Gengis Hall 231 was just like any other meet venue that Kaleem had been
in – either here on Zandra or on Terrestra. Boring, but particularly so when
your meet partner was running late. Kaleem stared at the holoscene which showed
through the window. At least it was convincing. You really felt as if you were
looking at a view through a window, just like you might on Terrestra. It was
storied from a real place: one of the infant forests, complete with bluebells,
ice-bells and all the rest, one of the very forests that his father was working
on.
He gets everywhere,
thought Kaleem. He wished Edmundson would hurry up. He needed to find out
what he wanted. He was beginning to imagine all sorts.
The dataserve whirred into life. Edmundson’s face
appeared on the screen.
“Listen Kennedy,” he said. “I’m going to be another
fifteen minutes at least. Load the stuff about acorn and vaccine exchange. You
tell me what those statistics mean.”
“Of course,” said Kaleem.
Edmundson was still not giving anything away.
The screen blanked over before Edmundson said goodbye.
In fact, Kaleem, supposed, he probably hadn’t said goodbye. Edmundson never
wasted time on superfluous words. Before
he even thought about what he’d been asked to do, the screen suddenly started
showing the Supercraft at London
Harbour and Zandra Dock
1. He was now watching similar scenes to the ones he’d seen yesterday. He
didn’t bother, though, this time asking for the Figurescript version of the
statistics. He was fairly certain that Edmundson couldn’t read Figurescript.
It was quite mesmerising listening to the robotic
voiceover. “Day 116 3520, acorns imported 7500, vaccine exported 5679.
Viability in package from day 116 3519 96%. Vaccine to date 97% effective.
Forecast for new needs, Day 118 3520, 17,000 acorns, 18,644 doses of vaccine.
Forecast for reciprocal needs met Day 220 3527…”
Goodness, if I
ever can’t sleep, thought Kaleem, I’ll load some of this stuff up.
It struck him as he watched the split screen picture
of London Harbour and Zandra Dock 1 that although Zandrian droids and Supercraft
were not quite the same, there was more the same about them than different. The
Supercraft were more or less the same shape and had the entrances in exactly
the same places, the droids were the same height and walked in the normal slightly
stiff manner and the metal containers being loaded at either end were exactly
the same size, colour and shape, but the Zandrian ones had a green cross on
them to show that they held medication and the Terrestrans had green hexagons
to show that they contained plant life.
“Do you see what’s missing?” a voice behind him asked.
Kaleem jumped.
He turned to face Don Edmundson. The
man was even scarier in the flesh than he was usually on screen. There was
absolutely no expression on his face at all.
Kaleem shook his head. He just
couldn’t think with Edmundson staring at him like that.
“Doesn’t it strike you as odd that
there are no people around?”
Kaleem looked back at the screen.
Well there were people, but only a very few. Most of the work was being done by
the droids.
“I mean, getting on and off the Supercraft,”
said Edmundson.
“Forecast daily rate for this lunar
period,” the robotic voiceover droned on.
“Fine, we know,” said Edmundson,
looking pointedly at the dataserve screen.
The screen went blank immediately and
the serve itself gave a final bleep.
Edmundson nodded to Kaleem that he
should sit down and took one of the not-so comfisessels himself.
“Everything is going according to
plan,” said Edmundson, “as far as acorns and vaccine are concerned. But another
part of the bargain was a greater connection between the people of Zandra and
Terrestra. I don’t see it happening.”
“What do you mean exactly?” asked
Kaleem.
“I mean that we need people,
Terrestrans, to come to Zandra now. And we need to get Zandrians on Terrestra.”
Yes. Of course. Kaleem had known that
all along. In fact that had even been his excuse for coming here. Or that was
what he had told everyone including his parents and his grandparents: he was
here on a Peace Child mission. He had to oversee the first visits to Zandra
from Terrestrans and then increase the number of visitors from Terrestra to
Zandra. There had been just a few – himself, his mother and the small team that
had come across on the first mission to Zandra in search of the vaccine against
the Starlight Racer disease. If he was honest, though, he had really come here
to get away from Rozia and everything associated with her.
“Well? said Edmundson. “Do you have
any concrete plans yet?”
“No,” said Kaleem. “You can imagine
how carefully we have to tread with Terrestrans.”
“I don’t have to imagine,” replied
Edmundson quickly. “It’s all too obvious. It was part of the original agreement
that an exchange of persons as well as materials would actually take place. You
and your mother are hardly enough. And besides, that is not an exchange: there
are no Zandrians on Terrestra.”
Kaleem knew he was absolutely right.
He would have to do something and soon. He would probably have to ask Razjosh
for ideas.
“I suggest,” Edmundson continued, “a
person exchange. Six people go from here to Terrestra, and meet with six
Terrestran delegates. They travel back to Zandra with our people. Not too much
to ask is it, just for a start?”
