know it to be true. You are a criminal, with paranoid beliefs, out to destroy what the world has, for some perverted reasoning known only to yourself. I condemn you and I listen to you no more."
"That is your choice." Jarro looked at him strangely. Lambert did not recognise the emotion. "But events have begun. Even if I am destroyed in the process, before this is over you will meet with the truth."
Jarro turned and walked away, but he looked back. "You will neither like it or believe it."