The Tower: Imagining a Tower

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Enmerkar looked steadily at the stranger.

“What did the King say he wanted?”

“He says he wants to discuss a plan for a new building, something very big. Perhaps the biggest he has ever planned,” the messenger replied. 

The man’s clothes were covered in dust. He had obviously been riding a long time. In this heat as well.

“You must be tired and thirsty,” said Enmerkar. “May I offer you some refreshment?”

The messenger nodded and bowed slightly.

“Mariam,” called Enmerkar.

His sister arrived. Her eyes met his, she smiled briefly, bowed to the messenger and then lowered her eyes. Even with her head covered and even though her diamond-like eyes were no longer showing, she was more beautiful than any woman Enmerkar had ever met. No, he didn’t have any improper thoughts about her. She was his sister and you just did not think that way about your sister. But it did make it difficult for him to take a wife himself. His sister was setting a high standard. Besides, he had to look after her until he had found a husband for her and she was married. That was proving difficult.       

Enmerkar smiled to himself, though, as he watched the man’s eyes grew round. His sister always had this effect. No man between here and Babylon was able to resist her. Despite his tiredness, this man, Enmerkar could see, was aroused.

“Fetch some wine, some olives and some of our best cheese,” commanded Enmerkar. “And wear a full veil when you return,” he whispered.

“She is betrothed?” asked the stranger after Mariam had left them.

Enmerkar sighed. “No, she is far too fussy. Much too grand to elect a mere messenger from the king.”

The man blushed.

Enmerkar regretted what he had said straight away. He was not superior to this man. Yes, he was a master builder, like their father had been. They were a well-respected family and were quite wealthy now but they were after all just workers, servants almost. Someone from the king’s court would actually be a very good match indeed for Mariam.  

“Do you have any idea what he actually wants?” asked Enmerkar as he watched the man eat and drink.

“No, just that it is a big project,” replied the man. “A little crazy perhaps.”

“And there is no other builder who can do it?” asked Enmerkar.

The man shook his head. “He asked for you.”

Enmerkar sighed. “Well, I guess we should set off at sunrise tomorrow. But I warn you, I shall have to bring my sister.”          

King Nimrod slowly paced up and down as he talked. He waved his long arms every time he spoke.

“It will have to be the grandest building ever made. It must be glorious. It must speak to God!” He turned to look at Enmerkar. “You will have your chance, my friend,” he said, “to show off your fine building skills. To use your little baked bricks. It will be your moment of glory.”

Enmerkar shuddered inside. The type of building project Nimrod seemed to be talking about would take years. He only had a few skilled men who knew how to make the bricks and how to slime them together. Even training up others would take months. And he daren’t use unskilled workers.

And Nimrod was being so vague about exactly what he did want.  

“Is there really no other builder you can use?” asked Enmerkar. But he already knew the answer. He was, after all, the master builder.

Nimrod stopped pacing. “I will even accept your sister as a wife for my youngest son,” he said. “Without a dowry.” Then he laughed. “Though with what I propose to pay you for this project you could give a handsome dowry for a dozen sisters.”

That would be something, Enmerkar supposed. Get Mariam off his hands. Surely she would not object to marrying a prince? Even if it was not one of the heirs to the royal title. In fact, Nimrod’s youngest son, Joshua was far pleasanter than the twins, Hunor and Magor.  He’d even seen Mariam talking to him and laughing – without her face veil, the hussy – so perhaps already something was there. Perhaps this young man could make her happy.

He would have to accept this challenge. The building was going to be difficult. At least his sister would be settled and maybe he too would have time to seek out a wife. Maybe a fine one, here at the court. And with the sum Nimrod was prepared to pay, he would never have to think about money again.

“Very well,” he said. “But only if I have full control over the design, the choice of materials, the choice of workers and the pace at which the work is completed.”

“Indeed, my friend,” replied Nimrod and embraced Enmerkar.

