Chapter 25

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Rustling the folds of his shapeless asphalt-colored robe that completely covered his body, the monk bowed low, stopping at the ordered seat.

"Your visit is a blessing to us. Every guest, a chance to be in his presence." The gray monk's lifeless and monotonous voice had clearly been altered by some device, and his face was completely covered by a solid black oval mask.

"Accept it, not as payment, but as a blessing." Alex handed the monk a small square of dark gold, a card of five danarii. During the "preparatory work," he also found out how to behave here,

"Blessed is the giver, for his hand is the hand of Twilight himself." The money disappeared into the asphalt folds of the monk's robes, and he bowed low once more and went away, leaving a thin plate of menus on the table.

"Yeah..." Alex quietly stretched out, looking around the place of the date. "The atmosphere isn't very romantic."

The huge hall was shaped like a bagel in the sense that it was round, with a hole in the center. A huge hole, to be precise, fenced in no more than symbolically. Along the entire perimeter of the metal thread was a thin railing, behind which, many hundreds of meters below, lay the emerald surface of the sea illuminated by the golden ripples of the setting sun. Today was one of those rare occasions in the capital when the calendar and astronomical evening coincided.

It must have been in order not to distract from such an original view of the sea. All other decoration was simply absent. Literally. A long, narrow table of reddish polished wood, standing not far from the dip, a smooth black mirror of the floor, from which the granite blocks of columns soared to the dome of the ceiling, twisting slightly around their axis like the blades of a giant propeller. Columns of rough, unpolished gray granite were arranged like stones in a Japanese garden, overlapping each other so that sitting at one of the few tables could not see the other tables and their guests. The only semblance of jewelry - golden ribbons that smooth metal snakes braided the columns, only emphasizing the roughness of the texture of raw stone.

The ribbons, of course, were three for each column, and Alex didn't remember how many columns there were, but he could be sure that it was a multiple of three. The local beliefs were tightly tied to numerology, and if the sacred number of the Flame was two and accordingly even. The sacred number of Twilight was three and odd. And here, in the temple of Twilight, they tried to remind him about it at every step. Everything was a multiple of three or triangular in shape. The temple itself was made of three triangles forming a hollow triangular pyramid, under the top of which the "restaurant" was suspended. The triangular theme did not end there, of course. The seats for the guests, if you look at the plan, were actually the tops of three triangles inscribed in each other, adding up to the number nine, the "superlative" form of the three and the sacred number of the Gray Lady, a rather specific local saint or demigoddess responsible for death and mercy. In the sense that death is mercy, in some situations.

Doesn't look like much of a restaurant, Alex summarized mentally, shrugging uncomfortably.

He had the feeling that someone was watching him closely. He wanted to look around, but he didn't, for two reasons: first, because during the preparations for the "date," he had found out how serious the gray monks were about ensuring the privacy of their guests, and second, if he was really being watched, it was pointless to look around - you wouldn't notice anything anyway. Instead, to pass the time, he began to study the menu, which was very peculiar, like everything in this place.

The menu was "numbered": the number of the dish, a reference to the source of the recipe variant, and the name of the "interpreter." It was something like: "No. 7 Acclaimed Codex 243:5661 from Iolaus Tasid". No prices, no names. It was assumed that if you came to such a place, you would know the names by number - the menu had not changed for thousands of years. And thousands of theological works have been devoted to its study, in which, without any irony, they tried to find the hidden meaning in each of the known recipes. The only thing that matters is where the recipe comes from and who interprets it, i.e. the name of the "chef."

As Alex realized, the latter was paid a lot of attention to because the recipes had been preserved despite the millennia separating the present time and the legendary era. Even the external presentation of many dishes was known, but nobody knew what they were supposed to taste like, which opened wide possibilities for "interpretation." There were even some culinary competitions on this topic and recognized stars among the "interpreters."

"Have you decided what you're going to order yet?"

Taer's appearance was heralded by the click of her heels, which echoed through the hall long before she arrived, so the question didn't take him by surprise.

"Not yet. Maybe you can help me with that?" He asked, setting the menu aside and turning his gaze to Taer.

