Moving Mars (30 page)

A private charter cab took us from the transfer area through Richmond. As a courtesy, we were driven down a cobbled street between rows of houses dating back to the 1890s, past a war monument to a general named Stuart. Alice confirmed that J.E.B. Stuart had died in the Civil War.

As in Washington, the civic center was free of combs and skyscrapers. We might have returned to the late nineteenth century.

The Jefferson Hotel appeared old but well-maintained. Architectural nano busily replaced stone and concrete on the south side as we entered the main doors. The rain stopped and sun played gloriously through the windows of our suite as we hooked Alice into the ex nets and ate a quick lunch, served by an attentive human waiter.

I took an old-fashioned shower in the small antique bathroom, put on my suit, checked my medical kit for immunization updateseach city had new varieties of infectious learning to deal withand joined Allen and Bithras in the hall outside the room.

An arbeiter sent by Wang and Mendoza guided us to a conference room in the basement. There, surrounded by window-less walls of molded plaster, seated at antique wood tables, we once again shook hands with the senators.

Wang graciously pulled out my chair. Every time I come down here, I revert to being a southern gentleman, he said.

They wouldnt have let you into the Confederacy, Mendoza commented dryly.

Nor you, Wang said. Bithras showed no amusement, not even a polite smile.

Its getting harder and harder to even find a good accent in America now, Mendoza said.

Go down to the Old Capital, Wang said, sitting at the opposite end of the thick dark wood table. They have fine accents.

Language is as homogenized as beauty, Mendoza said, with an air of disapproval. Thats why we find Martian accents refreshing.

I could not tell whether the condescension was deliberate or merely clumsy. I could hardly believe these two men did anything without calculation. If the smugness was deliberate, what were we being set up for?

We apologize for the inconvenience, Wang said. Congress rarely cancels such important meetings. Never in my memory, in fact.

We are not impressed by firsts, Bithras said, still cool.

Im sure youve guessed were not inviting you here in our capacity as representatives of die U.S. government. Not strictly speaking, Mendoza said.

Bithras folded his hands on the table.

What we have to say is neither polite, diplomatic, nor particularly subtle, Mendoza continued, his own face hardening. Such words should be reserved for private meetings, not meetings which eventually go into public record.

Are we constrained from discussing this meeting with our citizens? Bithras asked.

Thats up to you, Mendoza said, leveling his gaze on Bithras. You may decide not to. We are issuing what amounts to a threat.

Bithrass eyes grew large, seemed to protrude slightly, and his face turned a brownish-olive where his jaw jnuscles clenched tight. I do not appreciate your attitude. You are speaking for GEWA?

Right, Wang said. But not strictly to you, Mr. Majumdar. You cant be a viable representative of Marss interests, considering

Bithras rose from his chair.

Sit down, please, Wang said, eyes cold, face angelically calm.

Bithras did not sit. Wang shrugged, then nodded to Mendoza. Mendoza removed a small pocket slate and motioned for me to hand him mine. I did, and he transferred documents.

Youll send these back to Mars as soon as possible. Youll discuss them with your BM Council or any other responsible body that might exist at that time, and your appointed group will respond to the Seattle, Kyoto, Karachi, or Beijing offices of GEWA. We require a definitive answer within ninety days.

We wont respond to pressure, Bithras said, the effort at self-control obvious.

Mendoza and Wang were not impressed. I handed Bithras my slate. He quickly scrolled through the first documents. What I cant understand is how two Terrie politicians who pride themselves on civility and sophistication can act like petty thugs.

Mendoza tilted his head to one side and drew up the corners of his mouth in a humored grimace. The Solar System must be unified under a single authority within five years. The best and most balanced authority would be Earths. We must have agreement with the belts and Mars. GEWA, GSHA, and Eurocon are all agreed on this.

I have a solid proposal, Bithras said, if only it will be heard by the right people.

New arrangements must be made, Mendoza said. GEWA will negotiate with duly appointed and elected representatives of a united Mars. For several reasons, you are not acceptable.

I arrive to negotiate and testify before the Congress of the United StatesI am treated badly there

You do not have the faith of the forces at odds with each other on Mars. Cailetet and other BMs have indicated through back-channels that they will not support your proposal.

Cailetet, I said, glancing at Bithras. Bithras shook his head; he didnt need my reminder.

We can deal with them, Bithras said. Cailetet currently relies on Majumdar for financing of many of their Martian projects.

