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people living here.I couldn't tell.The room was crowded with stuff; prints and oils on the walls, most of
the former either Breughels or Lowrys; Tiffany lampshades, a Bang and Olafsen Hifi unit, several antique
clocks, what looked like a dozen or so Dresden figurines, a Chinese cabinet of black lacquer, a large
four-fold screen with peacocks sewn onto it, the myriad feathers like displayed eyes
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'Whatdid it tell you?' Linter asked.
I shrugged. 'What I said.It said it wanted me to have a talk with you.'
He smiled in an unimpressed sort of way as though the whole conversation was hardly worth the effort,
then looked away, through the window.He didn't seem to be going to say anything.A flash of colour
caught my eye, and I looked over at a large television, one of those with small doors that close over the
screen and make it look like a cabinet when it isn't in use.The doors weren't fully shut, and it was
switched on behind them.
'Do you want -?' Linter said.
'No, it's -' I began, but he rose out of the seat, gripping its elegant arms, went to the set and spread its
doors open with a dramatic gesture before resuming his seat.
I didn't want to sit and watch television, but the sound was down so it wasn't especially intrusive.The
control unit's on the table,' Linter said, pointing.
'I wish you - somebody - wish you'd tell me what's going on.'
He looked at me as though this was an obvious lie rather than a genuine plea, and glanced over at the
TV.It must have been on one of the ship's own channels, because it was changing all the time, showing
different shows and programmes from a variety of countries, using various transmission formats, and
waiting for a channel to be selected.A group in bright pink suits danced mechanically to an unheard
song.They were replaced with a picture of the Ekofisk platform, spouting a dirty brown fountain of oil
and mud.Then the screen changed again, to show the crowded cabin scene fromA Night At The Opera.
'So you don't know anything?' Linter lit a Sobranie.This, like the ship's 'Hmm', had to be for effect (unless
he liked the taste, which has never been a convincing line).He didn't offer me one.
'No, no, no I don't.Look I can see the ship wanted me here for more than this talk but don't you play
games too.That crazy thing sent me down here in that Volvo; the whole way.I half expected it not to have
baffled it either; I was waiting for a pair of Mirages to come to intercept.I've got a long drive to Berlin as
well, you know?So just tell me, or tell me to go, all right?'
He drew on the cigarette, studying me through the smoke.He crossed his legs and brushed some
imaginary fluff off the trouser cuffs and stared at his shoes. 'I've told the ship that when it leaves, I'm
staying here on Earth.Regardless of what else might happen.' He shrugged. 'Whether we contact or not.'
He looked at me, challenging.
'Any particular reason?' I tried to sound unfazed.I still thought it must be a woman.
'Yes.I like the place.' He made a noise between a snort and a laugh. 'I feel alive for a change.I want to
stay.I'm going to.I'm going to live here.'
'You want to die here?'
He smiled, looked away from me, then back. 'Yes.' Quite positively.This shut me up for a moment.
I felt uncomfortable.I got up and walked round the room, looking at the bookshelves.He seemed to have
read about the same amount as me.I wondered if he'd crammed it all, or read any of it at normal
speed:Dostoevsky, Borges, Greene, Swift, Lucretius, Kafka, Austin, Grass, Bellow, Joyce, Confucius,
Scott, Mailer, Camus, Hemingway, Dante. 'You probably will die here, then,' I said lightly. 'I suspect the
ship wants to observe, not contact.Of course -'
'That'll suit me.Fine.'
'Hmm.Well, it isn't official yet, but I that's the way it'll go, I suspect.' I turned away from the books.
'Itdoes? You really want to die here?Are you serious?How -'
He was sitting forward in the chair, combing his black hair with one hand, pushing the long, ringed fingers
through his curls.A silver stud decorated the lobe of his left ear.
'Fine,' he repeated. 'It'll suit me perfectly.We'll ruin this place if we interfere.'
'They'll ruin it if we don't.'
'Don't be trite, Sma.' He stubbed the cigarette out hard, breaking it in half, mostly unsmoked.
'And if they blow the place up?'
'Mmm.'
'Well?'
'Well what?' he demanded.
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A siren sounded on the St Germain, dopplering. 'Might be what they're heading for.Want to see them
moth themselves in front of their own -'
'Ah, bullshit.' His face crinkled with annoyance.
'Bullshit yourself,' I told him. 'Even the ship's worried.The only reason they haven't made a final decision
yet is because they know how bad it'll look short term if they do.'
'Sma, I don't care.I don't want to leave.I don't want to have any more to do with the ship or the Culture
or anything connected with it.'
'You must be crazy.As crazy as they are.They'll kill you; you'll get crushed under a truck or mangled in a
plane crash or burned up in some fire or something'
'So I take my chances.'
'Well what about what they'd call the security aspect?What if you're only injured and they take you to
hospital?You'll never get out again; they'll take one look at your guts or your blood and they'll know
you're alien.You'll have the military all over you.They'lldissect you.'
'Not very likely.But if it happens, it happens.'
I sat down again.I was reacting just the way the ship had known I would.I thought Linter was mad just
the way theArbitrary did, and it was using me to try and talk some sense into him.Doubtless the ship had
already tried, but equally obviously the nature of Linter's decision was such that theArbitrary was the last
thing that was going to have any influence.Technologically and morally the ship represented the most
finely articulated statement the Culture was capable of producing, and that very sophistication had the
beast hamstrung, here.
I have to admit I felt a degree of admiration for Linter's stand, even though I still thought he was being
stupid.There might or might not be a local involved, but I was already getting the impression it was more
complicated - and more difficult to handle - than that.Maybe he had fallen in love, but not with anything
as simple as a person.Maybe he'd fallen in love with Earth itself; the whole fucking planet.So much for
Contact screening; they were supposed to keep people out who might fall like that.If that was what had
happened then the ship had problems indeed.Falling in love with somebody, they say, is a little like getting
a tune into your head and not being able to stop whistling it except much more so, and - from what I'd
heard - going native the way I suspected Linter might be was as far beyond loving another person as that
was beyond getting a tune stuck in your head.
I felt suddenly angry, at Linter and the ship.
'I think you're taking a very selfish and stupid risk that's not just bad for you, and bad for the for us; for
the Culture, but also bad for these people.If you do get caught, if you're discovered theyare going to get [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]