All in gold and silver: her face was hidden by an oval mask like the local monks', but not black, but gold, shining with mirror-polished metal. A fitted jacket with a high collar and puffy shoulders made of a material similar to dark golden foil. Her hair, contrary to custom, was not gathered at the nape of her neck but thrown over her right shoulder in a platinum wave flowing over the dark gold of the jacket and down over her chest. Silver pants and pale purple stiletto shoes to match the manicure. It was probably the first time Taer had ever worn high heels. She towered majestically over the dark gray figure of the monk accompanying her, like a golden statue of a goddess and looked so natural in a temple where money was essentially worshipped that Alex wondered if it was some kind of ceremonial garb.

In any case, he noted with a faint shadow of regret that there was no hint of the frivolity or playfulness that had set the tone for the meeting. Not that he'd expected anything, but he'd always liked tall girls.

"Are you hungry?" Taer inquired casually, sitting down across from him.

There were no chairs, only dark burgundy squares of cushions lying directly on the floor near a low, narrow table, so she sat cross-legged in Turkish.

It's the way she moves betrays her. Alex thought, watching Not-Taer - despite the stiletto shoes, she managed to sit cross-legged, even with some elegance. - "It seems like every move has been rehearsed thousands of times. Taer is not choreographed like that." He wondered for a moment if he'd seen it in anyone else. -It's not typical of humans, either."

The golden mask turned to him again, continuing to discuss the order:

"You can have something substantial, or you can have light appetizers."

"I'd eat something." Alex shrugged. "So, substantial."

"He'll be number three full, and I'll have a glass of Magran and an ashtray. Bring them at once." She threw to the monk who had accompanied her and, with a wave of her hand, dismissed him.

"You can take off your veil, by the way. The order will be delivered by a droid." Taer offered, taking off her mask. As always, she had the relaxed and contented face of someone who knew no worries, with a slight smile on her lips tinted with pale purple and silver lipstick.

"Yes? Thank you." Alex answered as naturally as possible, having spent dozens of hours studying the process of food delivery, especially how the droids overcame the two force shields covering the gap.

"You look great." He continued, too, removing the veil from his face.

The compliment was quite sincere but was made to change the subject sooner rather than later.

"I can't help but wonder, is there some religious meaning or symbolism in this garment? You look very natural in this outfit."

"No." Not-Taer shook her head with a smirk and added with a slight shrug. "Those colors are in vogue among the burghers, and I like to be fashionably dressed. You could consider it one of my many weaknesses."

"I was under the impression that if anyone has no weaknesses, it's you." Alex sighed bitterly. He'd spent every available opportunity to search for her weaknesses, and still, he couldn't boast of finding any.

"Everyone has them." She waved it off. "It's just that you can fight them, or you can indulge in them. I decided to indulge. Because if I lose them, what's left? Tactical schemes and analytical circuits? It's just another combat unit that's already in abundance. Speaking of weaknesses." She added in a more cheerful tone. "I'll allow myself a smoke in your presence in honor of the holiday."

"As you wish." Alex agreed with a smile and didn't ask her what she meant by "another combat unit," though he was very curious. After all, the real purpose of this meeting is not to answer questions.

"I'll wish." She returned the smile, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it from a long gold lighter.

Not-Taer must have known with split-second accuracy how long it would take to fulfill her order, or if his theory was correct, simply foreseen it, being an adept seer. A black disk with a tray clutched in its thin paws silently floated out of the hole and placed an ashtray just as she lowered her hand with a cigarette after the first puff. In addition to the ashtray, the droid's thin mechanical paw placed a tall, clear glass filled with a dark liquid in front of her.

The glass steamed visibly, spreading a familiar aroma.

"Coffee?" The question burst out on its own as Alex was surprised to realize exactly what he was smelling.

"Coffee." Nodded Not-Taer, looking at him with interest. "Would you like some? Of course it's not the same. Certain genetic differences are inevitable over several millennia of growing up on another planet. But the result is quite acceptable."

"I want to." Alex nodded immediately. He wasn't a special coffee drinker, but rather, the opportunity to taste something familiar again was pure nostalgia. The fact that Not-Taer understood the word "coffee" perfectly did not even cause a surprise. He already had suspicions that she was another "transported person," and now, they were just confirmed.

