The Devil's Eye

THIRTY-EIGHT

There were rumors that, despite the announcement, there was strong disagreement with the decision. That a dozen worlds, led by Toxicon, were strongly opposed. That Whiteside might even be overruled by the Confederate Council. But the following day, the Director spoke from the Hall of the People on Rimway. He sat behind the plain, battered desk that was part of his image. He looked lost in thought, his dark blue eyes peering past us into the distance. Public figures traditionally sit straight during these events, but Whiteside was supporting his jaw on one fist, his elbow planted on the desktop. His mustache, as always, was unkempt in a way that was intended to suggest a man of action, a decision-maker who could be counted on. He shook his head, as if dismayed by events, inhaled, and finally focused on us. The chair creaked as he leaned forward, reminding me that the omicron carried sound. "Citizens and friends," he said, "you are all aware by now of the desperate situation that has developed on Salud Afar. Administrator Kilgore is doing everything he can to alleviate the situation, but in fact there is little that can be done. The scale of the approaching disaster is simply too great. "Too great by far. "He has appealed to the Confederate Worlds for assistance. I am proud to say we are responding with all the resources at our disposal. Hundreds of ships, many operated by private corporations, and in some cases by individuals, are on their way as I speak to you tonight. Administrator

Kilgore has found a world that is being converted into a refuge. It is not by any means close to Salud Afar, but it is the nearest that nature has provided. "We will be helping to move as many of his people there as we possibly can. We are sending supplies, engineers, and other specialists who will assist in the effort to erect shelters on the new world, which they've named Sanctum . "In addition, we will be sending the Alberta , with its escort of destroyers and support vessels to assist in any way they can. Finally, I'm pleased to report that the Council has voted an aid package totaling six hundred million."

When he was finished, the imager pulled back, and we saw that four senior Council members were in the room with him. It was a display meant to signal unity. He thanked us for our attention, reassured us that the Confederacy would continue to do whatever was humanly possible, and delivered his signature "good night," looking away as he did so, as though other decisions required his immediate attention. That quickly, it was over.

In the morning, we heard the reactions from Assemblage representatives and other prominent Ashiyyureans:

"An opportunity has been missed. And it will not come again." "What else can be expected from a race of yappers?" "The truth is that the Confederacy does not wish to help Salud Afar. That world has, after all, remained outside the human politique. And now they will pay the price. And their politicians, of course, will try to blame it on us." "The real reason for the Director's reluctance is that he intends to move against the Assemblage and hopes this may give him the opportunity."

The attacks gathered force. We were noisemakers, barbarians, savages, troglodytes, and something that Kassel translated-with an amused glitter in his eye-as Yahoos. We were not to be trusted. We were fanatics. We were hopelessly low on the evolutionary scale. One young female, interviewed at a flight school, commented that eventually it would become necessary to exterminate us. She went on, according to Kassel, to suggest that the coming catastrophe at Salud Afar would be exactly what humans deserved. That Salud Afar had nothing to do with the Confederate decision seemed to have gotten past her. Late in the afternoon of the third day after Whiteside's announcement, a group of Kassel's neighbors showed up outside. These were the same ones who'd celebrated with us earlier in the week. They gathered at the front door and waited patiently for Selotta to answer. (Mutes, of course, don't need to knock to signal their arrival.) We were in the living room. Alex and Kassel were playing chess. Kassel, who could see the reason behind every move Alex made, had tried to level the playing field by wearing a blindfold. But it didn't matter. Alex was still getting hammered. Circe had rejoined us. She, Selotta, and I had been talking about what we thought would come next, when Selotta detected our visitors. I got up with her, and when I saw them at the door, my first thought was that they'd come to run us out of town. Or worse. Selotta stopped to glance back at me. Her diamond eyes were simultaneously amused and sad. "It's all right, ladies," she said. "They're still friends." There were six or seven of them. They came in, and they all stood looking at one another and at Selotta, exchanging something. Then, as if they were a single organism, they turned in our direction. One came forward, with a voice box prominently displayed on his collar. "Circe, and Chase, and Alex," he said, "we know what you are going through, we have listened to the slurs that are going around, and we want you to know that we are aware you're not cruel idiots." He stopped. Looked behind him at the others. Touched his lips with a forefinger. "Perhaps I didn't phrase that as I should have." One by one they reached out and touched us. By human standards there wasn't much to it, simply pressing fingers against a forearm, or a shoulder. But it was not an Ashiyyurean gesture. "We want you to know," he continued, "that, if need be, we will stand with you."

