Hooded Swan - The Paradise Game Part 13

He couldn't stop the actual invasion, and he couldn't kill the parasites once they were in, but he could and did efficiently combat the deleterious effects that they might perpetrate on my body. I wasn't immune to the Pharos bugs, but they couldn't kill me. That was good to know.

What was more, if anyone had a chance to figure out a viable combat strategy for use on a wide scale against the bugs, it was probably the wind. He might not have Markoffs know-how or Charlot's genius, but he didn't need microscopes to get in touch with the bugs. He could be that sensitive, if he tried.

How's it coming along? I asked him, on the morning of the fifth day.

-It's difficult, he replied. Refining consciousness to the molecular level isn't easy.

I thought it came naturally, I said.

-It does. When I'm free-living. But when I'm free-living I'm also practically dormant. You know how long it took me to get a purchase in your mind while we were both abandoned on that wretched rock.

Reprogramming my genetic information into random patterns of air molecules didn't exactly leave me much self-consciousness to play with. Transferring my organisation from one system of potential order to another may come naturally to me, but it doesn't ent.i.tle me to work miracles. You were an egg once, remember?

Not exactly, I said.

-Quite so.

Have you made any progress at all? I asked him.

-I've got a fairly good grasp on how the triggers are put together. We were right in thinking that the triggers were the things to look at-even though the viruses are different the trigger-mechanisms are basically similar. If we can deactivate one trigger, we can deactivate them all. And that's what we need, if we don't want the galaxy to be condemned to eternal peace-with humanity extinct as a probable side-effect. But getting the feel of the trigger isn't really enough. It's just not in me for me to perceive at that level what sort of an anti-agent, if any, could be effective against it. If Markoff can make a reasonable a.n.a.logue of the molecule in his computer, I guess I can confirm whether it's accurate or not, so that the computer can work out an effective specific. But how long is it going to take to build an a.n.a.logue? Months! If the computer has the storage s.p.a.ce, which I doubt.

All in all, I said, you're getting nowhere.

-Well, he said, with what was almost an air of reluctance, not quite.

Go on.

-This is just my opinion, he said. And I can't guarantee its accuracy at this stage. But it seems to me that the trigger just isn't sophisticated enough to react in the way you think it does.

To specific chemical changes in the blood following strong emotional outbreaks.

-That's right. You've got to remember that such changes aren't all that specific. In terms of what happens chemically, one strong emotion is pretty much like another. The glandular reaction pattern is much the same for l.u.s.t as for rage, for joy as for hate. In order for the trigger to be activated just by chemical balance in the blood, it would have to be coded to take account of a vast range of variables, and it still might not be one hundred percent reliable.

It seems to be pretty accurate, to date, I said. What alternative is there? Surely you're not going to try to pa.s.s off a telepathic virus on me?

-Not actually telepathic, he said. But something like. I think the stimuli that activate the triggers might be electrical. I think the viruses are sensitive to neuronic patterns.

Do you know of any other instances of that sort of sensitivity? I asked.

-Yes, he said. Me. And, if my a.s.sumptions are correct, the Pharos life-system. You see, that suggests a way that this mutation filtration system might work. Without natural selection, it's difficult to see how the life-system on Pharos manages to choose between alternative forms. There can't be any test of viability in the same sense that mutations on Earth are tested by circ.u.mstance according to their ability to survive.

The only test the Pharos system can apply is one of pattern-life is order, and order has certain electrical patterns a.s.sociated with it. It seems to me that the single crucial point in the evolution of life on Pharos-which may have been superficially similar to life on Earth at one point-was the evolution of this pattern-sensitive trigger molecule. The trigger promptly started turning Pharos into a perfectly ordered, perfectly stable Paradise. And the life-system's natural reaction to any invader or random mutation within itself is to apply the test-by-trigger. It was slow reacting to flesh of Terrestrial origin because of the differences in chemical composition, but the fact that it reacted at all at least implies that the system is electrically sensitive rather than chemically.

Ok, I said. I'll buy it. So what?

-So instead of looking for something to chemically denature the trigger-proteins, try to find something to denature them electrically.

But at a molecular level, chemical activity is electrical activity, I said.

-Indeed, he replied, having antic.i.p.ated the remark. But not necessarily vice versa.

I thought about it for a moment. What do you want us to do? I asked. Shoot five thousand volts through each other?

-Unnecessary, said the wind. Have you ever heard of echo currents?

18.

I took the brilliant idea to Charlot. He was pretty sick, but his mind was working fine. I told him the idea about the electrical nature of the Pharos mutational filter, and gave him a neat chain of hences and therefores leading him through the possible electrosensitivity of the triggers to the possibility of throwing the triggers out of kilter using magnets.