"One Magran-rah, but warm." She ordered the droid, and when it collapsed back into the dip as silently as it had come, she added in an apologetic tone. "Didn't work out with the milk, though. The locals have convinced themselves that consuming the liquid coming out of another animal's tits is a wild perversion that one would only go for in the most desperate of situations. One wonders why this squeamishness does not extend to honey, but people have never been very consistent. So, instead of milk, it's the milk of a specific plant. The consistency is more like a cream but for lack of a stamp..." She wrung her hands.

"I'm more interested in why warm coffee?" Alex asked casually, making sure his voice sounded as natural as possible.

"Something wrong?" Not-Taer raised an eyebrow slightly. "Have your tastes changed?"

"No." Alex shook his head, really preferring warm coffee. "Just wondering how you found out. Visionary talent?

"A visionary talent." Not-Taer nodded with a look of connoisseurship. "That's the one. Well, or I've just known you for a million years." She added, not hiding her sarcasm.

"Literally a million?" With icy seriousness, he interrogated inwardly, ready even for the answer, yes.

"How to count." She shrugged with a smile.

She had such a sweet yet meaningful smile at that moment that Alex couldn't get rid of the thought. She seems to just like teasing me...

Time is a complex thing. You can easily count orders of magnitude more than a million or even less than a year. Depends on what to count, how, and from where.

"Well, yes." He nodded. "I remember: Objective, subjective, linear, total." He listed the variations of time calculation she'd given during the interrogation.

"Also: convergent, non-convergent, and a thousand other ways to determine the coordinates of a place." She rolled her eyes. "But I don't think we need to discuss the nature of space-time. That's not what you're interested in."

"Have you really known me for a long time?" Alex rephrased his question.

"I've really known you a long time." She nodded softly.

The droid surfaced again from the gap, placing the ordered drink in front of Alex.

Sweet coffee with milk, similar to coffee raff, warm. Just the way he liked it.

Alex took small sips more to give himself time to think than to stretch the pleasure.

Basically, the seer could probably just guess what kind of coffee I would order... He was tempted to agree with that thought. And thus pretend that she's known me and my tastes for a long time. Why not? But why? Just to tease?

He cast a quick glance at Not-Taer. She was enjoying his reaction without hiding it.

It's a little petty. Alex had a hard time believing such motivation. It didn't fit with the cold and calculating person he thought Not Taer was. But maybe it's a joke? She often says she doesn't have much of a sense of humor.

"Why don't I know you, then?" He voiced the obvious question, setting his glass aside. "Well, I do, but only recently."

"Pretending?" She assumed an innocent look and continued with a slight shadow of indignation in her voice. "Why are you asking me anyway? I, despite all my problems with thinking, remember everything. And if the originator decided to take away the doll's memory for some reason, that's your choice. Or pretends to." She added coldly.

"I'm not pretending," Alex said calmly. He could swear that he didn't remember anything and had only encountered this person for the first time after Taer had been kidnapped. But what's the point?

"You'd better tell me what you mean by a doll. It's been on my mind since the first time we met."

"A doll is a doll. Literally." Not-Taer replied, a little surprised. "I try to be as direct and unambiguous as possible when I use words."

"I still don't know what that means," Alex admitted sincerely. "Could you explain it in a way that would make sense even to me?"

"Alright then." She rolled her eyes and reached for her briefcase. "You certainly could have done it yourself. But, after all, I promised..."

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Taer pulled out a small infoblock and placed it on the table in front of her:

"Find the definition of the word Doll." She ordered, tapping her finger on the screen.

The infoblock squeaked quietly and, after a few seconds, read out in an "electronic" female voice: "A doll is an object made in the physical or symbolic semblance of another object, intended for play or ritual."

"I think that's exhaustive." Concluded Not-Taer with an expressive look at Alex. She flicked her finger on the screen again and pushed the infoblock aside. "Now, do you understand the meaning of the term?"

"So you're implying that I'm an artificially created something?" Alex clarified, looking at her skeptically.

"I don't imply. I know." With calm indifference, she objected. "Well, except that the difference between artificial and natural is very blurred, and I wouldn't dwell on it."

