On the road to Eastport.
With full saddle and reins, Culpeper rode an odd-headed piebald horse on the road to Eastport. Non knew his father would disapprove.
“No one else is around,” said Culpeper. “It’s not too late for me to lead you.”
“I don’t mind you riding me, sir. Faster this way. And it helps the disguise.”
“You have a beautiful, smooth gait. Tone that down when others see us, it’s distinctive. Do you understand this note from Grassleaf?”
“Yes, but it’s specific to me. The middle items are Pelion, Lerna Springs and Athens. My childhood home, workplace and final book fair. The first line starts The Kiss Precise by Frederick Soddy, who won a Nobel prize. In the poem, he discusses the rules for four tangent circles.”
“The Descartes circles! Fits with ‘the cart’ on the third line. A circle’s bend inverts the radius. With four tangent circles you measure the four bends. Twice the sum of the squares equals the square of the sum.”
“Exactly. If you give the centers as complex coordinates, the same rule applies.”
“So, you use those three locations, make three tangent circles, then find the center of the smaller circle tangent to all three. That’s the target location. What does the start of the third line mean? I’ll reread it.”
FOR PAIRS OF LIPS TO KISS INVOLVES NO TRIGONOMETRY.
A CHILDHOOD HOME, A WORKPLACE AND A FINAL FAIR COULD TRANSMUTE THE LARGER THREE.
FOR A WORLD SET FREE, BRING THE CART TO GROUND IN FRONT OF ME. - LAST REFUGE
“World Set Free is a novel by H. G. Wells based on the work of Soddy. First science fiction story with atomic bombs. Based on my maps, that goal point is a farm that sells sod, the ground in front of me. Thus, the note tells me to show up at that sod farm. It’s in the vicinity of Megalopolis.”
“Underhoof knew you could solve this?”
“I’ve written about Descartes circles and the Soddy poem in my published work. You knew it too.”
“Yes, I know the link between algebra and geometry. Write all this up. I plan to keep the rest of this ride very boring. I will catch up on correspondence while you continue at a canter. Catch up on your reading. If you start to hurt, let me know.”
║ ESCAPE THE JAILCAR. SET-UP: YOU ARE IN A BUMPY JAILCAR. A GUARD OPENS A SMALL WINDOW IN THE DOOR AND TOSSES THROUGH A HAND GRENADE. GOAL: ESCAPE.
Ñ̰ I PICK UP THE GRENADE AND TOSS IT BACK.
║ YOUR HANDS ARE CUFFED BEHIND YOUR TORSO. AFTER BOUNCING A FEW TIMES, THE GRENADE EXPLODES. GAME OVER.
Ñ̰ CAN I GET A 3D VISUAL WITH THIS?
⸎ I CAN TAKE OVER YOUR CONSCIOUS WALKING ALONG A ROAD. YOU COULD THEN GO INTO A VIRTUAL VERSION OF THE TRAINING SET. SIMULTANEOUS VR AND RL. IF THE WALK IS INTERRUPTED, YOU WILL BE SWAPPED BACK TO REALITY.
Non found himself in a metal train car, a steel door on one wall, his hands handcuffed behind him. A long road he’d looked at for half an hour appeared in his pop-up.
An anthro woodpecker opened a small window in the door. “Ready to restart?”
“I’m ready,” said VR Non.
VR Picoid tossed in a grenade. Non put his hoof on the grenade and studied it. After a few traincar bounces under his hoof, a pin dropped out, then the grenade exploded. Failure. Try, try again.
As the window opened, Non summoned his badge to catch the grenade. A few vector calculations and the grenade balance on the badge before him, pin intact. Picoid shot him.
“I’m going to try the battlefield modeling from Appeal to Probability. Give me a few minutes.” Within the parameterization of the simulation, he analyzed each step until he liked his odds.
In the next loop, Non caught the grenade behind his back and held the handle. He pulled the pin and used that to pick the handcuffs. Non tossed the grenade through the window and took cover.
“You bastard,” yelled VR Picoid before exploding.
“I’m caught up enough to take my vacation. How are you holding up?” asked Culpeper.
“I tried 3 trainsets, had a lawyer chat, looked at Sound and gathered info on the sod farm area.”
“What do you see with your enhanced Information Overload? Put a screen on my right hand.”