To be quite honest, I expected him to explode with laughter. It did sound a bit ridiculous, from my point of view. I didn't know what I was talking about, of course- the wind supplied me with all the patter. I just reeled it out. But it must have made some kind of sense, because it certainly fired Charlot's volatile imagination.

"It's a chance," he said. "A definite chance."

"There's one thing that worries me," I told him.

"What's that?"

"Messing about with triggers. Seems to me you'll have to be very careful. I mean, jerk it too hard, and the d.a.m.n thing might go off."

He nodded. "We'll have to be careful, but that's only a minor point. If this is all correct, we have a way of attacking the viruses, and that's what matters. That's what we need-and quickly."

"Quickly?" I queried. "I thought the rush was all over. As long as we all stay peaceful, that is." "You haven't thought this thing through," he said.

Not unnaturally, I was somewhat offended by that remark. "Haven't thought it through! My G.o.d, I've thought about nothing else. I've just brought you a complete diagnosis of the trouble. It might not be right, but my G.o.d, it represents some pretty solid thinking. And you tell me I haven't thought things through.

Had you worked out what I've just given you?"

"I would have," he said. "In time. But I'm not trying to minimise that. If you're right, you'll have contributed to a virtual miracle. And I hope you are right. What I meant about the time factor was that a ship from New Alexandria will be here in a matter of days."

"To help us," I said.

"If we can be helped. If not..."

"Then what?"

"You know perfectly well what these viruses could do to the people out there."

"So what? They're not going to do any harm while they're confined to the planet. We have all the time in the world to sort it out."

"And what about the Trisha Mellys of the galaxy?"

"Trisha? She's an idiot. But she's not dangerous."

"Oh, but she is. How many people do you think there are out there who would just love a chance to enforce peace on us all? How many men are there that would see these viruses as a gift from G.o.d rather than a possible disaster? How many men are there that would be infatuated with the idea of a Paradise such as we have here? What sort of demand do you think the whole Paradise Game is trying to satisfy?"

"But how could any man have that much confidence in himself?" I demanded. "h.e.l.l, I know we're all doing pretty well, but we're living in hope of a cure. If we thought we had this to put up with forever...

How can any man be certain that he'll never again give way to anger, or hatred, or the impulse to strike someone?"

"Do you really want an answer to that?" asked Charlot.

"No," I said. "I get the drift."

"You see what I mean? We just couldn't afford to have a planet like this in the galaxy, unless we had a specific and definite way of counteracting the effects of its produce. I'm afraid that ship coming out from New Alexandria will be carrying a bigger responsibility than aiding us. Someone, somewhere, will take upon themselves the responsibility of ordering our destruction."

"The whole world?"

"The whole world."

"n.o.body else knows about this?"

"Unless they've worked it out for themselves. It's not the sort of thing that anyone is going to talk about in the present predicament."

"You think they'd actually destroy us?"

"I'm sure of it."

"New Alexandria?"

"They're not the only ones involved. You know that. The galaxy is full of destructive people. Look at it from their point of view. Pharos is a matter of destroy or be destroyed. What other choice have they?

We don't have time, Grainger. We don't have time at all. I don't know how long we have-how much they can afford to give us in their ultimate generosity-but I do know that if we can't cure this thing within their deadline, we won't be living out our lives in peace and harmony on Paradise. We'll be booked on a one-way trip into the sun."

"You're right," I said, feeling a little dazed. "You're quite right. I hadn't thought it through. Well, that being the case, I guess I'm doubly glad to have been of service in this little matter. I also think that perhaps I agree with Trisha Melly after all. I shouldn't have rejected her opinions out of hand like that. You're right-I hadn't thought the thing through. It honestly had not occurred to me that they couldn't even stand to let us live. They! Not Caradoc-not the out and out villains that n.o.body loves, but just they. New Alexandria and New Rome and the lot. You know, t.i.tus, sometimes I think I'm stupid. Other times I think I might have been better off on that lousy lump of rock called Lapthorn's Grave."

"I'd be careful about getting too bitter and resentful," he said quietly. "It isn't healthy."

-Take note of that, said the wind. I can't work miracles. If you activate that trigger, we'll both have to take the consequences.

I sighed. "Ok," I said, "Ok. I'll brood about it some other time. You go see Markoff, t.i.tus. You start playing with that computer of his, and you see if you can come up with some magic magnetic remedy.

Will we take it internally, do you think? Or will we just have to stand up to our necks in it? Anyhow, I wish you a speedy success, with all my heart. And can I please have a shot of something to make me happy? I feel a little fragile this morning."

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Coming from someone who apologises about as much as I do, that's something," I said. "What for?"

"I shouldn't have told you."

"I'm b.l.o.o.d.y glad you did," I said. "If my friend and I had worked that one out between us, I might really have let the gun go off."