"Yeah?" Alex grinned with a surprised raised eyebrow. "I'm really curious about that."

"It all depends on what one considers natural." She explained with a tired sigh, gesturing lazily with her cigarette hand. "For example, if a child is born of a mom and dad and raised by them to the best of their ability, is the resulting person natural or artificial?"

"Natural obviously." Alex shrugged.

"What if the same child was the result of someone who first determined what result is needed, then put in the past what genetic traits are necessary and what events should happen and simply adjusted the events to the result? And all events, from the meeting of Mom and Dad to the curly-haired girl you like in the yard or the bee that stings you on your birthday, are just fitting to the target model. So, in this case, what is it? Artificial or natural?"

"I..." Alex thought, for a moment, that the whole world was spinning before his eyes, rewinding his life. He did crush on a curly-haired girl from his yard when he was ten, and when he was eight, he did get stung by a bee right in the eye on his birthday - completely ruining the party. But these were all minor details of his past, details he wouldn't even remember, but she knew:

"Do you mean I'm the result of tinkering with a predetermined answer?" He asked, dumbfounded but still disbelieving.

"No, it's just an example." She waved it off carelessly, which gave Alex an incredible sigh of relief. "It's more complicated with you."

"But then, how do you know I was bitten by a bee on my birthday?" He asked the obvious question, thinking, Well, seers can't be that omniscient.

"An excess of free time and opportunity." She admitted and waved her hands with a slightly embarrassed smile. "Female curiosity. You can't get rid of it that easily."

"And how exactly does curiosity allow you to learn such insignificant details from the past?"

"Pretty simple." She shrugged. "I was curious and did some modeling on your target model. Basic, of course." She added hastily as if she could be suspected of anything objectionable. "But it was more than sufficient for my purposes."

"What do you mean modeling?" Alex sincerely didn't understand. "Creating a copy of me?"

"Well, not you. Your target model, in a modeling environment..." She paused when she saw the pained look Alex sent her. "An electronic copy of you in an electronic copy of reality." With a wince, she explained.

For a few seconds, they just stared at each other, Taer smoking black coffee with pleasure, obviously enjoying the process and the chaos in her interlocutor's head. And Alex was staring at her, trying to understand why she decided to blow his mind with some nonsense. Of course, he was new here and didn't know much, but he already had some idea about the limits of possible local technology.

And creating an electronic replica of reality somehow doesn't really fit within the local limits of what's possible.

There was a tiny but very unpleasant thought that it was not a delusion but the truth. However, he didn't want to take it any further. The conclusions were very creepy.

"Why?" He finally gave up, not trying to find out if it was possible. Because of the obvious pointlessness of such questions. There was no way to verify what she said, and Not Taer could be lying just for fun, no matter how strange her idea of funny was.

"I told you, female curiosity. I wanted to see what your perfect companion would look like. To gauge the depths of hopelessness, so to speak."

This statement was just as absurd as the previous one, so he didn't even try to challenge it but just kept the thread of the conversation going:

"And how is that supposed to work?" He wondered.

"You take a few million variants and run them in parallel at the calculated depth of the simulation. For example, a thousand years in linear non-converging time. Look at the results, further selection of the best, and all over again among the best and their descendants. And so on until the solutions converge to an optimum. Pseudogenetic optimization algorithm with recombination."

"Indeed." Without hiding his sarcasm Alex agreed. "That explains it all, so simple."

"Well, it's not that simple." In the tone of an aggrieved creator, Not-Taer objected. "If you go blunt, the results will instantly converge on something that chemically or psionically blows your mind and puts you in a happy coma. And such a fatal beauty, which most likely will not even be a beauty, is a solution, but only formally. It is possible, of course, to exclude such a thing, limiting it to what is possible within the framework of human physiology.... But is it right? Maybe to be perfectly happy you just need her to have three tits, four tentacles, and horns? Until you try it, you'll never know."

"The horns?"

"It's more comfortable to hold on to." Not Taer explained as she took another sip.

At that moment, Alex noticed that she was literally choking on her laughter while covering her with a coffee glass.

"You know..." He finally said after a heavy sigh. "You do have a very specific sense of humor."

