Kiln People Part 26

"You want me to make a copy?" I asked. "Let me warn you, ditYosil -- "

"Just Yosil. I told you, I am am Maharal, now." Maharal, now."

"Yeah right, ditYosil. It's obvious you want to make dit-to-dit copying work. How else can you survive past the thirtieth renewal? But honestly, what kind of a solution is that? The second-order copy always has a flawed soul-imprint. And it gets worse when you copy that that one. Errors magnify. By the third transfer, you're lucky if it can even walk or talk." one. Errors magnify. By the third transfer, you're lucky if it can even walk or talk."

"So they say."

"So they say? Listen, half of my work involves catching copyright violators who ditnap the golems of movied stars and courtesans and such, in order to sell bootleg knockoffs. Force-imprint counterfeiting may work for s.e.x toys, if the customer has low standards, but it's no solution to your problem, Yosil."

"We'll see about that. Now please try to relax and cooperate."

"Why should I? It's hard hard to make a really good imprint from a resisting subject. I can make things more difficult for you." to make a really good imprint from a resisting subject. I can make things more difficult for you."

"True. But consider. The better the copy, the more it will share your abilities, your drives, and especially your low opinion of me!" Maharal chuckled. "A quality copy will be your ally in trying to defeat me."

I pondered.

"Those other Alberts you captured ... they must have tried it both ways."

"True. Only when the copy was poor, I just tried again. And again, till you chose to cooperate. Then we made real progress."

"Your idea of progress doesn't sound like mine."

"Perhaps. Or maybe you can't grasp the long-range benefits of my program, though I tried to explain on other occasions. In any event, your problem now is a pragmatic one, Albert. Shackled, there's little that just one of you can do. Two of you might accomplish more. The logic is inescapable."

"d.a.m.n you."

He shrugged. "Think about it for a while, Albert. I have plenty of ditto blanks to experiment with."

Maharal's gray departed, leaving me there to ponder, frustrated because he clearly must have had the same conversation many times before, with other me's, learning through experience which arguments worked.

Man, I wish I'd been more careful to track my missing dittos over the years! I simply a.s.sumed that a high rate of loss was unavoidable in this line of work. As long as each case went well, some casualties seemed worthwhile. It's not quite as hard core an att.i.tude as Clara has -- sending herselves again and again to gladiatorial battlefields for the sake of PEZ and country, with scant likelihood they'll return unscathed. Even so, I vowed to try harder in the future.

If I ever get out of here.

If I get another chance.

Well, all right. I gave in to Yosil's logic. Concentrating during imprint would ensure my brotherdit emerges from the kiln filled with loathing for all mad scientists.

And I turned out to be right about that.

As if it would make any difference.

Well now, for the record, this isn't the first time I remember doing a ditto-to-ditto transfer.

Come on, everybody tries it. Most people are unhappy with the product, which often emerges as a pitifully shallow caricature. It can be painful to watch, like seeing a version of yourself that's drunk, stoned, or damaged beyond medical help. Back in college, some of the guys used to make frankies for laughs. But I never got into that kind of stuff.

Partly because my second-order dits never showed overt signs of degradation. No tremors or apparent memory gaps. No comic reeling or slurring. Boring! I might as well make all my copies directly. It felt more comfortable that way. Anyway, why violate the UK warranty? They can repossess your kiln.

I always knew I was a good copier. A small fraction of folks are gifted that way. I was even part of a research study when I was younger. So? It makes no practical difference. What's the point in dit-to-dit transfer, even if you do it well?

Besides, it feels odd. odd. Not at all like inloading. To lie on the Not at all like inloading. To lie on the original original side of the machine in side of the machine in clay clay form, especially when the soul-sifter starts probing through you with tendrils that are better tuned to scanning neurons. The tetragramatron has to work harder to grasp the Standing Wave, delicately plucking all the chords of your inner symphony, borrowing and amplifying every note in order to start an identical resonant melody playing in another instrument, nearby. form, especially when the soul-sifter starts probing through you with tendrils that are better tuned to scanning neurons. The tetragramatron has to work harder to grasp the Standing Wave, delicately plucking all the chords of your inner symphony, borrowing and amplifying every note in order to start an identical resonant melody playing in another instrument, nearby.