Mendoza frowned with distaste at the implied threat. Thats not all, and its probably not even the most important problem. In a few days, youll be defending yourself in a civil suit against a charge of improper sexual advances. The charges will be filed in the District of Columbia. I dont think youll be effective as a negotiator once those charges are made public.

Bithrass expression froze. I beg your pardon, he said, voice flat.

Please study the documents, Mendoza said. There are plans for unification acceptable to Earth, and suggestions for tactics to implement those plans. Your influence on Mars is not at issue yet. Theres still much you can do there. Our time is up, Mr. Majumdar.

Wang and Mendoza nodded to Allen and myself. We were too stunned to respond. When we were alone in the meeting room, Bithras lowered himself slowly, cautiously into his chair and stared at the wall.

Allen spoke first. What is this? he asked, facing Bithras across the table.

I dont know, Bithras said. A lie.

You must have a clue, Allen pressed. Obviously, its not just a sham.

There was an incident, Bithras said, closing his eyes, cheeks drawing up, making deep crows feet in the corners of his face. It was not serious. I approached a woman.

I could not imagine anything Bithras could do that would bring a civil suit on the very open planet Earth.

She is the daughter of a Memon family, very highly placed, a representative from GEWA in Pakistan. I felt a kinship. I felt very warmly toward her.

What happened?

I approached her. She turned me down.

Thats all?

Her family, Bithras said. He coughed and shook his head. She is Islam Fatima. Married. It may have been a special insult. I am not Muslim. That may be it.

Allen turned to me. I didnt know whether he was going to cry or burst into sudden laughter. He took a deep breath, bit his lower lip, and turned away.

A flush of extraordinary anger rose from my neck to my face. I stood, fists hanging at my sides.

I lay on the bed in my room, sleepless. Through the door I heard Allen and Bithras shouting. Allen demanded details, Bithras said they were of no importance. Allen insisted they bloody well were important. Bithras began to weep. The shouting subsided and I heard only a low murmur that seemed to go on for hours.

Sometime early in the morning, I woke and sat on the edge of the bed. I seemed to be nowhere, nobody. The furnishings in the room meant nothing, mutable as things in a dream. The weight that held me to bed and floor seemed, by an extraordinary synesthesia, political and not physical. Through the translucent blinds on the broad window, I saw gray dawn pick out billows in the carpet of clouds that obscured the river, the tidal basin, everything, washing around the base of the comb.

A message light blinked on my slate. I reached for it automatically, then drew back.

I did not wish to speak with Orianna or read a letter from my parents. It might be days before I silenced the static in my head.

Finally, I acknowledged my inability to let a message go unread. I picked up the slate and scrolled.

It was not from Orianna or my parents.

It was from Senator John Mendoza. He wanted to speak with me alone and in the open, and he did not want me to tell anyone we were meeting.

After a suitable interval, the message blanked, leaving only his office number for a reply.

I brought a bag lunchsandwich and drinkpurchased from an antique vending cart near the Lincoln Memorial. As I approached a marble bench by the reflecting pool, where Mendoza had agreed to meet, I saw he also had a bag lunch. I sat beside him and he greeted me with a cordial smile.

Sometimes, he said, I imagine what it must have been like in government before dataflow, back when there were newspapers printed on paper and maybe television and radio. Things were a lot simpler then. Do you know I am the only senator on the Hill who has no enhancements? His smile broadened. I have a good staff, good, dedicated people. Some of them have enhancements. So Im a hypocrite.

I said nothing.

Miss Majumdar, what happened in Richmond deeply embarrasses me.

Why did we meet in Richmond? I blurted. Because it was the capitol of the Confederacy?

He seemed puzzled for a moment, then shook his head. No. Nothing to do with that. We wished to get you away from Washington, because what Wang and I had to say didnt really come from the U.S. government.

It came from GEWA.

Of course.

You set up my uncle and destroyed his mission. We were easy marks for you, werent we?

Please, Mendoza said, lifting his hand. We did nothing to your uncle. He failed all of usEarth as well as Mars. What happened was inevitablebut I regret it. Your team simply doesnt have GEWAs confidence. Your uncles collision with the Pakistani woman It was nothing we expected or desired. And we cant fix itPakistan is only a marginal member of GEWA. She was a diplomats wife, Miss Majumdar. Your uncle touched her. Well be lucky to settle the case in a few weeks and get your uncle back to Mars.

Why talk with me?

Mendoza leaned toward me, arm straight, hand splayed on the bench, as if about to relate some intimacy. Like me, you have no enhancements and you havent gone through the secular purification of therapy. Youre old-fashioned. I can sympathize with you. Ive read your lit papers and student theses. I sense strongly that you belong to the next generation of leadership on Mars.

