[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

religion. Through the ecstatic force of rhythmic sounds, we perceive a call
directed at powers outside of time and lacking the usual breadth and length
Page 38
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
compressed into the forms of matter by our corner of the endless dimensions.
NOAH ARKWRIGHT, The Forms of Psi
By nightfall, Orne had been reduced to a state of confusion. He found Diana
exciting and fascinating, yet the most comfortable female companion he had
ever met. She liked swimming, the bloodless hunting of paloika, the taste of
ditar apples. She betrayed a disdainful attitude toward the older generation
and I-A officialdom which she said she'd never before revealed to anyone.
They had laughed like fools over utter nonsense.
Orne returned to his room to change for dinner, stopped at the polawindow,
which he tuned to clear transmission. The quick darkness of these latitudes
had pulled an ebony blanket over the landscape. Distant cityglow painted a
short yellow horizon off to the left. An orange halo remained on the peaks
where Marak's three moons would rise.
Am I falling in love with this woman? Orne asked himself.
Again, he sensed the fragmentation of his being  and this time felt the pull
of his childhood training added to all of the other forces at war within him.
The ritual training of Chargon came back to him with all of its mystery.
He thought: I am that. I am the consciousness of self which senses the
Absolute and knows the Supreme Wisdom. I am the all-one impersonal I which is
God.
It came straight out of the ancient rites which transferred kingly powers into
religious terms, but he felt that the old concepts had taken on new meanings.
"I am God," he whispered and he sensed forces writhing within him. Even as he
spoke, he realized the words made no reference to his ego-identity-self. The
I of this awareness was outside usual human concerns.
Without understanding its significance, Orne realized he had experienced a
religious event. He knew the Psi definitions taught in the I-A, but this
experience shook him.
He wanted to call Stetson, not to report but to talk out his own confusions
about his role in this household. This thought made him acutely aware that
Stetson or an aide had eavesdropped on his afternoon with Diana.
The autobutle called dinner, distracting Orne from a sensation that he had
fallen from grace. He changed hurriedly into a fresh lounge uniform, found
his way to the small salon across the house. The Bullones already were seated
around an old-fashioned bubbleslot table set with real candles (they smelled
of incense) and golden shardi service. Two of Marak's three moons could be
seen out the window climbing swiftly over the peaks.
"Welcome to you and may you find health in our house," Bullone said, rising
until Orne had seated himself.
"You've turned the house," Orne said.
"We like the moonrise," Polly said. "It's romantic, don't you think?" She
glanced at Diana.
Diana looked down at her plate. She wore a low-cut gown of firemesh that set
off her red hair. A single strand of Reinach pearls gleamed at her throat.
Orne, who had taken the seat opposite her, thought: Lord, what a handsome
woman she is.
Polly, on Orne's right, appeared younger and softer in a green stola gown that
hazed her barrel contours. Bullone, on the left, wore black lounging shorts
and knee-length kubi jacket of golden pearl cloth. Everything about the
people and the setting reeked of wealth and power.
For a moment, Orne saw a confirmation of Stetson's suspicions. Bullone might
go to any length to maintain this luxury.
Orne's entrance had interrupted an argument between Polly and her husband. As
soon as Orne was comfortably seated, they went right on with the argument.
Rather than embarrassing him, this lack of inhibition made Orne feel more at
home, more accepted.
Diana caught Orne's eye, glanced left and right at her parents, grinned.
"But I'm not running for office this time," Bullone was saying, his voice
heavy with strained patience. "Why do we have to clutter up the evening with
Page 39
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
all of those people just to . . ."
"Our election night parties are traditional," Polly said.
"I'd just like to relax quietly at home for once," Bullone said. "I'd Like to
take it easy with my family and not have to . . ."
"It's not as though it was a big party," Polly said. "I've kept the list down
to fifty."
Bullone groaned.
Diana said: "Daddy, this is an important election. How could you possibly
relax? There're seventy-three seats at issue, the whole balance. If things
go wrong in just the Aikes sector . . . why . . . you could be sent back to
the floor. You'd lose your job as . . . I mean someone else would take over
and . . ."
"Welcome to the damn job," Bullone said. "It's one giant headache." He
smiled at Orne. "Sorry to burden you with this perennial squabble, m'boy, but
the women of this family run me ragged if I let them. From what I hear,
you've had a pretty busy day, too. Hope we're not tiring you." He smiled
paternally at Diana. "Your first day out of the hospital and all."
"Diana sets quite a pace, but I've enjoyed it," Orne said.
"We're taking the small flitter on a tour of the wilderness area tomorrow,"
Diana said. "I'll do the driving and Lew can relax."
"Be sure you're back in plenty of time for the party," Polly said.
Bullone turned to Orne. "You see?"
"Now, Scottie," Polly said, "you can't have . . ." She broke off at the sound
of a low bell from an alcove behind her. "That'll be for me. Excuse me,
please. No, don't get up."
Diana bent toward Orne, said; "If you want, we can have a special meal
prepared for you. I asked the hospital and they said you were under no
dietary restrictions." She nodded toward Orne's untouched dinner which had
emerged from the bubbleslot beside his table setting.
"Oh, this is quite all right," Orne said. He could not hear Polly in the
alcove. She had a security cone for certain. He bent to his dinner: meat in
an exotic sauce which he couldn't place, Sirik champagne, ataloka au semil . .
. luxury piled upon luxury.
Presently, Polly resumed her seat.
"Anything important?" Bullone asked.
"Only a cancellation for tomorrow night. Professor Wingard is ill."
"I'd just as soon they canceled it down to the four of us," Bullone said. "I
want some time to chat with Lewis."
Unless this is a clever pose, that doesn't sound like a man who wants to grab
more power, Orne thought.
For the first time, Orne began wondering if Stetson had lied, if this were
part of some elaborate political in-fighting process with Stetson and friends
at the heart of it. What if a cabal in the I-A were plotting a coup? No! He
knew he had to stop looking for phantoms and proceed just by what he learned 
datum by datum.
Polly glanced at her husband, said: "Scottie, you should take more pride in
your office, I swear it. You're an important man and it helps at times to
reflect this."
"If it weren't for you, my dear, I'd be a nobody and prefer it," Bullone said,
smiling fondly at his wife.
"Oh, now, Scottie," she said.
Bullone grinned at Orne, said: "Compared to my wife, Lewis, I'm a political
idiot. Never saw anyone who could call the turn the way she does. It runs in
her family. Her mother was the same way and her grandmother! Now, there was
a true genius in politics."
Orne stared at him, fork raised from the plate and motionless. A sudden idea
had exploded in his mind. It couldn't be! he thought. It just couldn't be!
"You must know something of this political life, Lew," Diana said. "Wasn't
your father once Member for Chargon?"
"Yes," Orne murmured. "He died in office."
Page 40
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to open old wounds." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]