"I can't help it." Laughing, she waved her hands, her amusement undisguised. "As it is, I can't help it."

"Whatever you say." He nodded, trying to collect his thoughts. He'd expected the conversation with Not-Taer to be difficult, but now he felt like he was part of a Carroll-inspired tea party. Everything was turning upside down into something surreal. That's not why I came here at all.

"Let's get back to talking about dolls." He decided to change the topic. After all, she obviously knows something about the transfer mechanism, so why not find out while there's still time?

"In whose semblance am I made?"

"Obviously in your semblance," Taer replied with impenetrable seriousness, but there were mischievous devils in her eyes.

"Funny." Alex nodded understandingly, smiling strainedly. She obviously wasn't going to make it easy for him.

"And most importantly, factually correct," Not-Taer added with a satisfied smile.

"And for what game or ritual?" He asked already just for pro forma.

"I have no idea." She shrugged her shoulders with what seemed to Alex to be mild irritation. She continued, taking another puff from her cigarette. "I haven't been informed. So I'm just guessing, which is no better than anyone else's."

"I think your guess is still better than mine." Quite sincerely, he assured her. "I'd love to hear them."

"I do not consider such a discussion appropriate." Calmly, she refused.

"Is it because I'm a doll?" Alex didn't hesitate to ask. "Is there some subtle etiquette in dealing with such low creatures?"

"What? No!" She laughed in surprise. "A doll is a low creature..." She shook her head. "In your case, a doll is not: 'just a doll'. It's a "Whole Doll" with a capital letter. Not the original, of course, but an imprint of it."

"You mean I'm still socially condescending?" He asked in a half-joking tone. "Then what's the reason for your refusal? Unpleasant topic? Or are you afraid of something? Or do you want to hide it from me?"

"No." She shook her head and added with a slight wince. "Gossip, or worse, speculation about other people's relationships, especially those of higher rank, is petty and demeaning. First and foremost for the gossiper. Thus showing that other people's lives, for the utter worthlessness of his own, occupy him much more."

"It's quite feminine, though." Alex tried to tease her. "You said that you can't get rid of it so easily, so why not indulge it?"

"You can't get rid of it that easily." She nodded with a smile. "And maybe in other circumstances, I would have, but right now, it's just not in my plans."

"What are your plans then?" Alex asked, but the appearance of the droid with his order naturally interrupted the conversation.

In front of him on a not deep but wide white plate was a scattering of colorful balls the size of a pinky fingernail, yellow and white under the artistic ligature of thin lines of shiny black sauce.

The service is surprisingly affordable. Alex was involuntarily surprised, expecting, in such a place, some absolutely incomprehensible delicacies for mere mortals. The plate smelled deliciously of fried meat, as he suspected from the yellow balls.

A tall, clear glass with a dark liquid was placed next to it. The liquid fizzed and bubbled quietly, and the walls of the glass fogged up a bit. Something cold and carbonated.

Well, it would be a shame not to try it. Alex excitedly reached for the special utensils, something like a spoon with short tines on the edge and a short, wide knife more like a spatula.

He wasn't afraid of anything being put in his food. If Taer wanted to do something to him, she had a thousand possibilities. Even now, she could easily reach him with her hand, and her strength and speed would be more than enough to kill or incapacitate him. And everyone else had too little time to organize something like that. I'm the one who started getting ready before everyone else, and I don't have time.

"Very tasty." He let out after the first spoonful of marbles. "One hundred percent hit with the choice of dish."

As I expected, the yellow balls turned out to be meat, and under the smooth but fried and crispy crust, created with the evident participation of some spicy herbs, there was a pleasantly contrasting texture of a very soft and juicy core. The white ones, on the other hand, were firm, even a little rubbery in flavor, remotely reminiscent of orzo pasta. But it's definitely not pasta. When bitten into, the white balls burst, releasing either juice or sauce with a pleasant sourness. The black sauce that bound the dish was rather sweet and clearly vegetable-based. It was clear in idea, not even intricate in some respects, but the result was a surprisingly tasty dish:

A clear candidate for a favorite... Alex thought but stopped himself. Oh yeah... This is supposed to be my favorite dish. It's just that I don't remember it, but she does.