The king was a tall, muscular man and immensely strong. Enmerkar could barely breathe as Nimrod squeezed him.

“Now let us send for our young relatives and let them know the good news,” said the king, finally letting Enmerkar go.    

It was even hotter here at the palace than at home. Enmerkar was finding it difficult to think straight. He dreaded baking the bricks for such a project. Would it be easier to have them made at home and transported here? It would be cooler there. A little at least. 

Home. Ah! This would be his home now. For years. Yes, years, not months.

There was one consolation. Mariam had accepted Joshua as a husband with only a little protest. “Oh, but why not Magor or Hunor? Think, brother, your sister as a queen!” In the end, though, she’d settled for Joshua. And he’d been right; they were falling in love. He’d even caught them lying together and had had to play the angry brother – though not too much so, because he was dealing with the king’s son. Secretly, though, he was pleased. So, a wedding had to be planned too. The sooner the better perhaps, if that couple were to carry on being so promiscuous. A prince’s bride should not be with child when she marries. Planning a wedding anyway was a welcome distraction from planning this impossible tower.  And there was something further that was also occupying his mind: the friendship he was enjoying with Naomi, the king’s niece. Could it be… would she be the one? She didn’t excite him, hardly aroused him even, but she was certainly pretty enough. Good company, in fact. He presumed love would grow …

But now he must get back to the tower. If he made it 5433 cubits, if he made it taper… then surely the bricks at the bottom wouldn’t collapse. He wanted it to be a sort of Ziggurat, Nimrod had said, but much bigger than normal. Just how many bricks would that need? How much clay would he have to find and how many men would he need to fetch the clay, shape the bricks and then put them together? He had some calculations to do now. He must not be distracted by the thoughts of weddings and of women.   

Soon he was absorbed again in his mathematics. The base was going to have to be huge so that the tower could taper and still be useful at the top. No one had been able to tell him - not even the sages Nimrod had asked in for advice – just how high he would have to make the tower so that it would touch the sky. But if Nimrod really wanted a true Ziggurat… well the spiral pathway up the tower would be so wide that he would be able to place small lodgings at the sides… maybe even small fields for the animals. And of course, people walking to the top or travelling by ass would need places to rest and take some refreshment. It wouldn’t just be a tower. It would be a whole city.

The noise of someone clearing their throat broke his concentration.

“And so how is it going, my fine friend?” asked Baltuus.

Enmerkar recognized the man he had dined with the night before. He was one of the sages who knew a lot about mathematics

Enmerkar sighed. “It is going to take a lot of clay, a lot of fire to bake the bricks and a lot of men. And no end of time.” He looked down at the notes he had made. “Seventeen years. And only then if I can find enough good men to train and if their training works.”

Baltuus shook his head. “Why must he build the tower so high? What does he hope to gain by it?”

“He wants to show what man can achieve,” replied Enmerkar.

“But why not just build a fine city?” asked Baltuus. “Won’t that do just as well, be more useful, and in fact much easier to build?”

“He wants to stretch it to Heaven, so that even Yahweh will have to admire how great man is,” replied Enmerkar.

Baltuus shook his head, as he examined Enmerkar’s calculations. “That will never work, my friend.”

“The bricks won’t hold, you mean?” asked Enmerkar.

“No, no, no, not that,” replied Baltuus. “Your calculations are correct. I’m talking about trying to impress Yahweh. Look around you. Look at the mountains and the seas. And the trees and the beasts. Now that is an impressive creation. Your tower is nothing in comparison.

“Now if you said that you were building the tower so that you could talk more easily with Yahweh, that might be a different matter,” said Baltuus.

“It would make him angry,” answered Enmerkar. He could just picture Nimrod’s answer to that.

Baltuus nodded his head and tapped Enmerkar’s shoulder. “Take care, my friend,” he said. “You are right. This tower will cause anger.”   

Despite the heat, Enmerkar shivered.

Girl in a Smart Uniform 23 March 1932 : food fight?