Funny thing. This time I definitely felt something like an echo echo coming from the new ditto -- still a lifeless lump on its warming tray. The sensation of deja vu that our grandparents used to find so eerie -- that we now call a "ripple in the Standing Wave" -- swarmed over me then like a chilly breath. A whirling-ghostly wind. A feeling of intimate familiarity with myself that I did not like at all. coming from the new ditto -- still a lifeless lump on its warming tray. The sensation of deja vu that our grandparents used to find so eerie -- that we now call a "ripple in the Standing Wave" -- swarmed over me then like a chilly breath. A whirling-ghostly wind. A feeling of intimate familiarity with myself that I did not like at all.

Was this part of the experiment? Part of what Maharal was trying to achieve?

"Two centuries ago, William James coined the term 'stream of consciousness,' " Maharal commented happily, while he twiddled dials. "James was referring to the way each of us invests our sense of ident.i.ty in an illusion. The illusion of continuity -- like perceiving a single river, flowing from one source to the sea.

"Even dittotech didn't change this romantic delusion. It only added multiple side branches and tributaries to the river, all of them still flowing back into a single soul, an ent.i.ty that each person arrogantly chooses to call me.

"But a river is nothing in itself! It's amorphous. A mirage. An ever-changing churn of individual tumbling molecules and moments. Even ancient mystics knew that stepping twice into a stream, from exactly the same spot, will immerse you in completely different 'rivers.' Into different liquids that were peed into the flow by different different elephants, at different places and times upstream." elephants, at different places and times upstream."

"You make philosophy so refreshingly earthy," I muttered, lying there helpless under his monologue.

"Thanks. In fact, that particular metaphor was yours. Another Albert Morris golem expressed it, years ago. Which goes to prove my point, dear fellow. The Standing Wave is something much more than just continuity of memory. It has to be! There must be some kind of connection to a higher -- or a lower -- level."

I knew his game. Maharal was trying to distract me, so my anger wouldn't interfere with the imprinting process. Yet his voice conveyed something sincere. He cared about the c.r.a.p he was uttering.

Anyway, the weird sensations had me wanting wanting some distraction from those strangely powerful resonant echoes. Though my head was clamped between the sifter probes, I turned my eyes to meet Maharal's. some distraction from those strangely powerful resonant echoes. Though my head was clamped between the sifter probes, I turned my eyes to meet Maharal's.

"You're talking about G.o.d, right?"

"Well ... yes. In a manner of speaking."

"Isn't that just a bit odd, Professor? You've spent your life encroaching on the province of religion, helping make it practical for anyone to duplicate the soul-field, like a cheap photograph. There's hardly anyone the old church conservatives hate more than you."

"I'm not talking about religion," he answered with a biting tone. "All that I and others have done, by introducing this technology, is take another step in a long campaign, pushing back a confused muddle of contradictory superst.i.tions in order to let in more light. First Galileo and Copernicus battled to free astronomy from priests who declared the entire cosmos off limits to human understanding. Then Newton, Boltzmann, and Einstein liberated physics. For a while, religions claimed that life life was too mysterious for anyone but the Creator Himself to understand -- till we a.n.a.lyzed the genome and commenced designing new species in the lab. Today, most babies get some kind of optimizing gene therapy, before or after conception, and n.o.body objects." was too mysterious for anyone but the Creator Himself to understand -- till we a.n.a.lyzed the genome and commenced designing new species in the lab. Today, most babies get some kind of optimizing gene therapy, before or after conception, and n.o.body objects."

"Why would they?" I asked, momentarily puzzled. "Never mind. Let me guess. You're about to extend this historical trend to consciousness -- "

"And the human soul, yes. It was the last bulwark of twentieth-century religion. Let science explain nature's laws, from quasars down to quarks! From geology to biology! So what? Those laws were mere recipes recipes and background scenery, concocted long ago by a creator who cares far more about matters of the spirit! That's what they said. and background scenery, concocted long ago by a creator who cares far more about matters of the spirit! That's what they said.

