She tried to swallow in a dry throat. Her mind searched for some logical objection to this thing which Ship proposed. A projection? The words represented such an insubstantial thing. Ship said she would be the projection. How threatening that sounded!
"Wh.... why must I go throug.... Time?"
"Through?" Ship's tone conveyed an exquisite reprimand. "You persist in thinking of Time as linear and a barrier. That is not even close to the reality, but I will play that game if it reassures you."
"What is...I mean, if it's not linea.... ?"
"Think of it as linear if you wish. Think of it as thousands of meters of computer tape unraveled and crammed into this little lab. You could move from one Time to anothe...shortcut - just by reaching across the loops and folds."
"Bu.... I mean if you actually go across, how can you get back t.... ?"
"You never let go of the now."
In spite of that deep and grinding fear, she was interested. "Two places at one Time?"
"All Time is one place, Ekel."
It occurred to her then that Ship had shifted from the personal and reassuring Hali to Ekel, subtly but definitely.
"Why are You calling me Ekel now?"
"Because I perceive that this is the line which you believe to be yourself. I do it to help you."
"But if You take me somewhere els.... ?"
"I have sealed this room, Ekel. You will have two bodies simultaneously, but separated by a very long Time and a very great distance."
"Will I know bot.... ?"
"You will be conscious of only one flesh, but you will know both."
"Very well. What do I do?"
"Stay there on the lab couch and accept the fact that I will make another body for you at another Time."
"Will i.... ?"
"If you do what I tell you to do, it will not hurt. You will understand the speech of this other place and I will give you an old body, an old woman. Old bodies are not as threatening to others. No one bothers an old woman."
She tried to relax in obedience. Accept. But questions filled her mind. "Why are You sending me t.... ?"
"Eavesdrop, Ekel. Observe and learn. And no matter what you see, do not try to interfere. You would cause unnecessary pain, perhaps even to yourself."
"I just watch an...."
"Do not interfere. You will see the consequences presently of interfering with Time."
Before she could ask another question, she felt a prickling along the back of her neck; a slither of chill swept down her spine. Her heart slammed against her ribcage.
Ship's voice came from a long distance. "Ready, Ekel." It was a command, not a question, but she answered, and her own voice echoed in her skull.
"Yessssss...."
The mind is a mirror of the universe.
See the reflections?
The universe is no mirror for the mind.
Nothing out there
Nothing in here
Shows ourselves.
WAELA TAOLINI lay in her groundside cubby, fatigue in her body, fatigue in her mind, but unable to sleep. Thomas had no mercy. Everything must be done to his perfectionist demands. He was a fanatic. They had spent twenty-one hours going through the operational routine for the new sub. Thomas would not wait for the arrival of the poet, who was somewhere in the bowels of Processing. No. We will use what time we have.
She tried to take a deep breath. Pain yanked a knot behind her breastbone.
She wondered how Thomas came to them. How could he be from Ship? Things he did not know, things that Shipmen took for granted, worried her. There was the incident with the Hooded Dasher.
He was calm, though, I'll give him that.
What really surprised her was his ignorance of The Game.
A crowd had gathered behind the LTA hangar - off-shift crew, most of them drinking what Shipmen called Spinneret wine.
"What's this about?" Thomas pointed his clipboard at the group.
"It's The Game." She looked at him with a new amazement. "You mean you don't know The Game?"
"What Game? That's just a bunch of drunks having a good tim.... strange, there was nothing in my briefing about liquors of any kind."
"There have always been lab alcohols," she said, "and at one time there were wines and brandies. But officially we can't afford to give up any productive food for wine. Somehow, some do and the market is brisk. Those men," she nodded toward the group, "have traded away some of their food chits for it."
"So, they trade food for wine that costs food to make - maybe less food. Isn't that their right?" His eyes squinted at her.
"Yes, but food's short. They're going hungry. In this place, going hungry means you slow down and here, Raja Thomas, if you slow down you die. And maybe someone else dies because of it."
"Do you do it?" he asked softly.
"Yes," her skin glowed red, "when I can afford the time."
She followed Thomas as he strolled toward the crew, pulled the sleeve of his singlesuit to stop him short.
"There's more."