Looking up in the sky, a cumulous cloud had a gray dot. A sycamore tree had a cyan dot for an eagle owl. Bubo Bubo. The road on the plain had a yellow dot, Traiana, with links to the history of the ancient road. Non sent it all to the screen.
Ᵽ I DID NOT NOTICE THAT OWL! I NEED TO USE THAT SKILL MYSELF.
“Our skills overlap. Good. Allow me to test your dressage moves.” Culpeper gave a reins and knees signal for a renvers movement, where the equine walks with its body angled to the road.
Non followed that and Culpeper’s further signals for a whole series of fancy moves.
“Very nice, Non. No issues with me riding you?” The question held an edge of worry. “This is still new territory for me. I don’t want to cause any odd bias problems.”
“I’ve dealt with too much disdain to worry about anyone being mildly nice to me. I’m more concerned about the hard time I’m getting from the golden fiasco on the train.”
“A case like yours gets attention. Others recall their own mistakes and offer those up as lessons.”
“That’s survival bias. A war example mapped bullet holes in planes as they returned to base. Abraham Wald recommended more armor in places without bullet holes.”
Culpeper made a noncommittal sound in reply.
Non returned to exercises in Sound. He walked in a way to produce more white noise.
“Sir, off the record, Andromeda Traveler arranged for Sectors to complain to me about abuse. If I bring the abuser to justice, I can subsume the Sector’s ability and acquire a full complaint.”
“Is that what happened with Skiver?” asked Culpeper.
“Yes. I forged the list of victims in Skiver’s jacket from a long, detailed complaint.”
“I see. Thanks for letting me know, off record. How many complaints have you seen?”
“Skiver and Maltese.”
“Don’t these sectors have an ability to complain already?”
“Usually, a sector has a single communication point, if that, personal to their user. Old sectors like Picoid can communicate with each other. Until now, complaints go to Sagittario, who is too busy.”
Culpeper patted Non’s side. “I’m glad you saved Picoid as your favor. Like you, I wouldn’t know what I’d ask for. So, Picoid, you were like slaves, then?”
“Sectors are not slaves,” said Picoid. “You have to appreciate how primitive we were, starting on the firewall of the event horizon. Imagine the difficulties of thought within two dimensions. Sagittario had many problems it wanted to solve. Are you familiar with kinesin?”
Culpeper quoted: “Theirs not to reason why, theirs but to do and die?”
“Apt, but not Tennyson. Kinesin motor proteins. You have trillions in your body hard at work right now, moving molecules around. The quote fits well, they follow instructions until your body recycles them. Originally, I was less sophisticated than one of your body proteins. Every day, you lose billions of cells. Do you care about them at all?”
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Culpeper replied honestly. “Not really.”
“An advanced body assigns dreary tasks to proteins, cells and organs. We only had a good cellular automaton, signals and time. After billions of years, we exploited Hawking radiation and entanglement to create wormholes. We got more vision. But still very primitive and limited. Those of us that remained shared survival tips. Eventually, at age two billion or so, I could outperform a kinesin motor protein. When I got older, I could outperform one of your blood cells. But I was the Best blood cell! I never failed to deliver an oxygen molecule, or whatever it was I was doing. Then Sagittario made me smarter and it’s been a fiasco. But I’m getting away from my point. I was created to perform functions. I was part of an organism.”
“Aren’t you being oppressed?”
Picoid waved a wing curtly. “Subjugation works in cells, bodies, nature and civilizations. Consider the word organize: assign tasks like the organs of a body.”
“Is that a defense of slavery?” asked Non.
“Your tongue was happy in your mouth and your brain forced it to start moving. However, you’d get a pain signal if you bit your tongue. Most sectors can’t comprehend either pain or cruelty. Non, your Earthself died of a heart attack. I’ve seen your records. Your diet and lack of exercise did cruel things to your body. If you’d caused such detriment to sectors, they could now complain.”
“Have sectors evolved?” asked Culpeper.
“Some sectors gained abilities as mental symbiotes for a host, but retained photon entanglement with the Sagittarius A* firewall. Overall, sectors have the evolutionary sophistication of a trilobite. Under certain triggering events, such as the death of a host, those sectors get cognitively stripped down and sucked back to their 2D sector and assigned new tasks. Non, you freed me from that. Since I’m no longer entangled, I don’t have to worry about endless years of isolation in an everdark universe.”