There probably weren't more than two dozen human beings in that entire world. Alex said he'd seen two, a young couple, during his first day at the Museum. They'd been delighted to introduce themselves and spend a few minutes with him. Three others showed up at different times on the omicron. They all tried to defend the Confederacy's action, arguing that surely anyone could understand their caution. They expressed their dismay that hostilities continued between the two species, but they were all certain that a peaceful future lay just over the horizon. They themselves of course found individual Ashiyyureans to be unfailingly polite and, as one said, "good people." We just have to give it time.

Give it time.

While a tsunami of gamma rays raced toward Salud Afar at light speed.

Giambrey also showed up on the omicron, doing an interview. The one dicey moment came when he was asked to comment on the decision by Whiteside to send only a handful of naval ships to Salud Afar. "I understand why he did it," said Giambrey, seeing no advantage in criticizing the Confederate leader. "I'm sure it doesn't reflect a lack of trust in the Ashiyyurean leadership, but is simply an act of caution. I would have preferred he send more assistance, but I think we have to admit at least that it's a start in the right direction."

I couldn't help wondering how the fractals were playing for the Mutes. It's a lot harder to deal in nonsense when you're sitting on a nudist beach. Alex grinned at me. "Dead on, Chase," he said. I hadn't realized I'd said it aloud, and thought for a moment that Alex too had been poking around in my mind. "The nudist beach?" I said. "No. Not nudist. They got you off that raft. When the, what was it, the vacabubu , was there. Right?" "Vooparoo," I said. "My point is, they came to your rescue." "Of course they did. What would you expect, Alex?" Alex looked at Kassel. "When you guys are on the omicron, your thoughts are picked up and broadcast, right?" "That's correct," said Kassel. "How about Giambrey? Did the system pick up his thoughts as well? Or did he have to be translated in some way?" "The interviewer reads Giambrey. It's the interviewer's reading that gets broadcast rather than Giambrey directly." "Why?" Kassel hesitated. "Because," he said, and trailed off. "Because the system simply doesn't work with human brains." "We're too dumb?" suggested Alex. "I wouldn't put it that way." Selotta broke in: "Human brains operate at a different energy level. I don't know the details, have never been good at fractals, but that's the reality." "Tell me," said Alex, "do you read humans as easily as you do each other?" "No." She shifted her position on the chair. Tried to get comfortable. "No. Humans are more difficult." "How about human nonverbals? Are you able to interpret them?" Her eyes grew luminous. "You mean like how the pitch in your voice changed when you asked whether we think you're not too bright?" "That's what I thought." He turned back to Kassel. "Why has no one been here to interview us ?" Kassel took that one: "They have Giambrey. When they found out a delegation was here, they'd naturally want to talk primarily to the ambassador." Giambrey was still talking. Selotta had lowered the volume, but I caught part of it. "I'm sure," he said, "we can find common ground to get over this difficulty. We simply need to dialogue more often." " Dialogue 's the wrong verb," I growled. "We need to talk ."

Alex looked far away for a moment. "Kassel," he said finally, "could an interview be arranged for us?" "Sure. You're thinking about Chase on the beach?" "Yes" "Ah," he said. "It might work." "Me on the beach? What are we talking about?" Alex got that look in his eye that I associated with a request to run off to Backwater IV to secure an ancient cooling system. "Chase," he said, "would you be willing to do an interview?" "Me? Not on your life, sweetheart. I'll take on sea monsters, if you want, and ride taxis into the upper altitudes, and I can even deal with ghosts in the woods. But I don't do interviews." "All you have to do is say what you think." "Alex, why?" "Trust me." "Why don't you do it? You do this kind of thing all the time." "That's the problem. I might be a bit jaded. You are the one who was out on the raft. Nobody else can do it. Anyhow, you're a much more sympathetic person than I am." Selotta squeezed my shoulder. "Chase," she said, "he knows what he's talking about."

