Vernor Vinge - Rainbows End

They walked the rest of the way to the door in silence, Robert lagging a bit behind his granddaughter.

16

Winston Blount called a couple of times during the next few days. His cabal was very anxious to talk further about "what we talked about." Robert put him off and refused to talk privately. He could almost hear Winnie's teeth grinding in frustration — but the guy gave him another week.

Robert had several more interviews with the real — well, he could hope it was the real — Sharif. They were a heartwarming reminder of the Good Years, and totally unlike his encounters with the Mysterious Stranger. The young grad student gushed semi-intelligent enthusiasm, except that sometimes he seemed fond of science fiction. Sometimes. When Robert mentioned this, Sharif looked stricken. Ah . The Mysterious Stranger strikes again. Or maybe there were three… entities… animating the image of Zulfikar Sharif. Robert began to track each word, each nuance.

Juan Orozco's compositions had blossomed. He could write complete sentences intentionally. The boy seemed to think that this made Robert Gu a genius of a teacher. Yes, and someday soon there will he chimpanzees who look up to me . But that thought did not escape Robert's lips. Juan Orozco was working to his limits. He was doomed to mediocrity, much as Robert himself, and spreading the pain of such knowledge was not appealing anymore.

The Mysterious Stranger stayed out of sight. Maybe he thought Robert's own need was the best salesman. The bastard. Robert returned again and again to the references the Stranger had given him. They described three medical miracles of the last ten months. One was an effective treatment for malaria. That was not such a big deal, since cheaper cures had existed for years. But the other two breakthroughs related to mood and intellectual disorders. They were not examples of Reed Weber's random "heavenly minefield." Both had been commissioned by the customers they cured.

So what ? Miracles happened in this modern age. What proof was there the Stranger could create them? He pulled up the documents the Stranger had given him. Their visual represention was as medieval letters of credit, envelopes sealed with wax. If one broke the metaphor, it was easy to look inside and see the lower layers, a few megabytes of encryption. Useless nonsense. But if you followed the metaphor from the top, then you found pointers to magic tools to employ the certificates, and other pointers to the technical papers that explained what these tools actually did with the underlying data.

For three days now, Robert had been digging through those papers. The old Robert would not have had the intellect for this. God had taken away his true and unique genius, and perversely given him this analytical talent in return. Playing with protocols was fun. Okay, another couple of days and he would put it all together — and call the Stranger's bluff.

Meantime, he was falling further behind in his work with Juan for Chumlig's composition class.

"Will you have time to work on my graphics suggestions?" Juan asked one afternoon. "Before tomorrow, I mean." That was when their current weekly project was due.

"Yes, sure." The kid had been great about working to Robert's directions. He felt a sliver of shame for not reciprocating. "I mean, I'll try. I've got this problem with some outside things…"

"Oh, what? Can I help?"

Lord . "Some security documents. They're supposed to prove that a, um, friend of mine was really involved in solving a… game problem." He made one of them visible to Juan.

The kid looked at the wax and gilt and parchment. "Oh! A creditat. I've seen certs like that. You — oops, yours has an outer envelope so only you can do all the steps, but see — " He grabbed the certificate and pointed where Robert should do what." — you gotta apply your own stamp first, and then you tear along the server line and you'll see a release like this." Phantom transformations spread in the air around him. "And if this friend of yours is not blowing smoke, you'll see bright green here and there'll be a written description of his contribution, backed by Microsoft or Bank of America or whoever."

Then Juan had to go help his mother. As he faded away, Robert studied the examples. He recognized some of the steps from the protocol descriptions, but, "How did you know all that?"

Foolish question. The boy looked a little startled. "It's just — it's just kind of intuitive, you know? I think that's the way the interface is designed." And then he was completely gone.

No one was home right now, so Robert went downstairs and fixed himself a snack. Then he played back the steps the boy had shown him. He had no excuse for further delay. He hesitated a moment more… then applied the steps to each of the "creditats."

Bright green. Bright green. Bright green.

The Mysterious Stranger didn't like to come visiting when Robert was indoors at home. Maybe the USMC was not as incompetent as the Stranger claimed. Robert began to look forward to his time away from home with anticipation and dread. Very soon he must decide. Was betrayal a price he could pay for a chance to be his old self once more?

Days passed. Still no contact. The Stranger wants me ripe for the picking .

When it finally happened, Robert was walking around the neighborhood, doing another interview with Zulfikar Sharif. The young man hesitated in the middle of a question and looked at him.

Miri — > Juan: I'm locked out!

Juan — > Miri: Again?

Miri — > Juan: Yes again!

Sharif's earnest features took on the sly, greenish cast of the Mysterious Stranger. "How is it going, my man?"

Robert managed a cool response. "Well enough."

The Stranger smiled. "You look a bit peaked, Professor. Perhaps you'd be more comfortable sitting down." A car slid to a stop beside them. The door opened and the phantom graciously waved Robert inside.

"This is more secure?" Robert said as they pulled away from the curb.

" This car is. Remember, I have powers far greater than your little friends." He settled in the back-facing seat. "So. Have you convinced yourself that I can help you?"

"Maybe you can," said Robert, a little bit proud of how level his voice sounded. "I checked your creditats. You don't seem to know anything about anything, but you have this knack for bringing the right people together and being around when those people solve serious problems."

The Stranger waved his hand dismissively. "I don't know anything about anything? You are naive, Professor. Our world is overflowing with technical expertise. Knowledge is piled metaphorical light-years deep. Given that, the truly golden skill is the one I possess — to bring together the knowledge and abilities that make solutions. Your Ms. Chumlig understands that. Schoolkids certainly understand. Even Tommie Parker understands, though he has one important detail backwards. In me," another elaborate gesture, his hand flattening against his turtleneck shirt, "in me, you have the far extreme of this ability. I am world-class at 'bringing-together-to-get-answers.'"

And with an ego to match. How does he get his way when he's dealing with the Einsteins and Hawkings of this era? Surely he doesn't have everyone by the short hairs ?

The Stranger leaned forward. "But enough of me. Winnie Blount and his 'Elder Cabal' are getting desperate. I'm not exactly desperate, but if you delay more than another few days, I cannot guarantee an acceptable outcome. So. Are you on board or not?"

"I — Yes. I am." Twenty years ago, betraying Bob would not have bothered him. After all, the idiot was an ingrate. Now, no glib excuse rose to mind, but… I'll do anything to recover what I lost . "What is this biometric information you want on Alice?"