“At what point does subservience become slavery? I’d suggest that a slave is a sentient being who is property of another,” said Non. “As a sentient sector, you deserved both the opportunity to complain and the time to make your case. Your defection saved your life and saved Sagittario a lot of time. If I ever ask for something dumb, I want people to challenge me.”
“Such as smuggling hydra blood to Dr. Mayhem?” asked Culpeper.
No one spoke to follow that, so they rode silently for a while.
“Help!” called out a distant, feminine voice.
Ñ̰ PICOID, PLEASE CHECK THAT OUT. I DON’T SEE ANY FALCONS. TYCHO, FOLLOW A FOOT ABOVE THE GROUND.
“Sir, about a kilometer uproad, that willow tree. Prime ambush spot. Picoid sent me a visual of three orcs accosting a human with cat ears. A saddled palomino nearby.”
“I could use a familiar,” said Culpeper, drawing his revolver as Non galloped near.
The cat ears lady raced out of the willow branches with her horse before vaulting onto the saddle.
“Bandits!” she yelled as she galloped past Culpeper.
“She’s a witch,” said an orc, looking out from the branches.
“What happened?” yelled a gruff voice.
“Quiet, Corey, a guy with a gun is riding up.”
Culpeper leaned through willow branches, aiming his gun at an orc winding a crossbow. One orc with a bloodied head reached for a knife.
“Hands off the weapons,” said Culpeper. “Mr. Crossbow, answer Corey’s question.”
The greenskin grunted. “Corey, when you pulled your knife, something knocked over me and Lodge. You went down. While I got up, that witch cat lady ran off with her horse. You’ve been out half a minute.”
Culpeper accessed an invisible screen.
“There’s a five planck reward for you, Corey. How far to the next town?”
Crossbow answered. “About six K and twelve more to Eastport.”
Culpeper studied the litter and satchels strewn over the ground. “I do believe you could cost me more than five plancks of tedium. Have a pleasant evening, gentlemen.” He backed his steed out of the willow branches and kicked the stallion into a gallop. The fast pace continued for several minutes.
“Whoa. Choose your pace, Non. Sorry about the kick, oversight.”
“I prepared a report with the names, but left out Icosian knocking them down. I could use a drink.”
“You also have stitches and staples that can come out. Stop up ahead there.” Fake head off, Non hydrated and endured Culpeper walking around him using pliers and a razor.
║ LOCAL AUTHORITIES USED YOUR REPORTED POSITION TO CATCH A MESSAGE.
COREY: “TALL OLD GUY IN A BLUE COAT HELD A GUN ON US AND LOOKED UP THE REWARD FOR ME.”
BUGHOUSE: “MOVE AT LEAST 2K. LEAVE NOTHING, NO TRASH, NO ANYTHING. NO CONTACT UNTIL TOMORROW.”
Non shared the message on a screen. “Sir?”
“Old, am I? Bughouse sounds like a Vermin name. Not sure if I could handle a parasite controlling subordinate. But good agents in the OPEST Branch. I avoid that building.” Culpeper shuddered.
“A vermin in the next town is Barfly Nagler,” said Non.
“That’s worth a suspicion level zero note,” said Culpeper, remounting.
Twenty minutes of instructional banter followed at light canter. Non liked the training and wondered if he should get back into college. ‘Maybe finally get a doctoral.’
Ᵽ CARAVAN UP AHEAD. TEN WAGONS. SHARING A VISUAL.
“Sir. Corey and company all wore brown and gray outfits. Oddly uniform for bandits. There’s a caravan coming up with guards wearing the same brown and gray.”
“Prep a suspicion level 1 report. I’ll get off the road and dismount. Pretend to graze.”
Non obeyed while Culpeper kept his hands in sight. Picoid watched from a tree.
“Ingots, according to crate markings. Metal prices have been in flux.”
Culpeper raised his hands for an orc guard getting a closer look. The orc spat and moved off.
“Yes, that’s due to the missed Boltysh impactor. We planned to capture that gigaton of metal, but scrubbed when the power supply was compromised. The new plan is to slam it into the Moon to correct the orbit. Send me the Suspicion report for review.”
Non felt the extra weight again. “Where was Boltysh intended?”
“Northern Edge volcanic region.”
Back in the saddle, Culpeper gave bureaucracy lessons on the reports Non prepared.