Kassel made a call. It, too, like so much else on this world, was silent. He simply looked at his link for a minute or two, did no physical reaction of any kind, and closed the device. "We are all set," he said. "And we have exactly the right person to conduct the interview." "Who?" Kassel stood silently for a moment. Then: "He says we will use the name 'Ordahl.' And I should tell you he's the local equivalent of Walker Ankavo," said Kassel. They claim they can only read conscious thoughts, but I don't believe it. Walter Ankavo was probably the most celebrated journalist on Rimway. But he hadn't crossed my mind in months. Alex claimed she didn't get it from him either. Well, whatever. In any case, he would arrive the next day. "They're going to record it in the morning and broadcast it tomorrow night," Kassel said. "I don't think this is a good idea," I said. "Chase, you'll be fine. We need to get the general population past the notion we're savages. Who better to do that than you?" "I agree," said Kassel. "Lord," I said. "When it blows up, I want everybody to remember it wasn't my idea." "It won't blow up." I climbed onto a chair. Wished my feet could touch the floor. "Will we be going into a studio somewhere?" "No. They're going to do it here. They figure you'll be more comfortable that way." "They got that from you." "Possibly." He tilted his head, which was meant to indicate I shouldn't worry. "You'll be fine," he said. "What am I supposed to tell them? What's the point of all this?" "All you have to do is talk to Ordahl," said Alex. He gave me an encouraging smile. "One of Selotta's neighbors made the comment that things would be better if they and we could socialize a bit. That we've never really had a chance to get to know one another. That's what we want to do here. We want the public to see the very best we have to offer." "So you're hanging me out there? My God, Alex-" "Just go along with it," he said. "Be yourself. And run with your instincts. You'll be fine." "Right." "You will ," said Selotta. "If the thought passes through your mind that Mutes are incredibly sexy creatures and much to be sought after"-she glanced at Kassel, who let his head drift onto the back of his chair-"there's no need to be defensive. Everybody will understand. "Keep in mind that language is a code. Ordahl, and his audience, won't be able to read the words you form in your head. Only the images. And the emotions. And whatever other drives you have going on."

They arrived in a blue-and-gold skimmer and hovered over the villa. "They're taking pictures," said Kassel. After a while they landed and brought equipment inside. Directed by a female, a team of three moved the furniture around, set up the recording gear, explained to Selotta and Kassel how, once they got started, everybody other than the principals would have to leave the building. When they'd finished, they climbed back into the skimmer, promising to return shortly, and vanished into the late-morning sky. "How big an audience does this guy get?" I asked. Kassel thought about it. "The latest surveys show forty million or so. It's big . The critical thing, though, is its composition. It includes the"-he paused, searching for a phrase-"the movers and shakers. You want to make a splash, this is the way you do it." He paused and looked in the direction the skimmer had taken. "I wish I could get them to pay this much attention to me ." Make a splash. That called the vooparoo to mind again. It might not have been so bad had Alex not kept telling me I'd do fine. You won't screw up. After all, what could go wrong? Don't worry, Chase, you're a natural. After a while he stopped. Maybe he figured out he wasn't helping, or maybe our hosts read my state of mind and advised him to knock it off. Whatever, Selotta tried to change the subject to what a good dinner we were going to have. Kassel started talking about the Mute philosopher Tulisofala and the Kaiman Cliffs, and Alex pretended to read. Two hours later, the skimmer came back. The female climbed out and came inside. She made some adjustments with the omicron. She was still not wearing a voice box. I think she regarded Alex and me as pet chimps. She stiffened, so I knew she had picked that up. I pictured a banana. Really like them. Yum-yum. She kept working while I munched the banana. Selotta suggested that was not the way to win them over. Meanwhile, a second skimmer arrived, and a guy who was obviously Ordahl stepped out and looked around. He wore a bright gold robe. I watched him take a chain out of a small black package. It was his voice box, which he studied for a moment before looping it around his neck. He strode imposingly up the walkway. Kassel met him at the door and showed him inside. He was your standard Mute, almost two heads taller than I was. His skin was not gray, like all the others I'd seen in my limited travels, but almost gold. There was, of course, no expression to read, just the long jaws and the diamond eyes. He did an exchange with Selotta and Kassel. Then, after a few seconds, they all turned to Alex and me. Kassel did the introductions, and Ordahl responded by saying he was pleased to meet us. One of the many problems inherent in communicating with the Ashiyyur is that whoever manufactures the voice boxes apparently makes only two types: one for each gender. Otherwise, the voices are identical. So at first, while we tried to get set up, I was seldom sure whether Kassel or Ordahl was talking. It would have been okay had either moved his lips. Kassel grasped the situation and moved well away from Ordahl so it became easier to know where the voice was coming from. Finally, everybody filed outside. They took seats in the skimmers, or on the deck. The female closed the doors, and I was alone with Ordahl. He asked if I was ready to begin. That was purely a formality because he had to know I wasn't ready, and never would be. "Yes," I said, trying to be casual. "Relax." He let me see his fangs and pointed at the chairs. A smile or a promise of extermination? "Why don't we sit, Chase?" The chairs had been placed facing each other in front of a lavender curtain mounted by the crew specifically as a backdrop. "Sure," I said. "I'm ready when you are." "Good. We won't start recording for a few minutes. If that's okay with you." "That's fine." "May I make a comment?" "Sure," I said. "You look very good." "I beg your pardon?" "Don't misunderstand me. You are everything I'd hoped. You're quite alien . And you're unsettling. Not