I dont think Ill ever get involved with politics again, I said.

Nonsense, Mendoza said with a flash of anger. Mars cant afford to lose people like you. And it cannot afford to rely on people like your uncle.

I grimaced.

Do you realize how important the next few years are going to be? Mendoza asked.

I did not answer.

I dont know half what Id like to know, Mendoza said.

You may eventually know more than I do. You can be at the center of one of the nodes, the teams, in this particular patch of history; Ill always be on the periphery, a messenger boy. But I do know this: people above me are terrified. Ive never seen such confusion and disagreementeven the thinkers disagree. Do you see how extraordinary that is?

I stared at him, the static gone.

Something frightfully powerful is going to be unleashed. Science does that to us every few generationsdrops something in our laps were simply not prepared for. Youd think today wed be prepared for almost anything. Well, at least the folks and thinkers on top see clearly enough that we have to get our house in order, and theyd like to do it before the Big One dropswhatever it might be.

The deep realization of what had until now been gamesmanship and speculation made my stomach churn.

If our house is not in order, and there is a chance of some immature and youthful group of humans discovering and using this new powerwhatever it is Leaders above the Beltway, in Seattle and Tokyo and Beijing, believe there is a chance we will destroy ourselves.

Mendoza frowned deeply, as if just informed one of his children was very ill. You know, Ive been an outcast of sorts in Washington for a decade. Im a Mormon, Im not therapied. But Ive managed to do well. If anybody found out about my talking to you, I could lose everything Ive fought for, all status, all power, all influence.

Why do it, then? I asked.

Did you know its illegal to conduct surveillance-even citizen oversightwithin the capital of any nation on Earth?

I had heard that.

Some things in government must be done in private. Even in this ultra-rational age, when everybody is educated and plebiscites are huge and immediate, there must be times when the rules are not followed.

The Peterson non-absolute, I said. Petersonicon of so many second-form classes in managementsaid that any systern aspiring to total organization and rationalism must leave itself an opportunity to break rules, break protocol, or it will inevitably suffer catastrophic failure.

Exactly. Go home, Miss Majumdar. Choose your mentors and your leaders carefully. Work for unity. However Mars comes into the fold, come in it must. I have studied enough history to see the terrain ahead. The slopes are very steep, the attractors are strong, the solutions very fastand none of them are pleasant.

Im just an assistant, I replied pathetically.

He looked away, expression grim. Then find someone who has the strength to become a pilot and guide you through the storm. He pulled back and adjusted his lapels, picked up his lunch bag, and stood. Good-bye, Miss Majumdar.

Good-bye, I said. Thank you for your confidence.

Mehdoza shrugged and walked across the grass and east toward the Capitol building.

I sat on the bench, head turned toward the Lincoln Memorial, as cold inside as the curve of marble beneath my fingers.

A month later, Bithras, Allen, and I packed for our return to Mars. The packing itself took little time. I had not seen Bithras for several dayshe spent most of his time locked in long-distance communications with Mars, but I think also in deliberate isolation from us.

Allen no longer treated Bithras with the respect due an elder statesman. It cost him dearly to show any respect at all toward our syndic. Bithras did not want to push me into a similar confrontation and be faced with my presumed negative judgment.

But I did not hate him. I barely felt enough to pity him. I simply wanted to go home. Two days before our departure, Bithras came into the suites living room and stood over me as I sat in a chair, studying my slate.

The suit against me has been dropped. Cultural differences pleaded. The ruckus is over, he said. That part of it, anyway.

I looked up. Good, I said.

Ive filed suit on Alices behalf, he said. Majumdar BM seeks a judgment against Mind Design Incorporated of Sorrento Valley, California.

I nodded. He swallowed, staring out the window, and continued as if it were an effort to talk. Ive consulted with Alice One and Alice Two, and with our advocates on Mars, and Im hiring an advocate here. Were seeking a jury trial, with a minimum of two thinkers impaneled on the jury.

Thats smart, I said.

Bithras sat in the chair opposite and folded his hands in his lap. All of this has been done in confidence, but before we leave, I am going to release the details. That will force Mind Design to take the case to court rather than settle in secret. It will be scandalous. They will deny all.

Probably, I agreed.

It will be very bad for GEWA, as well. Our advocate will voice suspicions that Earth is involved in a conspiracy, using Mind Design, to cripple Mars economically. Bithras sighed deeply. I have made mistakes. It is only small relief to believe they have done worse. Alice Two will stay here.