"Only then Jefty Annonas found the soul's vibrating essence, weighed it, measured it -- "

"Some still resent her choice of terminology," I pointed out. "They claim there's a true true soul, beyond the Standing Wave. Intangible -- " soul, beyond the Standing Wave. Intangible -- "

" -- and ineffable, yes. Something mortals can never detect, that can never be reduced to interacting laws and forces." Maharal barked a laugh. "And so the fighting retreat continues. Each time science advances, a new bastion forms ... anew line, defining some remnant territory to be kept forever holy, mystical, and vague. Safe from profane hands. Until the next scientific advance, that is."

"Which you seem anxious to provide. But then, why talk about religion -- "

"Not religion, religion, dear fellow. We spoke of communing with dear fellow. We spoke of communing with G.o.d. G.o.d."

"Uh, the difference -- "

" -- should be clear enough! Though I always have a hard time explaining it to you."

"Well ... sorry."

"No, it's all right. I'm used to your obstinate slowness. Rare gifts don't always correlate with intelligence."

I felt a tw.a.n.g tw.a.n.g in the Standing Wave, now vibrating at full pitch between me and the new golem. One thing for sure. It was going to hate this guy just as much as I do. in the Standing Wave, now vibrating at full pitch between me and the new golem. One thing for sure. It was going to hate this guy just as much as I do.

"Go on," I muttered. "About you and G.o.d."

But he stopped there.

A small bell gave off a bing bing and I felt the soul-sifter release its invasive grip. The last tendrils slid out of my nose. All at once I was alone again inside my clay head, sagging heavily. and I felt the soul-sifter release its invasive grip. The last tendrils slid out of my nose. All at once I was alone again inside my clay head, sagging heavily.

Machinery rumbled as the new golem slipped into a kiln for rapid baking. A short while later I glimpsed it standing up, taking those first, uncertain steps.

Dark red, like Texarkana soil. And small, small, like a child. It looked weak, too. Easier for Maharal to control. Even so, the professor's tall gray ghost cautiously clamped a set of power-manacles over its wrists, even before the puffy afterglow faded. like a child. It looked weak, too. Easier for Maharal to control. Even so, the professor's tall gray ghost cautiously clamped a set of power-manacles over its wrists, even before the puffy afterglow faded.

Such precautions! I must have caused plenty of trouble on other occasions. That offered me a smidgen of consolation.

"We'll be back soon," ditYosil told me. "I want to expose this new ditto to a variety of controlled test experiences, then see how well the memories inload back to you."

"Oh. Can't wait."

Usually, I avoid eye contact with fresh copies that I make. It's uncomfortable and what's the point? But this time, after all those eerie sensations I went through during imprinting, it seemed compulsory to meet the small one's gaze. No window to a golem's soul? Maybe not, but I felt something intense the moment his dark stare met mine. An affinity. I don't have to wait for inloading to know what thoughts course through that maroon body.

Look for your chance, I urged silently. I urged silently.

My other self answered with a curt nod. Then, tugged by Maharal's manacles, he turned and followed our master to another part of this iniquitous lair.

So I wait, lying here where they left me. Wondering and worrying about what my captor has in store for me.

Thirty days is beginning to sound like a very long time. I must find a way to settle this much sooner, whether or not G.o.d turns out to be one of Yosil Maharal's personal buddies.

And yet, even if an opportunity presents itself, I must be careful what I do. For instance, what if he leaves a phone within easy reach? Would I summon the cops? In some situations, it's enough for a victim to call for help and wait for professional blue-skin rescuers to arrive. Simple.

But not in this case.

Wracking my brain, I can't see that Maharal has committed even a single felony. At least not to my knowledge. Just a long series of equipment thefts, ditnappings, copyright violations, and unlicensed experiments -- the kind of stuff that gets settled nowadays with civil liens and automatic fines. The police don't care very much about this particular kind of villain, not since Deregulation.

Not as much as I do!

As far as I'm concerned, some paltry fines won't make up for any of this.

The real world has its rules, and I have mine.

Ditto-to-ditto, I'm going to make that crazy-evil dirtpile pay.