someone with whom I'd want to be alone. That's precisely what we want. I'd been concerned that you would simply look like a different life-form. But you really do have a quality that is"-he stopped, trying to think what he wanted to say-"disquieting." "Okay. I'm glad I didn't disappoint you." I let him see my incisors, but he didn't seem to notice. "Good." We talked for a few minutes, about my impressions of Borkarat, and how difficult it was to communicate using grunts, snarls, and aspirates. Then he asked again whether I was ready. "Yes." Let's get it over with. A green lamp blinked on. "Chase Kolpath, I'd like to welcome you to Newsmaker . The show has been running for thirty-two years, and you're the first human who's been our guest." "It's a pleasure to be here, Ordahl." "May I ask how long you've been on Borkarat, Chase?" "Just a couple of weeks." We went back and forth for several minutes. What was my connection with the mission from Salud Afar? How had I come to be on that world? Was it really true that the Administrator's staff knew of the Callistra event before we reported it to him? Uh-oh. "I really have no way of knowing the answer to that, Ordahl. But I'd be shocked to learn that the Administrator had been aware of the problem in advance." We went through a series of preliminaries. Would I explain what I did for a living and why I'd come to Borkarat? What did it feel like to be isolated inside my mind? What was my reaction to living among a race that communicated so differently? Did I feel a sense of release to know that I was now open to others, and that everything I knew could be made available to them with no effort on my part? "No," I admitted. "It scares the daylights out of me." "Why? Why are humans so frightened of truth? So literally terrified that others will find out what they think? What they feel? Are they really that deceptive?" "Nobody's frightened of the truth, Ordahl. But we think privacy counts for something, too." "Yes. Thus you value your ability to conceal the truth from one another." "Sometimes truth is painful. For example, revealing some parts of daily life is tasteless. There are details of physical reality that we all know about, but we don't want them pushed into our consciousness on a regular basis." "Such as?" "Such as whether my notable interviewer feels a need to go to the bathroom." I wondered how a comedian got by on a world in which nobody ever laughed? "What," he asked, "is a comedian?" His tone suggested an adult trying to talk sense to a child. I resisted the impulse to fall back on my charm. My soft gray eyes and long black hair. I had good features and a killer smile. Ordinarily, they were more than enough to cow male opposition. But I had no way to charm that hulk. Whatever allure I possessed was missing in action. "Surely," he said, "you must understand that many of the problems between your species and the Ashiyyur spring from the willingness of humans to engage in deceit." "Some of the problems are a result of Ashiyyurean hubris." "Ah. Could you explain, please?" "Ashiyyureans think they are superior. I'm not sure why they would believe that, other than that they share a common consciousness. Are you more intelligent than we are? If you were, surely you'd have found a way to make peace with us. I know we can be noisy neighbors, but we don't want to be fighting incessant border wars. And neither do you. Neither side profits from them. Why are you unable to persuade us to do what is in our own self-interest?" Eventually we got to the point. "You came hoping to enlist a promise from us that we would call a halt to hostilities so that your combat fleets could go to the rescue at Salud Afar." "Yes. That's correct." "And you got that promise. We have agreed to stand down during the emergency."