Taer watched him with interest, smoking her second cigarette.

"Really delicious, thank you," Alex repeated. His thanks were accepted with a simple nod. She seemed to be waiting for something. "I take it my original, and you were once regulars at this place?" He asked, carefully wiping his mouth with a napkin and pushing the dish aside. It was delicious, but he didn't feel like eating it.

"No." She shook her head. "Formalities aside, this is our first time here."

"Formalities?" Alex asked with interest.

"The multiplicity and uncertainty of reality, and all that other nonsense." Taer waved it away with a grudging grin.

"I see." Alex nodded understandingly, though, of course, he understood nothing. "I just thought this place had some sentimental value."

"No, just quiet, no one in the way and a nice view. What didn't you like about it?"

"No." Alex hastily assured her. He thought he heard in her voice the notes of a resentful hostess who decided that the feast she had organized was not being praised intensively enough.

"Everything is great and the view is... Unusual." Found him after a moment's hesitation.

"The view is much more interesting when the tide comes in," Taer assured him with the pride of a creator showing off her work. "The temple is just above the tidal zone. The wave is almost half a kilometer high. A mountain of emerald glass in the gold of the setting sun slowly but inevitably crept onto the shore. Unfortunately, we won't see it today." She added with a sigh.

"A pity indeed." He nodded. "Sounds impressive. Rare astronomical conditions are required?" Alex clarified with a look of connoisseurship.

"No." She smiled sadly. "When you're on a gas giant satellite, every tide is doomed to be spectacular. It's just that no matter how hard I try to time it, by my estimation, you always do something stupid long before the tide passes beneath us. We could make an appointment to meet at exactly the time of the tide, but I think that would kill all the anticipation and development of the spectacle and take away half the charm."

"I get the feeling that you're more sure of my plans than I am," Alex said with a dissatisfied look, though Not Taer was quite right. He was really planning a "stupid thing."

"In your condition, stupidity is inevitable." Sluggishly, she objected. "I just hope it's at least unexpected and original stupidity."

"I see," he hummed. "Well, if my plans are set, what about yours?"

"Seems pretty obvious to me." She shrugged. "Getting an indefinite leave of absence from you, getting settled in a new place. The usual hassles of life."

"And in a broader sense?"

Hearing that question, Taer wrinkled her nose with obvious annoyance:

"I could answer... But in your current state, you just wouldn't be able to grasp the meaning." She added with regret in her voice.

"And you test me," Alex suggested with a smirk.

"You really can't." She shook her head. "And I'm not putting a price on it. Anyone can't."

"Can't you find simpler words? Which even I can understand? I think you're doing just fine."

"It's not the words." She sighed again. "You'll understand the words. You just won't get it right. I'll give you an example, but please don't take it as a direct analogy. It's just an example."

"Imagine a neglected garden." She began in a well-practiced voice like a voice-over narrator at the beginning of a fairy tale.

"The lawn is overgrown with grass and already looks more like a meadow. Millions of different cockroaches and bugs live there. For many generations, cockroaches were born and died here. From their point of view, the tall grass stands practically forever. And suddenly, the gardening droids arrive... You've seen gardening droids before, haven't you?"

"Yeah, I can imagine what that's like." Alex nodded, watching Taer as the narrator with interest.

"Now imagine what they look like from the bug's point of view. Metal giants, moving mountains, descend from the sky onto their meadow world. And these mountains begin to cut the grass, destroying everything, literally tearing apart the familiar world of the bugs in which they have been living forever. There is wild chaos everywhere, chopped grass falls down, and some opportunists take advantage of this as usual eating someone or stealing something. Most of them are just trying to escape, but there's nowhere to go. Metal giants inexorably and methodically clean everything, leaving not a single island of tall grass. In desperation, the bugs try to fight back. They pounce on the droids wave after wave in the blind hope to do something, somehow to stop this destruction. But they can't do anything to these giants, and they literally don't notice their senseless attacks, in which countless cockroaches die and fall under the vibrating mowers. And only one question beats in the bug's mind flooded with despair: Why?"