The doorbell rang. I didn’t want to get up and answer it straight away. I was too absorbed in my history project. Whoever was there rang again and again. Then they kept their finger on the bell. It got louder and louder and started to hurt my ears. All right then. I opened the door, and there was Thomas standing on the step.

“Will you do something for me?”

“What? Why?”

“My mother’s expecting a parcel and I‘ve got to go out.”

“Why can’t you wait for it?”

“Because we’re going on a hike, and we’re going to build a campfire and cook on it.” His eyes were shining.

“Well I hope you don’t mess up your lovely new uniform.” I felt a bit mean as soon as I’d said it.

“You could join the Jungmädel.”

Hmm. Herr Silber kept saying he would buy me the uniform and Kurt thought it would be a good idea. Bear, though, said I would have plenty of time for those sorts of things later. Mutti just smiled and shrugged her shoulders every time the subject came up. Anyway, back then, I wasn’t sure I was thant keen on creepy crawlies and sleeping outside. I wished, though, that I could enjoy things like Thomas did.

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Well, can you take this parcel or not?”

“Yeah, I guess. Just leave a note on the door.” 

“Well I hope you don’t get the hook-nose.”

“Hook-nose?”

“He’s a Jew.”

“So?”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “Don’t you know anything? You know. Jesus-hater. Home-wrecker. Work-stealer.”

What was he talking about? “Oh, just put a note on the door and tell him to come here.”

            Thomas jumped on the spot and clapped his hands. “Thanks.” 

I shut the door and returned to my project. What an idiot! Getting so excited about going out into the countryside with a load of other idiots. 

Soon I was once again trying to work out who German people were really supposed to be. Herr Lindemann was always going on about how we should be proud to be German and we should look at all the history books to see how great Germans really were. But we’re not. We’re poor and we keep losing wars.

Then I heard Bear coming down the stairs.

“Hey, Giselchen. Are you doing your homework on a nice sunny day like today? You should be out getting some fresh air.”

I smiled to myself. I knew why he was in such a good mood. He’d come back on leave last night and he’d gone for a walk with Helga Brassel. Maybe they’d kissed. I was a bit jealous in a way. Maybe when he came home now he wouldn’t have so much time for me. Never mind, though, I was glad he was happy. He was so nice, my big Bear brother. Especially when he was cheerful. And that always made it nicer for me as well.

He leaned over to see what I was writing. “Oh, oh, oh. The glorious German people. Do you think so, really?”

“It’s what Herr Lindemann says.”

 “Well, if it’s what your teacher says, I suppose it must be true. Or at least you’d better pretend to agree just in case.”

As if I’d ever not do what my teacher told me. What was he thinking?

The doorbell rang again. Before I could get up out of my seat Bear had rushed to the front door and opened it. It was the parcel man. I could tell by the conversation.

“That right Giselchen? You’re to take in a parcel for Thomas’s Mutti?”

Did he have to call me that in front of other people? I quite liked it when we were at home together as a family. But I was growing up now and ought to be called by my proper name. “Yes,” I called.

A few moments later he came back into the kitchen with a large brown box. “I wonder what they’ve been buying? It’s not very heavy.”

“Was it the hook-nose?”

“What?”

“The hook-nose.” What else had Thomas said? “The Jesus-hater?”

“Now then.” Bear’s eyes were flashing. I’d never known him be angry before. Well not with me, anyway. Sometimes when he and Kurt argued perhaps. “Do you mean was he Jewish? Yes he was – is. They’re just people, Gisela. Remember that. Just people.”

I felt my cheeks burning. I didn’t know what to say. 

Bear made himself some breakfast and sat reading the newspaper. He was really cross with me and I didn’t really understand what I’d done wrong. Okay, so Thomas had been a bit cruel in what he’d said but hadn’t Herr Lindemann said almost the same thing? That the German people were good and it was others who were making life difficult for us. Didn’t that mean the Jews?