"Yes." "Let me run your Director's response." Whiteside appeared, standing on a podium, surrounded by flags and symbols of the Confederacy. "We will be sending the Alberta , with its escort of destroyers and support vessels to assist in any way they can." "Eleven ships," said Ordahl. "Do humans value the lives of their own so cheaply that they cannot bring themselves to get serious about a rescue effort?" "He doesn't speak for me," I said. "He speaks for the Confederacy. He was elected by you, was he not?" "Not by me. By the voters." "Twice, in fact." "Yes." "Then how can you imply he does not represent you?" "Okay, look: In this, he doesn't represent me, and I suspect he doesn't represent a majority of the people across the Confederacy. I don't really know about that, though. I can't speak for them. But they've already started voting with their resources. They're sending food and supplies. Those who have ships have, in large numbers, begun traveling to Salud Afar to lend what assistance they can. "For God's sake, Ordahl, two billion people live out there. There's a plan to save them. If we can get sufficient ships in place. I'm sure you already know about the shield, but let me go over it anyhow for your viewers." I did. I explained, visualized, agonized over, however you want to describe it, the effort that had every potential to succeed, to save a world. I pictured families in parks, and women with children on beaches, and people reading quietly in libraries, and crowds listening to concerts. "Unless the shield can be made to work, all these people will die. You ask me about Whiteside's decision, and you want to hold me responsible for it. That's silly. We have a leader who, for political purposes, or ideological ones-Who really knows?-will play on old animosities and old fears, and will hold the fleet back. He does not speak for me. But I understand why they don't trust the Ashiyyur. And because of that, they'll stand by while a world dies."

"Because of us?"

"They don't trust you. And you're behaving as if the attacks at Pelioz and Seachange never happened." "Those were provoked." "From our perspective, that is not so. And they came without warning." "Chase-" "Look, let's not drag this out of the closet again. All this animosity has gone on for two centuries, and both sides have a lot to answer for. So we're at a point where neither side trusts the other. And because of that, we're about to do something that we'll be answering for as long as there's a human anywhere. And maybe you will, too. "The truth is that Whiteside's decision to keep the fleet at home is pure politics. He knows that the fleet ultimately cannot protect the Confederate worlds. It can only retaliate in the event of attack. The same is true of your force. Defense is not possible against the kind of armament we mount. So it really wouldn't matter whether the fleet was at home or not. It wouldn't save a single world. It only means that retaliation would take a bit longer. And I'd ask Director Whiteside, and the people of the Confederacy, whether that delay of a few weeks is worth the sacrifice of a world. "We and you are the same. Where it matters, there is no essential difference. Plato ranks with Tulisofala. You stage Hamlet . We love our children, as you do. We enjoy the beach in summer, as you do. I was on a beach the other day and swam out to a raft. I wasn't aware that a vooparoo warning had been issued. What was a vooparoo anyway? I had no idea. "But one of your children came out to warn me. To get me off. Even though he couldn't communicate with me. Even though he put himself at risk. Even though he was repulsed by the way I look, he came for me. "He acted. Despite everything, despite even his instincts, he acted. It's what we need to do." I was looking at Ordahl, but I was talking, finally, to Whiteside. "You have an opportunity now to forge a bond between the two species. And you're blowing it, Mr. Director.

"I'm asking you to do what that young male did the other day. You risk nothing except political advantage. Send the fleet."