25.

Impa.s.sioned Clay ... as Frankie revisits a place that he's never been ...

To my utter surprise, Vic Aeneas Kaolin wanted to hire me as a ditective!

"So. Would you two like a chance to find the perverts who did all this?"

He said it waving at a nearby crowd of holo bubbles, jostling for our attention. Most of them showed the sabotage site at Universal Kilns, now swarming with multicolored repair-dittos, like a hive of busy ants struggling to restore the vast factory to profitable operation.

Other bubbles peered down at the smoldering ruins of a small suburban house.

The trillionaire's offer left me speechless, though Pallie's little weasel-golem took it with aplomb.

"Sure, we can solve this case for you. But we gotta charge quadruple Albert's normal rate. Plus expenses ... including a new house, to replace the one that just got blown up."

How about getting Albert a new organic body, while we're at it? I pondered caustically. Pal could be amazing sometimes, sweating over minor stuff while ignoring the big picture. Like the fact that Albert Morris no longer existed. So who was legally going to take this case? I had no more legitimate authority than a talking toaster. I pondered caustically. Pal could be amazing sometimes, sweating over minor stuff while ignoring the big picture. Like the fact that Albert Morris no longer existed. So who was legally going to take this case? I had no more legitimate authority than a talking toaster.

Kaolin acted unperturbed. "Those terms are acceptable, but with a condition that payment shall depend entirely on results. And that Mr. Morris truly turns out to have been innocent, as the archive-recording seems to suggest."

"Seems to suggest!" Palloid yelped. "You heard the story. That poor guy was duped! Hoodwinked, chiseled, set up, conned, fooled, frauded, framed, swindled -- "

"Pal," I tried to interrupt.

" -- cozened, misled, tricked! A patsy. A fool, tool, doofus, dolt, blockhead, p.a.w.n -- "

"That may be," Kaolin cut him off with a hand gesture. "Or else the archive might might have been contrived in advance. Pre-recorded in order to offer a plausible alibi." have been contrived in advance. Pre-recorded in order to offer a plausible alibi."

"That can be checked," I pointed out. "Even buried in the gray's throat, the recorder would have picked up ambient city noise from his surroundings. People talking. A truck's engine on a nearby street. m.u.f.fled sounds, but under intense a.n.a.lysis they'll correlate with actual events, recorded on nearby publicams."

"So," Kaolin conceded with a nod. "Not pre-recorded, then. But still perhaps a lie. The gray could have gone through all the motions, reciting as he went, while pretending pretending not to be one of the conspirators. Feigning gullibility -- " not to be one of the conspirators. Feigning gullibility -- "

" -- naivete, credulousness, stupidity -- "

"Shut up, Pal! I don't" -- I shook my head -- "I don't think any of this is really our business anymore. Shouldn't you be handing this tape over to the police?" ditKaolin pursed his expressive, realistic lips. "My attorney says we're right at the borderline, the cusp between civil and criminal law."

Surprise provoked my bitter laugh. "A major act of industrial sabotage -- "

"Without a single human victim."

"Without a single ... What in h.e.l.l do you call that that?"

I jabbed a finger at one of the news bubbles, showing an aerial view of my poor burned house. I mean Albert's house. Whatever. Responding to my vehement attention, that bubble swelled in size, jostling others aside and magnifying. Our point of view zoomed toward several black investigator specialdits from the Violent Crimes Unit, who could be seen probing the wreckage. Top professionals, looking for body parts. And missile parts, no doubt.

"There is, as yet, no confirmed link between that tragedy and what happened at UK."

Kaolin said it with such a straight face that I stared at him for several seconds.

"You will only get away with that line for a few hours at best, no matter how good your lawyers are. When the cops find my body ... I mean Albert's ... and when testimony is taken from ditnesses and cameras inside UK, your insurance company will have no choice but to cooperate with the authorities. The police will know know you found something small and important in the foamy mess after the prion attack. If you pretend you didn't find anything, one of your contract employees will -- " you found something small and important in the foamy mess after the prion attack. If you pretend you didn't find anything, one of your contract employees will -- "