"Why did the gods inflict this punishment? It's obvious no bugs could create something like this. So why? They didn't honor the covenants? For their sins? Or maybe the gods have decided the last hour of this world has come? No, of course, it must be sin," Not-Taer sighed bitterly like a man who had long ago accepted the inevitable. "It is always about sins. After all, an unknowable omnipotent force must want something from the bugs and make rules for them..." She shook her head disapprovingly, pausing for a few seconds, clearly immersed in her thoughts.

"So there." She continued, shaking off her stupor of thought. "Imagine that somehow the bugs were able to pierce space and time with thought and find out the answer to why the gods decided to destroy the world they were used to:"

"They just like it when the grass is flat..." She announced in a half voice and added in a loud whisper. "The gods are insane!" She laughed theatrically like a mad prophet of the apocalypse.

"But are those who sent droids to mow an overgrown lawn crazy?" Taer asked in a normal tone of voice. "No. It's just that the bugs will never be able to accept their logic because the range of solutions available to bugs is completely different. Do you understand now? Humans, or those who limit themselves to the limits of human logic it just won't work. The perceptions and the range of solutions available are too narrow and too different."

"Impressive parable," Alex said, who was really impressed by the described image. "And what are you then? One of those relentless giants? Or the one who sends droids? Or an expert on bugs since you are communicating with me?"

"Night watchman at a construction equipment warehouse." Grudgingly, she tossed. "I told you not to take that as a direct analogy. It was just an example to show why my explanation would be meaningless in your current state and why you would draw the wrong conclusions even if I found the right words."

"But your words imply that you are beyond the limits of human logic..." Alex began but was interrupted by a low, powerful hum.

A heavy bass wave that started from somewhere down from the very base of the temple swept through the entire building, all the way up to the top, making the instruments on their table tinkle and shake.

"What's that? Is that the tide coming in?" Asked Alex nervously, looking around. It didn't look like the tide at all. But who knows?

"No." Taer shook her head with a peaceful smile. "It's a Needle-type directed energy mine explosion."

She hadn't finished her phrase yet as the rumbling sound penetrating the whole building was repeated, and Alex heard muffled frightened screams from somewhere from the side of the entrance to the hall.

"Mine?" He asked in surprise, as he hadn't planned anything like that. "Why?"

"Well, if you decided to do something stupid not alone, but with your Arm," Not-Taer explained, watching his reaction with interest. "The explosions occurred on the most favorable sites for initial deployment and routes of approach to the building. The set of optimal solutions is so narrow that I didn't even bother with the activation system. I just set the time. The estimated casualties are four Guardsmen, three of whom are Carpathians on loan from Keyrin. Considering the stakes, more than acceptable losses."

"Why?" Alex repeated, even though he knew where this was going. Exactly what I was afraid of. She won't hurt me, but she'll take it out on those around me.

"I knew you'd do something silly," Not Taer said with a smile. "And you knew that I knew, and what's more, I warned you that there would be a reaction. Which means, given my capabilities, there could be casualties. So I was curious as to your decision, whether your personal business, almost a small whim, was worth risking the lives of the people entrusted to you. Or have you decided it's unacceptable?"

The building shook again with a distant rumble, navigation holograms flashed yellow lines at chest height in their hall, and a muffled voice sounded from the ceiling:

"Attention, this is not a drill, follow the signs to the nearest exit. Attention, this is not a drill ... "

"Just out of curiosity?" Alex questioned angrily, drilling a glance at the mask of serenity on Taer's face.

"Well, it's also a penalty for violating the terms of the meeting. But if they aren't there, they aren't hurt." With a smile, she added. "So, were they or weren't they there?" She asked with a gleam of excitement in her eyes.

"Don't you know?" He grinned unhappily. "With your talent as a visionary."

"I don't know." She shook her head and added with a kind of euphoria. "And you have no idea how good it feels. So?"

"What difference does it make?" Alex asked, leaning back so his right hand would naturally ease closer to his belt buckle. It wouldn't hurt to put some distance between him and Taer.

"After all, whatever decision I made before, there's no changing it....."

His finger touched the buckle, and with a springy clinking sound, it flew aside, throwing a tiny needle made of glass and special plastic into the palm of his hand.

* * *