No, it wasn’t. But Kaleem knew he
would be pushed to find six. Maybe Pierre and Stuart. Razjosh was too old
really and probably wouldn’t count as he’d been before. Rozia, he knew, would
come like a shot. He daren’t ask her, though. He wouldn’t be able to cope with
her being there. Not now that she was with Julien. Abel and Kevik – but they
were too busy in the Z Zone. Saratina maybe? But how would they react to her
here? No, he shouldn’t think like that.
“Well?” asked Edmundson.
“It sounds reasonable,” said Kaleem.
Reasonable but almost impossible.
“Good,” said Edmundson. “I’ll get
Emmerline to show you the ideas we’d had.”
Kaleem shuddered. Edmundson’s
secretary droid was famous. It was always difficult to remember that she wasn’t
a real woman. She was so life-like and always carried so much authority. But of
course, not being human she never tired.
The door swished open and in she
came. Only the slightest jerkiness in her movements and the data that started
streaming across the screen as she moved into the room gave away that she was a
droid and not a sexy young woman. She moved her hips as she walked and her long
straight blond hair flowed behind her as she moved. She was connecting directly
with the dataserve, though. Soon images flickered and flashed making Kaleem
blink. So, she was a droid after all.
“Data download is now complete,” said
Emmerline. The voice was astoundingly human. No way was she a droid. Why was
Edmundson the only one to have something as sophisticated as this? She tossed
her sleek hair back and smiled at Kaleem and Edmundson.
“Talk him through it,” said Edmundson.
“Yes, certainly. A delegation of about six persons should go to
Terrestra. Kaleem should help decide who. They should have a diplomatic tour,
stay in a good hotel but also have direct contact with Normal Zoners and of at
least one in the newly integrating Z Zone. They should have ample opportunity
to sample Terrestran food…”
“What would you know about that?”
whispered Kaleem. Droids didn’t need food – well at least not the same sort
that humans needed.
“It’s a most important part of human
life,” said Emmerline, staring at him. The pupils on her artificial eyes
widened as if she was trying to take more of him in.
Great elders, she was scary. The
scariest female that Kaleem had ever met… not that she was really female, he
reminded himself. She was just a machine.
“Essential, in fact,” continued
Emmerline. “Fundamental. And also extremely puzzling why food is so much better
here on Zandra than on Terrestra where you have better raw materials.”
Kaleem had to concede that one. And
he had no idea how they did it either.
“Naturally, we would also like to
learn more about your diastics systems,” continued Emmerline. “My searches
reveal the following academics may be able to give advice.”
Movie clips of Terrestran scientists
showed for a few seconds each on the screen.
And
to think all you need is microchips and some good programming, thought
Kaleem.
“We would also like to arrange a
discussion between the delegates and a committee made up of heads of service
and elders. And yourself of course.” She flashed Kaleem another smile. She
flicked her hair out of her eyes and her pupils grew even larger as if she were
flirting with him.
For a few seconds Kaleem was almost
convinced that she really was human and that it was just some trick of
Edmundson’s and a female friend of his. Edmundson seemed to be finding it all
extremely amusing.
“Show him the timetable,” he said to
the droid. It was clear he could hardly keep his face straight.
A chart immediately appeared on the
data screen.
“These show the timings,” said
Emmerline. “Red is for food discussion, blue for investigation of scientific
matters, yellow for social activities and purple for further negotiation of the
peace.”
Now Kaleem wanted to giggle. This was
just too much. It was much too precise.
Edmundson suddenly looked stern.
“Stand-by,” he ordered Emmerline.
“You see, she really is a droid.”
“No, no,” said Kaleem. “I just found
it all too neat and tidy. You can’t do things that quickly.”
“Hmm,” said Edmundson. “But it ought
to be a lot more focussed than you’re making it.” He turned back to the droid.
“Continue,” he commanded. “Show Terrestrans on Zandra.”
A movie clip loaded on to the screen.
Kaleem gasped. There were Pierre, Stuart, Saratina, Rozia, Sandi Depra and Ben
Alki. They were here, on Zandra, looking at one of the oak plantations. Of
course, why hadn’t he thought of those two?
“It‘s all right,” said Edmundson.
“She can read your mind.”
“But I never thought of Ben Alki or
Sandi Depra,” Kaleem murmured.
“Good, isn’t she?” continued Edmundson. “She can even
read your subconscious mind.” He was grinning.
Here we go, thought Kaleem. Another mission
impossible.
The droid whispered something to Edmundson. The
executive’s face went pale.
“Really? He said. He turned to Kaleem. “I’d get home
as soon as possible if I were you. You don’t want to be caught here with me
with what might be about to happen.” What was he talking about?
“Go on, I mean it,” said Edmundson, his face now red.
“Skedaddle.”
Kaleem could see that he meant business. He set off home.
