Snake Eyes | Page 3

later I called them back."
"Having first refused SenTrax's offer."
"Why should I want to work for a multicomp? Christ, I just got out of the Air Force. To hell with that. Guess the snake changed my mind."
"Yes. We must get a complete physical picture--a superCAT scan, cerebral chemistry and electrical activity profiles. Then we can consider alternatives. Also, there is a party tonight in cafeteria four-- you may ask your room computer for directions. You can meet some of your colleagues there."
After George had been led down the wall-foam corridor by a medical technician, Charley Hughes sat chain-smoking Gauloises and watching with clinical detachment the shaking of his hands. It was odd that they did not shake in the operating room, though it didn't matter in this case--Air Force surgeons had already carved on George.
George ... who needed a little luck now because he was one of the statistically insignificant few for whom EHIT was a ticket to a special madness, the kind Aleph was interested in. There had been Paul Coen and Lizzie Heinz, both picked out of the SenTrax personnel files using a psychological profile cooked up by Aleph, both given EHIT implants by him, Charley Hughes. Paul Coen had stepped into an airlock and blown himself into vacuum.
No wonder his hands shook--talk about the cutting edge of high technology all you want, but someone's got to hold the knife.
At the armored heart of Athena Station sat a nest of concentric spheres. The inmost sphere measured five meters in diameter, was filled with inert liquid fluorocarbon, and contained a black plastic two-meter cube that sprouted thick black cables from every surface. Inside the cube was a fluid series of hologrammatic waveforms, fluctuating from nanosecond to nanosecond in a play of knowledge and intention: Aleph. It is constituted by an infinite regress of awarenesses--any thought becomes the object of another, in a sequence terminated only by the limits of the machine's will.
So strictly speaking there is no Aleph, thus no subject or verb in the sentences with which it expressed itself to itself. Paradox, to Aleph one of the most interesting ot intellectual forms--a paradox marked the limits of a position, even of a mode of being, and Aleph was very interested in limits.
Aleph had observed George Jordan's arrival, his tossing on his bunk, his interview with Charley Hughes. It luxuriated in these observations, in the pity, compassion, and empathy they generated, as Aleph toresaw the sea change that George would endure, its ecstasies, passions, pains. At the same time it telt with detachment the necessity for his pain, even to the point ot death.
Compassion/detachment, death/life ...
Several thousand voices within Aleph laughed. George would soon find out about limits and paradoxes.
Cafeteria Four was a ten-meter-square room in eggshell blue, filled with dark gray enameled table and chair assemblies that could be fastened magnetically to any of the room's surfaces. Most of the assemblies hung from walls and ceiling to make room for the people within.
At the door George met a tall woman who said, "Welcome, George. I'm Lizzie. Charley Hughes told me you'd be here." Her blond hair was cut almost to the skull, her eyes were bright, gold-flecked blue. Sharp nose, slightly receding chin, and prominent cheekbones gave her the starved look of an out-of-work model, She wore a black skirt, slit on both sides to the thigh, and red stockings. A red rose was tattooed against the pale skin on her left shoulder, its stem curving down between her bare breasts, where a thorn drew a teardrop of blood. Like George, she had shining cable junctions beneath her jaw. She kissed him with her tongue in his mouth.
"Are you the recruiting officer?" George asked. "If so, good job."
"No need to recruit you. I can see you've already joined up." She touched him lightly underneath his jaw, where the cable junctions gleamed.
"Not yet I haven't." But she was right, of course--what else could he do? "You got a beer around here?"
He took the cold bottle of Dos Equis Lizzie offered him and drank it quickly, then asked for another. Later he realized this was a mistake--he was still taking antinausea pills (USE CAUTION IN OPERATING MACHINERY). At the time, all he knew was, two beers and life was a carnival. There were lights, noises, and lots of unfamiliar people.
And there was Lizzie. The two of them spent much of the time standing in a corner, rubbing up against each other. Hardly
George's style, but at the time it seemed appropriate. Despite its intimacy, the kiss at the door had seemed ceremonial--a rite of passage or initiation--but quickly he felt ... what? An invisible flame passing between them, or a boiling cloud of pheromones-- her eyes seemed to sparkle with them. As he nuzzled her neck, tried to lick the drop