About an hour later Bear stood up. “I’m going for a walk.”

I would have liked to go with him but something about the way he looked at me told me that that wasn’t an option this time. 

Not long after I’d done as much as I could on the history project. I was getting confused, anyway. It didn’t really make sense. Nobody seemed to like the Germans because of the war but Herr Lindemann had kept telling all of us in our class how great the German people were. And the Germans didn’t like the Jews but the Jews were some of the cleverest people around – good business men, doctors and lawyers. I was worried as well that Bear might still be cross and that he wouldn’t want to spend time with me – especially now that Helga was on the scene. Is that where he had gone now? Was that why he hadn’t wanted me to go with him? What could I do to get back into his good books?

I saw his boots standing in the shoe rack. They were pretty dirty. That was it. I could clean them for him.

I put out newspaper and organised the shoe-cleaning things. I brushed off the loose mud and rubbed the polish into the stiff leather. Then I brushed the boots vigorously until they began to shine, finally polishing them really hard with a duster. Goodness, they really gleamed now. I was enjoying this. There were other shoes that needed cleaning as well; Mutti’s working shoes, the ones I wore for school, an old pair of Kurt’s and even some that Vati had left behind. I polished until my arms ached and I had polish all over my arms. I guessed I probably had some on my face as well because I had to keep pushing my hair out of my eyes with my mucky fingers. I was determined now to make sure that all of the shoes really sparkled.

I was just finishing the last pair when I heard Bear whistling.

“Goodness,” he said, as he opened the door. “Somebody’s been busy.”

He definitely seemed in a better mood. He picked up his boots. “You’ll have to join the army if you can shine boots up like that. Where did you learn to clean shoes so well?”

It wasn’t really that clever, was it? I’d watched Vati do it hundreds of times.

“Did you see Helga again?” I couldn’t believe I’d just said that. It was none of my business.

He blushed then grinned. “Yes. I took her some flowers.”

Had they kissed again? Had they even kissed yet? I would have loved to know but didn’t dare ask.

“That’s nice.” Would somebody bring me flowers one day? Herr Silber often brought them for Mutti.

“Actually, do you fancy coming into town with me on the tram? We can go and have coffee and cake? At that nice little place near the synagogue.”

“Now? What about lunch?”

He shrugged. “The portions are big there, I’m told. They’ll make up for not having lunch. And they’re not too expensive, considering. Herr Silber gave me some money last night.”

“Yes, but don’t you want to save it?”

“Helga and her mother are going there this afternoon.”

“So wouldn’t you rather go on your own?”

“You’d be my excuse for going.” 

            I shook my head and then nodded. Why should I argue? I liked cake, didn’t I? It wasn’t often I got taken to a nice café.    

I’d never been into this café before. It had always looked too smart. It was in one of the old buildings right in the middle of the town.

“Come on then,” said Bear pushing open the heavy wooden door.

It was a bit gloomy inside at first but my eyes soon got used to it. It was so elegant.  There were white table cloths and pretty china and silver cutlery. There were candles and a small vase of flowers on every table.

There was such a strong smell of coffee and the coffee machine whooshed and spluttered all the time.        

It was quite full. I thought everybody must have a Herr Silber who gave out money, then. The other people there weren’t like us, though. They were all smartly dressed. Some of the ladies were wearing fur stoles even though the weather was so warm.

It was the cakes, though, that astonished me, the most. There were large tarts, covered in fruit, big gateaux smothered in cream and fancy individual ones very cleverly iced. I had no idea which one to choose.    

“Have you decided yet?” Bear was actually frowning as he studied the display.

Then I saw it though.  My favourite. “Can I have some baked cheesecake?” I said.  

“Good choice. Lemonade to drink?”

I nodded.  I really would have liked a coffee, though but Bear would probably have said I was too young.  I wasn’t, but I never wanted to argue with him. 

Bear gave our order to the lady at the counter and a waitress in a very smart black dress and a starched white apron showed us over to the table. Bear gave her our ticket. 