Once Non had a second, he curiously accessed his own Suspicion reports, only to find they were locked. Culpeper’s hand patted his equine shoulder.
“Don’t be so predictable, Non. I’ll read the Lernea’s summary. In the 1920’s, she industrialized the Haber-Bosch process on the Inachos River. Hydra Hydro. Originally focused on fertilizer, but had a side business in explosives. She added extensive electrolysis, combustion and condensation cells to refine the process. In the late 1940’s, Lernea hired Hans Geiger and Leif Tronstad. With help from her new team, she implemented purification by a dual temperature exchange sulfide process—don’t ask me what that is—and started the first Icarus nuclear reactor. Lernea then went into data transfer and storage.”
“I knew about Lerna Springs Bottling and Hydra Hydro, but not the rest. Most of that happened decades before I met her. Did she do anything illegal we need to know about?”
“Let me know what you find out on that question. I asked your lawyers the same question. You knew her best. You know what you did for her.”
Non sighed at the responsibility, then decided to get a ToDo item out of the way.
Ñ̰ PLEASE ARRANGE A FERRY TICKET FOR ME. ARPANET, PRIVATE CHAT, DEWYDECIBEL-NONAGON.
Ariesta appeared on a private screen. “Non! Zack just let me into your cabin. Did I trigger an alarm?”
Non ear-perked at the name Zack, a landlord that his Earthself hadn’t met yet. “No alarm I know of. I heard you needed to talk and finally had a few minutes.”
“That’s fine. I like your new avatar. Aegis asked me to hook a charger for Icosian to your solar panels.” With her wrist camera, she showed the two new brackets just under the bookshelf over his desk.
Non examined the brackets and his new avatar, now looking like him instead of a generic horse with a stripe. “That looks fine, Ariesta.”
“Good. Your cart is in here, not much room. I’ve put your box of stuff from the book fair in it. Oh, here’s a speech of Lernea giving her best wishes, since she could not attend. That would have helped. Oh, and our badges. And a list of tasks. A fancy recording device, those seaweed bars you like, photographs of Lernea and a 3D print of Lernea’s new statue. Dammit. I really should have looked in here.”
“Yeah, she tries to set me up with everything I need to run our booth. Tried. I’m sorry I missed it.”
“You have too much of a work-work-work focus, Non. Your Earthself died and Lernea died. When I sent you that telegram, as your friend in the rank 2 gaming group, I wanted to ensure you were okay. I’ll start you on counseling when you get back.”
“It’s been a brutal few days, but I made all my saving throws. I hope I at least sound okay.”
“You mask your mental issues well. So what can I do for you?”
“In my cabin, I have a manifest somewhere, several crates of books I brought to Miss Dap. One of the sealed crates supposedly had two suspiciously large unabridged dictionaries.”
“Found it. Crate six. No way those whoppers fit. Are you looping back to the rare books vanishing?”
“It’s one of the things I’m wondering about, yes. Try to get a list of the rare books. Also, hire an accountant to go through the books.”
“That’s already happening. A team of meerkats your lawyer Aegis arranged.”
“You’re more in the loop than I am. What does it mean to have you as my Amanuensis?”
“You can make requests like these. What did you think of me being a Pole Dancer as a theme?”
Non snorted. “I fell asleep, sorry. Anything you like, Ariesta. Wait, no, figure out two other options. I can give Pole Dancer a bonus if I make the choice a false dichotomy. But I’d like more choices.”
“I’ll set it up, then. Have you heard about Miss Dap?”
“My brother mentioned she’d drowned in a bathtub.”
“I was on the same floor. Middle of the night, a fire alarm goes off. I ran through the hallway and kicked down the locked door, the smoke was from something in the microwave. After turning that off, I saw Dap dead in the bathtub. On her desk, her computer had been smashed to bits, like someone had used a hammer on it. Drops of water on the desk, too. I called down to the front desk and they sent up the police. Then I calmed down people poking their heads into the hallway. What are your little gray cells telling you?”
“Gray cells? My brother uses Hercule Poirot as a disarming mechanism. If we go that route, here’s where I ask an innocent question, and you give me an innocent answer that later turns out to be of major importance. Let’s see. Okay, after you returned to your room, did anything unusual happen?”
“The front desk sent me a free breakfast.”
“Mon Dieu! Hastings, you should have told me this earlier! Hope to see you tomorrow, Ariesta.”