Project Pope

Thirty-two

The glitter of diamond dust floated in the air just above the spindly, gilded chair that stood beside the table with the marble top.

— So you're back, said Tennyson.

— Please, said Whisperer. Please!

— I am not about, said Tennyson, to cave in to your pleas. But I think it's time for us to talk.

— I'll talk, said Whisperer. I'll talk most willingly. I'll tell you who and what I am, and no other knows who or what I am. I'll answer all your questions.

— All right, then, tell me what you are.

— The Old Ones call me Duster and Decker calls me Whisperer and -

— It's immaterial what you may be called, said Tennyson. Tell me what you are.

— I am an unsubstantial conglomerate of molecules, all the molecules disassociated and yet making up myself. Every molecule of me, perhaps every atom of me, is intelligent. I am a native of this planet, although I can remember no beginning and I anticipate no end. I may, in fact, be immortal, although I've never thought upon it. Although, come to think of it, I am sure I am. There is no killing me. Even were I scattered, so thoroughly scattered that no atom of my being ever found another atom of my being through all eternity, yet I know each atom would be a life within itself, still sentient, still intelligent.

— It would seem to me, said Tennyson, that you are an efficient fellow. You're immortal and intelligent and no one can so much as lay a hand on you. You've got it made.

— But I have not got it made. True, I have intelligence and, as an intelligent being, I have the drive to learn and know, but I lack the tools to learn and know.

— So you seek a tool.

— You put it very crudely.

— You want to use me as a tool. A tool to help you learn and know. What is it that you want to know?

— I need to know of Vatican and of the work that's done here. I need to enter into the worlds the Listeners are finding. For long and long I've tried, and I have learned a little, but so very little. One does not enter into the thought processes of machines. They've not that kind of mind. My probing of them, or my attempts to probe them through the years, has made Vatican suspicious. They know there is someone probing, but they don't know who it is. They try to seek me out but they do not find me. They probably are unaware that I exist.

— You think that I can help you? That I'd be willing to?

— You can help me. Of that there is no question. You can view the cubes. If you only let me in your mind so I can share what you see within the cubes, then the two of us together…

— But Whisperer, why me? There is Ecuyer.

— I have tried with Ecuyer. He is insensitive to me. No more sensitive than the robots; he does not know I am there, does not even see the glitter of me. Decker sees the glitter and I can talk with him, but he cannot view the cubes and his mind is closed to me. That leaves only you, and perhaps one other.

— One other?

— The one that you call Jill.

— You have talked with her?

— No, I have not talked with her. But I think I could; also her mind is not closed to me.

— Let's leave her out of it, said Tennyson. For the moment, leave her out of this. Is that understood?

— It is understood. We'll leave her out of it.

— You want to view the cubes with me. To get inside my mind and view the cubes with me. Is that all you want?

— Perhaps not all. But the most important.

— Now tell me why. Why is it so important that you view the cubes?

— To regain my heritage.

— Now, back up a minute there, said Tennyson. What has your heritage got to do with it?

— I was, so long ago that time grows dim in the thinking of it, only one small part of a cloud of me — a cloud of other Dusters, or if you wish, of other Whisperers. I say a cloud of me, for I do not know if the cloud was one, if I was a minor part of a larger entity, or if the cloud was made up of very many single entities like me. The cloud had a heritage, it had a destiny-perhaps you could say that it had a task. That task was to know the universe.

— You don't say, said Tennyson.

— But I do say. Would I deceive you, running the chance that you should learn of my deceit, thus losing any hope of the cooperation that I seek of you?

— That makes sense. I don't suppose you would. But what happened to the cloud?

— It went away and left me, said Whisperer. Why I do not know. Nor do I know where it went except that I know it went to seek out the universe. In bitter hours I've pondered why it went and left me. But leaving me, it did not take away my heritage. By every means I still seek out the universe.

— Of course you do, said Tennyson.

— You mock me. You lack belief in me?

— Let's put it this way, said Tennyson. I am not overwhelmed by belief in you. All you've told me so far is what you want to do and how you need my help. I ask you now — what is there in it for me? What do I get out of it? Something more, I hope, than the pleasure of your company.

— You are a hard man, Tennyson.

— I am not a fool. I don't propose to let you use me. It seems to me that in this, somewhere, there should be a bargain struck.

— A bargain, said Whisperer. Yes, of course, a bargain.

— So all right. A bargain with the devil.

— Which one of us is that devil that you speak of? If my understanding of the term is correct, I am not a devil. Neither, I think, are you.

— Okay, then, no devil.

— Without your leave, said Whisperer, I dipped briefly in your mind. For which I beg forgiveness.

— You are forgiven. If it was only for an instant.

— I tell you true. It was only for a moment. In your mind I snared two worlds. The autumn world and the equation world. Which would you like to visit? Which one would you prefer to go to? Which would you want to see? Not to see, not to stare at, not to wonder over, but to actually go to.

— You mean that you could take me there? That I could walk those worlds?

— With me, you could walk those worlds. Perhaps understand them, although I'm not sure of that. But you could see them clearly, lay your hands on them.

— And the Heaven world?

— You have not seen the Heaven world.

— No, I've not, said Tennyson.

— Well, then?

— You mean go to one of the worlds and then come back?

— Yes, of course come back. You never go to a place from which you can't return.

— You would take me over -

— No, not take you over. The two of us together.

Impossible, Tennyson told himself. It could not be done. Either he was dreaming again or he faced the sleekest con…

— It's possible, said Whisperer. It can be done. It is not a con. You have pondered on the equation world. You have dreamed of it. It will not let you be.

— I could never get a good look at it, said Tennyson. It was always hidden. I knew there was much there that I wasn't seeing.

— Then go with me and see it.

— And understand?

— No, I'm not sure we'll understand. But, together, better than one of us alone.

— You tempt me, Whisperer. Should I take a chance on you?

— No chance, my friend. May I call you friend?

— Not a friend, Whisperer. A partner. Partners also must have trust and faith. And if you fail…

— If I fail?

— Decker would hear of it. You'd lose your only friend.

— The threat is unworthy of you, partner.

— Perhaps it is.

— But you let it stand?

— I let it stand, said Tennyson.

— So let you and I go together to the equation world.

— We'll have to view the cube.

— No need of it. It is fixed within your mind.

— Yes, said Tennyson, but imperfectly. I do not see it all. Some of it is missing.

— It is all there. It needs the digging out. You and I, together, as one person; we can dig it out.

— This togetherness, said Tennyson, is beginning to wear thin on me.

— Think of it as oneness, then. Not two of us, but one. Now think deeply of the equation world. Remember it as best you can. We'll essay to enter it.