“One black coffee and a lemonade,” he said. He sat up very straight. I think he was trying to look smart. I found it hard not to giggle.

She wrote in her little notebook, smiled at me and then went towards the counter at the back of the shop.

Bear looked around. “Do you like it here?” 

I nodded, though actually I wasn’t all that sure. I felt out of place.  

A few more people came in. All of them were really well dressed. I had put my own best frock on – Bear had said I should. But it looked very dowdy compared with the ones other girls my age were wearing.

“Oh. Here they come.” Bear blushed bright red and looked away. “Don’t stare at them and if they do see you looking, pretend to be surprised.”

“Didn’t you tell her you were going to come here?”

He shook his head.

I quickly looked at Helga and Frau Brassel. Helga was wearing a pretty white dress that had a pattern of pink roses over it. Frau Brassel had on a grey silk dress with a hat and a fur stole to match. Would I ever be able to dress like that? 

At that moment the waitress arrived with our drinks and slices of cake. Bear rubbed his hands together. “This looks good.”

The lemonade was delicious. The cake was rich and creamy. He’d been right; the portions were so big that it more than made up for not having lunch. By the time I’d eaten half of my slice I was convinced I wouldn’t be able to finish it all.  

“Is the coffee all right?”

“The best I’ve ever tasted.”   

“Will you go and talk to them?”

  “Maybe, when we’ve all finished. If I get the chance.”

Suddenly somebody knocked on the window. I jumped. Kurt’s face was staring at me. What was he doing here? He hadn’t written to say he would have some leave.

He mouthed something at Bear and frowned.

“I think I’d better go and talk to him,” said Bear. “You wait here.”

I watched him walk out of the café and into the street. He and Kurt stood talking on the pavement. I couldn’t tell what they were saying. 

I toyed with the last of my cake. I just couldn’t manage it. I pushed the plate away.

“Are you all finished here?”

I nodded. The waitress cleared away the plates, the cup and saucer and the glass. “Would you like anything else?”

I shook my head. “My brother will be back in a minute.”

The waitress smiled and nodded. “Take your time. It’s fine.”

He didn’t come back in a minute, though. Nor in five or ten. He and Kurt were talking for ages. Suddenly Kurt started shouting. I could hear him now all right. So could everybody else in the café.

“You should not be mixing with the scum like that. Don’t you know they’re taking our jobs and stealing our homes and businesses? This café should belong to a good German family, not people like them.”

Bear was shaking his head.

Kurt suddenly stared waving his arms around.

Bear started shouting, though I still couldn’t make out what he was saying.

Then Kurt leaned forward and punched Bear on the nose. It began to bleed. Bear swung his arm at Kurt and made his nose bleed in turn. Then they were on the ground. Punching and kicking each other.

“Help, somebody. Please stop my brothers fighting.” I shouted as loud as I could but everyone just stared at me as I ran out of the café.

“The bill?” said the waitress as she passed me near the doorway.

“It’s all right. We’ll take care of that.” Frau Brassel stood up and waved the waitress over to her.

By the time I got outside two men had pulled Bear and Kurt apart. Kurt shrugged himself away from the man who was holding him. 

“If you’re going to defend that sort of scum you’re not my brother anymore.” He picked up his cap and walked off.

I punched Bear in the stomach. “Why do you and Kurt always have to fight?”

He looked such a mess. His best white shirt was covered in blood and dirty marks. There were some cuts on his face.

Helga and Frau Brassel came out at that moment. Frau Brassel shook her head and raised her eyebrows.

“Helga…?” Bear walked towards her. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

Helga stared at him for a few seconds, frowned, linked arms with her mother and turned her back on him. The two women walked away towards the centre of the town.

I guessed he wouldn’t be kissing Helga anytime soon. He didn’t say a word on the tram journey home.  

Peace Child 3 The Tower Chapter 4 Zandra

Zandra

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.